Aric glanced out the window, watching the stars begin to twinkle faintly in the dark sky. Turning back to Thorin, he hesitated for a moment before asking cautiously,
"Do you think I could borrow a couple of your dwarves? Not just for today—but to help install electricity, heated floors, and lights across the entire estate? I think it will be for months."
Thorin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the request.
"Ambitious, aren't you? But sure—why not? You'll need skilled hands if you want this place wired up properly and I can't be here forever. The Stonefist kingdom need their prince."
Aric nodded gratefully, already pulling up another detailed blueprint using his Creation Magic. This time, it depicted a fluorescent light—a sleek, cylindrical design that glowed softly in his mental visualization.
He explained its mechanics meticulously: how electrical currents passed through gas-filled tubes to emit bright, efficient illumination. For those unfamiliar with pure science principles, he included an alternative method involving quartz-infused magic to amplify the glow.
"Science or magic—it works either way." Aric concluded, handing the blueprint over to Thorin.
"Pick whichever suits your team best."
Thorin studied the schematic closely, nodding approvingly.
"Impressive. Alright, let's test one here first."
Without hesitation, Thorin climbed the ladder once more, expertly positioning himself near the ceiling. With deft movements, he extended the wiring further along the wall, carefully avoiding interference with the spinning blades of the ceiling fan above.
Meanwhile, Aric worked below, fixing another socket into place and ensuring all connections were secure.
Once Thorin descended, Aric flipped the switch on the newly installed light fixture. Instantly, the room was bathed in a warm, radiant glow, banishing the shadows of the night entirely.
The night is now gone thanks to this light. No usage of magic too. Incredible. Safer than gas lamps, safer than fire magic.
Thorin crossed his arms, surveying the result with satisfaction.
"Perfect. Now, about those dwarves—you can have a few of my best workers and some apprentices. They wield earth magic too, though none are quite as precise as me. Still, they'll get the job done."
He reached into his pocket, retrieving two crisp banknotes and handing them to Aric.
"Consider this payment for showing that the air conditioner, heated floors works and also the lighting. Two notes should cover everything."
Aric stared at the currency in his hand, marvelling at its intricate design. Each note bore the emblem of the dwarven kingdom—a towering mountain encircled by runes—and was printed on durable parchment infused with traces of gold thread.
It felt surreal to hold something so valuable, especially given the circumstances.
"Thank you..." Aric said sincerely, tucking the notes away carefully.
Thorin clapped him on the shoulder, his voice softening slightly.
"Believe in yourself, boy. Your past crimes may be irredeemable, but your inventions? Spectacular. And the person you are now is a far cry from who you used to be. Change isn't impossible—it's guaranteed if you fight for it."
Aric swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in his throat.
For someone like Thorin—a centuries-old prince hardened by war and history—to offer such encouragement meant alot.
"Tomorrow." Thorin added firmly,
"We'll finalize the formal contracts. Until then…"
He gestured toward the bed. "Make me a bed right here. Your room has the 'air conditioner' and I rather enjoy the cold."
''Sure thing prince.''
Chuckling faintly, Aric manifested a comfortable bed using his Creation Magic, complete with plush blankets and pillows. Thorin settled in without complaint, closing his eyes almost immediately.
"Goodnight." he murmured sleepily. "Don't stay up too late brooding."
Meanwhile, downstairs in the grand dining hall, Seraphina sat at the head of the table, surrounded by her household staff. Everyone appeared unusually relaxed, their usual tension replaced by quiet chatter and shared smiles.
What struck her most, however, was the scent lingering in the air—a soft, calming aroma of lavender that seemed to emanate from every corner of the room.
Curious, she glanced around, noticing that nearly everyone present had used the same soap, shampoo, and toothpaste Aric had distributed earlier.
Even Evelyn, seated nearby, smelled faintly of minty freshness.
Seraphina sighed inwardly, realizing she herself wasn't immune to the trend. Earlier that evening, she'd reluctantly tried the lavender-scented soap—and found it surprisingly pleasant.
Now, sitting amidst her servants, she couldn't deny the subtle unifying effect it had created.
"This ploy of manipulation." she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
Yet despite her skepticism and hatred, she couldn't ignore the undeniable improvement in morale.
Everyone here looks better, smells better and I bet they even tasted that mint toothpaste. It's nice, I don't think it's food but I wouldn't have mind it anyways. Still what is your goal Vayne? Making everyone like you through petty things?
Is this all your creation magic is worth for? Soaps? Shampoos? Toothpaste? Toothtbrushes? Then again...he did make that generator thing and also the fridge thing. The meat didn't go bad as he said to Darius before...
Deciding to test the waters, she addressed the group bluntly.
"Alright, everyone. Be honest. What do you think of my… husband's gifts?"
The room fell silent for a moment before James, the head butler, spoke up hesitantly.
"Well, Your Grace… the soap smells divine, and the toothpaste leaves a refreshing taste. It's certainly better than what we're accustomed to."
Claire chimed in nervously, clutching her hands tightly.
"I-I agree, Your Grace. The shampoo makes my hair feel softer, and the scent lasts longer than anything I've ever used."
Marguerite nodded in agreement,
"It's practical and luxurious—a rare combination. Even if it's part of some scheme, Your Grace, it's effective."
Seraphina leaned back in her chair, absorbing their feedback silently. Internally, she admitted to herself
Perhaps there's merit to these creations after all. Manipulation or not, they've brought a measure of comfort to the household. Maybe he's trying to make amends. Or more likely, trying to manipulate everyone here. But still what's with all this petty things?
If he could create anything, why not drugs? Alcohol? Just like the person I know. Not this practically saint person.
But aloud, she simply said,
"Very well. Continue using them if you wish. Just remember—they're likely poisoned with hidden agendas."