Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 664 146.2 - The Matriarch

"Restraint and deference go both ways….At the end of the day, in the table of clashes, it is the strong who gets the respect." As the meals came, Matriarch finally addressed those words. Her gaze lingered on Astron for a beat longer, a subtle glint in her eyes as she acknowledged his words. "Indeed," she said, her voice a calm, measured tone. "Respect is often claimed by those with the strength to wield it. Though strength, Young Natusalune is not only a matter of power but of control. True strength is often quiet, disciplined." As the maids presented the main course, the rich aroma of the dish filled the room—a premium cut of beef, prepared and marinated under special conditions to maximize its mana-rich qualities. This was no ordinary meal; each slice of meat was infused with concentrated mana, a delicacy reserved for high-ranking magic families who required both sustenance and mana fortification in equal measure. The Matriarch glanced at Astron as the plate was set before him, a hint of expectation in her eyes. To most, such a dish might seem indulgent, but in families like the Emberhearts, it served a deeper purpose. Mana-infused food was essential for maintaining their heightened magical abilities and resilience. The body of a true mage could handle the surge of energy, absorbing and utilizing the mana for strength and refinement. For an outsider, however—someone without rigorous training or a developed magical constitution—the mana could be overwhelming, even potentially dangerous if not consumed with control and moderation. She took a delicate bite, her gaze shifting briefly to Irina, who seemed relaxed, her posture indicating familiarity with this sort of meal. The Matriarch then turned her attention to Astron, subtly watching for any reaction. It was one thing to sit at the Emberheart table; it was quite another to partake in their mana-laden fare. If Astron was truly as capable as he presented himself to be, then he would understand how to handle the meal before him with care and skill. The Matriarch took another slow bite of the mana-infused meat before turning her attention back to Astron, a faintly condescending smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She gestured subtly toward his plate, her tone laced with a quiet but unmistakable air of superiority. "This dish, Young Natusalune," she began smoothly, "is not merely a meal. It is crafted with a refinement and potency that requires both skill and experience to consume safely. For someone of your… background, I would imagine this is quite unfamiliar." The implication was clear: in her eyes, his meager experience would hardly prepare him for something so steeped in the elite practices of high-ranking magical families. Irina stiffened slightly beside him, recognizing the veiled insult for what it was, but before she could intervene, Astron spoke, his voice calm but edged with defiance. "Madam Emberheart," he replied, his tone respectful but firm, "I don't need experience with this particular dish to handle it. I assure you, I'm more than capable of managing a challenge like this." Without hesitation, he took a measured bite of the mana-rich meat, his gaze steady and unwavering as he met the Matriarch's eyes. The subtle rudeness of his response—his willingness to call her out directly—was impossible to ignore. Yet his composure remained intact, each bite calculated, his focus entirely on absorbing the mana without being overwhelmed. The Matriarch's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable as she studied him. She could sense his confidence and his controlled handling of the meal's potency, his challenge to her assumption clear and unmistakable. "Interesting," she murmured after a moment, her tone still cool but laced with a hint of intrigue. "It appears you are indeed capable of holding your own, even when faced with the unfamiliar." Astron raised his head slightly, acknowledging her words without breaking his calm demeanor. "Indeed. It is when facing the unfamiliar that one's capabilities are tested, don't you think?" He had taken up the challenge, and with each bite, he demonstrated that his strength was more than just a claim—it was something he had cultivated, regardless of her opinions of his background. The Matriarch studied Astron with a glint of genuine interest in her eyes, the subtle curve of her lips betraying a hint of approval. He had not only handled her mana-laden challenge with composure but had met her subtle insult head-on, showing a quiet resilience and tact that few could muster. The boy was steadily rising in her estimation, though she kept her face an unreadable mask. There was much yet to assess—many layers of his character still to probe. Her eyes flicked over him, noting his posture, the careful way he held his utensils, the precision in every movement. It was clear that he possessed a refined etiquette she hadn't anticipated. Inwardly, she acknowledged Irina's role in this; her daughter must have drilled him extensively, guiding him through the formalities and protocols expected at their table. Irina had, indeed, prepared him well. 'Still,' she thought, her gaze thoughtful, 'How much of this discipline is his, and how much is a mask taught to him for tonight?' She had seen far too many from modest backgrounds attempt to adopt the manners of the elite, only to falter and reveal a vulgarity beneath the surface. Manners and decorum required more than practice—they needed a deeper understanding and a certain temperament, one she doubted Astron would possess. But as the meal progressed, she found herself with little to criticize. His demeanor remained composed and dignified, his every movement measured. There was no overeagerness, no hesitation, nothing betraying the commoner's insecurity or roughness she had expected. He showed neither deference nor arrogance, maintaining a careful balance—a rare skill even among the nobility. Despite her observations, the Matriarch's mind refused to grant him the full acknowledgment he might have earned. Her pride, deeply ingrained and unyielding, would not allow her to accept so easily the notion that this boy, from such a modest background, could measure up to her expectations for an Emberheart. She had stood against Irina's choice at every turn, had questioned and challenged it, and there was no way she would relent simply because of a few commendable traits displayed over a single dinner. 'No,' she thought with an almost defiant inner conviction, 'I am an Archmage, the head of the Emberheart family. I have the right to maintain my standards, and to take pride in my judgments. It is indeed illogical. But so what?' The very notion of yielding her opinion, even for a moment, felt like a compromise she was unwilling to make. Pride was her prerogative, a privilege earned through years of discipline and rigor. She could and would take pride in whatever she deemed worthy—and if this boy were to truly earn her respect, he would need to do so on terms far stricter than a simple display of manners. Her lips tightened slightly, a flicker of self-satisfaction crossing her face as she reaffirmed her decision. 'He has yet to truly prove himself, regardless of his current performance. He will need more than etiquette and composure to withstand what I expect from him.' The Matriarch's gaze sharpened, her mind already weaving a new strategy to probe Astron's boundaries. She had noted his distaste for being looked down upon….No, it was rather the fact that he hated when others were being inconvenienced because of him. It was subtle, but when she had pressured Irina earlier, Astron had intervened—a small defiance, but one that told her volumes about his character. 'Let's see,' she mused, a glint of intrigue flashing in her eyes. The Matriarch's gaze shifted to Irina, her tone polite yet laden with veiled curiosity as she broached the topic of Irina's performance. "Irina, I have been most attentive to your progress at the academy," she began, each word deliberate. "I understand that your grades remain at the top, as expected." Irina inclined her head respectfully. "Yes, Mother. I work hard to maintain our family's standards." The Matriarch's smile was slight, almost dismissive, as she continued, her attention drifting momentarily toward Astron. "Yes… and I've also noticed that you and Young Natusalune have been grouped together for most of your projects and assignments." Astron's posture remained steady, but there was a flicker in his gaze as if sensing the subtle implication in her words. Irina's expression grew guarded, aware of her mother's tendency to probe weaknesses in any form, but she kept silent, allowing the Matriarch to continue. "Quite the rise, isn't it?" the Matriarch mused aloud, her eyes fixing on Astron with an unreadable intensity. "From the last rank at the start of the semester to a much… improved position by the end. Impressive for someone with such a steep learning curve, wouldn't you say?" Her words were delivered smoothly, yet the implication was unmistakable—that perhaps Astron's rise in rank had been less a result of his own effort and more a consequence of his association with Irina. Her gaze lingered, as though awaiting some acknowledgment of this potential dependency. "What do you mean mother?" Irina was the one to speak further. "That, his grades were not due to his efforts?" The moment she asked this, the Matriarch's smile widened, though her eyes remained calculating. "I do not mean anything," she said smoothly, a note of skepticism barely concealed. "Though it is not unheard of for associations to sometimes… lend a certain advantage." The Matriarch's gaze shifted to Irina, her faint smile never faltering, though a glint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Tell me, Irina," she said, her tone deceptively mild, "why is that the first thing that came to your mind? Surely, as one of the academy's top students, you would know how performance is measured." Irina felt a flash of irritation, her chest tightening as she realized her mother's game. She planned this. The Matriarch had known precisely how to manipulate her, to guide her into giving such an answer. The question hadn't been about Astron's achievements—it had been a subtle trap, one she had unwittingly stepped into. "For what reason, you are suspecting this, Madam Emberheart?" Just then, his voice intervened just as she expected. "Can you please clarify?"