Luid's Cooking Class (2)
“...Why are there so few people today?”
Luid looked around the empty lecture hall. Attendance had dropped by half. On closer inspection, the entire Swordsmanship Club was missing.
Hershey's hand shot up.
“Lady Amelia and ten others have gone to the Melan Mountain Range to procure ingredients.”
“??”
“She informed me that class would be cancelled today because of it.”
Luid had gone straight home to sleep yesterday, so this was the first he'd heard of the details.
“...Skipping class to gather ingredients kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?”
“I'm sorry? Don't tell me you're actually cooking today?”
Luid nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Hershey floundered, flustered. “B-but normally there's a grace period for practicals, isn't there? The ingredients you requested couldn't possibly be gathered in a day or two.”
“But they're all here, aren't they?”
Luid gestured at the mountain of supplies piled in the center of the room.
“...These are just for inspection.”
“Well done. Three points to the shop for everyone.”
Clap, clap, clap. Luid applauded, then began rifling through the ingredients. Cabbage, rice cakes, chili powder, and more. It was, truly, perfect. Hershey really was capable.
“Y-yes, ma'am?!”
Luid couldn't decide which of them was the abnormal one.
People didn't usually skip class in order to prepare class materials, did they? That was putting the cart before the horse. But judging by Hershey's reaction, she genuinely hadn't seen it coming.
“P-Professor Luid? Shouldn't we postpone it?”
Luid imagined how Amelia would react if the class proceeded without her. She'd probably be terribly hurt. Amelia put on a tough front, but she was a fragile soul deep down.
It'll be fine, though.
Even if the dummy got sulky, it never lasted more than a day.
But I want tteokbokki now.
After years of bland stew and rubbery, flavorless meat, the mere thought of that red sauce made his mouth water. Hahh... He simply couldn't stand it any longer. Luid resolved to cook on the spot.
“Alright, everyone, grab your ingredients and follow me, please.”
Hershey squeezed her eyes shut.
Forgive me, Lady Amelia...!
It's a shame there's no fish cake, but...
The students of Luid's cooking class filed out into the backyard. Perhaps because they were all from the Magic Department, each of them carried their supplies in an entirely different way.
One student cast body-strengthening magic on herself and hauled an armful over at once. Sophia dragged hers along honestly, groaning under the weight. Hershey used the wind to float her load slightly off the ground, pushing it along as smoothly as a superconductor on a cushion of air. And Damon arrived with a haughty bearing, everything levitating around him in midair.
“Damon, what happened to your lip?”
The lips of his illustrious highness the former Crown Prince were badly swollen, as though he'd chewed on them with his own teeth.
“The anguish of an absolute being is ever profound. It is not something a commoner could hope to comprehend.”
“?”
Luid regretted not having a recorder on hand. If he relayed that line to Lucius verbatim, something very entertaining was bound to happen.
“More to the point—do you have nothing to say to me?”
“Like what?”
Damon silently shrugged a sack off his shoulder. From the perfectly sealed bag wafted that unmistakable, pungent aroma of chili powder.
When young Luid failed to take the hint, Damon clicked his tongue.
“An ingredient only the Imperial household can obtain.”
“...Oh.”
Don't tell me he wants praise?
Luid clapped his hands and reacted. “Wowww.”
For the record, there was not a single speck of soul in it.
“How very well done of you.”
“You think I went to all that trouble just to hear a brat's compliments?”
Damon subtly traced a circle in the air with his hand. The gesture meant the same thing in any world, but in the Empire, it stood for profit. In other words, Damon was openly demanding a reward. Luid didn't dislike that honesty one bit.
“Two points to the shop for the chili powder.”
“...Stingy.”
“Actually, Damon, why do you even need shop points?”
Damon waved a dismissive hand. “You needn't know.”
Luid had wanted to maintain polite honorifics for the duration of his teaching duties, and that answer nearly shattered the resolve.
“...Anyway, work hard if you want more points.”
Prince power is insane.
Truthfully, Luid was impressed. From what he'd vaguely gathered from Hershey, chili powder was quite difficult to come by.
He hoped Damon would keep procuring hard-to-find ingredients like this freely from now on.
“Now then, let's begin cooking. Everyone, place a pot in front of you.”
Luid pulled a pot from his subspace. He levitated it, then lit a Fireball beneath its base. He conjured three droplets of water and poured them in.
Ssss—
The water vaporized slightly, sending up a wisp of steam.
“Everyone, copy me.”
“......”
The students stared at Luid with blank faces.
Copy that? How??
That's our Luid for you. Cooking was just an excuse all along.
Hershey, eyes tense with focus, began slowly copying him. Matching Luid's all-at-once style was impossible, so she started working through it step by careful step.
“Ho? Not bad at all.”
Watching Hershey, Damon gave his fingers a sharp snap. Three spells materialized simultaneously, exactly identical to Luid's.
“Wow... his skill really is...”
“The blood of the Imperial house is truly superior.”
“Silence, you contemptible plebeians.”
Still, the praise must have pleased him more than he let on, because the corners of his mouth were curling upward. Luid looked at Damon and mused.
So he calls even nobles 'plebeians.'
Come to think of it, he'd called commoners livestock. Progress of a sort...?
Anyway, though the spell Luid had cast without much thought was difficult for everyone except Hershey and Damon to replicate, he decided to give them a hand.
“Magic is confidence.”
“...!”
“The absolute conviction that you can do it. That's what matters most.”
The students' eyes wavered.
They were all thinking the same thing. They appreciated the encouragement, but wasn't this a matter of mana, not attitude?
“Your mana is a shackle. It's an obstacle that convinces you that you can't. Don't set a limit for yourselves—I can see it, you know. You all have more than enough mana to manage this much. And if you can't believe in yourselves, then believe in me.”
Luid spoke with unwavering conviction. The students' eyes changed as they listened. They focused with fierce intensity, and—
“I-I did it.”
Nearly all of them succeeded—at Double Spell magic, something said to be usable only by fairly advanced mages.
“G-good heavens, how did I just do that?”
Even having done it themselves, they wore dazed expressions.
“The idea that Double Spell is difficult is just an outdated preconception. Now that spell formulas are properly optimized, anyone can do it.”
Luid said it matter-of-factly.
Casting magic was, in itself, a magical thing. Logic might step in to push it further, but at its root lay human imagination. Naturally, the more people believed a spell was hard to cast, the harder it actually became.
Well, in the case of Double Spell, it wasn't merely a preconception...
Shh.
He had given them a subtle boost. To Damon and Hershey, who seemed to have caught on, he raised a finger to his lips.
But not everyone had succeeded. Exactly one person was still unable to levitate her pot and light the fire—even with Luid quietly helping her along.
It was Sophia.
Luid walked over to her.
“I-I'm so sorry.”
Sophia bowed her head low.
“Your hand.”
“...Pardon?”
“Your hand.”
Luid held out his own. Sophia hesitated a moment, then took it.
Wanting to teach her more directly, Luid let his mana flow.
“...!”
Clunk—
Trickling out a bit of his own mana as a guide, Luid drew hers along. After a truly split second, the pot rose into the air, a Fireball blooming beneath it.
“Easy, right?”
“A-ah... y-yes, ma'am.”
Sophia answered, rigid as a board.
Luid nodded and turned to head back to his own spot—and his eyes met Hershey's.
“......”
Clang—
Hershey's pot hit the ground.
“U-um... I don't quite get it. How do you do it??”
Luid looked at her with eyes that were cold and done with everything.
“Come here.”
“...Yes.”
Hershey, shoulders slumped in a sulk, levitated her pot once more.
“...The cooking method is simple. Alright, first, add the rice cakes.”
Whoosh.
Luid dumped in the entire pile.
“Then add chili powder, fish sauce, and sugar in the 'proper amount.'”
Hershey asked, “And how much would the proper amount be?”
“No idea. Y'know, vibes?”
Luid was firmly in the cook-by-feel camp.
The students made baffled faces.
“So there are no fixed measurements, then. Understood.”
...Damon's taking this surprisingly seriously.
For the person least likely to bother with any of this, Damon was concentrating fiercely on making his tteokbokki.
“Add the rest of the ingredients, wait, and it's done.”
A shame about the fish cakes, though.
The tteokbokki bubbled away merrily. Perhaps because it was made in a medieval world, the feelings it stirred were oddly novel. It looked good. It smelled wonderful, too.
“A pit from the fires of hell itself.”
“Y-you want us to eat this?”
...Of course, to the people here, it seemed rather hard to accept.
But Luid was certain. Once they tasted it, it would be delicious.
“Hmph. Now I finally grasp your intent. You mean to test whether we possess the fortitude to endure this dish. What a trifling challenge. This body shall never bow before mere piquance.”
Damon was already talking out of thin air.
That's not it.
Luid decided not to tell him.
Still, though...
I wonder where Big Sis is and what she's doing right about now.
Luid decided he'd have to behave a little.
...One paper cup's worth, maybe?
Midway up the Melan Mountain Range.
“Hold on just a little longer! The destination is just ahead!”
“Yes, Commander!”
The Swordsmanship Club members were in the middle of a wholly unseasonal mountain climb.
Gilbert panted as he spoke to Amelia. “C-Commander, with all due respect... did we truly have to come all the way to the Melan Mountain Range?”
“But of course. This is the only place near the Imperial Capital with perennial snowfields.”
Amelia smiled faintly.
“And where there's perpetual snow, ice fish are sure to live. My little brother simply adores those ice fish. Back at Windsor Castle, he used to wander around with a fish held in his mouth, you know. He was so terribly adorable. Only those who witnessed it could ever...”
After nearly ten minutes of boasting about how cute and precious Luid was, Amelia gradually steered toward her conclusion.
“Since we're going to the trouble of bringing something back, it might as well be a fish he loves.”
A proud, glowing smile.
The members of the Swordsmanship Club all glared at Amelia with venomous eyes.
“......”
“...Ahem.”
They felt wronged.
Why am I even here?
Damn it, the first rule of survival is avoiding anything the Commander does involving her little brother.
They'd been summoned out of nowhere at dawn and told to come along somewhere, only to find themselves climbing this mountain in search of ingredients for a cooking practicum. No one had seen it coming.
“This is so meeean... Amelia, this is just too cruel.”
Irina, thoroughly exhausted, wheezed out her complaint. Hearing Amelia's talk had drained whatever spirit she had left, making her feel even more worn out.
Amelia tilted her head and drew her sword.
“Do you have a grievance?”
“No! None whatsoever!”
And so, once again, the hierarchy of the Swordsmanship Club remained perfectly peaceful.