“Anyway, let us gather at this villa so we can announce the company emblem, discuss new materials with potential to use for arms and armor, and introduce the Weapons Development Team all at once. I trust that you will not object to me inviting Augusto of the Adventurers’ Guild and Lord Jedda?”
“Not at all. Could you also please send an invitation to Lord Forto?”
“Of course. In that case, it would do well to have those knowledgeable about slimes and armor lining too.” With so many people involved, this had already gotten so much more serious than the toe socks, but it would be better with more heads; Ivano would just have to deal with his stomach pain later. “Ah, yes. For the Weapons Development Team, I have also enlisted the help of Lord Bernigi, former vice-captain of the Beast Hunters and former Marquis D’Orazi. I ought to invite him as well.”
“Lord D’Orazi, you say?” Ivano was late in putting up an unruffled front. The D’Orazis were Marcella’s biological family—so Gildo had told Ivano. This was no coincidence—Guido wasn’t so much inviting the former Beast Hunter but rather Marcella’s grandfather. Even so, it wasn’t Ivano’s place to seek confirmation. He feigned calmness and sipped on his tea, and when he looked up, Ivano saw deep blue eyes examining him.
“Very commendable, Ivano. I am shocked you know of the D’Orazi family already.”
“And I cannot accept the compliment—I have failed to keep my reaction from showing.”
“I thought you did well to regain composure. Anyway, from whom did you hear of Lord Bernigi?”
“I ask for your leniency.” There was probably no point in sweeping the question under the rug, though. He likely already knew Ivano got his information from Gildo.
Guido curled up one corner of his lips. “Of course. I hope you will not take offense if I say that it was a leading question.”
Oh, you little—names unfit for polite company welled up in his throat. If anything, Guido should have been commending him now for not showing or voicing any anger. In hindsight, the correct answer to the question “Do you know of the D’Orazis?” was “Only by name.” Ivano had fallen for the leading question nonetheless, and he directed his anger toward himself. “No offense taken at all. I thank you for your instruction, Lord Guido.”
“Please don’t take it to heart, Ivano; I thought that it would be prudent to teach you this sort of exchange. Even if you can maintain composure, you will face many traps like this in the future. Particularly the ones you may not trust—they, too, may suddenly revive a dead topic, pressing some point they want to pry out of you.”
“I shall keep that in mind. And how should I act toward those whom I do trust?”
“You spill your secrets right away. If the other party is someone with power, then they can help you in your times of need.” Was this soft-spoken man someone who could be trusted? “Returning to the topic at hand—Lord Bernigi knows about Marcella, and I have also told Marcella the name of his biological father. When they speak to each other, both men engage in this song and dance in which they pretend like they know nothing, never explicitly acknowledging their kinship. I wonder whose sake that is for. Have you told Madam Rossetti about this matter?”
“No. I have no plans to.” Dahlia wouldn’t be able to hide the knowledge, and in any event, she ought to learn it not from her coworker but from her friend, namely Marcella himself.
Guido nodded. “Anyway, Madam Rossetti is brilliant, but I must say so are you. I was surprised to hear that despite your lack of rank, you are now on a first-name basis with Viscount Forto.”
Through some twists and turns, Ivano had indeed become friends with Forto, the master of the Tailors’ Guild. It wasn’t something that either of them hid. Guido finding that out wasn’t unexpected. Their friendship had really only begun because of their shared experience of being on the receiving end of Guido’s icy intimidation—something Ivano could not be thankful for. “We have found friendship at the bottom of a bottle of swill.”
“Oh, I am so envious. I hope we can do the same.”
Yeah, right—Ivano bit his tongue and smiled. Something told him it wouldn’t be possible to become friends with this man; even if it were, Ivano had no desire to do so. He recalled the time when Guido, with a glass in one hand, had intimidated him, and Ivano slipped a bit of spite into his response. “A chilled bottle of expensive wine pales in comparison to a shot of cheap liquor—only if, of course, it is to one’s taste.” A tipple tasted better when it was not strategic and tense but when all parties could freely be querulous; these two could never share such a drink. It wasn’t as though Guido truly wished to imbibe with him anyway.
Guido remained unfazed. “Now, it seems that you have your work cut out for you, Ivano, and Madam Rossetti is likewise going to have trouble supporting my little brother all on her own. I don’t mean to make it an exchange, but is there anything I can afford you?”
“Hm, let me see. Oh, I would appreciate something good to ease the stomach.” Ever since he joined the Rossetti Trading Company, business had never been more interesting. On the other hand, Ivano’s stomach had begun aching sometimes—regularly, in fact. Forto and the Jeddas were in the same boat, so Ivano hoped it wasn’t because of his timidity. Guido, in contrast, always seemed so stoic. He might react whenever Volf was brought up, but even then, he immediately collected himself again. His suave voice and opaque smile, trademarks of the soon-to-be Marquis of Ice, shrouded his true feelings. He was a nobleman through and through, his words shrewd and graceful. Guido would be the last person to need and know of good stomach medicine.
“Jonas, do we have any in stock?”
“Yes, we received a new shipment today.”
“Ivano, this compound is from across the border and made with bovine liver. I shall have it prepared for when you leave.”
“Thank you very much. I have great expectations of its efficacy.”
Although Ivano wanted to clutch his belly, Guido maintained his usual smile. “Oh, it works wonders. I cannot do without it on hand at all times.”