My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 145

Chapter: 289

“A royal courier has arrived, Young Lord,” a household guard announced, his voice holding a note of awed reverence. “From the capital of Bethelham. He bears a message for the Arch Duke, but has specifically requested an audience with you as well.”

Lloyd and Mei Jing exchanged a surprised, intrigued glance. A royal courier? From King Liam? So soon?

They found Arch Duke Roy Ferrum in his study, a sealed parchment bearing the roaring lion sigil of the Bethelham Royal House on the desk before him. Roy’s expression was, as usual, a mask of stern neutrality, but Lloyd, who was becoming increasingly adept at reading the subtle micro-expressions of his formidable father, detected a flicker of something else in his eyes. A deep, profound, almost smug, satisfaction.

“Lloyd,” Roy began as they entered, forgoing the usual formalities. “A message. From our… ‘esteemed business partner’.” He tapped the royal seal. “It seems word of your new ‘Silken Bar’ has reached the ears of His Majesty, ‘James’.”

He picked up the parchment and read from it, his voice a dry, flat monotone that did nothing to conceal the momentous nature of the words. “‘To our esteemed friend and ally, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum, greetings. Whispers have reached our court of a new marvel from the innovative workshops of House Ferrum. A ‘Silken Bar’, they call it. A cleansing agent of reportedly unparalleled quality, said to surpass even the delightful liquid elixir we have come to so greatly enjoy. These whispers have, naturally, piqued our royal curiosity to an almost unbearable degree. Therefore, we formally request a shipment of this new creation be dispatched to the Royal Palace at your earliest convenience, for immediate… and thorough… quality assessment.’”

Roy set the parchment down, a faint, almost invisible smile touching his lips. “It is signed, simply, ‘Your friend and expectant partner, James’.”

Lloyd felt a surge of triumphant glee. The King had heard about the new soap. The grapevine, the network of gossip and envy they had so carefully cultivated, had reached all the way to the throne of the kingdom. Their marketing wasn't just working; it was a resounding, cross-border success.

“It seems, Lloyd,” Roy continued, his gaze fixing on his son, the hint of a smile vanishing, replaced by a look of shrewd assessment, “that your venture continues to attract… high-level interest.” He paused, then added, his tone deceptively casual, “I confess, I took the liberty of… procuring… a few of the initial Silken Bars from Lady Mei Jing yesterday afternoon. For my own… personal quality assessment, of course.”

He picked up a small, unmarked black wooden box from his desk—one of the elegant packages Mei Jing had designed. He opened it, revealing the pearlescent white bar nestled within. He ran a thumb over its smooth, silky surface.

“Master Grimaldi’s assessment was accurate,” Roy stated, his voice a low rumble of understated approval. “The texture is superior. The scent, more refined. The quality is… undeniable.” He looked up at Lloyd, and in his eyes, Lloyd saw it again—that rare, fleeting flicker of genuine, unabashed paternal pride. “You have surpassed your own initial success, son. You have created something truly… exceptional.”

The praise, so direct, so unequivocal, struck Lloyd with more force than any of Rayan’s physical blows. He felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of validation that was more potent than any royal investment.

“Thank you, Father,” he managed, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Do not thank me,” Roy said, his expression becoming stern again, the moment of paternal warmth instantly locked away. “Thank your own ingenuity. And your excellent team.” He tapped the royal request. “This, however, is not merely a compliment, Lloyd. It is a strategic opportunity of the highest order. The King is not just asking for soap. He is offering you another platform. Another, even more exclusive, endorsement.”

Mei Jing, who had been listening in silent, professional awe, stepped forward. “His Grace is correct, my lord,” she said, her voice crisp with strategic excitement. “The liquid elixir in the dispenser established Aura as a symbol of noble luxury. But this… the Silken Bar, personally requested by the King… this elevates the brand to a matter of royal desire. It solidifies our position as the undisputed purveyors of refinement in all the known realms.”

“So, what is our response?” Roy asked, his gaze fixed on Lloyd, testing him, giving him the lead.

Chapter: 290

Lloyd didn't hesitate. The path was obvious, the strategy clear. “We do not just send him a shipment, Father,” he declared, a slow, confident smile spreading across his face. “We send him a gift. A statement. We will prepare a special crate. One hundred of the finest Silken Bars, each wrapped in the finest blue silk, nestled in beds of scented wood shavings. And we will include a personal note, not from House Ferrum, but from me, the creator, to ‘Lord James’, the investor. A note thanking him for his continued faith in our shared enterprise and expressing my personal hope that this new formulation meets his… exacting standards.”

He continued, his mind already crafting the narrative. “It will be a complimentary shipment, of course. A gesture of partnership. It reinforces our relationship, strengthens his personal investment in our success, and guarantees that for the next several months, every time the King of Bethelham washes his hands, he will be thinking of Ferrum innovation.”

Roy Ferrum’s slow, almost invisible smile returned. He nodded once, a gesture of absolute approval. “A sound strategy. It balances respect with confidence, generosity with shrewd marketing. You are learning the Great Game quickly, Lloyd.”

“I have a good teacher, Father,” Lloyd replied, a hint of genuine affection in his voice.

“See to it, then,” Roy commanded, already turning back to his ledgers, the matter settled. “Mei Jing, you will oversee the preparation of the shipment. Ensure it is… flawless.”

“It will be a masterpiece of packaging and presentation, Your Grace,” Mei Jing promised, bowing deeply, her eyes shining with delighted purpose.

As they left the study, the weight of the royal request settling on them not as a burden, but as a magnificent opportunity, Lloyd felt another surge of that dizzying, almost unbelievable, sense of progress. Just a few months ago, he had been a disgraced, forgotten heir sleeping on a sofa. Now, he was exchanging strategic gifts with a king, building a commercial empire, and earning the genuine, if still deeply reserved, respect of his formidable father.

The future of Aura, and of Lloyd Ferrum, was no longer just a distant, hopeful dream. It was a tangible, fragrant, and increasingly powerful, reality. And its influence was spreading, one bar of Silken Soap at a time, all the way to the royal bathrooms of a neighboring kingdom.

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The royal shipment, a masterpiece of packaging and subtle diplomacy curated by Mei Jing, was dispatched with all due haste. The crate, crafted from polished ironwood and bearing a discreet, silver-inlaid ‘Aura’ logo, was now on its way to the Bethelham capital, a fragrant Trojan horse carrying the seeds of Ferrum’s burgeoning commercial empire into the very heart of a rival power.

With the immediate demands of royal appeasement satisfied, a new, almost unfamiliar, sense of stability settled over the Elixir Manufactory. The production lines for both the Silken Bar and the Royal Rosemary elixir were running smoothly under Alaric’s meticulous oversight. Tisha’s brilliant, multi-tiered queuing system had transformed the once-chaotic factory gate into a model of orderly, if still deeply enthusiastic, commerce. The gold flowed, the ledgers balanced, the team was happy. By all accounts, Lloyd had achieved his goal. He had built a successful, self-sustaining business.

For anyone else, this would have been a moment for consolidation, for enjoying the fruits of their labor. But for Lloyd, for the eighty-year-old engineer KM Evan who lived inside him, stability was just the launching pad for the next innovation. Success wasn't a destination; it was a baseline from which to build something even bigger, even better.

He stood in his father’s study once more, not summoned this time, but having requested the audience himself. Roy Ferrum looked up from a report on border troop movements, his expression neutral but his eyes holding a new, almost patient, curiosity. The dynamic between them had shifted. Lloyd was no longer just the problematic heir to be managed; he was a proven asset, a source of unexpected but highly profitable ideas.

“Lloyd,” Roy acknowledged, setting down his quill. “Master Elmsworth informs me that the manufactory’s profits for the last quarter have already exceeded his most optimistic projections by twelve percent. A commendable result.”

“It is a promising start, Father,” Lloyd replied calmly. “But it is only a start. I believe we have barely scratched the surface of the potential market.”

Roy’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Indeed? You plan to expand production of your existing lines?”

“Expand, yes,” Lloyd confirmed. “But also… diversify. I have a new idea, Father. A new product. One that doesn’t target the luxury of the washbasin, but the drudgery of the laundry.”