Chapter 53
It was back when Lana had only just met Monica.
While helping Monica practice dancing, Lana couldn't stop thinking about the embroidery on Prince Felix's scarf.
──Ah, if only I could have seen that embroidery up close!
When Lana said so after dance practice, Monica suddenly pulled out some writing implements, began drawing the embroidery pattern on a sheet of paper, and shyly held it out to Lana. "...Here."
'Amazing! Amazing! It's wonderful!'
'Y-yeah, it's a very beautiful design... I think... embroidery.'
Lana shook her head to indicate that wasn't what she meant and peered into Monica's face as Monica mumbled in a tiny voice.
'I'm not talking about the embroidery pattern. I'm talking about you!'
'...Huh?'
'You're good at drawing! And you memorized that pattern in such a short time, too! That's amazing!'
When Lana heaped praise on her, Monica turned bright red and lowered her head, but still gave a tiny, tiny smile.
This had happened before Lana learned Monica's true identity.
Whenever Lana remembered things like that, she thought that no matter whether Monica was one of the Seven Sages or a supreme genius, she was still Monica.
The shy but happy, reserved smile on her face had remained unchanged from then to now.
＊ ＊ ＊
On a brand-new sheet of paper, Monica ran her quill smoothly, filling it with an intricate pattern without even looking at the reference materials. More frighteningly, her hand barely stopped until she had finished drawing a single design.
(Incredible...!)
A design was completed before Lana's astonished eyes.
Lana stared intently at the design she received. It was impossible to believe it had been drawn in such a short time.
Impressed, Lana kept laying out Monica's completed designs across the table and matching them to the robe's design.
The brothers Antony and Theodore peered over from the side.
"Whoa, she looks so young, but she's something else."
"Yeah, amazing. She really has all of them in her head."
While Antony and Theodore openly admired her, Pollock pressed his lips into a stern line and stared intently at Monica's work.
His face showed no trace of intoxication; his sharp gaze was that of a first-rate craftsman.
Lana felt tense under Pollock's sharp gaze as she carefully selected, from among Monica's completed designs, the one closest to her vision.
Monica was not drawing the more than thirteen hundred designs in her memory at random; she was selecting ones close to the design Lana had originally intended to use. That was why choosing one had not been especially difficult.
"Monica, do you have anything with a similar shape to this pattern, but a little larger?"
At Lana's question, Monica nodded without stopping her hand.
"There are seventy-three matching patterns... Are there any other conditions?"
"I'd like the corners to be more angular. And I want this line here to remain unbroken."
"Seventeen matching patterns... Give me a moment."
Monica's voice never faltered as she responded to Lana's requests. Even as she spoke, Monica kept drawing one design after another.
When she saw one of them, Lana cried out, "This is it!"
"This one! I want to use this design for the embroidery on the chest. In red thread..."
"Oh, miss. Your lack of study has shown again."
Pollock cut in with a mean look, as though to pour cold water on Lana's delight.
"That's the 〈Urka People〉's pattern. To the 〈Urka People〉, blood was something to be shunned. Consequently, the 〈Urka People〉 never used blood-red on anything they wore. Anyone who has studied even a little magical history would know that."
"...Ugh."
As Lana pursed her lips and fell silent at Pollock's objection, Monica quietly spoke while continuing to move her quill.
"No. In a paper published six months ago, Professor Skelding, an authority on magical history, pointed out that the god Veyu worshiped by the 〈Urka People〉 was one and the same as the Fire Spirit King, Frem Brem. Therefore, it's believed that red, the color representing the Fire Spirit King, was revered as the color of a god. The 〈Urka People〉 had more than fifty words for red, and fire-red and blood-red were considered different things, so there should be no problem as long as we avoid the color of blood."
Pollock raised one eyebrow and murmured, "Oh?" as he looked at Monica.
Apparently, Pollock had deliberately spoken up to test Lana, despite already knowing that a shade closer to fire red would be acceptable. Monica had seen through him instantly.
Monica stopped moving her quill, raised her head, and looked at Lana.
"Do you have any embroidery-thread samples? Orange-tinged red or copper-red should be fine... Red copper, in particular, was commonplace among the 〈Urka People〉 and was often used in folk crafts, so I think it would be perfect."
"Got it. Just a moment."
Lana had Clifford help her arrange the box containing the embroidery-thread samples on the table.
The thin wooden box held row upon row of gold and silver threads in subtly varying shades. Monica pointed to several of them.
"This one, and this one too... These colors should be safe to use, I think."
"Then number thirty-eight. It's the closest to what I have in mind."
Clifford interjected at Lana's words.
"Lana, we have very little gold thread in reddish shades. Talis Trading Company has a monopoly on specialty-colored gold thread like this, so it will take time to obtain."
"It's fine. The head of Talis Trading Company can't say no to Mrs. Ratridge. I arranged a supply of silk textiles for her the other day and made a connection, so I'll have her procure the gold thread for us through that connection."
"This is exactly what connections are for!" Lana declared, puffing out her chest.
Lana did not frequent salons simply as a pastime. She went to them to research trends, while gradually building connections with Sazandoll's wealthy residents.
"All right, we've settled on the chest embroidery! Now let's decide on the cuffs!"
Pollock, the embroiderer, watched Monica and Lana work in silence for a while. Eventually, he snorted, sat down on the sofa in the corner of the room, and took out a liquor bottle.
Then he beckoned the brothers Antony and Theodore, who had been sitting around with nothing to do.
"Looks like you two don't need me to butt in. Keep me company over a drink until the design proposal is finished, lads."
"Very well. I'll join you."
Theodore mildly tilted his head at Antony, who accepted the bottle without even trying to hide his excitement.
"Hey, brother. Is it okay for us to stay here?"
It was an entirely reasonable question.
After all, the brothers had hit it off with Mr. Pollock for some reason and tagged along, but they had no reason whatsoever to be there.
But Antony took a swig directly from the bottle and declared in a very self-important tone,
"Theodore. Once you have shared a drink with someone even once, that person is your friend. National borders and age have nothing to do with it."
"So, you just want to drink."
"Indeed. By the way, you there, bespectacled gentleman—sorry to trouble you, but are there no snacks? Preferably something filling."
At Antony's words, Clifford, who had been putting away the embroidery-thread samples, stopped.
Then he looked back at Antony with a sidelong stare through his gray eyes behind his glasses.
"I'm not a waiter. Ask that man who looks like a servant over there. He seemed to have nothing better to do in the kitchen."