After that delicate little "farce" of the early morning, Leon and the women of the familia, once they'd collected themselves, each settled into the routines of a new day.
From the storehouse in the courtyard came the soft clink of metal.
Through the snow-piled doorway, Persephone and Jeanne could be seen in thick coats and black leggings, short boots on their feet, carefully taking inventory of the spare weapons and armor. After a thorough check, they set aside anything that needed servicing or repair, to be sent later to the [Hephaestus Familia] workshop.
"The guard on this longsword is a little loose," Persephone said, tapping the hilt with a fingertip and turning to Jeanne. "Send it over with that last batch of light armor."
Jeanne nodded and made a mark on the list. "Mm. And there are three leather cuirasses that need their linings stitched up."
Kureha, in a white chiffon blouse, tight jeans, and short boots, was busy in a corner of the storehouse too.
Her expression was serious, her focus on inspecting the gear everyone used day to day. She turned each blade toward the morning light filtering through the window, examining it inch by inch for cracks or rolled edges.
As a swordswoman, she'd done this work more times than she could count, and it showed in how practiced she looked.
"If your weapon fails you in a fight, you've handed your back to the reaper."
She murmured it to herself, yet the motion of wiping down the blade was as gentle as if she were tending to something alive.
"So... you can never be too careful."
...
Compared to the caution and diligence of the three in the storehouse, the backyard of the house was another scene entirely.
Laurier had rolled up her sleeves and was splitting firewood with brisk, clean strokes, while Aura stacked the split logs in neat rows. The crisp scent of pine drifted through the air, and as the fireplace gradually warmed, the whole hall grew cozy and snug.
"Laurier, three more big ones on the left."
"You got it! Watch this!"
"...Heave!"
...
In the underground workshop where Leon did his daily work.
Iri and Margaret were guiding Lydia through refining 『Holy Water』. After days of practice, Lydia's technique had become much smoother, the liquid in the crystal vial giving off a soft, pale-golden glow.
"This batch is pretty good purity," Iri said, lifting a vial to the light to study it, her voice low. "It should handle ordinary magical interference or a moderate curse just fine. Though..."
She turned to Lydia, her tone gentle but earnest.
"The strength of the effect is still limited by your current level. But don't be discouraged. Once you reach Lv.2, Lv.3, its purifying power is bound to grow right along with you."
Lydia hugged the freshly sealed vial to her chest, nodding with a serious little face.
"I understand... I'll keep working at it."
In the kitchen.
A warm aroma, the char of bacon mingled with toasting bread, rose slowly into the air.
"Sizzle…"
Leon, wearing an apron, poured the beaten eggs into the frying pan, sending up a pleasant sizzle. Beside him, Rose was deftly working through fruit and vegetables, her movements fluid and graceful.
"Rose."
Leon tilted his head, jostling the pan as he gave his instructions.
"When you get a chance today, swing by Airmid and Naaza's place. Restock all the elixirs. For the quantities... prep four times the baseline we used for the last expedition."
"Four times?"
Rose stopped her knife and raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You've got some real 'ambition' for what's coming up."
Leon chuckled and plated the golden-browned omelet with a clean flick.
"Times have changed. We've got funds, we've got strength, we're not short on intel either. Of course we should set our sights higher."
Then his tone turned serious.
"Besides, the Dungeon's that dangerous. If you've got the means to prepare more, you spare yourself trouble down the line."
"Isn't there a saying that's always going around the adventurer circles? Do your prep as well as you possibly can before you set foot in the Dungeon. That's what it means to be responsible to yourself and your companions."
...
...
Breakfast ended in a cheerful, lighthearted mood.
Everyone ate their fill, and they all heaped praise on Leon and Rose's cooking.
The only one who didn't eat to his satisfaction was Leon himself.
He sat at the table, sipping iced lemon water, and earnestly put a suggestion to Rose.
"Sweetheart, I think the bread could be baked a little softer. Don't you think this whole-wheat stuff is a bit too hard? At this hardness, I'm not sure even an Infant Dragon's skull could compete."
As he said it, he picked up the serrated bread knife and mimed a little demonstration for everyone.
"Oh my~? Bread can be made soft?"
Rose blinked, putting on that feigned-blank, cunning expression of hers.
"But as far as I recall, bread's supposed to be exactly this hard. After all, that's what keeps it well..."
Watching Rose play dumb, Leon's face darkened.
She was absolutely doing it on purpose!
The others at the table, seeing Leon come up short against Rose, couldn't help laughing. Even Jeanne, still a little listless, let the faintest trace of a smile show at the corner of her mouth. The image of Leon working her over relentlessly the night before still hung fresh in her mind, and seeing this scoundrel hit a wall with Rose, Jeanne felt as refreshed as downing a glass of iced lemon water in the dead of summer.
And amid all the squabbling chaos, everyone decided to put it to a vote...
In the end, the proposal of "should the bread be made softer" was mercilessly rejected, with 1 vote in favor and 8 against.
...
A happy day, beginning with Leon coming up short.
After a brief rest and a cup of morning tea, everyone paired off in twos and threes: those with work to do went to work, those with studying to do went to study, and those getting ready to head out got ready to head out.
Persephone and Rose were in charge of today's elixir shopping.
Except... Rose's outfit before heading out kept drawing Leon's sidelong glances.
A gray knit pencil skirt, paired with a high-necked knit underlayer, black leggings, and a pair of brown high-heeled short boots...
Leon found himself staring.
He didn't get it.
Why was Rose wearing Persephone's clothes?
Rose noticed his expression and shot him a look that was almost but not quite a smile, leaving him with a meaningful view of her back as she walked off.
Persephone, beside her, openly rolled her eyes at him.
"And whose fault do you think that is?"
Wasn't it because a certain someone had been too rough last night and wrecked every last one of Rose's dresses? So this morning she couldn't even find a single thing fit to go out in.
"Stop... don't say it!"
Remembering what he'd done the night before, Leon hurriedly cut off Persephone's teasing.
This kind of thing was to be understood, not spoken aloud!
"Th-that... did you bring the passbook?"
Persephone gave a soft scoff, making no comment on his clumsy attempt to change the subject.
"The budget this time is fifty million. Going a little over is fine!"
With that, Leon tossed out a "I'm off to fill orders" and turned and hurried away.
"Pfft...!"
Iri was the first to lose it, accidentally laughing out loud.
"Hahahaha...!"
Right behind her came Laurier.
Her laughter was infectious, and in an instant everyone else was laughing along too.
In their eyes, there was no angle from which Leon's retreating back didn't look a little pitiful.
...
In a certain dim room.
A woman with long, wavy gray hair and a fine figure sat silently on the edge of the bed, eyes closed. She wore an ornate clerical robe of black and gray, like an evening gown, and with each soft breath the candlelight on the table seemed to waver faintly along with her.
"Creak..."
The door was eased open from outside. The newcomer kept his movements as quiet as possible, as if afraid of disturbing something, slowly pulling the door shut behind him before letting out a soft breath.
Then a defiant expression rose on the burly man's face.
"Alfia, Eren has come to Orario."
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