An Actual Home Visit?
In House Sophen, nothing mattered more than money. To be frank, without their fortune, they had little else to boast of.
Paradoxically, this made them flaunt their wealth while hoarding every coin with ferocious tenacity. When it came to ostentatious display or business investments, they spent lavishly, yet unexpected outlays were pinched down to the last copper.
In short, squandering 1.3 million cel on a mere general education instructor had never been part of the calculation. And of all things, on tea!
How could I have known the man would drink like a bottomless well?!
A variable existing entirely beyond calculation—that was Ziel.
Never in his wildest dreams had Olton imagined anyone could empty thirteen teapots of the finest luxury brew in a mere thirty minutes. Barely half an hour—the time an ordinary guest would take to casually nurse a single pot.
His plan had been to flaunt the wealth of House Sophen, but now he had flaunted it far too thoroughly.
There's no helping it. His chest twinged with agonizing thrift, yet what the moment demanded was the magnificent magnanimity befitting a patriarch!
“What is all this fuss over a paltry 1.3 million cel?”
I never mentioned the exact figure of 1.3 million cel, my lord...
“It may be a mere 1.3 million cel, but it is well worth offering proper hospitality. After all, what can one even do with a trifling 1.3 million? At most, hire a 2nd-Circle mage, host a lavish banquet, or... with that kind of money...”
Indeed, his magnanimity overflowed—overflowed so abundantly it threatened to form an ocean!
“...The instructor must be waiting. Let us go in. Butler, remain outside on standby.”
“Y-yes, of course, my lord.”
The butler let out a quiet sigh of relief, until—
“Ah. And submit a full report detailing every single expense incurred during Instructor Ziel's home visit. Clear as day. Down to the last copper.”
“...Understood, my lord.”
“Be sure to highlight this 1.3 million cel in particular.”
Such boundless generosity.
Stepping inside, Olton and Maris found themselves facing Ziel, whose expression was as stoic and placid as ever.
“Instructor Ziel, it is good to see you again after so long,” Olton said, forcing a casual air.
“Instructor Ziel!” Maris cried, his face lighting up with genuine delight.
“Lord Sophen, it is good to meet you again for the home visit. Cadet Maris Sophen. You appear to have lost weight since we last met.”
“How did you know? The moment break started, I trained like crazy!”
“However, your muscle mass has decreased along with it. Pay closer attention to your nutritional intake.”
“H-how did you notice that too? To tell the truth, I skipped dinner for the last two days...”
“Cadet Maris Sophen. You must eat every meal properly to maintain adequate nourishment.”
“Yes, sir! I'll take that to heart!” Maris replied with a brilliant grin.
What on earth has gotten into this boy? Olton wondered, his insides churning with frustration. Not, of course—absolutely not—because of the 1.3 million cel.
“Ahem. Maris, you seem to be in quite high spirits.”
“Of course, Father! Instructor Ziel came all the way to our home!”
Olton flinched slightly. The boy’s words plucked unexpectedly at his paternal heartstrings.
My son is this happy... and it only cost a paltry 1.3 million cel...
“Lord Olton Sophen, the tea was exquisite.”
No. It was a staggering 1.3 million cel.
“Ahem. It seems it was very, very much to your liking.”
“Yes. The butler told me to ask for as much as I desired, so I drank several helpings. I have rarely had occasion to drink tea, but it was my first time tasting brews with such depth of flavor.”
Was he supposed to feel pleased or infuriated? It felt flattering that the instructor appreciated the quality, but having him gulp down that astronomical quantity was an entirely different matter.
“Which one pleased your palate the most?”
“The Black Oak tea leaves were the finest.”
Of course he picks the priciest one. Yet it soon became clear that price was not the only thing Ziel understood.
“The initial flavor began with smoky notes and a pleasant bitterness, followed by a subtle sweetness sliding down the throat as the cup emptied. Over time, that sweetness intensified, and toward the final cup, the bitterness surfaced once more. It was a multifaceted profile.”
“...!”
The evaluation matched the connoisseurs word for word. There was no way he could have researched or asked anyone in that short span.
Does he truly possess a discerning palate for tea? Olton had assumed the man was an uncultured brute, yet now he saw Ziel in a curiously new light.
“Instructor, do you know a lot about tea?”
“I do not know much, Cadet Maris Sophen. I merely described what I perceived.”
Unbeknownst to anyone, Ziel’s five senses were honed to superhuman extremes—especially his sense of taste. If he focused, he could parse out the subtlest undertones concealed beneath competing flavors. In the art of tea, where aroma and complex taste profiles were everything, he had unintentionally demonstrated the mastery of a seasoned connoisseur!
“Then that makes it even more incredible! Father, isn't it? Didn't Sir Lewis say almost the exact same thing when we met him?”
Sir Lewis was the very connoisseur in question—a Grand Knight of the Imperial Family renowned for his profound expertise in the tea ceremony.
“...”
What on earth is this man? Nothing today had gone as planned or expected, and a thumping headache was beginning to pulse behind Olton’s temples.
“Ahem... well. We had best move on to the purpose of this home visit.”
Olton forcibly steered the conversation back to business, fearing that lingering any longer on the topic would only suffocate him with frustration.
“Very well. There is much to discuss.”
“Yes, well, I imagine so.”
Olton crossed his arms, ready to hear whatever excuses the man had prepared, when—
Thump.
A thick sheaf of documents emerged from Ziel's satchel and landed heavily upon the table. Olton blinked in bewilderment.
“What... might that be, Instructor?”
“Materials containing an analysis of Cadet Maris Sophen's achievements, swordsmanship, and future trajectory for growth.”
Olton was taken aback yet again.
This is an actual home visit?
He had assumed the man was merely stopping by for superficial pleasantries, not an exhaustive academic debriefing!
“The first page contains a preliminary summary of the dossier. We shall proceed while referencing it. Over the course of the semester, Cadet Maris Sophen has demonstrated measurable improvement in posture, speed, and precision. His physical attributes, including stamina and reflexes, have also developed. However, as this growth has been asymmetrical, there are several points that require attention. To begin...”
Olton’s pupils dilated slightly. He is taking this terrifyingly seriously.
Yet against his will, Olton found himself drawn entirely into Ziel’s assessment.
“Here. When executing high-angle strikes, he has a habit of raising his arms excessively high. I have corrected this repeatedly, but due to the habits ingrained by his prior fencing style, full remediation has not yet occurred. Rectifying this should be his primary focus over the break.”
“Ah, understood.”
“Next is his lower body. His footwork is relatively proficient compared to his peers, but it lacks precision. During practical training...”
Before he even realized it, Olton was no longer acting as the proud head of House Sophen, but as an anxious parent at a parent-teacher conference!
“Pardon me... Instructor. Where would my son's abilities rank among the first-years?”
Olton leaned forward, his eyes alight with genuine anticipation. Ziel, in stark contrast, answered with placid indifference.
“Within the top ten percent.”
“I knew it!”
All that coin and pampering had not been in vain!
“Provided he refines his swordsmanship and breathing technique in accordance with the corrective measures outlined in the document, he will continue to progress.”
“Is that so!”
“Father, it's all thanks to Instructor Ziel's guidance. To be honest... I was quite arrogant before, but the instructor knocked some sense into me.”
Ziel interjected, “Due to that issue, his interpersonal relations with peers were poor initially, but through practical fieldwork, substantial progress was achieved.”
Maris ducked his head in embarrassment, while Olton beamed.
“Truly?”
Though Olton had knowingly indulged the boy and turned a blind eye to his entitled attitude, there was no reason not to celebrate the fact that he was improving.
“In summary, Cadet Maris Sophen requires structural adjustments to his sword technique to accommodate his impending growth spurts, along with focused remediation of his identified weaknesses. Nevertheless, he possesses genuine aptitude for the blade and shows great promise for continued advancement.”
“Instructor...”
“It really is all thanks to you! Thank you, Instructor Ziel!”
Ziel nodded at Maris’s heartfelt gratitude. “Yes. It is thanks to me.”
Then, uncharacteristically, he added:
“However, the one who wields the blade and endures the training is you, Cadet Maris Sophen. Your growth is also a consequence of your dedication in following my instruction.”
Praise for one's child was ever the sweetest melody.
“So my son is doing well?”
“He is doing well. He participates diligently in training and delivers strong results. He is a student of exceptional standing.”
Though delivered in Ziel’s flat, emotionless monotone, to Olton’s ears it sounded sweeter than the most extravagant imperial encomium.
Olton bowed his head in hasty gratitude. “Please, continue to guide and instruct him strictly in the days ahead, Instructor Ziel. I may have spoiled the boy a bit, but deep down, he truly is good-natured. I feel terribly apologetic for neglecting him after sending him off to the academy.”
“Is that so. For as long as he remains at the academy, I shall watch over him.”
What else mattered? His son had grown this much, and the boy had real talent!
Whatever spiteful intentions had crossed his mind when he first heard about the home visit had evaporated completely. None of it mattered anymore.
“That concludes the home visit. I leave these documents with you to reference as needed.”
Ziel handed over the handwritten dossier and began packing his satchel. Seeing this, Olton shot to his feet.
“Y-you are leaving already, Instructor Ziel?”
“I have conveyed all relevant information regarding Cadet Maris Sophen's progress. Is there further discussion required?”
“Well... it hasn't even been two hours since we sat down! If you leave so abruptly, I will be consumed by guilt!”
“I have other households to visit.”
Olton lunged forward and seized Ziel’s hand in a tight grip. “I simply cannot let you depart like this, Instructor Ziel!”
Any scheme of crushing the man under a display of sheer wealth was long forgotten.
This is my son's instructor!
Olton was a man ruled by his moods. More precisely, he was a father.
“Please, at least stay for a meal! It happens to be mealtime anyway. I could never rest easy if I sent you away on an empty stomach, especially when you have such a long journey ahead to visit the other families...”
Maris chimed in enthusiastically. “He's right, Instructor! Please stay for dinner. Our head chef's cooking is incredible!”
Father and son gazed at him with desperate pleading in their eyes.
“I cannot accept anything from students or their parents.”
Confronted by Ziel’s unyielding refusal, Olton pressed even harder. “Instructor, this is not an acceptance of gifts! Rather, you would be doing me an honor! Won't you consider my reputation? You know full well that in the Valdrain Empire, turning away a guest who traveled from afar without feeding them invites universal ridicule!”
He was not entirely wrong. Customs of lavish hospitality toward travelers still lingered throughout the empire. Though some extremes had died out as archaic excesses, the culture of offering at least one square meal even to a bitter adversary remained firmly intact!
Ziel deliberated for a moment, then, feeling the faint stirrings of hunger in his belly, nodded.
“Very well. I shall accept.”
Only then did Olton and Maris breathe sighs of relief.
“You will certainly not be disappointed! We use only the freshest ingredients procured from across the empire! Ah, do you happen to have any particular favorite dish? If so, I will send word to the kitchen at once so they can prepare it.”
Ziel paused to consider, then answered, “Chicken skewers.”
“Chicken skewers...?”
“Pieces of chicken skewered and roasted over heat.”
Olton didn't need a definition; he was bewildered as to why an esteemed guest in an opulent noble manor would request such humble street fare...
Ah!
True to his title as an educator! He had chosen a modest dish so as not to impose an extravagant burden on his host!
Olton’s mind had now completely swung to the most generous interpretations possible.
“I shall order the finest chicken skewers ever made to be prepared!”
“If possible, please prepare a large quantity.”
“Of course! I will make sure of it, Instructor!”
Olton smiled warmly. It was the most satisfying day he had experienced in recent memory.
“Son, keep working hard at the academy. Keep everything your instructor said in mind and train diligently during the break.”
“Yes, Father! Absolutely!”
Maris was in equally high spirits. I'm so glad Father calmed down.
His father had seemed rather hostile at first, but true to his mercurial nature, his mood had brightened completely.
“Ah, Instructor. Since there is still about an hour before the meal, would you care to observe our knight order's training while we wait? We happen to be preparing for the formal establishment of our household order.”
“Understood.”
“Allow me to escort you personally!”
A thoroughly invigorated Olton led the way, with Maris trailing close behind.
Yet the two should have taken a hint from the fact that Ziel had polished off thirteen pots of tea in thirty minutes.
Namely, just how much the man could actually eat.