Bitter vs Sweet (2)
"The food is excellent, isn't it, Björn?"
"I don't like admitting it so easily, but you're right."
"I told you my daughter has an eye for these things. Haha."
Deschamps and Björn had put off hearing Blow's briefing for later and were savoring the food at Hills as they talked. Watching their reactions, Blow finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. All the while he had been sorting, in his head, exactly what he meant to tell them.
In the meantime Deschamps speared a tomato from his pasta with his fork and let out a short laugh.
"It's been ages since I've had a tomato, hasn't it, Björn?"
"No. This is my first time."
"Ah—you weren't with us on the southern expedition, were you?"
"No. I would have been in the north then."
"Ah, that's right. Is it because I'm looking at you? I keep slipping into old stories. We were so young back then."
A faint smile rose on Deschamps's face, as if those days had come back to him.
"You haven't changed at all, Lord Deschamps."
"Haha. It's nice to hear, even if it's only words. I wonder whether the others are getting on well."
"I saw Lord Becarion not long ago."
"White Flame? Where?"
"Two years ago, I think. He came to my domain, gave me his help, and left."
"Well, well. Your luck is something else, isn't it? Finding that man is like searching for a needle in a desert."
"Have you seen Lady Lisleia? Or Lord Whittaker?"
At Björn's question, Deschamps shook his head.
"White Flame wanders all over the place, but Whittaker and Lisleia hardly ever leave their doors, do they? Now and then I catch the faintest trace of their mana, and that's all."
"I would like to meet Lady Lisleia once. She was a truly peculiar person."
"A lot like that 108 Swords fellow, wasn't she?"
"I still wonder how Lady Lisleia and 108 Swords never came to blows."
"That 108 Swords never sets foot in the Imperial Capital. Not even when His Majesty summons him."
"I suppose it's because he still thinks of himself as a sinner. I see him about once a year. He stays near the border of my domain."
"How long is that man going to cling to something from so long ago?"
Deschamps shook his head as he spoke, and Björn, wearing a faint smile, went on.
"I ought to pay my respects to the former Saintess as well."
"Saintess Marta travels everywhere, though she always stays in the Imperial Capital. Why not call on her?"
"Hmm. I really am starting to think I should visit the capital at least once."
"Do. Come up now and then, my friend. You and I are close enough to share a drink from time to time, aren't we? You have no idea how much my wife wants to see you."
"Haha, I'd rather not. I'm afraid Lady Karen will challenge me to a spar again."
"Think you'd lose?"
"Not anymore."
"You still have that excessively humble streak."
Deschamps pictured his wife for a moment, let out a thin sigh, and said to Björn,
"My mana keeps shrinking, but Karen's aura seems better now than it was even in her prime. Is that how it usually goes?"
"No. Lady Karen seems to be a special case. But wait—there was still room for her to improve beyond that?"
"I find it astonishing myself. If I'd known, I should have taken up the saddle instead of magic."
"You're joking."
"Of course I'm joking."
The two of them burst out laughing.
Of everything in their conversation, Blow caught only two things. First, that his master, White Flame, had stopped by Grand Duke Björn's eastern domain two years ago. If he passed that news to Hervena, she would probably be pleased. And second, that they were genuinely satisfied with the food he had set before them. Had even a single dish failed to please them, the mood would have turned on him at once.
Thinking he might get through this more peacefully than he had expected, Blow nodded toward Melo, who had been watching from the kitchen with a tense face. Only then did her expression brighten.
"Blow Deblique."
"Yes, Marquis. Was the meal to your liking?"
"The food is quite good. Nothing about it grates. The prices are reasonable, too."
"Thank you."
"I think I can begin to see why my daughter went into business with you. Wouldn't you say, Björn?"
"It was better than I expected."
Björn stopped there and fixed Blow with a steady look. From the moment their eyes had met, that gaze had hardened without mercy, and Blow had no choice but to swallow dryly.
Just then Hills' firmly shut door burst open, and Skadi came in, panting for breath.
"Dad!!!!"
At that cry Björn turned, and his face softened so completely that it was hard to believe a person could change that much all at once.
"Skadi."
"Dad!!"
She ran to him and threw her arms around him, then looked up with sparkling eyes.
"When did you get here? Oh—when did you arrive?"
"A little while ago."
"The domain is so far... How did you get here?"
"By wyvern. Skadi, why don't you speak comfortably?"
"...No! I have to do what I ought to do!"
"Our girl has truly grown up!"
Blow, who could hardly believe this was the same Björn who had been radiating killing intent only moments ago, put real effort into keeping his expression in check. Deschamps, watching the two of them with warm satisfaction, offered Skadi his praise.
"Skadi Hetaya! You've grown into a true beauty!"
"Th-this person is..."
"Marquis Deschamps, of House Edfolk."
"Ah! One of the Six Great Mages...! I am Skadi of House Hetaya. I respect you from the bottom of my heart."
"Haha, is that so?"
"Yes!"
"Ahem! Being one of the Six Great Mages is worth it after all, isn't it? Hear your daughter's praise for yourself."
"You were extraordinary even without it."
In the suddenly warm atmosphere, Skadi turned her gaze back to her father.
"If you were coming, you should have told me first..."
"Our youngest said she was even investing, so I wanted to see that fellow's—no, that boy's face before anything else."
"The investment is one thing, but Blow is a good person."
"Is he?"
"Yes! I've received so much help from him!"
"If our princess says so, it must be true."
Watching Björn gaze at Skadi with tender affection, Deschamps murmured as if to himself.
"So that was it. You."
"......"
"I understand the choice you made when you left the north. To be honest, I never understood it until now."
"Is that so."
"Yes. I only wish Yulia would hurry and arrive as well... Ahem..."
Blow watched Björn looking at Skadi with loving eyes and tilted his head, wondering whether he would turn out the same way if he ever had a daughter of his own.
A short while later Hills' door opened again, and Deschamps's face lit up at once. But the ones who entered were not Yulia. They were Jane and Linne. His face hardened into disappointment in an instant.
"Hmm. And these are...?"
"My employees."
"H-hello! Grand Duke Björn, and Marquis Deschamps...!"
Linne, who had been standing behind Jane, came forward one careful step at a time. The moment she confirmed Deschamps's face, her mouth fell open.
"I-it really is Lord Deschamps!"
"....Ahem."
"I... really! The b-books you wr-wrote..."
"Take your time."
"They moved me so... so deeply! Your magic, too. I truly respect you. R-really."
Linne spoke with her hands clasped tight. Hearing it, Deschamps, whose mood had lifted for no particular reason, answered with a smile.
"Haha! Whittaker must have put quite a few of my books in the school library!"
"B-because in this age of peace, everyday magic matters most of all! Really, really, I-I could die happy now."
"Well now. Praise even my own daughter doesn't give me. I'm glad I came."
Linne spoke as if she might swoon on the spot, and Deschamps broke into a hearty laugh. Blow thought, quite sincerely, that he had hired at least one employee properly.
"But Young Master Blow Deblique, why did you call them in? I doubt it was merely to put me in a good mood."
"I thought this would be a good chance to explain my business, even briefly, to you and His Grace the Grand Duke."
"Hmm. That may be, but my daughter Yulia still hasn't arrived, has she?"
"I contacted her at once, so she should be here before long."
"Haha, is that so! Seeing our Lord Björn has made me want to see my own daughter a little more. Haha!"
"Then I'll begin with the potion shop."
"Yes, do that. Björn will be curious, after all."
"Yes."
And so the explanation of Red Forest began. He focused on what set it apart from an ordinary potion shop. Deschamps, mage and businessman both, listened in earnest and put in a question here and there.
"A potion subscription?"
"Yes. If students are going to drink a set amount of potion every day anyway, I thought it would be better to offer it to them as a subscription."
"It would be convenient."
"The first round of reservations is already full, and we're taking the second round now."
"Hmm... This potion shop is your own business, isn't it, Blow Deblique?"
"Yes. With Senior Yulia, I'm partnering mainly on Hills, and on the sparkling water I'll explain later."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Even so, since she's my senior in business, I've been taking a great deal of advice from her."
"Quite right. You should listen to her. You have no idea how sharp that girl Yulia is."
Deschamps Edfolk piled another helping onto the praise of Yulia that Blow had slipped in so casually. Watching the man's pleased expression, Blow thought this affair might go more easily than he had feared. Björn, the one he had worried about most, had set the presentation aside and was doing nothing but gazing at his daughter, and Deschamps was only confirming things rather than picking through every detail.
Having decided to leave the explanation of Hills to Yulia, Blow poured everything he had left into Red Forest.
"Next is the hangover remedy, and the potion bottles. As for the hangover remedy—"
The account of Red Forest went on and on, and just as it reached its final stage, Hills' door opened once more.
At last Yulia Edfolk stepped inside. But her expression was far from good, and Blow had no choice but to tense. She looked displeased—brow drawn tight, lips pressed shut. Seeing her like that for the first time, Blow glanced at Jane and Linne beside him. They seemed to be thinking the same thing; for a moment they even held their breath, reading the air.
"Yulia! My daughter! You're here!"
"Father."
"Come, sit here at once."
"I should greet Grand Duke Björn first."
"Ah, yes. Of course!"
Unlike Deschamps's tone, bright with joy, Yulia's voice had sunk cold.
So Senior Yulia and Marquis Deschamps don't get along?
He couldn't help feeling that way. Unlike Skadi and Björn, who were still clasping hands, Deschamps was looking at his daughter as if he didn't know what to do, and Yulia would not even meet his eyes. She stared only at the floor.
After a long silence, she spoke to her father, almost in a whisper.
"Why did you come so soon?"
"There are the Academia preliminaries, aren't there! Since I was coming anyway, I thought I'd have a bite, so I came here first! And when I arrived, Duke Björn was here, so we had a meal together—"
"You promised that if you came to Caipol, you would come to me first."
"Ah, did I? I'm sorry."
Deschamps scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. Yulia watched him, slowly closed her eyes and opened them again, then spoke in a quiet, measured tone.
"Why do you always ignore what I—"
"Senior Yulia. And Marquis Deschamps."
The one who cut her off was none other than Blow Deblique. In an instant, even the sound of breathing inside Hills died. Blow forced a smile, looked from her to Deschamps, and asked,
"What would you like for tea? Or shall I bring coffee?"
Silence settled over the room. Yulia's shoulders sagged as she looked at Blow. She swallowed a faint sigh and barely managed an answer.
"Black tea, please, Young Master."