Chapter 25

Chapter 25
Chapter 25: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

The dining hall where the Asteri family members gathered was generously stocked with fine food.

Soup prepared with a heavy measure of mushrooms, known to be scarce across the land, accompanied by fresh buttered bread and assorted compotes.

A crisp salad dressed richly and served with fresh cheese.

A whole roast chicken featuring legs as thick as a grown person’s forearm, alongside a steak cut from an entire sirloin.

These were dishes that regular citizens and even nobles who considered themselves somewhat accomplished could not readily experience.

“Aren’t you taking this a bit far?”

Lion gave an awkward smile as he looked at the dishes gleaming beneath the chandelier’s glow.

No matter how he assessed it, the spread far exceeded a meal intended for just three household members.

“It is not an ordinary day, so I made a special request of the cook.”

“I see.”

It was true that the three of them rarely shared a meal together.

For one, he had spent past days unwell, often skipping meals or consuming specialized invalid fare.

His grandfather likely partook in formal banquets frequently due to his steady presence at the Imperial Palace.

He figured Rikschel, whose routine remained relatively steady, might have frequented restaurants more often.

‘Reflecting on it, he must have been quite lonely.’

He understood why Rikschel had put in that special request.

The younger brother might have been quietly anticipating the gathering.

“Indeed. There ought to be days like this as well.”

Rikschel offered a faint smile at Lion’s remark.

‘As expected, older brother must have felt very isolated.’

Truthfully, how many times had they genuinely eaten at a restaurant before? The occasions could be counted on one’s hands.

Furthermore, an older sibling possessing such a gentle and kind disposition would have found enduring the chilly atmosphere of the Asteri household quite difficult on his own.

He hadn’t recognized it until now, but he resolved to carve out more time for such instances moving forward.

“Grandf… no, I must make a proposal to the Family Head.”

‘Though it proves rather difficult.’

Rikschel found Patrick Asteri to be a formidable person to approach.

Though he was his grandfather, the perception of him as the Family Head loomed larger, and Rikschel himself functioned more as a successor than a grandson.

Had they ever engaged in personal conversation?

Naturally, no.

‘Because I never know what subjects to raise.’

He actually held matters he wished to ask about, yet could never bring himself to voice them.

Consequently, every exchange remained efficient and restricted strictly to business affairs.

Such was the conversational pattern of the taciturn grandfather and grandson, mirroring one another.

That did not imply Rikschel held any dislike toward Patrick.

The man was their sole remaining family besides his elder brother, as well as their guardian.

Just as he felt he should create more such moments for his brother’s sake, even if the dynamic felt awkward.

“You have arrived?”

Patrick stepped into the dining area.

“I have been waiting, Family Head.”

Unlike Lion, who addressed him with familiarity, Rikschel offered a respectful greeting and waited for Patrick to take his seat.

“You have arrived at the proper moment. The food remains warm.”

“Sit down.”

Patrick cast a brief glance at Lion before settling into his chair.

‘I wish he could show a touch more warmth.’

Rikschel experienced a brief flash of dissatisfaction, swallowed it, and took his seat.

Soon, Patrick initiated the meal, prompting the other two to lift their utensils.

The dining atmosphere remained strikingly subdued.

An outside observer would likely describe the tension as walking on thin ice.

Amidst it all, the sole spoken exchanges were business-related.

“Is the work proceeding smoothly?”

“I am managing it adequately.”

They discussed only the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

And the inquiries focused strictly on whether tasks were being handled efficiently.

There were no personal inquiries such as, “Are you keeping well?” or “What sort of gift would you prefer?”

‘This is hardly the kind of environment older brother desires…’

Rikschel grew uncharacteristically anxious.

He wanted his elder brother to find happiness, yet the setting made him feel like an awkward interloper.

‘I ought to introduce a topic of conversation…’

Just as Rikschel frantically searched his mind for words.

“That reminds me, Grandfather.”

Lion spoke up first.

Right. As anticipated, when it came to piercing through this atmosphere, his older brother proved a hundred times more capable than himself.

He only felt regret at his own inability to assist…

“Have you ever crafted fabric for Mother?”

Cough!

Rikschel choked while draining his glass.

Patrick reacted similarly.

Setting his wine goblet aside, Patrick dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

Initially, he felt astonishment that his grandson would invoke his daughter’s memory under these circumstances, and the subject matter proved equally baffling.

Beyond that…

‘How did he come to know of it?’

He had once woven cloth using the finest magical wool, painstakingly embedding protective enchantments into every single thread, purely out of worry that his daughter might trip over her hem.

Naturally, he had shared that endeavor with no one.

Yet how could he possibly know…

‘Could it be Elvia?’

No, even so, she would never have brought the matter up unprompted.

Regaining his composure with effort, Patrick posed a question.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of.”

“Ah, well, I happened to meet a seamstress today.”

Lion, having introduced the topic, nonchalantly recounted the tale.

He had been introduced to a craftswoman known by Mudu the blacksmith’s wife.

During that encounter, he had uncovered unusual fabric within the household.

“And that seamstress remarked that the material was identical to what a certain young lady had once provided her. Cloth she had never laid eyes upon before or since.”

He subtly bypassed the method by which he had deduced the truth.

“I wondered if that young lady might have been Mother, so I inquired.”

“…I see.”

Patrick remained silent for an extended duration.

The atmosphere naturally settled into quietness, but Lion appeared unbothered as he carved his steak.

Discussing their mother bordered on a taboo within the household.

She represented a painful memory coupled with profound longing.

This applied especially to Patrick, who possessed only a single daughter, and to Lion and Rikschel, who had lost her.

‘We cannot spend our lives evading this.’

Lion mused to himself.

If one cannot forget a person who has passed, there comes a time when one must face the reality.

‘There needs to be a bond called parenthood bridging grandfather and grandsons.’

Without it, the two generations naturally grew distant and awkward.

Even if they kept silent, weren’t they both quietly concerned?

Lion was far from oblivious; he simply chose not to wear his emotions on his sleeve here.

‘Leaving these matters untouched will only cause the scars to deepen.’

And he understood fully.

Only when they could comfortably speak of the one who had departed could the survivors truly embrace one another.

That sentiment mirrored the feelings held by the current Lion as well as the Lion residing in his memories.

That realization formed the underlying reason they had decided to commission matching ceremonial robes in the first place.

‘And by sheer coincidence, I happened to locate that very fabric.’

Thanks to that discovery, Rikschel and Patrick had been handed an opening to converse.

“Rikschel, you recall it as well, don’t you? There was a particularly shimmering bolt of cloth among the items you brought back.”

“……Ah. Yes. I remember.”

Rikschel answered hesitantly, stealing a glance at Patrick.

Despite feigning indifference, curiosity clearly consumed him.

Under that gaze, Patrick slowly parted his lips.

His tone carried a gentleness unusual for him.

“I had no inkling where that child had her garments made. But… yes. That material is something I produced with my own hands.”

“You manufactured it yourself, Grandfather?”

“Indeed.”

“Might I ask the reason?”

At Rikschel’s query, Patrick’s eyes widened fractionally.

He must have assumed that because Rikschel kept to himself, such matters wouldn’t interest him.

‘There is no way that could be true.’

Even if he projected maturity, he remained a youth at heart.

Would he not feel curious?

He had simply buried the question deep within his chest.

That repression was precisely why he maintained a polite distance, addressing him formally as Family Head out of sheer awkwardness.

“There was no grand motivation. It was simply…”

Patrick moved his lips before uttering in a subdued voice, highly uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor.

“As a father, worry is only natural.”

“……!”

That single admission sufficed.

Lion broke into a wide grin.

“I intend to tailor ceremonial robes using that fabric. I wonder if there will be sufficient yardage?”

“There will be no such complications, so dismiss any needless worry.”

“Haha, I appreciate that. When might you be available to visit, Grandfather?”

“……”

“I mentioned it earlier. We all plan to wear matching attire. Naturally, you ought to wear one as well, Grandfather.”

Patrick appeared genuinely caught off guard.

He had evidently assumed the matching outfits were intended solely for the two brothers.

“……I agree. However, older brother, you might lack sufficient time, Family Head, so it would prove most efficient to summon that seamstress directly.”

“That sounds best. I shall send for her shortly.”

“Hmm.”

He felt a slight awkwardness at the prospect of donning matching garments, yet upon seeing his grandsons gaze at him with such bright expressions, refusal proved impossible.

“Very well. Do as you see fit. This undertaking belongs to you, Lion, so I shall defer to your guidance.”

“Thank you.”

Lion covertly clenched his fist in triumph.

With official permission secured, he no longer needed to fret over his grandfather’s eccentric aesthetic choices threatening the project.

The domestic atmosphere had likewise thawed considerably.

‘Now I can concentrate on preparing for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony with total peace of mind.’

Lion smiled with a lightened spirit.

Convinced that at least until the Coming-of-Age Ceremony arrived, no further disruptions would arise…

—

Fortunately, precisely as Lion had mapped out, the preparations for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony advanced without a hitch.

Aside from Andrié the seamstress trembling visibly while taking measurements, the production of his grandfather’s ceremonial robes commenced smoothly as well. Decorating the banquet hall designated for the Coming-of-Age event and dispatching invitations were executed flawlessly.

All of this success stemmed from the absolute backing provided by the Asteri household.

“Older brother, refrain from overworking yourself and delegate troublesome chores to me. I will take charge of mailing out the remainder of the invitations.”

“Surely you aren’t concerned about financial limits within our family? Spare no expense on anything.”

Starting from that evening, not only Rikschel but even Patrick unexpectedly assisted Lion with heightened enthusiasm.

‘I never set out to broach that topic with the expectation of generating this outcome.’

The volume of tasks requiring his personal attention diminished drastically.

In reality, Lion’s primary responsibility boiled down to monitoring how the pair attempted to integrate their peculiar aesthetic tastes into the project this time around.

Because of this shift, despite the period theoretically demanding relentless labor, he found blocks of time to dedicate toward mastering sewing techniques.

“Hmm…”

Nevertheless, the endeavor proved remarkably stubborn.

He attempted to draft crude patterns and stitch the pieces together, yet.

[New Talent: Sewing]

[Sewing Proficiency has reached Apprentice Lv.1.]

…nothing of the sort occurred.

“Hmph.”

Why?

Though it fell short of his blacksmithing milestones, he felt confident he had achieved decent competence with his culinary creations.

This indicated his underlying proficiency level was not the limiting factor.

Furthermore, avoiding sewing machines meant he had genuinely started from raw fundamentals and built upward.

Yet his inherent talent remained stubbornly dormant.

‘Perhaps I simply lack aptitude for it?’

Lion dismissed the thought instantly. That explanation seemed highly improbable.

He had handled needle and thread extensively over time. If anything, cooking should have proven the deficient skill set.

‘What separates the two pursuits? Do I require a formal mentor?’

That hypothesis held merit.

In alchemy, self-study sufficed thanks to the Potion Crafting Specialization, but every other discipline had involved individuals acting as masters to instruct him.

“Yet this approach feels… *huff*. Quite off the mark.”

While he weighed various possibilities.

Accompanied by a gentle rustle of fabric, Elvia emerged from the shadows.

“Young Master. Andrié has arrived.”

“Ah. Is the attire finished?”

“From what I could observe, the ceremonial garments are complete, though her expression appears somewhat peculiar.”