Leon turned the pork belly inside out, scrubbing it thoroughly with a knife to remove any grime, then rubbing it with coarse salt to draw out impurities. He boiled a pot of water, tossing in garlic, green onions, and Sichuan pepper before lowering the pork belly for a quick blanch. Once the surface tightened, he pulled it out, slicing it into thick strips.
He refilled the pot with cold water, adding the pre-soaked beans, sliced pork belly, and leftover boar leg bones from the previous night. "Bring it to a rolling boil," he told Flower, who'd volunteered to tend the fire. "Keep it simmering—don't let it boil over."
Serena watched from the kitchen doorway, her brows raised. "You actually cook? Why not hire a servant? 300 gold coins could buy a dozen to wait on you hand and foot."
Leon glanced up, annoyed. "You're not taking this seriously. I may not know everything, but I have a master who taught me the value of my work. 300 gold for a groundbreaking invention like the fountain pen is an insult."
"Do you even know how much 300 gold is?" Serena snapped.
"I traded something to Master Im for ten years of tuition," Leon replied casually, wiping his hands on a cloth. He walked to Im's room, returning with one of his glass cups—the same flawed but functional one he'd crafted earlier. He held it out to Serena. "How much do you think this is worth?"
"Glass?" Serena took the cup, turning it over. As a merchant, she recognized it instantly. "Rare, but not priceless. Maybe ten silver coins here in the sticks—three or five in the capital."
"300 gold would buy 1,000 of these," Leon said, taking the cup back. "And I can make better ones. The fountain pen isn't just a trinket—it's useful for mages. Selling 1,000 pens to mages is easier than selling 1,000 cups to commoners."
Serena frowned, shifting tactics. "Mages are a tiny group! How many do you think will buy a pen? Feathers work just fine."
Leon shook his head, walking back to the pot. He knew she was deflecting—feathers needed constant sharpening, broke easily, and couldn't hold runes as well as metal nibs. But he didn't argue further; actions would speak louder than words.
Flower, watching Serena's growing frustration, leaned in. "You won't convince him with low offers. He's stubborn—even Master Im listens to him sometimes. The charcoal filtration paper? He helped with that too. And his cooking's amazing—he's the one who feeds us."
Serena's curiosity piqued. "What did he trade for ten years of tuition? That must be worth thousands of gold."
"It's… classified," Flower mumbled, remembering Garin's warning to keep the snow salt method a secret. The salt had been a windfall for Sarneth, and they weren't about to share it with a stranger.
Serena scoffed. "Even if the pen is useful, it can't be worth thousands. I'm offering a fair price for an unproven invention."
Leon ignored her, adding sliced radishes to the pot. The soup bubbled gently, filling the kitchen with a rich, savory aroma. By dusk, it was ready—milky white broth, tender pork belly, and soft beans. Leon set out large bowls and a basket of Erika's soft bread, gesturing for everyone to serve themselves.
He filled a bowl for Serena, surprising her. "Pork belly soup—good for cold winters."
Serena hesitated. She rarely ate organ meats—they were seen as food for commoners—but the smell was too enticing to refuse. She took a spoonful of broth, her eyes widening. No offal stench, just a rich, salty warmth with a hint of spice. The pork belly was tender but chewy, and the beans melted in her mouth.
"This is incredible," she admitted. "I didn't know pork belly could taste like this. And you're just a mage apprentice?"
"Someone has to cook," Leon said, tearing off a piece of bread. "Master Im's too busy with runes, and the others… let's just say their idea of cooking is burning meat."
Im cleared his throat, cutting in. "Serena, try the bread—Erika's Bakery is famous in Sarneth. Leon's fermented dough recipe is what makes it so soft."
Serena took a bite, surprised again. The bread was lighter and fluffier than any she'd tasted in Wickham City. "You made this too?"
"Fermentation's just chemistry," Leon said, matter-of-fact. "Like potion-making, but for food."
Serena set down her bowl, suddenly serious. "Name your price. What do you want for the fountain pen patent?"
Leon raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were here to lowball me. Turns out you're just uninformed. What does your guild actually sell?"
"Magic luxury goods—for nobles, wealthy merchants. Things like my necklace," she said, pulling out a ruby pendant. "It has a weakened fire rune—keeps me warm in winter, cool in summer. Absorbs mana from the air to recharge."
"Master, I thought heating runes restored mana?" Leon asked, feigning confusion.
Serena's cheeks flushed. "It's a variant—stripped of mana restoration, focused on temperature control. It's popular with ladies who don't want to wear bulky furs."
Leon nodded, hiding a smile. "Useful. But back to the pen. You're selling luxury items, but the fountain pen isn't just a luxury—it's a tool. Mages need reliable writing instruments for scrolls, notes, research. Your guild doesn't understand its true value."
Im intervened, sensing the tension. "Enough for tonight. Sleep on it—discuss details tomorrow. Let's enjoy the meal first."
Serena agreed, but her mind raced. Leon wasn't just a child—he was a shrewd inventor who understood both magic and commerce. Her initial offer of 300 gold felt reckless now, but she still couldn't fathom paying more for a pen.
As they ate, Leon thought of Eldrin's journal. The old healer had always said, "Value isn't what you charge—it's what someone will pay to solve their problem." Mages hated sharpening quills, hated broken nibs, hated smudged scrolls. His pen solved all three.
He wasn't going to settle for less than it was worth.