Episode : 113

Words : 1561 Updated : Sep 19th, 2025

Explore the latest events in "My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!" Chapter 115: Chapter: 225 His first port of call was not the smokehouse or the gardens, but the...

Chapter: 225 His first port of call was not the smokehouse or the gardens, but the dry, parchment-scented office of Master Elmsworth. The economics tutor, whose usual demeanor ranged from ‘mildly annoyed’ to ‘actively disappointed’, greeted Lloyd with an expression of such fervent, almost manic, enthusiasm that it was deeply unsettling. The man had clearly spent the entire night running speculative profit-and-loss projections and had emerged a true believer, a high priest in the burgeoning church of Ferrum Family Finest Cleansing Elixir. “Young Lord Lloyd!” Elmsworth exclaimed, nearly tripping over a stack of books in his haste to clear a chair. “Excellent! Timely! I’ve already drafted some preliminary thoughts on supply chain optimization and potential tariff implications for inter-ducal export! We must strike while the iron, or rather, the soap, is hot!” “Before we discuss global soap domination, Master Elmsworth,” Lloyd said, his tone dry but appreciative, “Father insists on formalizing the venture. We need to navigate the ducal bureaucracy and draft an official business deed.” Elmsworth’s face lit up even further, if such a thing were possible. “A deed! Of course! A masterstroke of prudence from the Arch Duke! It establishes legitimacy, inspires confidence in suppliers, clarifies equity! A brilliant, foundational step!” He grabbed a fresh quill and a stack of the finest vellum, his hands trembling with academic excitement. “Let us begin at once! We shall craft a document of such legal and financial elegance that the Bursar himself will weep with joy!” The process was, as Lloyd had feared, surprisingly complex. Guided by Elmsworth’s encyclopedic knowledge of ducal law and commercial charters, they spent the next several hours painstakingly drafting the founding document for the new enterprise. They debated clauses on liability, profit distribution, and quality control standards. Elmsworth, in his element, argued passionately for including a sub-clause on “amortized depreciation of boiling vats,” while Lloyd gently steered him back towards more pressing matters like a clear definition of his own operational authority. He christened the new entity, simply and elegantly, “Ferrum’s Cleansing Elixirs.” It had a certain alchemical gravitas, he thought, that ‘Lloyd’s Baffling Soap Emporium’ rather lacked. Finally, the document was complete. A masterpiece of legal jargon and financial foresight. They presented it to Arch Duke Roy Ferrum in his study. Roy read through it meticulously, his face an unreadable mask, occasionally grunting in what Lloyd hoped was approval. He made a few minor amendments, tightening a clause on ducal oversight, then, with a sharp, decisive flourish of his quill, he signed his name, the ink a stark, final black against the creamy vellum. He slid the document across the polished desk. Lloyd signed his own name below his father’s, the act feeling strangely momentous, a formal severing from his past life of aimless mediocrity. The partnership was sealed. The ten-thousand-gold investment was, pending Bursar Periwinkle’s final, fussy stamps, officially sanctioned. “Elmsworth,” Roy commanded, his gaze shifting to the still-vibrating tutor. “Your cautious optimism regarding this venture... I trust it remains intact?” “Cautious, Your Grace?” Elmsworth sputtered, clutching the newly signed deed as if it were a holy relic. “My optimism is anything but cautious! It is robust! It is fervent! It is, if my preliminary models are even remotely accurate, statistically significant to a degree that borders on the revolutionary!” Roy offered a rare, almost invisible smile. “See that it is. You will continue to advise my son on all financial matters pertaining to this enterprise. Keep him solvent. And,” he added, a pointed look at Lloyd, “out of any more cursed forests.” With his father’s blessing and Elmsworth’s borderline-hysterical support secured, Lloyd’s next stop was the Alchemist’s Guild tower, a place that smelled of strange herbs, simmering concoctions, and the faint, ever-present possibility of a small, contained explosion. He sought out Grand Master Grimaldi, who, much like Elmsworth, greeted him with an enthusiasm that was both flattering and slightly alarming. “Young Lord Ferrum!” Grimaldi boomed, his silver beard seeming to vibrate with alchemical glee. “I have been contemplating your saponification process! The elegant simplicity! The purity of the reaction! It is a beautiful expression of mundane chemistry, a delightful respite from my current research into the... rather volatile... digestive properties of powdered Gryphon beaks!” He gestured towards a beaker that was bubbling ominously with a thick, purple sludge. “Frankly, your soap is a welcome, and considerably less likely to explode, distraction!” “I am glad to provide a safe diversion, Grand Master,” Lloyd said wryly. “In fact, I came to request your assistance. My father’s investment has been secured. We are scaling up production. And I require... skilled hands. Minds that understand the nuances of measurement, temperature, and chemical reaction in a way that goes beyond simple kitchen labor.” Chapter: 226 Grimaldi’s ancient eyes lit up. “You wish for apprentices? To assist in this grand alchemical soap-making? An excellent notion! The practical application of chemical principles is the finest education a young alchemist can receive! Far better than memorizing dusty old grimoires!” He stroked his magnificent beard, his mind clearly sifting through his roster of students. “I have just the trio for you!” he declared finally. “Promising, yes. Dedicated, certainly. If perhaps...” he paused, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “...slightly eccentric in their own unique ways. But brilliance often walks hand-in-hand with a certain... unconventionality, does it not?” He summoned them with a sharp clap of his hands. Three figures in the grey robes of senior alchemical students entered the laboratory, bowing respectfully. “Young Lord Ferrum,” Grimaldi announced with a grand, sweeping gesture. “Allow me to present your new core research and development team.” He indicated the first, a young man with sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of thick spectacles, a quiet, almost nervous energy, and hands that were meticulously, almost obsessively, clean. “This is Alaric. His attention to detail is second to none. His measurements are flawless. His notes, legendary in their precision. If you need a reaction replicated exactly one hundred times without a single variable straying, Alaric is your man. He is meticulous, quiet, and finds a kind of spiritual solace in a perfectly balanced equation.” Alaric offered a short, jerky bow, his gaze darting around, already seemingly cataloging the laboratory’s inventory. Next, Grimaldi gestured to the second young man, a stark contrast to the first. He was boisterous, barrel-chested, with a shock of unruly red hair and a grin that suggested he viewed the world as one large, fascinating, and probably quite flammable, experiment. “This is Borin,” Grimaldi said with a fond, if slightly weary, sigh. “Borin is... experimental. He does not see rules so much as... interesting suggestions to be tested. His mind is a whirlwind of innovation, always seeking a faster, a stronger, a more... explosive... way of doing things. He has single-handedly contributed to ninety percent of our guild’s unscheduled structural repairs this year. But his enthusiasm is infectious, and his intuitive grasp of catalytic reactions is, I confess, remarkable.” Borin gave Lloyd a hearty slap on the back that nearly sent him into a bubbling cauldron. “Pleasure to meet ya, Lord Ferrum! Got any ideas on how to make soap that glows in the dark? Or maybe one that repels goblins? The possibilities are endless!” Finally, Grimaldi turned to the young woman standing between them. She was sharp-featured, with intelligent, practical eyes that seemed to miss nothing, and an air of no-nonsense competence. She regarded Lloyd not with awe, or nervousness, or boisterous enthusiasm, but with a cool, appraising curiosity. “And this is Lyra,” Grimaldi concluded. “Lyra is the pragmatist. The anchor that keeps Borin from accidentally launching the entire tower into the stratosphere. While Alaric focuses on the ‘what’ and Borin on the ‘what if’, Lyra focuses on the ‘how’. Workflow, safety, efficiency, practical application. She can look at the most chaotic experiment and instantly devise a safer, faster, more logical way to achieve the same result. Her mind is a fortress of common sense and logistical brilliance.” Lyra offered a curt, efficient nod. “Lord Ferrum. A pleasure. Your dispenser design shows promise, though I’ve already identified three potential stress points in the spring mechanism that could be improved for long-term durability.” Meticulous, experimental, practical. It was a perfectly balanced, if slightly volatile, team. Lloyd looked at them – Alaric, the quiet perfectionist; Borin, the enthusiastic demolitions expert; and Lyra, the sharp-witted efficiency guru. This was his R&D department. This was the engine that would drive the soap empire. “Excellent,” Lloyd said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Welcome to Ferrum’s Cleansing Elixirs, the three of you. Your first task: help me figure out how to make liquid soap without accidentally creating spontaneously combustible oleaginous plasma. And Borin?” He fixed the boisterous redhead with a very serious look. “No glowing soap. Not yet.” Borin looked momentarily disappointed, but then his grin returned, wider than ever. “Aww, fine. But what about one that screams when you use it?” Lloyd sighed. This was going to be a very, very interesting partnership. The core team was assembled. The funding was secured. The revolution, it seemed, would be meticulously documented, highly efficient, and just slightly unhinged. ---

Episode : 113

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