Chapter 48
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: My Job vs. Your Job (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“You're scheming again about how to avoid work, aren't you?”
“I'm just trying to find the right people for the job. It's not like we're simply changing the village name to city. There's so much that needs fixing. And all I've got is a week's crash course from the Lord's castle. It's better to hand it off to people who can hit the ground running from the start.”
“But there's value in learning through trial and error, clashing and breaking along the way. You can't run from tough problems every time, can you?”
Ian's voice carried a hint of irritation.
“Do we really have to learn through failure?”
“What?”
“If we can learn without failing, isn't that the better path?”
But Ian was soon left speechless by Dominic's retort.
“Besides, this isn't something where failure just costs me personally. The future of Evergreen's residents is on the line.”
“But if a leader lacks the skills...”
“Trusting others is a leader's skill too.”
Dominic didn't back down.
“Sir Knight, you still don't have any friends in Evergreen besides me, right?”
“......”
“Sir Knight, you need to stop building walls around other people. Sure, if you're capable, living solo isn't a big deal. But it's tough doing everything alone.”
Ian clamped his mouth shut at Dominic's words.
“So come take a look. I need to match the applicants' experience to the right positions, but I'm not confident. You've seen this kind of thing next to the Old Lord, haven't you?”
“...I'll check.”
Ian, his hangover now completely gone, began poring over the stacks of papers on the desk.
One by one.
With utmost care.
Dominic watched him proudly.
'Okay, passed it off.'
He'd wondered why Ian was prying so much today, but it had worked out anyway.
Leaving the absorbed Ian behind, Dominic slipped out of the house and headed to the kitchen with light steps.
“Hmm, hmm—. What should I whip up? Something simple like pasta? Nah, something with broth sounds good. Bouillabaisse after a long time?”
As Dominic entered the kitchen, his eyes fell on a wooden tub filled to the brim with clams.
- Eat the clams. Purged them overnight.
It was Kallon the uncle's handwriting.
When he'd dumped the Village Chief role on Dominic, the old man had cackled that he'd never studied a day in his life. Now he wrote simple notes without issue.
[If I have grandkids someday, they'll be walking soon. Can't embarrass the kid if I can't even write my name.]
When Mage Perot started teaching the village kids to read and write, a literacy craze swept through Evergreen.
Even lifelong illiterates among the adults began stumbling through words.
Kallon the uncle was one of them.
That was when it started.
Ingredients left by villagers began piling up in front of Dominic's kitchen.
'I told them it's not necessary.'
Villagers dropping off veggies, fruits, fish, and such would scribble clumsy notes—fresh ones, cook like this—and Dominic always felt a swell of gratitude.
“No helping it. Clam soup it is today.”
The tub held only fat, unbroken clams.
Thinking of Kallon the uncle's rough hands picking the best ones brought a smile to Dominic's face unbidden.
Tak tak tak—.
Bubble bubble.
The broth, simmered lightly with clams, radish, and salt, began to boil.
Generous chunks of clams made the stock milky white, more than enough to whet the appetite.
Chopped red chilies and vibrant green scallions added visual appeal.
“No vinegar today.”
He usually added a splash to seafood soups to cut the fishiness. But not today.
“So here you are.”
“You came? What about the papers?”
“Marked what needs fixing. You can look later.”
“Thanks, Sir Knight. Sit there. Soup's just ready.”
Ding-a-ling—.
As Ian entered, the kitchen door opened again.
“Mind if we join?”
“Hey! Human! Heard you got promoted! Congrats!”
It was the Old Lord and the dwarf.
“Your congrats came awfully fast.”
“Right? I'm a dwarf who knows manners! Uhahaha!”
“...Sure.”
Dominic's snide remarks never fazed the dwarf.
'This dwarf definitely doesn't know why the drinking party happened yesterday.'
Dominic couldn't help chuckling in disbelief.
“Soup's hot. Sit quick. No noodles, but rice is done. That okay?”
“Human! I like meat!”
“Later. Clams for now.”
“Hm, I don't like clams!”
Ignoring Stonehammer's whining, the Old Lord scooped first.
Slurp—.
“Whoa!”
Clam soup's flavor was irresistible, especially for the hungover.
“Good, very good!”
Setting aside spoon and ladle, the Old Lord grabbed his bowl and gulped it down.
Gulp—.
“Human, give me some too!”
When someone's devouring it, even disliked foods tempt.
The dwarf took his clam soup and drank straight from the bowl like the Old Lord.
“Uwak! This'd pair great with booze. Can't spare a bottle?”
True to form, nothing beat a dwarf on drinks.
'How does he know clam soup's perfect soju fare.'
But Dominic had no intention of sharing booze.
Once the dwarf started, the carefully hoarded kitchen stash would vanish.
“No wine or butter notes, yet how?”
The Old Lord patted his satisfied belly after downing a bowl and asked.
In the south, clear clam soup was uncommon.
Usually wine-butter broths or chopped clams in chowder.
Or as pasta add-ins.
“Pure flavors. Clams' umami and saltiness, radish's sweet freshness, chilies and garlic for depth, salt to balance. Keep no single taste overpowering—simple.”
“Heh heh. Truly no secret? That's it?”
“Yes. You could do it too, Old Lord.”
The Old Lord stroked his beard, memorizing.
Probably for the resort chef.
“Pity the bowls. Flavor's so clean; fine pottery would've elevated it.”
“Pricey, though.”
“True. Trade with East Continent's drying up; pottery prices are skyrocketing.”
The Old Lord smacked his lips regretfully.
“Anyway. Buildings first?”
“Yes. Resort roads helped halve the work.”
“Priority buildings...”
“City hall, security office, exchange, port first.”
“Locations picked?”
“Yes, city hall here, security and exchange there and there... Port needs terrain experts.”
“Hmm. Anyone in mind?”
“Not yet. No port-savvy applicants from academy profs or Lord's admins.”
Security was no issue.
Swordmaster town—what threats? Absorb Fishing Cooperative into official security.
Exchange: village auction plus Anton's help.
City hall too.
Academy applicants were mid-low admins, admin vets. Perot handled several roles easy.
Select literate kids from village classes for junior roles; no admin paralysis.
'Port's the problem.'
The real reason for city upgrade: trade port.
But port site selection was blocked cold.
“So, want a recommendation?”
“Recommendation?”
“Reliable guy contacted me.”
Capital message this morning. Fancy comms orb.
[Old Count. Five talents heading to Evergreen soon. One's the peg-legged genius...]
Dominic'd love it; came to tell personally but got sidetracked by soup.
“Top of Imperial Academy always, Thomas called him peerless genius. Like me! Heh heh!”
“Genius? What genius comes to this backwater for food...”
“That's...”
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling!
Before Old Lord answered, kitchen door burst open.
'Really need a lock. Anyone barges in.'
Dominic tsked inwardly, turning to see unfamiliar men.
“...Beggars?”
The word slipped out unfiltered.
“B-Beggars?!”
“Not? Then vagrants...?”
“O-Our looks are... Anyway, first time meeting, rude!”
A back-row man flushed, indignant.
“Right, Mayor. Even if they look beggar-ish, calling it out's rude.”
Dwarf's words made the already red-faced visitors explode.
“That's your take on our looks?”
“Ah, sorry. Slipped.”
“Really? Nothing but beggar, vagrant for us—no, me?”
The frontmost man grilled Dominic.
'What's his deal, scary.'
They outnumbered, but knight and Swordmaster here. No losing fight; Dominic squared up.
“No, what else to call it?”
Handsome? Not really, he thought snarkily.
“...Can't see my skin color?”
“Skin color...? Yeah, well tanned...?”
Rare bronze-skinned man.
But he stood like a post, blocking door silently.
'Not intentional tan?'
No tanning beds here.
“...Suits you...?”
“For real?”
“No, why? Wait, who are you people? Barging into my kitchen at dawn...”
Thud—.
“Eek?!”
The bronze beggar dropped to his knees.
“Take me in!”