Stone-Grilled Duck
Stone-Grilled Duck (1)
“······You don’t know anything about spirits? Hmm.”
Robin finished reading the letter in one go and rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. A strange mix of self-loathing and curiosity about a new research topic swirled inside him.
“Do you know much about the exile who sent this letter?”
“I don’t have any personal connection, but I’ve seen him a few times when I accompanied our caravan leader to the island.”
“Can you tell what kind of person he is?”
“Well… I’d say he doesn’t act like a wizard at all.”
“Doesn’t act like a wizard, you say.”
“Yes. He mingles with the villagers without any sense of superiority, and I hear he even teaches the village children reading, numbers, and now history. He’s also started some businesses to support the kids’ dreams, and he tends a large vegetable garden, sweating every single day.”
“······”
“Ah! That’s not to say you’re full of arrogance or anything, Lord Robin······”
The novice merchant who had come on the errand broke into a cold sweat. He thought Robin’s silence meant he had taken offense. But that wasn’t the case.
‘Mingling with villagers, teaching children, and shaping his life through labor…’
It was shocking. Wasn’t a wizard supposed to bury himself in research, constantly chasing higher realms just to survive?
“Then does that man no longer research magic?”
“I don’t think so. He asked us to get him an intermediate magic tome, and I personally saw him drying herbs with some book called a magic potion manual tucked under his arm.”
“······What did you say his name was?”
“Patrick······ What was his family name again? Ah! Patrick Luchen.”
“Luchen? Never heard that surname before.”
“He said he used to do odd jobs at the Magic Tower as a low-ranking wizard.”
At the merchant’s shrug, Robin thought to himself:
‘People who are used to lowering themselves are of two types. Either they’re truly insignificant, or they’ve gained enlightenment and learned what humility really means.’
And he made the wrong judgment. He decided Patrick belonged to the latter.
Patrick was neither. If anything, he was just an ordinary commoner whose philosophy was, “Showing off only brings more work.”
Still, Robin found himself developing quite a favorable impression of this Patrick Luchen, a man he had never even seen at the Magic Tower. Grumble—
Of course, he couldn’t deny that the crate overflowing with ingredients had played a significant role in that goodwill.
***
“Feels like a lot is missing······”
“Ah, I gave some away.”
“To whom?”
“The wizard who made this book for me.”
“He only made one book and you gave him this much? Why? It doesn’t even look like a proper book.”
Ben stared at the ‘book’ on the table with wide, puzzled eyes. The teacher he knew wasn’t a bad person, but he also wasn’t the type to give such excessive rewards without proper calculation.
“Is the wizard who made the book pretty?”
“Hey now. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”
“From the village boys.”
“Don’t hang out with them. They’re filling your head with nonsense. Besides, I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.”
“What’s the name?”
“Robin.”
“Then it’s a guy.”
“I told you, it could be a woman. Oda made it that way.”
“Who?”
“Someone. A companion of the Pirate King. That Robin, I hear, is incredibly beautiful.”
“Pirate King? You just told me not to say nonsense. Anyway, is that why the kitchen is completely empty?”
“Ah, not exactly. From what I heard, he’s having trouble adapting.”
Despite its un-magical appearance, the book was an incredibly kind manual that even low-circle wizards could easily understand, with every concept explained in detail. Parts that were hard to grasp through text alone were accompanied by illustrations, and the author even used examples from his own research struggles to help the reader.
Yet what truly caught Patrick’s interest were the words of the soldiers who had delivered the book.
— That wizard named Robin looked like skin and bones. I thought he might die soon.
— Huh?
— Some exiles adapt well like proper wizards, but there are always a few who refuse to accept reality and starve themselves to death. Stubborn types.
Those words had stirred an unexpected sense of pity in Patrick. Though he was materialistic, he wasn’t calculating. The thought of a fellow exile—a kind wizard who had sent such an excellent magic manual—starving to death in a remote place felt deeply unsettling.
Even if he had hesitated while packing the cheese and ham, wondering if he should take them back out.
In the end, the fact that he sent them anyway was what mattered.
— Please deliver this as well. Thank you.
He hadn’t forgotten to include a letter either. If someone received a favor, it was only natural to repay it. He had sent daily provisions to a dying, maladjusted country wizard, so naturally he should squeeze every last drop of value from the situation, right?
The soldiers who had suddenly become errand boys were delighted when they received a bundle of herbs said to be good for skin care.
“If you ever have another job like this, let us know. We’re heading that way anyway.”
Herbs good for skin would either improve their meals at home or fetch a decent side income if sold. The soldiers gained extra earnings without taking bribes. The well-raised wizard no longer went hungry. And Patrick gained a personal AI that would improve both his own and his disciples’ achievements.
A deal where no one lost anything had begun.
***
“Hmm— I think I get it… maybe.”
Lying on the wooden platform, Patrick frowned at a concept in the magic book Robin had sent. It seemed he would only truly understand it by drawing a magic circle himself, which meant he needed to gather materials again.
‘The problem is there’s always one ingredient missing.’
No wonder people called wizards money-eating ghosts! He could make simple potions with the herbs he had, but monster byproducts, rare ores, and above all, magic stones were required.
He had obtained a few low-grade magic stones through the soldiers, but—
‘I have to give these to Ben.’
He couldn’t waste his disciple’s gift on an experiment whose success or failure was uncertain.
“In the end, it’s all about money. Ugh, forget it. I’m not doing it.”
Patrick flopped onto his back.
Quack quack quack quack—
Just then, an unfamiliar bird call came from beyond the bushes.
‘Our chicken has finally gone mad!’
When he first heard the quacking, he had wondered if some rooster with no sense of time was trying to imitate it. But that couldn’t be right.
“······A duck?”
He shot upright. There it was—a duck with a completely white body.
‘Basket, basket!’
Any thoughts of new magic instantly vanished.
— Village Chief, it’s an escaped duck. If you find it later, please take it back. I’m sorry.
— Hehe, I’ll do that, Ben. If you bring the duck later, I’ll clean it nicely for you.
— Huh?
— I’ll eat half and give the other half as a gift, so go home and grill it.
— Really?
— Wow!
He remembered the conversation between Ben and the Village Chief.
‘If I catch that thing, it’s duck roast and duck soup!’
Summer was approaching. Time for some nourishment. Patrick’s fist clenched.
Quack quack quack quack!
But a duck was still a bird.
“Ah, seriously!”
Armed with a bamboo basket, he chased after the duck’s tail, but a frail wizard wasn’t going to catch it easily. Especially not a duck that had already tasted freedom.
“Teacher, what are you doing?”
“What do you think? Catching a duck.”
“Isn’t the duck catching you instead?”
“You think so too?”
The children appeared at just the right moment and surrounded the duck from all sides.
“Now!”
“Wak!”
“Got it!”
Quack quack quack quack!
Once again, Patrick cheered from behind while the children did the actual catching. Still, he considered himself part of the team and therefore entitled to a share of the credit.
***
“This worked out nicely, right?”
“Looks delicious. Are we eating it salt-grilled? Or as soup?”
“Teacher said he’s making it grilled.”
“Yeah. He said he’d make a marinade too. Our teacher might be bad at catching ducks, but he’s pretty good at cooking, so I’m looking forward to it.”
“Right. He knows how to make all kinds of strange dishes. Is that because he came from the capital?”
The children were heading back to Patrick’s house with the neatly cleaned duck meat. The Village Chief had kept his promise. When they brought the duck, he had laughed heartily, cleaned it for easy eating, and even given them an extra chicken, saying one duck wouldn’t be enough for everyone.
“But I’m a bit worried.”
“About what?”
Ben wore a concerned expression as he thought of his unreliable teacher.
“On the way down, I heard Teacher talking to himself.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he’s going to have a barbecue outdoors.”
“If it’s barbecue, can’t he just use the stove? What’s there to worry about?”
“Exactly.”
The other children laughed, telling him he was worrying too much, but Ben’s expression didn’t ease.
“It wasn’t an outdoor stove. He was getting ready to light a fire next to the wooden platform.”
“Next to the platform?”
“Eh, he was probably just too lazy to move.”
“That’s totally something Teacher would do.”
“If you’re that worried, let’s just go check. That’ll solve it.”
“Should we?”
The children’s footsteps quickened. Even the ones who had told Ben not to worry felt a sense of foreboding when they thought of their hopelessly clumsy teacher. Who knew what kind of accident he might cause?
“Teacher!”
“Oh, you’re here!”
Contrary to their fears, their teacher wasn’t covered in dust or collapsed in despair.
“I’ll make stone-grilled duck for you. I already picked up something useful earlier, just in case something like this happened.”
“Huh? Stone-grilled?”
Patrick smiled brightly and pointed. There stood a makeshift barbecue setup: firewood stacked with a flat stone placed on top. The wood was already lit. All that was left was to put the meat on.
“Huh? The stone······?”
The children exchanged glances and slowly began backing away.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Teacher, where did you get that stone?”
“This? I picked it up near the beach.”
“······Kids.”
“Yeah.”
“Run!”
“Aaaah!”
Ben and the children screamed and bolted.
“What? Why are you acting like that?”
“It’s going to explode! Teacher, run too!”
“Huh? What’s going to explode?”
“Seriously! Hurry!”
“Stone-grilled duck is so delicious······”
Bang!
The well-heated stone exploded.
“Hic!”
Boom!
With a sound like a bomb dropping, the stone plate shattered.
“I told you to run! No, wait—help me! Put out that fire over there!”
— Got it!
Only after Ben summoned a spirit to douse the firewood with water did the stone finally calm down.
Thud.
Even after the situation was resolved, Patrick remained seated, unable to stand. His startled heart refused to settle.
“You didn’t know?”
“······Know what?”
“You can’t just heat any random stone like that!”
“······Stone-grilled duck······”
“Stone-grilled my foot······! Seriously, Teacher!”
Ben scolded him for a long time, but Patrick, completely deflated, could only nod weakly without mounting any defense.
‘What kind of life is this?’
Just as the suspicion that the whole world was laughing at him began to take root—
Patrick’s eyes fell on the remains of the exploded stone.
“Huh?”