Chapter 16
In the early morning, a carriage's sound echoed through the secluded Oracle family mansion in the royal capital.
Dorothy, who had been trimming flowers in the garden, jerked her head up.
“Huh? Could we have visitors?”
“Perhaps.”
“What if it’s that wretched man from before?”
Though she hadn’t experienced it directly, Dorothy had witnessed Felix’s cruelty. Wilson shook his head with a smile.
“It might be good news.”
“I envy your endless optimism, Father. It’s not like anyone will do the laundry for you because of it.”
“Laundry is sacred work. Are you saying you dislike maid’s duties?”
“That’s not it. I’m just making a point.”
Dorothy wasn’t Wilson’s biological daughter, but she’d grown accustomed to calling him “Father.”
She was a war orphan.
Wilson, who had once accompanied the former family head Lefebvre on distant expeditions, had found Dorothy by chance during a camp. At the time, wars large and small raged frequently across the continent. Encountering refugees wandering forests or wastelands was hardly uncommon.
When Wilson discovered the young girl covered in dust, clutching a withered flower and weeping, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He brought her back to camp and expressed his desire to adopt her. Lefebvre, Ian’s father, readily agreed.
Afterward, Dorothy joined the Oracle household, growing up alongside Ian. When she came of age, she took on menial tasks. Even as the Oracle family declined, this was why Wilson and Dorothy remained—they were more family than servants to Ian.
“Thinking positively makes things turn out well, child.”
“And if something bad happens despite that?”
“Then you hope for something better.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible! The carriage’s coming in. I’ll open the gate.”
“I’ll go.”
Wilson dusted his hands, donned white gloves, and opened the main gate. The carriage crossed the narrow garden and entered. Soon, the door opened to reveal Ian.
Wilson and Dorothy startled.
“Young Master!”
“Wilson. You’re here?”
Ian stepped down from the carriage, clad in the academy-issued cloak and cane. Wilson’s face brimmed with emotion as he gazed at him.
“You look... truly splendid, Young Master. It suits you perfectly!”
“Really?”
“Of course! How delighted your late father would have been to see this!”
“Are you crying?”
Wilson wiped his eyes and laughed brightly. “Forgive me. But seeing you safely enrolled at the academy was my greatest wish.”
“Quite a modest wish.”
Though Ian spoke lightly, his heart softened. Dorothy interjected.
“Young Master! What brings you here? It’s only been a day since you entered the academy!”
“Should I leave?”
“N-no! I’m just surprised and happy!”
Ian chuckled. Dorothy puffed her cheeks, as if teased.
“Nothing urgent. I needed to retrieve some books.”
“Young Master, you could have ordered me to fetch them.”
“I had other matters to handle. I must leave soon.”
“At least send word next time.”
“I’ll manage.”
Only Wilson and Dorothy remained as live-in servants at the mansion.
During Lefebvre’s time, the household had employed many. Now, only the two stayed. Ian avoided burdening them with errands—managing the estate alone was already demanding.
Ian entered the mansion.
He headed straight to the family archive to retrieve research notebooks. Though the space overflowed with books, Ian remembered every title’s location.
‘Milo and Edel must have left the academy by now.’
They had requested leave to prepare for Ian’s task. Typically, exit permits took a month post-enrollment, but Professor Frost had already pulled strings. The clerk had remarked this was unusually swift.
‘I’d stay longer, but...’
Ian stuffed the notebooks into his bag and rose.
He nearly collided with Wilson at the archive entrance.
“Young Master. A meal will be ready shortly. Please wait a moment.”
“I said I need to leave.”
“Then perhaps some tea?”
Wilson clearly wanted to hear about the academy. Ian smiled and patted his shoulder.
“I’ll visit when time allows. Tell Dorothy.”
“Understood, Young Master.”
“No incidents while I was away?”
“None.”
Ian nodded and boarded the carriage to his next destination.
Ian entered a general store in the city center.
Various tools lined the shelves, and crowds browsed the sizable establishment. Though his hood was drawn low, people recognized an academy student and cleared a path—some staring curiously.
Most academy students were nobles. Unless exceptional like Edel, only scions of noble houses enrolled, making them objects of awe.
“Which family’s young lord is he?”
“A mage, perhaps.”
“So dashing! Should I greet him?”
Ignoring them, Ian approached the counter.
“How may I assist you?”
The clerk inquired. Ian kept his face hidden as he replied.
“I wish to meet Mr. Frederick. Is he present?”
“From which household?”
“The Oracle family.”
“One moment.”
The clerk vanished inward and returned with a man.
The middle-aged man had thinning white hair but a robust build hinting at past vigor. He stared at Ian, startled, then broke into a welcoming smile.
“Could it be... Young Master Ian?”
“You recognize me. It’s been years, Mr. Frederick.”
“Good heavens!”
Ian finally removed his hood.
Though his features had matured, his keen gaze remained unchanged. Frederick recalled the boy he’d known long ago.
“You’ve not aged a day, Young Master! Forgive my manners—please, come inside. I’ll serve tea, humble as it is.”
“Apologies for the sudden visit. You must be busy.”
“Not at all! This is an honor! Hahaha!”
Frederick guided Ian to a tidy makeshift office and hastily prepared refreshments.
“I’d saved good tea for such a day. Please, enjoy.”
“Anything would’ve sufficed.”
“No need for modesty.”
Ian sipped. The tea was refreshing, lifting his spirits—yet a doubt nagged him.
‘How long has it been since we met?’
Decades, perhaps. Their last encounters had been in his father’s lab during childhood.
‘Why such hospitality?’
Frederick had supplied equipment to Baron Lefebvre’s lab. A commoner with skilled hands, he’d later assisted as a technician, optimizing experimental devices.
After Lefebvre’s disappearance, contact ceased. Like most tied to the Oracle family, Frederick drifted away. Rumor said he’d amassed wealth through trade and opened this store.
‘Yet he never visited or wrote. Strange, given their past rapport.’
Had the Hamel Merchant Group not recently demanded debt relief, Ian might never have sought him.
‘That debt was research investment. Frederick might know something.’
But as a technician, not an accountant, his involvement was unclear. Still, worth probing.
Ian shelved his suspicions and maintained composure.
“How have you been?”
“Quietly at the estate. I’ve now enrolled at the Royal Academy.”
“Congratulations! The world shall finally witness your brilliance!”
“Delaying further was impossible.”
“Though the world forgets the Oracles, I never doubted you’d restore them. This is but the beginning.”
Ian smiled faintly and gestured around.
“Impressive store. I’d heard rumors.”
“Ah, luck favored me. I roamed the kingdom for years gathering funds. Owning a shop was my dream.”
Frederick spoke humbly. Ian listened, sipping tea.
“It left little time for connections. I should’ve reached out to you... My apologies.”
He bowed deeply. Ian waved dismissively.
“Please, don’t. I’m simply glad for your success.”
“Young Master—no, Lord Baron now. What brings you here? Surely you’re occupied with academy affairs.”
Frederick tread carefully. Ian set down his cup with an awkward smile.
“I require potion containers. I came to browse, but thought to ask after you.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. May I show you samples?”
“Please.”
While Frederick fetched them, Ian surveyed the store. Supplier crests adorned one wall—Hamel’s emblem prominent.
‘Hamel supplies here. They’re his main partners.’
Ian’s instincts sharpened.
‘I hope I’m wrong.’
Frederick returned with a wooden tray bearing five inverted containers.
“These are our potion vessels.”
“They look similar. Any recommendations?”
“Lately, lightweight ones for portability sell well. This model’s popular.”
Frederick handed a palm-sized container—sturdy yet surprisingly light. Ian inspected it thoroughly.
“Good preservation and durability. Resistant to breakage.”
“Satisfactory. The price?”
“5,000 shillings each.”
“Retail? What’s the wholesale rate?”
“First... how many do you need?”
“A thousand, initially.”
