“Ivano, it is time you learn to dance.”
“Huh?” The sudden non sequitur had him making a boneheaded noise. Ivano had never had anything to do with dancing. Sure, he’d gone to the opera once or twice, but he’d never even watched a dance performance, let alone flittered on the floor; the closest he’d gotten to a ball was when he’d caught glimpses of one while he was making a delivery. It wasn’t as though a merchant needed to know how to dance, but perhaps, given that he was now socializing with the nobility more frequently, he’d have to do so. “Perhaps our chairwoman would need to, but me? I don’t see myself dancing.”
“Sooner or later, your daughters will enter college, where there will be musical education. The choices are either to learn an instrument or learn to dance, and girls tend to choose the latter. Rather than having them nestle up with people who have two left feet, they ought to learn from their father.”
“I see your point...”
“But more importantly, imagine your daughters all dressed up and ready for their first dance!”
“Sign me up for lessons!”
Gabriella chuckled at the fathers with daughters getting all riled up; the glisten in the corner of her eyes this time was likely due to exasperation, though. “All this talking has me quite parched. Let me go get someone to make us some tea.” She dabbed her eyes before exiting the office with a smile.
Leone watched her leave before continuing. “Does your wife dance?”
“No, she does not. She likely hasn’t seen a dance outside of the theater.”
“One ought to do so with one’s wife. Once you have learned well, partner with and teach her. That way, no other person will need to touch her.”
“Huh. All right.” Ivano avoided committing to the overly affectionate man’s suggestion.
“No other person will have the first dance of the night with her either.”
“I doubt you need to fret so much about that, Mr. Leone—it isn’t as though Madam Gabriella would go to a ball with anyone else but you.”
“Not necessarily...” Leone was rarely so cryptic. His black eyes turned to the window. “The person who took Gabriella to her first ball was Oz, and the person who took her first dance was also that guy—not that I would moan about it; this all happened before she and I were married.” His somber tone was entirely understandable.
During the slime experiments the other day, Leone had said that he had been the senior of Dahlia’s father, Carlo, and through transitive property, that made him Oswald’s senior as well—it stood to reason that Leone had been close with Oswald. However, Leone had always been strangely uncordial toward him, while he had always gracefully turned aside Leone’s attitude. Leone had never let his feelings affect business between the two of them—in fact, it had always gone well—so Ivano had reckoned that the two men simply did not get along. For his own relationships with Leone and Oswald, Ivano figured it might be worth learning more about the apparent history between them during their youth.
“There is another thing as well. You see, after my elder daughter went to the Goddess’s Right Eye, she embroidered a white handkerchief for that Oz. I did absolutely everything I could to prevent that from happening, and I paid the price for it—she refused to speak to me for two weeks and a day.”
“Ah...” So the history between them wasn’t limited to their youth. If one of Ivano’s daughters wanted to give Oswald her handkerchief of first love, he’d do everything to prevent it too. Just as a precaution, Ivano swore to himself that he would never bring his daughters to the Goddess’s Right Eye, Oswald’s magical tool shop in the nobles’ quarter; if they needed any sort of magical tools, he’d bring them to see his boss instead.
“I shall introduce you to our dance instructor.” And just like that, Ivano had lessons awaiting him. Regardless of whether it would come in handy when dealing with nobility, being able to dance with his wife was a very attractive proposition. It would even give him a bit of exercise that he sorely needed.
“Now, the time has come for me to drive you out of the nest. You have the capabilities to not only feed yourself but even feed mother and father bird; perhaps it is no longer appropriate to call you a fledgling. Allow me to celebrate you leaving the nest.” From his suit jacket, Leone took out a pair of thin silver keys—hazy, tarnished, timeworn—though the little black and white stones embedded into each of them had quite the shine.
“Thank you very much.” As Ivano took them into his hands, he felt soft waves of energy radiating out, indicating that these were magical tools.
“The one with white jadeite guards against poison and magical confusion, the one with the morion against soporifics and aphrodisiacs. Both are powerfully enchanted; I guarantee their effectiveness. Wear them around your ankle so that they are not visible to others. If they feel warm, that proves you have been drugged. Retreat as soon as possible, but do not let your guard down while on the move either.”
A pair of twice-enchanted magical tools with a quality silver chain—it took no guessing that this was a very precious anklet. “I am deeply grateful, sir, but, erm, if I may ask its price?”
“I do not remember seeing the price tag.” That was obviously rubbish coming from a man so observant of the value of goods; even the attendant behind him—who always extinguished his presence and never showed any emotion—placed a fist over his mouth as if to stifle a cough. It was most likely something for nobles and thus quite expensive, and it would have required a magical toolmaker with Oswald’s skills to craft something like this, perhaps even a noble’s mage or alchemist—
It deserved thanks. Ivano would like to know approximately how much it cost or, at the very least, who had made it. “If I may, then, the name of its craftsperson?”
The expression that showed on Leone’s face as he laughed was neither that of a nobleman nor that of a merchant but that of some young boy. “I did say I was Carlo’s senior, did I not?”