Episode 7. The Crisis Rides on Paprika
I swallowed hard as I stared at the pink system window floating before my eyes. This damn thing always pops up at the perfect moment to yank my heart around.
'I can pull this off again. And the reward? Info windows on the knight order's key members.'
This wasn't just any reward. The people right in front of me were the Winterfell Ducal House's real muscle—their armed force. With that info, I could cozy up to them, build goodwill, or in a pinch, skyrocket my survival odds.
Of course, failure meant getting ignored by the knights for life, no help from them ever again. But success? I'd gain a solid ally in this brutal northern life.
"...Your Highness?"
Wolff's question snapped me back. I looked up and flashed the most relaxed smile I could muster.
"Ah, I was just momentarily awestruck by the Winterfell knights' aura—sorry for the delay. Very well. Today, I'll get a good look at the prowess of Lady Beatrice's pride and joy, the Winter Guard."
"Thank you. Then we'll begin our training demonstration."
Wolff grinned and stepped back. And with that, the show started.
The training grounds felt like a frozen pond. The heat from hundreds of knights mixed with the northern chill, brewing a tense atmosphere. They'd wiped away their earlier sneers, transforming into warriors brimming with spirit and resolve as they formed ranks.
Once every knight faced his opponent, Wolff bellowed,
"Begin!"
With his roar, the knights charged at each other.
Clang! Clang! Boom!
The sharp clash of metal echoing across the grounds wasn't some flashy Olympic fencing match from my old world. This was real swordplay, laced with killing intent—like they were out for blood. Watching countless knights duel to the death was a spectacle. Sparks flew brilliantly with every greatsword clash.
"Your Highness, we hone ourselves with live-steel spars like this every day to hold back the barbarians on the northern front. Half-hearted swings won't keep you alive out there."
Pride dripped from Wolff's voice as he boasted beside me.
"I can see why Lady Beatrice holds the Winter Guard in such high regard."
Wolff smiled in response, while Betty sat stone-still, eyes locked on the duels. Her blood-red gaze tracked every move with piercing intensity.
'No wonder Betty's so proud of them.' That's when it happened, right in the thick of the brutal clashes.
"Urk!"
One knight, locked in fierce exchange, couldn't withstand a heavy blow and lost his grip on his sword. The steel blade spun through the air—straight toward my watching face. It hurtled in so fast, the blade shrank to a dot in my vision.
'Ah. This is how I go out. Death in two years? Screw that.'
They say your life flashes before your eyes before death, but mine just blanked out. As the sword closed in, overwhelming terror froze my body solid.
"Tch."
A tongue-click, and rough hands shoved my shoulder.
"Ack!"
I tumbled limply to the ground. Right then, the sword that had been aimed at me slammed into the spot my head had been—clang!—embedding in the dirt before bouncing away.
'L-live... I survived... I'm alive...'
My body, fresh from brushing death, throbbed with my pounding heart as I relived it. The duels halted as if on cue, every eye turning to me.
In the suffocating silence, like my heart might leap from my chest, Betty gracefully picked up the fallen sword. She gripped the hilt firmly and leveled the tip at the throat of the knight who'd dropped it.
"A knight who loses his sword on the battlefield has no place in the Winter Guard."
Her voice, low and icy as an icicle, froze the grounds.
"We're not some imperial guard babysitting the capital. Can we call a man who can't control his blade and threatens a guest a knight? A true Winter Guard knight never lets go of his sword, not even in death. Dropping it means handing your comrades' backs to the enemy."
"L-Lady Beatrice...!"
The knight paled and prostrated himself. Betty's red eyes held not a drop of emotion. She tossed the sword to the ground and turned to Captain Wolff behind her.
"Sir Wolff, demote him immediately. There's no room in the Winter Guard for subpar elements."
"...As you command, my lady."
Wolff bowed deeply, looking apologetic. But Betty's reprimand didn't end there.
"And all who lost today's spars—extra night training for the lot of you. If you don't want to die on the battlefield, stake your lives on every session. I never want to see another crack in Winterfell's shield."
Hundreds of knights dropped to their knees in unison. Their eyes held only fear and awe for their liege.
'Whoa, Betty just saved my life. Shoving me out of the way in that split second.'
Betty turned back to me. She gave me a cold once-over, then spoke with formal courtesy.
"Your Highness, are you all right? I regret showing you the Winter Guard's reality like this."
"Ah, y-yeah... I'm fine. But thank you most of all for saving me, Lady Beatrice. Haha."
I laughed awkwardly. My body still trembled faintly from the aftershocks.
'But what about the quest now?'
My plan had been to mingle after the spars, doling out praise and smiles to rack up favor. But the mood had tanked. Approaching the knights now seemed impossible. The merciless pink quest blinked relentlessly before my eyes, heedless of my plight.
Success Condition: Achieve 'Friendly' favorability from 50%+ of knight order members.
Shit, mission failure was creeping up.
The hellish observation ended, and lunchtime arrived. Today, we were eating in the knight mess with Betty. The hall reeked of the subdued tension from her earlier dressing-down—silence and grim faces everywhere. The men hunched like criminals, gnawing on coarse rye bread and mystery meat soup.
I followed Betty to the serving line. That's when I spotted a massive pile of 'red vegetables' on a huge platter in the center.
'Wait... that's paprika?'
In my past life memories, it went in stir-fries or with tofu, but here the knights recoiled like it was garbage, skipping it entirely.
"Lady Beatrice, why's that red vegetable on the line if no one seems to like it?"
"Ah, it's paprika, grown mainly in the south. Bitter and astringent—no one likes it. It's dirt cheap, flooding the markets like a pest."
Even cheap, if hated, why serve it? I had to ask.
"Then why serve it?"
"They say it boosts health, helps against colds and such—though it's not proven. But it's cheap, so forcing it on knights training in the northern freeze might help. Even the captain chokes it down."
Sure enough, Captain Wolff grimaced fiercely, forced down a single paprika, and chased it with a gulp of water.
In that instant, inspiration flashed through my mind.
'Bitter and astringent? No wonder if they're eating it raw!'
Northern cuisine was all boiled or smoked. No one thought to grill or stir-fry veggies. Paprika's bitterness came from the white ribs inside, and its unique aroma turned flavorful with oil or direct fire.
'Cheap, effective, just tastes bad?'
To me, armed with modern cooking knowledge, this was opportunity knocking. If I could melt the knights' resentment from night training with this 'red spice'...
I sat down and grinned at Betty.
"Lady Beatrice, mind if I borrow some of that paprika? Oh, and the kitchen for a bit?"
"Your Highness? Why the kitchen all of a sudden...?"
"You saved my life, so let me repay the favor."
Ignoring her puzzled look, I strode to the serving line without touching my food. In my eyes, those paprikas now gleamed like golden eggs to clear the quest.
'Shit, thought I was done for... but saved.'
Hugging the mountain of paprika, I shouted inwardly.
'Fine, I'll show 'em what cooking can do!'
A spark lit in Rian's eyes. It was the prelude to the 'red flavor' that would shake the Winterfell knight order's world.