Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

Lion felt certain.

If the situation were otherwise, his grandfather, Patrick Asteri, who was famously pragmatic and cold, would never have made such a request.

‘Naturally, anyone wanting to give a gift prefers to offer something superior to their own possessions to someone they hold dear.’

Besides, consider that faintly shy demeanor.

‘Indeed. Grandfather must have been lonely as well.’

It was entirely understandable. His children had perished prematurely, and his grandchildren had never shown him affection.

Furthermore, his grandmother was no longer living.

Regardless, this presented an opportunity.

Was it not a token for someone beloved?

‘I will be able to raise his favorability substantially.’

Unable to read Patrick’s true expression, Lion naturally tightened his fist and declared, “Give me two weeks. I shall brew a higher-grade potion within that timeframe.”

“Two weeks?” Patrick inquired in astonishment.

His intent had been to ask if such a feat was even possible in that duration, but…

“…I shall endeavor to complete it within a week!” Lion announced, misinterpreting the query as he strode out of the chamber with a resolute look.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Patrick extended a hand, though Lion was already gone.

“Hoo, without even pausing for an explanation…”

He could not begin to fathom what misunderstanding had just taken place.

At any rate, it spared him from needing to fabricate excuses—

Or so he thought.

“Wait, you fool! That is not what I meant!” Patrick belatedly grasped Lion’s reaction and shouted toward the shut portal.

—

Upon exiting the room, Lion began organizing his thoughts.

“How does one craft a 3-star potion?”

The initial approach involved leveling up through sheer repetition, hoping for a superior result.

However, time simply did not permit such a method.

The second alternative was purchasing premium herbs for the concoction.

This placed less strain on the physical body than the first option and offered a decent chance at a fine potion.

Yet, if one were to go that route, acquiring a finished potion directly from another alchemist would be far wiser.

That option was discarded as well.

Which left, ultimately…

“Only the traditional method remains.”

The traditional method.

Naturally, this meant handling every single step independently, from foraging the herbs to the final brew.

“There are limitations when relying solely on bare hands.”

No matter how delicately one operated, the tactile sensitivity of the fingertips inevitably grew dull from scraping against earth and sand, preventing the selection of optimal flora.

Moreover, specimens that required harvesting by the stem without disturbing the roots would inevitably suffer damage if ripped away by brute force.

In short, it was time for proper implements.

And exceptionally fine implements at that.

Lion marched directly to the territory’s largest smithy.

Clang! Clang!

Sizzle!

The rhythmic pounding of metal resonated through the workshop, while heated steel plunged into oil, sending up plumes of steam.

Overwhelmed by the sudden wave of heat, Lion instinctively raised an arm.

“Not bad.”

As Lion muttered his admiration, an attendant who had been feeding wood into a nearby furnace approached him.

“Welcome. What are you looking for today?”

Observing that the youth did not appear to be an ordinary person, the worker adopted a respectful tone.

“Are you in charge here?”

“I am not in charge, but I can assist with sales. Are you in need of a standard blade? Or perhaps a rapier, which is easier to handle?”

Clearly, the man mistook Lion for a young master from an affluent household who had recently commenced his sword training.

“I require a hoe and a sickle.”

“……”

The worker’s expression twisted into one of utter bafflement.

“Whatever could you want with a hoe and a sickle… Cough, never mind. Right this way.”

Instinctively sensing that it was best not to pry, the attendant led Lion toward a collection of hoes and sickles tucked away in a corner of the forge.

『Regular Hoe』
『Rough Hoe』
『Ordinary Hoe』

“Hmm?”

The quality of the tools was entirely mediocre.

‘That will not suffice.’

To procure superior herbs, one required instruments of matching caliber.

Naturally, a master smith would not waste time crafting such common farming implements, especially when occupied with weapon commissions from various quarters.

Even if Lion revealed his identity as the eldest son of the Asteri house, a custom hoe would hardly materialize within a single day.

Consequently, Lion altered his strategy.

“Might I experience the forging process here?”

“Pardon? That is utterly absurd…”

“I shall compensate you handsomely.”

Lion drew his coin pouch and extended it toward the worker.

“I can provide more should you desire it.”

“……”

The attendant glanced inside the pouch, his eyes widening.

Yet, rather than bolting away with the bounty—

“You truly know nothing of the world yet, young master!”

The worker scolded Lion while extracting only a handful of gold coins from the pouch.

“This is more than enough, so take your pouch back! No matter how civilized the realm, pickpockets exist everywhere. Do you understand?”

“Ah…”

Lion found himself taken aback in return.

‘I intended for you to keep extra on purpose…’

His goal had been for the man to pocket a portion while presenting the bulk of the funds to the master smith as a gesture of sincerity, but…

“Goodness, offering coin merely for this sort of experience… Wait a moment.”

Leaving Lion where he stood, the worker hurried off, shouting loudly enough to carry over the din of the hammers.

“Brother! Come here for a moment!”

“I am up to my neck in work, why do you call me!”

“Just get over here, I tell you! We have a generous patron!”

“Then sell him some trinket, you fool! I am already struggling with the hearth!”

“Ah, it is not like that!”

“……”

Every word was plainly audible.

‘Why did he instruct me to wait here, then?’ Lion wondered, though he remained patient.

Following a brief verbal dispute, a remarkably diminutive figure emerged from the depths of the workshop.

Adorned with a long braided beard and iron rust caked beneath his fingernails, the man was unmistakably the senior artisan of the establishment.

‘A dwarf.’

A dwarf.

Their craftsmanship was reputed to be the finest in the world, owing to their ability to touch searing flames without harm and their meticulous precision, paired with immense natural strength.

Lion’s own potion-making apparatus had likely been fashioned by dwarven hands.

While only a handful of their descendants remained in the current age, he had not anticipated encountering one in this place.

Brushing the dust from his hands, the dwarf halted before Lion, tilted his head, and asked, “So, you wish to forge a hoe yourself? A greenhorn like you?”

“That is correct.”

“For what reason?”

Unable to admit that the shop lacked any suitable merchandise for purchase, Lion replied with a composed demeanor.

“When I arrived, my intention was merely to purchase and depart. Yet witnessing this place awakened my curiosity. The act of shaping iron into an object seemed fascinating.”

“Hmm…”

“Thus, I wished to try it with my own hands.”

“Hmm…”

“By the way, my name is Lion Asteri.”

“Aha.”

Being regarded as an eccentric individual certainly had its conveniences.

Although the previous explanation had fallen on deaf ears, the mere mention of his seven-letter name seemed to clear up all confusion.

“Bring the equipment for this oddity!”

“Oh dear, Brother. Mind your tongue!”

Sweating profusely at the artisan’s blunt remark, the attendant hastily prepared a workspace as instructed.

An anvil, a block of iron, tongs, and a hammer.

The setup mirrored any standard smithy.

“You may make use of that hearth over there! That fellow accepted a tip, so feel free to order him about while you fashion whatever nonsense you please!”

“I am grateful. And might I ask your name?”

Whoosh.

The dwarven descendant had already turned his back and resumed his labor.

“…My brother is called Millionth Mudu. You may simply refer to him as Mudu, Brother.”

Now fully cognizant of Lion’s lineage, the worker offered the information with a somewhat more deferential tone.

“I see. And you?”

“You may call me Son. Uh…”

Still preoccupied with the matter of the money he had handled earlier, Son rubbed the back of his neck.

“Pay it no heed. Rather, I should like to inspect the rest of the smithy.”

“Ah, this way. It will be rather warm.”

Son stepped ahead, guiding Lion through the operations. One smith hammered raw metal, another shaped the heated iron according to its designated function, a third smoothed away rough edges, and the final artisan attached the handles.

Every individual remained deeply focused on their respective tasks, continuously producing goods.

Lion removed his coat, draped it over his forearm, and surveyed the surroundings.

Not a single aspect of the process lacked systematic precision.

‘Strange.’

That being the case, even if the tools were not the work of a master craftsman, the quality of a simple hoe should not have been so remarkably poor.

“Finally, one places the iron inside here to heat it.”

“Ah.”

So that was the root of it. Could this be the reason for the subpar results?

Lion gazed into the blazing furnace of the smithy.

Though it radiated tremendous heat, sufficient to melt metal, something vital was absent.

‘Come to think of it, Mudu mentioned he was having trouble with the fire as well.’

Upon closer inspection—

Sparkle.

A distinct, uncommon luminescence flickered within the raging flames.

『A low-level fire spirit is observing you.』
-It appears weaker than standard spirits. Could it be harboring some form of dissatisfaction?
『☞Click to examine the spirit’s grievance.』

“Is the flame normally this feeble?”

“It is hardly weak by ordinary standards… though the output has indeed dropped somewhat compared to before. It is not an immediate crisis, yet Brother Mudu appears quite distressed over it. By the by, how did you discern that the fire was lacking?”

“The fire informed me.”

“…Ah~.”

Son’s reaction arrived a beat too late.

It was at that exact moment that the label of ‘eccentric’ firmly cemented itself in place of ‘young master.’

“So, what does the fire demand of you?”

“As if fire could speak.”

“……”

“Now then, I should like you to instruct me in the crafting of a hoe.”

“Ah, yes. Right this way.”

Just as Son, wearing an expression of bewildered enlightenment, moved to lead Lion back to his designated anvil—

“Halt!”

Millionth Mudu, who had vanished moments prior, barred their path once more.

His demeanor bore no resemblance to his earlier attitude.

“Son. Go attend to your duties. I have a few matters to discuss with this oddity.”

“Hold on, you told me to handle him just now…”

“Are you moving yet, you idiot!”

“Such a temper. Fine! Call upon me later!”

Grumbling under his breath, Son stepped aside, as though accustomed to such abrupt dismissals.

Or perhaps it was simply due to Lion’s peculiar reputation.

“…Ugh. Follow me.”

Lion trailed behind Mudu.

Stepping through the rear exit of the workshop, Mudu led him to a secluded spot some distance away where no other workers lingered, before finally breaking his silence.

“Did you witness it?”

“I did.”

“Do you comprehend the issue?”

“Likely.”

The two eccentrics exchanged conversation devoid of elaborate elaboration.

The unspoken exchange signified: ‘Did you perceive the fire spirit, and have you identified the malfunction?’

“Can you resolve it?”

“And if I succeed?”

“…Ugh…”

Mudu scraped his head with his rust-flecked fingernails, causing tiny flakes of iron to shower onto the ground, though Lion paid them no mind.

“You stated your desire to forge the item yourself. I shall teach you personally.”

“And beyond that?”

“…I will give precedence to your orders at all times.”

It was a remarkably generous concession.

The smithy attached to the Asteri domain possessed enough renown to command commissions from rival territories.

Satisfied with the terms, Lion extended his hand.

“I shall commence this very night.”