Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 72
>Chapter Title: Common Knowledge of the Academy Festival (2)
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*
Lately, his mealtimes had been under threat.
His meals weren't set to a particular time. A meal was, after all, a supplement of energy, and supplying the appropriate calories calculated from his activity level was something that could be done at any time.
In the first place, he didn't eat out of hunger or appetite. To put it another way, it was like refueling a machine. An act of replenishment because energy was low.
So he would roughly cut a nutrition bar, pop it in his mouth, and chew. He’d soften it with saliva before coating his molars with mana and—*crunch, crack*. Then, a gulp. In exactly fifteen seconds, his meal was finished.
Therefore, the statement that his mealtimes were under threat referred to a situation like this.
“Wow! After eating this for a bit? Yes. After… after eating it for a bit, it’s delicious, Uncle! You’re such a good cook!”
Esidis, with a single tear rolling down her cheek, diligently chewed and swallowed the nutrition bar.
The nutrition bar was a complete food, created using an early hardtack recipe with a suitable pemmican-style arrangement. It was nutritionally perfect, but sadly, its texture was anything but.
Hardtack was never meant to be chewed and eaten as is. It was a convenience food meant to be soaked in water, boiled, and eaten as porridge. Just because it looked like a biscuit didn't mean one could crunch on it.
To solve this inconvenience, one used a miraculous power, the ‘all-purpose resource’ known as mana. By coating one's molars with mana, chewing something like this was no big deal. It drastically enhanced the already formidable bite force of a human relative to their size.
“Ugh… ugh… gulp.”
“…You don't have to force yourself to eat it.”
“Forced? What do you mean?! I… I’m someone who’s never told a lie in her life! Have you not heard of Esidis the Earnest?”
“I hadn’t.”
“Well, now you know! You get it, right? Everything I say is the truth.”
Esidis forced a smile as another tear trickled down her face.
*It failed….*
*This strategy was a failure….*
She lamented while grinding her teeth in regret (and also grinding the nutrition bar). It was supposed to be a perfect plan… A plan that girl, Isabelle, would never even dare to attempt…!
*
Droan is a barren land.
Cool, dry summers; dreadfully cold, long winters; and a spring and autumn that merely dip their toes before vanishing.
Indeed, it was a familiar environment where a 21st-century South Korean might repeatedly exclaim, ‘Damn, this weather sucks!’
On top of that, Droan possessed rugged mountain terrain and vast, useless pastures unsuitable for farming.
No matter what you tried to plant in the fields, the harvest was always mediocre. It was simply better to let sheep graze.
In such a situation, it was only natural that a food culture couldn't develop. It couldn’t hold a candle to Kallion, let alone Tilles, and was even worse than Krasilov. (This was a truly serious matter.)
Thus, having been born and raised in such a country, she was naturally accustomed to poor food. A tough piece of lamb roasted with salt was a luxury; most of the time, she ate things like steamed potatoes, cured ham, or pickled herring.
Therefore, it was highly likely that the bizarre wooden block Ivan always seemed to be munching on was also within her range of tolerance.
Wasn't sharing the same food the fastest way to get close to someone?
This was a challenge that the weak Isabelle, accustomed to the delicacies of Tilles, couldn't even dream of. After all, Esidis was used to things like boiling and eating tree roots. (She was the princess of Droan. To explain Droan’s food culture any further would be uncool.)
*‘Still, there’s a limit to everything!!’*
Her happiest moment in Krasilov was the memory of eating fresh cream spread on butter bread for the first time. The world of that soft, gentle sweetness.
The warriors of Droan used the concept of 'sweet' only for 'mead'. (In truth, mead isn't sweet.) For Esidis, who had been born and raised in such a world and whose only experience outside of it was following her father around battlefields, this ‘food culture’ was a precious memory.
So now, as she ate this strange convenience food—with the texture of a rock, the stickiness of pig lard, and the crumbly, unidentifiable sour dried fruit mixed in—tears welled up in her eyes anew.
“Should… yes. Should I cook something for you…?”
“Cook?”
“Yes, at least for, um. Tonight? How about tonight? Let’s eat something truly delicious.”
This pitiful man, sadly, seemed as though he had never once experienced the joy of a meal in his life. Judging by his habits, you could easily mistake him for a warrior from the backwoods of Droan, not Krasilov.
And he even grew his beard out all shaggy like a man from Droan…
“I’m busy tonight.”
“Ack. H-hold on. I know this, I know this pattern. You’re just going to say you’re busy every time I ask when you’re free, aren’t you?!”
“…? Not necessarily.”
Ivan was an honest man, so he had no reason to make excuses about being busy on days he wasn't.
Sadly, sincerity is one of those values that can rarely be conveyed to others. Esidis stared at Ivan with suspicion for a long moment before finally nodding.
“What are you doing for the festival?”
“The usual.”
Ivan’s usual routine was to act as an escort for the children of the Hero's Party. Since he had already agreed to spend time with Isabelle, it was, as he said, the usual.
Esidis beamed at his answer.
“Then let’s go eat delicious food together! My seniors told me that so many food stalls open up during the festival! They said it’s the biggest festival in Fritzenkaya!”
“Very well.”
It was the same as his usual schedule. Watching over these kids as they ate and helping balance their nutrition was nothing out of the ordinary for him.
Ivan nodded and stood up from his seat.
It was 3 PM. Time to answer the princess’s summons.
*
“Ah, Vanka. You’re here. Have a seat.”
Elizaveta offered him a spot on the sofa with a warm smile.
Across the large wooden table in the chancellor's office, Elfihera sat with her head bowed demurely.
*Is she sick?*
Ivan quickly scanned her physical signs and shook his head. Elves were frail, so it was inevitable that their condition would easily worsen.
*Didn’t Veolgrin also suffer from a chronic condition where his health worsened just by looking at humans?*
“You summoned me, Your Highness.”
“Fufu, Vanka. I told you to call me Chancellor. Ah, you’re already acquainted with Miss Grikenkos, I trust. I heard you carried out the last mission together, and it seems Miss Grikenkos has a very high opinion of you.”
Elizaveta sat in the seat of honor on the sofa and smiled sweetly.
At her words, Elfihera blushed, glanced at Ivan, and then quickly lowered her head again.
“You embarrass me, Your Highness…”
“…? What’s come over you all of a sudden?”
“Have I committed some offense to displease you, sir…?”
“How dizzying.”
Elizaveta shook her head gently. But she could understand the scene before her.
Just look at Ivan. The dependable great warrior of Krasilov was, at a glance, incredibly intimidating.
Though his beard had recently become suspiciously smooth and well-groomed, it was still long and bristly.
That alone obscured more than half of his impression. For her, who knew his past, it was a lamentable state of affairs, but she couldn't break that stubbornness of his.
And then there were his emotionless eyes, sharp features, and shaggy, unkempt hair.
*No, I just don’t get it.*
*The beard definitely has something applied to it, so why is his hair in such a state?*
Elizaveta swallowed a surge of frustration and regained her composure.
In any case, it was a bit much for a young girl. His well-muscled, sturdy frame and appearance, combined with the intimidating aura and sharp edge honed through long years of real combat, would naturally make it difficult for a girl who had just turned twenty to even meet his eyes.
On top of that, hadn't this child witnessed his skills firsthand?
She’d heard he had fought monsters in the ruins with her. If she had caught even a glimpse of the true extent of Vanka's abilities in the process, well, it was understandable that she would be this frightened.
*As the adult (age 27) here, I should be the one to understand.*
Elizaveta smiled warmly and looked at Ivan.
“You’re aware that the festival is approaching, I assume.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“A few nations plan to send envoys to coincide with it. I can understand. When your own children are attending an event at their school, there’s no better excuse.”
The university festivals of this era were not just for the students.
They were a golden opportunity for the many state guests enrolled at Saint Yansk University to leverage their student status and project their influence upon one another.
High-ranking nobles were political animals. Naturally, such opportunities were ripe for the kind of discreet, under-the-table diplomacy that couldn't be conducted in their home countries.
It was pathetic that they used their children as an excuse, but what could be done?
Elizaveta was the princess of this nation, the mistress of the Eastern Palace, the only royal blood with the power to project political influence, and, to top it all off, the chancellor of Saint Yansk University.
This first event since her inauguration had to end safely and successfully.
“When I mentioned providing Miss Grikenkos with personal protection services, she immediately named you. Elven insight, I suppose; she has chosen the safest guardian in this country.”
“You praise me too highly.”
“Nonsense. I would trust you with my own life. Excessive humility can be an insult. Do you think just anyone could have joined the Royal Guard?”
“…”
Seeing Ivan’s expression freeze over, Elizaveta regretted her words. *Ah, that was a sore spot.*
“Ahem, in any case. May I ask this of you? If you have other plans for the festival, feel free to say so. The Counter-Intelligence Command will be stationed throughout the university during the festival period anyway.”
“I have no other plans.”
Checking the diet of the Hero's Party's children and moving with them for a short while was part of his usual schedule.
Adding one Elfihera to the mix was unlikely to cause any problems.
He was just that kind of rational person.
“W-well then, I’ll be in your care, Sir Petrovich.”
“Mm.”
*It was only a few days ago that she was calling me this and that. She must really not be feeling well.*
Ivan gave a short nod and left the room.
Three days before the start of the festival.
The fact that he had made plans with three different women on the same day was not a particularly important issue, so Ivan took care of his overdue orphanage paperwork and then rested.
*