A Seat at the Family Table
Messi had finished his personal training. Water for washing had already been laid out, as if someone had known he would go to the training grounds. After he had washed and was waiting, a servant came to find him.
"Pardon the interruption, Sir Messi. The Lord has invited you to breakfast. Would you care to join? He said you needn't feel obligated."
He had expected as much.
"That's fine. Lead the way."
Breakfast was served in a separate family dining room — a place, it seemed, where only a very select few guests and the direct blood of House Ahental were permitted to sit.
The moment Messi appeared, the viscountess, already seated, frowned. Beside her, Ayres smiled and addressed him.
"Sir Messi, I hear you trained from dawn. Impressive."
"Haha, not at all. If anyone is impressive, it is the First Young Master, attending to business from first light."
"Pardon? How did you—"
"Well, you would have received the morning report. Of course you would know I trained at dawn."
"...I see."
Ayres had offered a pleasantry and gotten a barb in return. After that he said nothing more. When two people could not stand each other, keeping one's mouth shut was still the wisest course.
Ereb appeared, pushing Erena's wheelchair — devoted even at this hour. Messi and Erena's eyes met, and they exchanged a quiet greeting. Behind them walked a woman Messi had never seen before, presumably the First Young Master's wife. She had wavy brown hair and slightly upturned eyes, and the freckles scattered across her face gave her a lively look.
At last the head of the house, Viscount Ahental, entered and took the seat of honor. Dishes arrived trailing hot steam, and the meal began.
His master had left Messi many things. One of them was ensuring he would never be looked down upon in matters of cultivation — and table manners were among them.
Messi handled fork and knife with easy competence, lifting the bones from the fish as he ate. He could feel the others glancing at him, but he paid it no mind, spreading sauce over the flesh and eating it with the vegetables.
He had guessed, from the moment of the invitation, that the breakfast would be this sort of occasion. His sense of burden was as close to nothing as it could be.
They've got me playing forest royalty. Did they really think I couldn't manage even this?
It's freshwater fish, so there's a bit of a muddy smell. Still — this is more than decent.
He savored the taste instead, taking genuine pleasure in the moment. When he had lived with his master, meals had amounted to little more than fruit or the secretions of ants. In Benuda Village, it had been the dry, dense bread of frontier commoners, or whatever game they had hunted and roasted over a fire. Now and then there had been a stew, simmered slowly with meat broth and ewe's milk — but that was the extent of it.
In any case, this was the cooking of House Ahental, and it was quite good. If Lee Eunho — a man who had enjoyed the developed food culture of the twenty-first century — found himself thinking this is pretty decent, that meant it was excellent by any measure.
Viscount Ahental laughed heartily.
"Sir Messi, the food seems rather to your taste."
"It's the most delicious meal I've had in recent times."
"Haha, eat your fill. If it isn't enough, just tell the servants behind you anytime..."
He seemed to be worrying over how large an outlander's appetite might be, and what such a palate preferred. The very fact that he was considering those differences first, and making room for them, meant he was conscious of Messi's value.
Not bad.
The conversation did not revolve around Messi alone. The viscount turned his attention to Ereb.
"Ereb, now that you're back, what do you intend to start with?"
"I plan to resume the knight order's training first. I've been away a month — time to tighten things up again."
"Good thinking. The captain did his part even in your absence, but there is a clear difference between when a superior's eye is present and when it is not."
"Yes, Father."
"Frox will be arriving soon as well, so prepare well what we discussed yesterday. And you should inform your wife's family of your return. It does not look well to keep your wife away from the household indefinitely."
"I already sent word yesterday."
Viscount Ahental made certain to say at least a word to each member of the family in turn. It seemed to be his own way of keeping the peace of the household. He praised his wife's jewelry, spoke of work with Ayres and Ereb, and had a brief back-and-forth with Erena over whether she would continue her volunteer work. To his daughter-in-law, he had little to say.
Watching it, Messi thought — only for a moment — of the family he had left in Seoul.
When the meal was finished, it was time for tea. The viscount hesitated a little before he spoke.
Even after the words were out, it was a moment of worry.
But he remembered the house magicians crying that they must not, under any circumstances, let this one slip away. As they had urged, he wanted somehow to bind Messi to them for certain.
As far as the viscount knew, the methods for holding a person were money and position — but would either of those work on a prince of another race?
Still, the fact that he followed Ereb all the way here means he's sufficiently interested in our house, doesn't it? Being a retainer of a human noble house he admires might even be better than being a mere prince of some forest tribe. Of course, he would only be a healer, but...
Left to his own wishes, the viscount would have offered a post other than healer. But assigning an excessive office to an outlander who had appeared from nowhere would only look suspicious to noble society. If rival houses caught the scent and began to investigate, Messi's true usefulness would be exposed in no time.
In the end, the healer's post Ereb had proposed from the start was the most unremarkable choice. The nameplate would say healer; the actual work would be interpreting the ancient language...
Since this was what Messi wanted as well, he did not refuse.
"It would be my honor."
"G-good. That's a relief. As for compensation... hmm. Who has the highest annual salary among the house healers?"
"Boyle. Fifty silver."
"That's not right. When he went to the Forest of Resentment he made a grave blunder, so we decided to cut his pay by seventy percent."
Ayres had answered promptly; Ereb added the rest. The viscount shook his head.
"Seventy percent is a bit harsh. Let us cut it by thirty, and restore it after three months. More to the point, Sir Messi's salary is the issue. We should treat him according to his ability, so he will not feel slighted."
"What's there to worry about? He has healing ability beyond Boyle's."
Hmm. Ereb and Sir Messi seem close, so this is hardly an objective evaluation... How outstanding can a Heal really be?
When there is a patient in the family, the family members become semi-experts themselves. Thanks to Erena, Viscount Ahental knew more about healing than almost anyone. That was why he guessed Messi was only a little better than an ordinary healer.
Double Boyle's? Triple? Promising a healer too high a salary would look suspicious to those around us... I'll add a little to Boyle's figure first, then take care of the real money separately.
Then Erena cut in.
"Then how about setting a probationary period, evaluating him, and assigning a value after that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Father, the reason you've been thinking so long is that you brought Sir Messi in after hearing he was outstanding — but you don't actually know exactly what his healing ability is like, do you?"
It seemed his daughter had misunderstood his pensive look. But explaining the truth would mean rattling off the inside story that led to ancient magic. There were many ears at the table, so rather than correct her, he decided simply to agree.
"...That's true."
"Then wouldn't it be more accurate to evaluate him in the field first, and make a contract after?"
"What field? Don't tell me—"
"That's right. I wanted to bring Sir Messi along when I go to volunteer."
"Hmm."
"Anyway, because of the mines we have an abnormally high number of trauma patients. We can see Sir Messi's ability and treat patients too — wouldn't that be a good thing?"
The viscount stroked his beard, turning Erena's words over.
Heal wouldn't work on severe trauma patients anyway... The girl's using her head.
The viscount had opposed Erena going out regularly to volunteer among injured territory residents and mining slaves, despite her own physical difficulties. This, then, seemed to be her seeking a justification to block that opposition — a convenient justification named Messi. A declaration of will: she would do what she meant to do, one way or another.
"Won't it be dangerous? You'll be dealing with injured mining slaves. They're people who have nothing to lose. I don't understand why you would volunteer for such work."
At Erena's answer, Viscount Ahental closed his mouth. He realized that even a daughter's nature being too good could be a kind of trouble.
"Father, the Ahental knight order will be accompanying them anyway. Please allow it. We'll also get to see Sir Messi's ability — there's nothing better. Haha."
Ereb's awkward supporting fire. Ayres said nothing at all. Presently the viscount nodded.
"Very well. However, Sir Messi must agree."
The viscount looked at Messi.
"Would that be all right? I have no intention of evaluating you. As for salary, about one and a half times Boyle's..."
"That's fine. I don't mind what the salary turns out to be — but I'm also interested in the volunteer work Miss Erena mentioned."
"Truly?"
The viscount's eyes went wide. An outlander, and a royal at that, readily accepting a house healer's post, showing no interest in money, yet taking an interest in his daughter's volunteer work?
He had anticipated that, as an outlander, the young man's values might be quite different. This seemed to be such a case.
With things resolving so easily, the viscount was relieved. But soon another problem settled on his chest.
"Thank you. My only daughter is such a handful..."
Viscount Ahental let out a sigh. He, too, was after all a father with a daughter.
Inside the running carriage sat Erena, Ereb, Messi, and the female knight he had seen since yesterday. Their destination was the Prayer House at the foot of the mountain, where injured mining slaves and territory residents were kept.
"Our promised tea time turned into treatment volunteer work. I'm sorry."
"I get to do something worthwhile as well. That's more than fine. Leave it to me."
Messi accepted Erena's apology as if it were nothing, and still showed real enthusiasm. She found herself regarding him with wonder.
Amazing. Even so, he's of noble blood... And if he's a healer, he couldn't help but dislike this kind of work.
She knew well why healers disliked volunteer work. They would feel as though they had been dragged along for a spoiled noble girl's self-indulgent little game, and since most of the patients were ones they could not treat, they would feel powerless as well. Every time she went, she could not help carrying that guilt toward the healers.
But the man in front of her was different. He was actively taking part, and thinking of treating people — so her guilt was lessened. She was grateful.
Of course, that was Erena's misconception.
Messi had a reason of his own.
I'm an outlander prince this young master personally invited and brought here. The more my reputation rises, the more it will inevitably reflect well on him.
Messi intended to become a signboard and a walking advertisement for this young master. Preliminary work, to slowly change the way the territory's people thought. Every time the healer this young master had invited succeeded in a treatment, a little more goodwill would be laid over Ereb's name.
Messi decided he would follow Erena's volunteer work for the time being. He would not rush. He would start by laying a foundation of grassroots sentiment.
Moreover, if she's been doing this often, Erena's image among the territory residents must be extremely good... If I can just share a little of that with this young master...
Even in modern election campaigns, it was common for candidates to bring in celebrities or acquaintances to appear beside them. It was to borrow even a fraction of their image.
Messi had gathered up Ereb — who had been going on foolishly about needing to tighten the knight order — and forcibly loaded him into the carriage. Thanks to that, Ereb was grumbling at his side.
Then Erena spoke in a heavier voice.
"...Once you see it, you'll understand. You don't have to insist on treating people who are hard to treat."
Messi tilted his head.
People who were hard to treat obviously could not be treated — why was she saying something so obvious?
But he understood a moment later. She had never expected anything from a healer's Heal to begin with, and that same expectation had been applied to him. Since she had brought him along under the pretext of evaluating his ability, she was worried he might feel pressured and overreach.
He had long since noticed she was using him as a justification to go volunteer. Guessing the rest was not difficult.
"There are many severe trauma patients. Many with disabilities as well... If treatment is difficult, please at least hold their hands. That in itself is a comfort."
"I will."
When he gave a firm answer without any particular objection, Erena smiled brightly.
What she had been doing all along was treatment volunteer work in name only; the substance was something else. Looking at the goods they had brought, it was food to feed people, and daily necessities — not medicine, bandages, or clean cloth. Since they could not provide treatment, they were offering a little help for a harsh life.
It was an attitude only someone who understood, precisely, the limits of doing treatment volunteer work with Heal could maintain.
Messi put the question that had risen to Ereb.
"But if it's difficult with healers... couldn't you just bring a priest?"
"What's that supposed to mean. If there's no bread, eat meat?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It means those lazy-assed priests would never come out for something like volunteer work. The miracles they perform are their livelihood and the proof of their authority. They wouldn't do free charity that devalues themselves."
Since Erena already knew the two of them were close, Ereb spoke freely, without any restraint.
"Nobles and priests respect each other's domains, so we can't force the issue either. The ways of moving them are quite limited... Priests are more rotten than you think. This costs quite a bit, you see."
Ereb made a circle with his fingers.
"Ohh. I see."
So that means they absolutely won't move?
This actually worked out well.
Even knowing the situation was a grim one, Messi's expression brightened — and Erena found him more fascinating still.