Chapter 29

Chapter 29
Chapter 29: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

My older brother… seemed different.

“Thank you to everyone who has come, and to the successors who will lead this country in the future. Today, I…”

Lion continued speaking plainly, entirely devoid of any unique flair.

His pitch and tone were equally ordinary.

To the extent that it bordered on tedious.

Yet…

‘Why is that?’

Rikschel fought to maintain his composure while fixing his gaze upon Lion.

Somehow, he commanded attention.

Not drawn to my older brother’s words, but to my older brother himself!

The other nobles appeared to share this sentiment.

“Young Master Lion… don’t you feel an inexplicable magnetism?”

“Am I not the only one? How should I put it? As a person he seems plain, but…”

The nobles who generally cared little for power dynamics murmured amongst themselves in muted tones.

Then, a young lady possessing a sharp eye raised her voice slightly, as though a realization had struck her.

“Now that you mention it… that attire!”

“Ah! Looking closer, there is splendor nestled within its simplicity. It isn’t merely the clothing; it seems to elevate the man wearing it!”

“Indeed! As expected, the garments worn by the cream of the nobility are distinct.”

“……!”

Rikschel seemed to grasp it then as well, turning his gaze back toward Lion.

Sure enough, a quiet grace and dignity radiated from every movement Lion made.

The ceremonial robes, gleaming softly under the brilliant chandelier, paired with the neatly arranged accessories and jewels, served to accentuate his standing.

It was undeniably magnificent yet entirely devoid of ostentation, lending it a deeper resonance.

“Whose design is that?”

“I heard none of the seamstresses of my acquaintance were commissioned for it…”

The murmurs swelled in volume.

What began as idle chatter among a handful of young ladies soon drew in young masters and noblewomen with a passion for fashion, all eager to uncover the truth.

Rikschel observed the nobles with wide eyes, noting their lack of manufactured reactions.

After all, anyone failing to display genuine interest would typically harbor ulterior motives.

‘They must be plotting to latch onto the family.’

Perhaps once the gratitude speech concluded, he would be swarmed by handshakes from fashion-obsessed nobles.

It was just as well that those with impure intentions wouldn’t cling to my older brother.

“That fellow played his cards right.”

Petrick, silent until now, muttered softly with an air of satisfaction.

…No way!

“Did my older brother calculate this far ahead?”

“I cannot say for certain, but is he not a sharp lad who takes after the right bloodline?”

“Ah!”

Rikschel marveled at Lion’s foresight.

Meanwhile, Lion’s address pressed on.

“…Following this, you will have free time until the morrow, so please enjoy yourselves with ease. Once more, I thank you for traveling from afar, and I shall now take my leave. That is all.”

Clap, clap, clap, clap-!

As applause rippled across the room, and simultaneously…

With the conclusion of Lion’s speech, the orchestra conductor swept his baton downward in a sharp arc, signaling the formal commencement of the celebration.

“Pardon me.”

Attendants drifted through the banquet hall bearing trays laden with beverages and finger foods.

A spread of exquisite delicacies was laid out across every seating area as a matter of course.

A feast and vintage befitting the title of a grand gala.

Observing the scene, Lion stepped down from the dais and returned to where his grandfather and Rikschel stood.

“You were truly impressive, older brother! Did you happen to rehearse?”

“Hm? Not at all. I merely ran through it once.”

The practical experience gathered from corporate life is paying dividends here.

Fortunately, attending past seminars and upper-crust galas left me accustomed to the atmosphere, sparing me any nervousness.

In truth, I felt considerably more at ease than I had back then.

After all, no one here would be reckless enough to hurl insults at the young master of the illustrious Asteri house.

“To remain so unruffled… quite astonishing.”

“I am honored by the compliment.”

Stripped of any undue pressure, the natural dissipation of tension followed.

To Rikschel, that aura translated into effortless grace.

At the same time, Petrick, despite attempting to conceal it, was thoroughly gratified by Lion’s public address.

Such composure was not a trait possessed by just anyone.

Particularly not one devoid of mana.

A mage’s mana not only provided raw power but also anchored the mind in lake-like tranquility.

Much like a knight’s aura.

Yet his grandson had fulfilled his duties with such unshakeable confidence without an ounce of it.

Pride was an inevitable reaction.

‘As anticipated. Our family’s bloodline runs true.’

While the two Asteris shared a moment of connection over Lion’s performance, Lion sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

Fortunately, that awkwardness was short-lived.

The Asteri household chefs began bringing out and arranging the dishes one by one.

Petrick partook of the food, nodding in genuine satisfaction for the first time in a while.

“…The cooking is exceptional today.”

“Indeed. The head chef appears to have invested considerable effort.”

Lion rubbed his cheek briefly and quietly commenced eating.

True to his grandfather’s praise, the meal was remarkably delicious.

—

Once a satisfying meal had been concluded.

Lion, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, suddenly recalled Petrick’s remarks prior to the speech.

“Grandfather, you mentioned having a question?”

Prompted by Lion’s query, Petrick set down his fork for a moment.

“Yes. I wished to ask what offering you intend to bring into the ritual.”

Ah, so that was what had piqued his curiosity.

Rumor had it that within the labyrinth ritual, the nature of one’s offering could shape the rewards reaped.

For instance, an offering of a spellbook yielded knowledge aligned with its contents, whereas a staff might grant a supplementary offensive spell.

For a standard mage, the trajectory was predictable, but given that he was no mage, curiosity was only natural.

“I intend to bring the potions I brewed.”

I possess no magical aptitude in any case.

And offering anything else… the tier proved somewhat insufficient.

‘Even if the ceremonial robes are 4-star, this is Andri’s craftsmanship enhanced with a tie, so predicting the outcome is impossible.’

Consequently, potions felt like the safest vector.

“Very well. There is no need to bring anything grandiose. The labyrinth evaluates your capabilities and imparts only the knowledge you require.”

Quite so. Had his grandfather entered bearing a basic spellbook, the ritual would hardly waste advanced lore upon him.

‘Still, would securing something superior not be preferable?’

The highest-grade potion Lion had crafted was the Mental Fatigue Recovery Potion gifted to Petrick and Silvia, but constrained by ingredient shortages, he resolved to select the finest specimens available among the various drafts in his inventory.

Seeming content with Lion’s reply, Petrick resumed speaking.

“There is one more matter upon which I require clarity.”

Unlike his previous inquiry, his expression had hardened into gravity.

“Do you hold any aspirations toward politics or the seat of the successor?”

“Pardon? Heavens, no.”

Lion rejected the notion instantly, his face twisting in absolute distaste.

The mere thought was horrifying!

“I shall ask once more. Are you certain?”

“Without a doubt. Never.”

Politics—was there a more cumbersome and wretched word in existence?

Besides, my lovely younger sibling Rikschel is handling the duties of heir admirably, so what need would I have for it?

Meanwhile.

Petrick, absorbing Lion’s response in silence, turned his gaze toward Rikschel.

“Can you pledge to treat your older brother as you treat yourself?”

“I swear it upon the honor and mana of our house.”

Rikschel answered without a moment’s hesitation.

He harbored absolute confidence in his ability to shield his older brother from any interloper, regardless of who they might be.

Was that not the purpose of the grueling regimen he had endured until now?

To safeguard his family, his cherished ones.

With his coming-of-age ceremony only a few years distant, he poured his entire focus into his studies.

He might even breach the 5th circle before long.

Petrick offered a dry chuckle, witnessing their divergent convictions align so smoothly.

The catastrophe he had desperately prayed to avoid had resolved itself with astonishing ease.

To speak truly, he felt an urge to stand up right then and boast to the entire assembly.

‘Observe how closely knit our family is!’ ‘We have vanquished the succession crisis that plagues households by sheer familial devotion!’

Particularly directed at the two princes lingering in the distance.

Across the second floor, occupying the premier vantage point, sat the two royal brothers without exchanging a single word.

While the elder appeared relaxed, his occasional furtive glances toward the second prince betrayed an underlying unease.

‘And…’

Petrick’s gaze drifted slightly toward the second prince.

A pallid visage accompanied by a melancholic aura.

He cut a pitiable figure, having barely touched his meal, yet a faint glint of murderous intent flickered within the eyes half-concealed by his bangs.

‘The first prince remains oblivious, it seems.’

Regardless, the Imperial Family lacked the leisure to meddle in Asteri affairs.

Swish.

Petrick pivoted his attention to a different table.

At the seats designated for the Swordsmanship Family, the Family Head sat in solitary isolation.

She cut the figure of a youth forged from ice—cold, honed, and merciless.

Word had it that following the demise of the previous Head, his granddaughter had seized the mantle.

Within a lineage where no heir was formally named, and a sword-wielding one at that, the fallout was predictable.

Though largely kept under wraps, the resulting bloodshed had reportedly brought the bloodline to the brink of extinction.

Fortunately, just as intervention became necessary, the internal purge disguised as a succession trial had reached its conclusion.

‘Courtesy of the quietest young lady present.’

And the consequences?

The newly minted Family Head had managed to resurrect her household’s standing despite carrying the crushing weight of that slaughter.

Because of this history, despite her striking beauty, not a single noble dared approach her.

Even he felt little inclination to test those waters.

In any case, she remained far too consumed by internal family restructuring to cast her gaze outward.

As for the priesthood… they despised such decadent gatherings, rendering their presence a non-factor.

Having completed his mental calculus, Petrick offered his verdict in a measured tone.

“Very well. Then, Lion, live as you please as a direct scion of the Asteri house.”

“Haha, and what if I happen to stir up trouble?”

Petrick let out a low laugh.

Even if you were to court trouble, could it possibly rival theirs?

“Do as you see fit.”

“……”

Lion was struck speechless by Petrick’s indulgent reply.

“You are free to cause trouble to your heart’s content. However…”

“However…?”

“Merely ensure you remain uninjured. Should you sustain harm, I shall not remain idle.”

What manner of phrasing was that—implying “if you die, I will murder you”?

He hadn’t even intended to court trouble, but hearing such a warning made him yearn for an even quieter existence.

As the meal and dessert service drew toward their twilight…

“Troublesome company approaches.”

“Indeed.”

Finishing their courses, various nobles were cautiously drifting in their direction.

“I shall step away.”

“Very well.”

“I shall dispatch them swiftly and return to your side, older brother.”

Wait, even so, they remain guests; is phrasing it as “dispatching” them truly appropriate?

Before long, the figures of his grandfather and younger brother vanished, swallowed by the shifting crowd.

‘You must bear a heavy burden.’

Lion resolved to retreat to a moderately secluded corner, procure a glass of wine, and idle away the time.

Given that his speech had heavily featured his attire, he figured a curious soul or two might seek him out.

However.

“Pardon me, Lord Lion? Greetings. I represent the estate of Viscount Delphine…”

“Lord Lion! I have sought an opportunity to converse with you all evening and finally found my chance. Might we speak briefly?”

“…Eh?”

contrary to Lion’s expectations, no sooner had he distanced himself than a swarm of nobles descended upon him.

Every last one of them wore gleaming eyes, desperate to interrogate him regarding his ceremonial garments.

‘…Is this the sheer pulling power of a 4-star item?’

What Lion failed to realize was that the tier of his ceremonial attire vastly outstripped the aesthetic sensibilities of typical nobility.

Let alone those with a specialized obsession for fashion.

“Could you possibly disclose the artisan behind this?”

“Please, even a mere hint…!”

Their gazes burned with fanatical intensity.