[V4C11] Not a Servant

This was back when Lana had just met Monica.

Lana, who was helping Monica practice dancing, was immensely curious about the embroidery on Prince Felix’s scarf.

——Ah, if only I could see that embroidery up close!

Lana had said this after the dance practice, then Monica suddenly took out some writing utensils. She drew the embroidery pattern on a piece of paper and handed it to Lana with trembling arms.

“Whoa! This is amazing!”

“Yeah, t-the embroidery has a very lovely design… I think.”

Monica mumbled back in a quiet voice, but Lana shook her head and looked Monica right in the eyes.

“No, no, not about the embroidery pattern, but you!”

“…Huh?”

“You’re really good at drawing! And memorizing a pattern in such a short time, that’s incredible!”

Under Lana’s shower of praise, Monica blushed and looked down, smiling faintly.

It was an event from before Lana knew Monica’s true identity.

Every time Lana recalled such events, she remembered that Monica was just Monica, regardless if she was one of the Seven Sages or a great genius.

Blushing, smiling modestly yet happily… Her expression hadn’t changed from then to now.

＊　＊　＊

Monica smoothly guided a quill pen across the new piece of paper, drawing intricate patterns without looking at any reference material. Terrifyingly, her hand hardly ever stopped until she completed the entire design.

(Incredible…!)

Before a stunned Lana, Monica finished drawing another design.

Lana stared closely at the pattern. It was an outstanding piece of work, considering how little time it took.

Impressed, Lana arranged it with the other patterns, aligning them with the robe’s design.

Anthony and Teodor, peeking in from the side, commented, “Whoa, she looks so young, but she’s quite something.”

“Yeah, amazing. She really has all of it in her head.”

Beside the genuinely impressed Anthony and Teodor, Porok pursed his lips with a stern face, watching Monica’s work closely.

His face showed no traces of alcohol, and his sharp gaze was that of a top-notch craftsman.

Lana, feeling tense under Porok’s sharp eyes, carefully selected a design that closely matched her vision from the patterns Monica had drawn.

Monica wasn’t simply drawing the 1,300 designs at random. She was choosing designs that closely resembled the original plan Lana had in mind. Therefore, Lana didn’t have much trouble making her selection.

“Monica, do you have something similar to this pattern but a bit larger?”

In response to Lana’s question, Monica nodded while continuing to move her hands.

“There are 73 matching patterns… Any other conditions?”

“I’d like the corners to have linear shapes. Also, I want the lines here to be unbroken.”

“Just 17 matching patterns… One moment.”

Monica’s reply was in a steady tone, without any stammering. And even during the conversation, Monica continued to draw one pattern after another.

After seeing one of them, Lana shouted for joy.

“This is it! I want to use this pattern for the embroidery on the chest. The color should be in a shade of red…”

“Whoa there, missy. Your lack of knowledge is showing again.”

Like a splash of cold water, Porok interjected with a malicious expression.

“That’s a symbol of the Ulka Tribe. For the Ulka, blood is considered impure. Therefore, they would never use the color of blood in what they wear. This is something you’d understand with the slightest knowledge of magical history.”

“Ugh…”

As Lana pursed her lips and fell silent, Monica, still moving the quill pen, responded quietly.

“No, that’s not true. Professor Skelding, an authority on magical history, pointed out in a paper published half a year ago that the god the Ulka Tribe worshiped, known as Veyu, is another name for the Spirit King of Fire, Flem-Blem. Therefore, the red color representing the Spirit King is revered as the color of their god. The Ulka Tribe has over fifty words for the color red, and since the red of fire and the red of blood are distinct, there’s no issue if we avoid the red of blood.”

Raising an eyebrow, Porok muttered, “Oh?” and looked at Monica.

It seemed Porok knew that a shade closer to the “red of fire” would be acceptable, and he had interjected to test Lana. Monica saw through it immediately.

Finally, Monica stopped moving the quill, lifted her face, and looked at Lana.

“Do you have samples of embroidery thread? Shades of red-orange or coppery red should be usable… especially coppery red, which is familiar to the Ulka Tribe and widely used in their folk art.”

“Got it. Just a moment.”

Lana had Clifford assist her, arranging a box containing samples of embroidery thread on the table.

The thin wooden box contained rows of subtly different shades of metallic threads. Monica pointed to several of them.

“This one and also this one… these colors should be fine to use.”

“Then let’s go with No. 38. It’s the closest to my image.”

Suddenly, Clifford interrupted Lana.

“Lana, there’s limited stock of the reddish threads. Especially the special-colored threads that are monopolized by the Talis Trading Company. It will take time to acquire them.”

“Don’t worry. The president of the Talis Trading Company bows to Mrs. Latridge. She owes us for the silk fabric from the other day, so I’ll use that connection to get the thread. Connections exist for times like these!” declared Lana, proudly.

Lana wasn’t indulging in hobbies by frequenting the salon. She was investigating trends, gradually building connections with the wealthy of Sazandol.

“Now, the embroidery on the chest is decided! Next is to decide on the cuffs!”

The embroidery artisan Porok continued silently observing Monica and Lana’s work for a while. Then, he scoffed, sat on the sofa in the corner of the room, took out a bottle of alcohol, and gestured to the idle Anthony and Teodor.

“It seems my intervention is unneeded. Boys, join me for a drink until the design is complete.”

“Hmm, then let’s partake.”

Anthony took the bottle with a cheerful demeanor, but Teodor calmly interjected while tilting his head.

“Um, brother. Is it okay for us to be here?”

This was an entirely reasonable question.

After all, the two brothers had somehow hit it off with Porok and followed him here. Yet there was no compelling reason for them to be present.

However, Anthony took a sip directly from the bottle and spoke in a confident tone.

“Teodor, once you share a drink with someone, you become friends. National borders and age mean nothing in that moment.”

“So basically, you just want to drink.”

“Precisely. By the way, sir with the glasses over there. Excuse me, but is there no snack available? Preferably something filling.”

Upon hearing Anthony’s words, Clifford, who was tidying up the embroidery thread samples, halted his movements.

With the gray eyes behind the glasses, Clifford looked back at Anthony with a cold gaze.

“I am not a servant. For that matter, you can ask the servant-looking guy in the back. He seemed idle in the kitchen.”

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