Dinner at the Aser Household (2)
The dinner lasted for three hours straight.
It was the first formal banquet since reopening the capital mansion, and with Gideon himself attending, the splendor of the table that night was beyond description.
Cleio, who had been concentrating on her plate with the mindset of "I'd better eat well before the real work starts," couldn't help but harbor a reasonable suspicion.
'Does Mrs. Canton also use magic? How could this all be prepared in half a day without it?'
Four servants were mobilized for the serving, and each place setting had thirteen pieces of cutlery and five glasses — a full eight-course arrangement.
By the time the cheese board appeared at the end of the meal, Vasco's cheeks and ears had turned entirely red from the wine.
"I've heard so much about you from Dione! You're the one who restored Terpsichore's Lyre, aren't you?"
The man was already small in stature, and when he laughed like that, it was hard to believe he was over forty.
"Yes. I've also long heard of Lord Greyer's great reputation."
Cleio forced a polite smile and, instead of the servant, refilled Vasco's wine glass herself.
"You cheeky thing, flattering an old man like that already! But 'Lord' sounds too stiff—just call me Vasco! Haha!"
"Uncle, you've had enough. Please restrain yourself a little," Dione murmured softly.
"Haha, all right, all right, I'll listen to you. Can't have my head getting too fuzzy if I want a proper conversation."
"Vasco, you've said that exact line a hundred times in Centrum, and never once kept it," Vlad remarked.
"Ha! Vlad, you always manage to stab with a smile!"
It seemed Vasco and Vlad had become close companions during their expedition to the Centrum continent.
"My eldest son tends to be lax with manners. Thank you for your patience."
"Patience? Not at all! On the contrary, I'm the one who's grateful. I received tremendous help from you, Baron Aser, and from Vlad. A merchant house of our scale could never have made the Centrum voyage alone."
Centrum was located west of the Dernier Continent—too large to be called an island, yet too small to be a continent.
Reaching Centrum was no easy feat.
It sat in the middle of the great ocean, surrounded by violent and complex currents, and near the island itself, latitude and longitude measurements would constantly fluctuate.
Some said it was due to ancient magic; others called it a curse.
Because of that, the sea between Centrum and the Dernier Continent was once called The End of the World.
"Countless merchant ships sink before ever reaching Centrum. I was fortunate to accompany the Aser Trading Company."
That was no exaggeration.
Cleio, too, had heard that once you reached Centrum, riches awaited.
Ancient ruins, rare mana ores, and magic stones—long vanished from the Dernier Continent—were still abundant there.
Although the Aser Trading Company had since expanded into many other businesses, it had first made its name by successfully completing a massive trade voyage to Centrum.
Gideon's secret was surprisingly simple: he spared no expense on labor and safety.
Judging by Vasco's demeanor, he had also made a tidy profit on the last expedition—and of course, Aser's company must have benefited greatly from his keen eye and restoration skills.
"Vasco, it was our good fortune to have you along. We discovered far more ruins and veins thanks to you. Please join us again next time."
"Of course, Vlad! If Baron Aser permits it, I'd be delighted. I can leave the affairs of the capital safely in Dione's hands!"
"Oh, Uncle…"
Dione covered her smile modestly with her fan.
"I would always welcome your company, my lord."
"Such kind words, my dear Baron! Ah, look at me, I almost forgot! I brought a gift and didn't even take it out—this dinner was so wonderful that it slipped my mind!"
Vasco reached into the dimensional bag hanging from his chair and suddenly pulled out what looked like a rusted metal rod about a meter long.
"Cleio! It's impressive enough that you captured that beast, but when I heard about the Lyre, I thought—this belongs with you!"
Dione quickly summoned a servant to clear Vasco's dishes and glass.
Everyone in the dining hall turned their eyes toward the object in Vasco's small hands. Cleio activated the "Comprehension" function of Promise. Golden strings of text revealed the object's identity.
[Vegg's Sword]
— Legacy
In need of restoration.
Cleio was so startled that her chair scraped backward slightly.
'This! I was just worrying about Arthur using those broken practice swords, and now this appears!'
Arthur already had a royal sword waiting for him, but he wouldn't receive it until he became crown prince.
In the manuscript, the weapon he used before that was none other than Vasco's Vegg's Sword.
A Legacy-grade weapon—it's incredible. It'll easily withstand Arthur's brute strength.
So even though Vasco didn't appear in the final manuscript, it seemed he still served his role properly.
"I found this on the Centrum continent. Once restored, it should be of considerable value. Would you like to try restoring it?"
"It's an honor. I'll do my best."
Cleio accepted it without hesitation. But just as Vasco seemed about to hand it over, he paused.
"Do you know what it is?"
Though his face was flushed with drink, his eyes were sharp and clear.
He was testing Cleio.
'Coming to me first, are you? That's even better.'
Cleio took the bait without hesitation.
"I do."
"Oh? Care to tell me?"
"It's an early-model longsword with a relatively broad double-edged blade."
"Do you know its name, perhaps?"
"Judging by its form and age, I'd identify it as Vegg's Sword. Vegg was an ancient Centrum monarch—a hero who united his people and defended the sanctum of the gods against heretical invaders."
Cleio recited the manuscript's content verbatim.
Clearly, the author had borrowed the concept from an old Albanian legend, but in The Prince of the Albion Kingdom, it was established as Centrum's own history.
"How did you recognize that at a glance?"
"I read it in a book."
Cleio straightened her shoulders proudly. It wasn't even a lie—she had read it in The Prince of the Albion Kingdom, eighth draft.
Vasco had scoured ancient texts and oral traditions to uncover the sword's background—it had taken him ages to craft the perfect invocation.
"And which book was that, exactly…?"
"That, I'm afraid I can't tell you. My apologies."
"Ha! You're something else! Fair enough—no mage ever shares their true sources. I'll look forward to seeing just how deep your studies go. I did find some hints in old manuscripts myself, but you've gone far beyond what one would expect for your age."
"You flatter me."
"Could you perhaps try restoring it now? I simply can't wait!"
"Right this moment?"
"Why not?! I'll have my secretary fetch whatever materials you need from our company!"
Cleio glanced toward her father, brother, and tutor—but none of them seemed inclined to stop Vasco.
Dione only shook her head, while Vlad looked positively delighted by the turn of events.
'Ugh… Did I overdo it?'
It was too late for regrets. Realizing there was no way to back out, Cleio had no choice but to step onto the stage Vasco had set.
"Lord Vasco, I don't think there's any need to trouble your secretary."
***
While the others moved from the dining hall to the drawing room, Cleio went upstairs and rummaged through her dimensional pouch.
Alongside the bronze, there was a piece of refined mana-iron cast.
'I never got a chance to use this… Guess it'll come in handy in an unexpected way.'
It was originally meant as the medium for the magic [Fire of the Archangel]—the spell Cleio had planned after [Spear of Achilles].
That was why she had asked Dione to procure not only bronze but also pig iron.
'To restore the sword, I just need the pig iron.'
She placed the mana-infused pig iron piece into her pouch and went back downstairs. The others were enjoying port wine after dinner, chatting idly.
The rusted metal rod lay on the table, covered with a cloth.
The group stood loosely around it, each holding a glass.
"You're here? Now we'll get to see my little brother's hidden talents!"
"So you even have the materials ready at home—how well-prepared of you!"
"It wasn't planned. It just happens to be useful by chance."
"Hoh, so the rumor about your 'Mark of Foresight'—is that false or true?"
"Well, Lord Vasco, judge for yourself. I can't promise success, but… I'll do my best."
Though his words were modest, Cleio's demeanor was calm and confident. The situation had unfolded abruptly, but fortunately, he knew a shortcut.
'In the previous manuscript, Vasco's restoration chant was written out word for word.'
All eyes—his father's, his brother's, Dione's, and Vasco's—were fixed on Cleio.
He disliked being the center of attention, but since it had come to this, he might as well seize the opportunity to leave a strong impression on both Vasco and his father.
Approaching the table, Cleio examined Vegg's Sword. What was once a sharp weapon was now nothing but a lump of reddish rust.
After brushing the surface lightly, he pulled out the pig iron.
If it were something as complex as the lyre before, that would be difficult—but restoring a single sword blade was simple enough.
'Just the blade. The handle and scabbard can be crafted later by ordinary means.'
"Then… I'll begin."
Cleio drew a magic circle of minimal size. Since his level had increased, the smaller the circle, the more condensed the aether became—and the brighter it shone.
Dione, accustomed to the sight, quickly stepped back. The Aser father and son, however, looked dumbfounded.
Seeing it with their own eyes was different from hearing rumors.
No matter what they'd heard, to witness their socially awkward, talentless youngest son form such a radiant magic circle right before them was a shock.
Vasco, too, approached closer in excitement, extending his hand toward the glow in awe.
"Incredible aether… Truly incredible!"
Within the ring of light that crowned the circle like a diadem, Cleio summoned the magic formula for [Restoration].
Its form was vivid and molten, like freshly poured gold—so tangible one might almost touch it.
Even Dione, who had once witnessed Cleio's restoration of the Lyre, gasped softly and closed her fan.
Only a few months had passed, yet Cleio's magic had grown to a level beyond comparison.
Now entirely focused, Cleio recalled the incantation from the manuscript, timing it precisely.
This sword—the weapon wielded by the ancient monarch who defended both god and nation. The incantation itself was a tribute to that will.
When the magic formula shone at its brightest, Cleio spoke the invocation.
"[Awaken the will of the monarch who guarded god and nation!]"
The aetheric light surged like molten gold, flooding the drawing room.
No one could keep their eyes open.
Even though they stood outside the circle's boundary, it felt as if their bodies were being swept away by its force.
The blinding vortex of light subsided only after some time.
Standing calmly at its center, Cleio held the blade wrapped in cloth.
He showed neither surprise nor pride—only quiet focus as he examined the restored sword.
The blade was made of Damascus steel, its surface covered in intricate wave-like patterns.
As Cleio moved, the delicate ripples reflected the light of the room, shifting from dark to bright.
When he set the sword back on the table, the sharp edge silently sliced through the cloth beneath it.
The cleanly severed tablecloth slipped soundlessly to the floor.
It was a solid, razor-sharp artifact radiating an almost palpable aura.
"The edge is sharp. It'll be dangerous like this—I'll need to craft a new hilt and scabbard."
Every trace of Vasco's easy smile had vanished from his face as he watched the boy.
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