Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing — Chapter 59
Never Mind the Heir, I’ll Focus on Healing — Chapter 59
My brother’s talents weren’t limited to just one field.
If he were handed over to those types, they’d have him by the nose for the rest of his life in spirit arts.
And most likely…
Rickshel stole a sidelong glance at Lion.
Lion wasn’t letting it show in the slightest, but Rickshel knew. Lion was well aware of it too.
Yet he had brought them all the way here.
Because he had to buy time until the family head arrived.
‘In that case.’
It would be better to handle it like this.
Rickshel put on an amiable smile and said,
“This place is your favorite sanctuary, brother. Whenever you studied, whenever you rested, you always came here.”
“Oh, truly someone who knows how to love nature…”
“However, Miss Freyania trespassed here.”
“That was—”
“Haha. A childish indiscretion, of course, but a wrong is still a wrong, and yet you mercifully called her a guest and brought her here.”
The meaning was clear: do not try anything foolish, keep quiet and recharge in nature, then go home obediently when the family head arrived.
That was what he meant.
‘This little punk…’
For an elf, he was barely a suckling babe, but his tongue was plenty sharp.
Embrog kept a smiling face and strolled with his hands clasped behind his back.
“I shall be grateful for young Lion’s character. Though, to be precise, it stems from the delicacy possessed only by a top-tier spirit mage.”
“My brother had a good disposition long before he ever saw a spirit.”
“One might ask whether, in a human realm devoid of spirits, it wasn’t so much that he didn’t see them as that he couldn’t see them.”
Spear against spear.
The saying that you can’t spit on a smiling face was a complete lie.
Look how many daggers they were throwing at each other while smiling.
Right around the time both of them were going for blood, all offence and no defence, snarling to wound one another—
“Um…”
Freyania, who had followed along at some point, spoke to Lion.
“Hm? You came too?”
Truthfully, part of the reason I’d spoken up was because it looked like she was getting chewed out too badly.
Our family had probably given her a severe thrashing too, no doubt.
“Since you’re here, get some rest.”
“Th-That’s…”
Sure enough, her eyes were swollen, likely from a fierce scolding.
The moment her eyes met Lion’s, Freyania murmured quietly,
“I’m sorry. I really was trying to do something bad.”
“…”
I hadn’t expected her to apologize.
And it wasn’t just an apology to smooth things over, either.
She had recognized her own wrongdoing and was apologizing with considerable sincerity.
“Truthfully, I wanted so badly to gain your insight, Sir Lion. So even though I knew I shouldn’t…”
She explained that elves were far removed from alchemy, and that the alchemy she herself pursued was different from that of the Magic Tower’s alchemists.
It would have been different, for sure.
A difference in moral grain, perhaps.
‘Though it wouldn’t have been the same as mine, either.’
Anyway.
She said that through this incident she had realized that everything she had been pursuing was completely wrong, and that she had come to apologize for it.
She even added that it was all right if the apology wasn’t accepted.
‘Well, I mean…’
I could see from the circumstances that something major had nearly happened.
But if it didn’t happen, wasn’t that the end of it?
‘Though it couldn’t have happened in the first place.’
Hadn’t Elvia’s surveillance been on me from the moment I entered Mimir Forest?
Even if by some chance a kidnapping had occurred, I’d have been able to return safely to the mansion in under an hour.
That, too, was one reason why I, unlike in my past life, went around doing everything I felt like doing.
So I was more than willing to accept the apology.
But—
‘If I eagerly accept it in this situation…’
That would make things difficult externally.
Embrog’s gaze, in particular, was sharp.
It was a look that said the moment I accepted the apology, he would pull Freyania right off the negotiating table.
Though Freyania herself didn’t seem to notice.
Sigh. Humans, elves—it’s all the same.
I was sick to death of old foxes.
‘…Now there won’t be any need for that.’
I glanced sideways.
Lion looked toward the entrance of the forest.
Whooosh.
Seeing that a cold wind was blowing in from the direction of the Asteri Mansion…
“Ah, it seems Grandfather has arrived.”
“Hmm.”
It seemed he had stalled for time well.
Rickshel smiled a victor’s smile.
“We’ll talk more later.”
Instead of accepting Freyania’s apology outright, Lion ruffled her hair vigorously with his hand, then turned away.
“…?”
Perhaps not understanding what that meant, Freyania stood there for a moment, fiddling with her now-mussed hair.
* * *
“You arrived quickly.”
“I hurried, knowing it was an urgent matter. I hope the Elder’s companion will put aside their anger.”
Embrog’s attitude had shifted markedly from when he had been dealing with Lion and Rickshel earlier.
Amid his genial, smiling eyes, his pupils blazed fiercely.
The Elf King. The Elder Elf’s companion.
One of the humans who had defeated the enemy of all that exists on the continent.
Petrick Asteri.
It was one thing to leisurely trade teasing banter with his descendants, but with this man it was troublesome.
Especially.
He glanced briefly.
Embrog’s gaze flicked toward Lion for a moment before returning.
‘For young Lion’s sake as well.’
Lion Asteri.
A possessor of staggering talent, capable of communing with greater spirits despite having never contracted with a spirit—no, despite barely ever meeting one.
This was truly an event to be astonished by.
He had a talent for alchemy?
Spirit arts and potion-making were talents of an entirely different dimension.
How could a talent for communing with spirits beyond the dimensional boundary, for borrowing their abilities, possibly be compared to mere potions!
In theory, the art of spirit communion even made dimensional travel possible!
‘The problem is that such talents are rare.’
Elves were innately few in number.
They lacked the urge to reproduce, and due to social views, those of mixed blood with other races were not even treated as elves.
Furthermore, while a majority of elves could use spirit arts, that did not mean they represented the whole.
Because of this, the lineage of spirit arts itself was slowly dying out—that was the current state of affairs.
Accepting that severity, what had recently been gaining persuasiveness was none other than the ‘Race-Blind Doctrine.’
Spirit arts were generally a talent elves were born with, but occasionally, exceptions would emerge outside that category.
From dwarves who could sense fire spirits, to the occasional human or beastfolk among whom a being capable of summoning intermediate spirits would appear.
The elves—and the high elf Embrog—spared no effort in fostering such talent, regardless of race.
Freyania was proof of that.
Even though she was a half-elf whom the elf kingdom had practically cast out…
Had the Elder not attached protective magic to her as a bare minimum of protection when she fortunately manifested the talent of a spirit mage?
‘Therefore, I will take Lion Asteri.’
If Lion Asteri had been the official heir of House Asteri, he would have swallowed his regret and given up cleanly.
He had not the slightest intention of getting entangled in human politics.
But from what he had heard, the heir here was his younger brother, Rickshel Asteri.
That young fellow with a sharp tongue.
In that case… was this not acceptable?
Mutual benefit: the young man’s breadth of learning would expand…
while they would pass on the truth of the spirit arts, handed down since ancient times.
To do that, he needed to persuade this man, but—
‘He’s fierce.’
Embrog’s very first impression of Petrick Asteri was a wintry harshness and sharpness, like a midwinter wind.
‘As expected of the Elder’s companion.’
Embrog had participated in numerous exchanges with other races throughout his life, but it had been a very long time since he had felt such an overwhelming presence.
It seemed to be both his mana and his inherent temperament.
Gulp.
He instinctively swallowed dryly.
‘This is actually for the better.’
People like this were generally shrewd about practical gains.
They could calculate what was beneficial and what was a loss by instinct.
If that were the case, then by offering something appropriate in exchange for Lion Asteri, the negotiation could end surprisingly easily.
…Or so Embrog had assessed.
However.
“Grandfather, you weren’t too tired coming here, were you?”
“I was fine.”
“Where were you returning from this time, for it to take so long?”
“I was a guest at the Sword Mastery Family.”
“…”
Something was strange.
Embrog slowly looked around.
The fierce aura of the elves and spirits escorting him was boiling up against Petrick Asteri’s mana.
Not to mention Petrick himself, Rickshel Asteri beside him was also exuding an equally ferocious presence.
Because of this energy, the ordinary servants couldn’t even come near this guest room.
Even Freyania, apparently finding this situation awkward, had tucked herself in a corner and was sitting hunched over, listlessly twisting and braiding her own hair.
‘But then why…’
Why was our future, our light, our unparalleled genius Lion Asteri sitting beside Petrick without batting an eye?
Perhaps because he didn’t handle mana directly, Embrog couldn’t sense the precise flow.
Sip.
Embrog took a sip of tea to maintain his composure.
Still, there was always a gap to be found.
“You seem quite close.”
“My grandfather is very fond of me, you see.”
“Hm. Hm.”
Petrick Asteri did not deny it.
Which meant that display was genuine.
“Hoho. A close grandparent-grandchild bond is wonderful. With us, most live independently upon reaching adulthood, so we rarely see such a sight.”
“I assume you aren’t staying in this stuffy room because you have nothing to say.”
Petrick posed the question directly, point-blank.
“…Fortunately, the heir of this house skillfully cleared up our small misunderstanding, so there is no matter of importance to discuss. Rather, I should offer an apology.”
The moment he finished speaking, Embrog rose from his seat, formally paid his respects, and apologized.
At that, the elves behind him also bowed their heads in proper decorum.
“Though she is a half-elf, the child under our protection nearly committed a grave discourtesy, so I formally apologize to Sir Lion Asteri.”
And he immediately continued,
“Furthermore, though no disturbance occurred, I also apologize for entering House Asteri while armed. The Elder’s companion graciously granted his understanding, so no harm resulted.”
They were two apologies, but he strictly differentiated the recipients.
The apology for the matter with Freyania was directed to Lion.
And trespassing upon House Asteri as he pleased was a separate issue entirely.
“…”
Petrick’s eyebrow twitched.
Truly, he had abased himself, but hadn’t he also cunningly slipped out of the worst of it?
This was why he disliked elves.
Contrary to their youthful appearance, you could never tell how many centuries an elder sat within.
“So, of what use is an apology that’s only words?”
“Before you arrived, Sir Petrick Asteri, word reached the Elder. An elf carrying a penitential gift has already departed from our kingdom and should arrive before long.”
“You’ll be imposing on us a few more days, I take it?”
“Shameless as it is, I shall. And…”