Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Coconut Curry, Pu Pad Pong Curry, Tom Yum Sauce (1)
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Slipping through the cover of darkness, Malik and the dozens of trolls who had decided to follow him slipped out of the camp.
They were the old shaman, those who had witnessed the injustice of the whipping, and above all, the warriors who had grown disgusted by the tantalizing smell of meat hidden away by the chieftains.
"Wait there…!"
At last, the walls of Rak Talri came into view amid the shadows.
The ramparts above were still brightly lit, filled with a savory aroma wafting through the air.
"We surrender! We've come to pledge ourselves to the Saint!"
Malik shouted with his ragged voice. The walls stirred for a moment before the heavy wooden gates creaked open.
Heavy-armed troll warriors led by Rak Jin guided them inside warily.
And there, Malik and his dozens of surrendering trolls were overwhelmed by the sight before them.
Inside the walls was a bounty beyond their wildest imaginations—a veritable paradise of plenty.
The plaza within the walls had transformed into a massive outdoor kitchen and a showcase of ingredients they'd never seen before.
In the center of the plaza, the largest pot bubbled with a soft, sweet fragrance rising from it.
Within the creamy milk-colored broth, chicken and potatoes simmered tenderly, infused with the aromas of spices and coconut.
On the griddle beside it, an entirely different dish was taking shape.
"Now, add the coconut milk…"
Freshly molted softshell crabs from the jungle—tender enough to eat shell and all—were stir-frying in a thick, dark crab roe sauce mixed with beaten eggs.
"Th-this… crab dish?"
Malik swallowed hard.
He could hardly believe that crabs, which in the jungle were simply steamed or grilled, could emit such a rich, nutty fragrance.
But what truly halted the surrenderees in their tracks was the blood-red broth simmering in the corner.
A broth blending the refreshing zest of kaffir lime, a tongue-numbing spiciness, and an indescribable exotic herbal note.
An intense, sour-and-spicy concoction packed with whole swamp red catfish and river shrimp.
Malik and the surrenderees stood there, utterly entranced.
At that moment, a man stood before the pots, clad in pitch-black armor.
His gaze fell upon the dozens of mud-caked trolls—and on Malik at their forefront, who couldn't even lift his head—and a familiar face.
. . .
*Rewinding time, Rak Talri garrison.*
The feast atop the walls had been a success, but I was far more excited by the new possibilities.
On top of the limes, coconut milk, and a host of other ingredients.
Even without fully exploring, these discoveries were already shaking up my entire mental recipe book.
'I can't hold back.'
I wanted to dive right in and create new dishes with these fresh ingredients. There was just one problem.
"…."
The pitch-black armor encasing my body.
With enemies camped right below the walls, the commander couldn't very well strip down to an apron.
Sure, I could cook in the armor, but wouldn't it look utterly ridiculous?
With gauntlets on, fine spice blending or flame control would be a nightmare anyway.
"…Should I call for cooking support?"
As I muttered regretfully, a familiar yet clear voice came from behind me.
"Um, excuse me… Lord Jonathan!"
Turning around, there stood Saintess Lumiel in her pristine white priestess robes.
Her hands clasped together, golden eyes sparkling as she looked my way.
"Ah, Saintess. What brings you here?"
"If it's not too rude, you seemed troubled just now… May I ask if something's wrong?"
Hmm, I wonder what she'd say if I told her I was about to make new sauces but couldn't.
"Um, were you perhaps about to perform a new miracle, Saint, but ran into some trouble…?"
Ah, she's already figured it out.
"Ahem. You've seen right through me."
At my response, she stepped forward, unable to hide her excitement.
"Th-then! Let me! Let me be your hands, Lord Jonathan!"
"You, Lumiel?"
"Yes! To assist in carrying out the Saint's noble will and be the first to deliver it to the people—there's no greater honor for a disciple!"
An incredibly enthusiastic Lumiel.
Was it okay to have the Papal Saintess tying on an apron?
But refusing her with those golden eyes burning so earnestly—practically snorting with determination—was impossible.
"…C-could I not…?"
She looked up like a pleading kitten.
I had no choice but to surrender to those golden eyes.
"Very well. But since we'll be handling fire and knives, be careful?"
"Yes! Thank you, Lord Jonathan!"
…I had certainly brought her to the makeshift kitchen with the cooks, brimming with zeal.
"I-I need to prepare these herbs as you said…"
But now she stood trembling, gripping the kitchen knife two-handed like a sword over a few stalks of lemongrass on the cutting board.
Of course, even among the clergy, there were dedicated kitchen monks.
But in that stance, disaster was inevitable.
"Saintess. Gripping it like that will cut your hand. Actually, you won't even slice it that way."
"Oh, is that so? But…"
Her awkward posture hadn't changed a bit.
Better to demonstrate the proper form than just explain.
"Pardon me."
I stepped behind her.
Keeping just enough distance so my armor wouldn't touch her back, I wrapped my gauntleted hand over hers on the knife.
"Ah…!"
In that instant, I felt her shoulders stiffen. Her hand trembled faintly in mine.
"Keep your elbow tucked close to avoid bumping—pin the ingredient firm with your left hand, knuckles raised. Grip the knife tight with your right and slide the blade up and down against those knuckles. Try it like this."
My breath must have brushed her ear; the edge of my vision caught her earlobe flushing red.
There was a subtly pleasant scent, like sun-dried wildflowers.
Shaking off the odd feeling, I carefully withdrew my gauntleted hand.
Her hand, now moist with sweat, was finally freed.
"…Now, try again. Just like I showed you."
"Y-yes!"
Lumiel took a deep breath and clumsily mimicked the form I'd taught her.
Thok, thok. The knife struck the board with a cheerful rhythm.
The cuts were uneven and crooked, but at least no risk of severed fingers.
"I did it! Lord Jonathan! I did it!"
She beamed like a child at the sliced lemongrass.
Her pure joy was so infectious, I found myself smiling too.
Leaving her excitedly behind, I began directing the real cooking.
"Saintess, that pot first."
I pointed to the pot where the chicken and potatoes were simmering.
"Pour in the coconut milk there. Then slowly stir in this orange powder."
"Yes!"
As Lumiel carefully added the coconut milk, the pot turned milky white before blending with the intense spices into a soft orange hue.
"Wow! The aroma is so smooth and sweet!"
"Next, the second one."
I pointed to the pot with the swamp red catfish and river shrimp.
"Add the lemongrass you just sliced and squeeze in plenty of lime juice. The spiciness comes from these red chilies."
As Lumiel squeezed in the limes, the citrus freshness began mingling with the spicy notes.
This was the bold, exotic scent of tom yum.
But we weren't stopping there. Time to experiment with more flavors.
My eyes turned to the softshell crabs freshly caught from the swamp.
Prime ingredients, shells tender enough to crunch right away.
"Saintess, can you handle that wok over there?"
"Yes! Leave it to me!"
Her cheeks still flushed, she took her place at the wok.
I ordered the cooks to prep the crabs while I beat eggs, mixed curry powder and coconut milk into my secret sauce on the side.
"Now, fry garlic and chilies in oil, add the crabs…"
Pouring in the golden curry sauce, the eggs and sauce thickened in the hot wok, enveloping the soft crabs in a rich, crab roe-hued amber glaze.
"Pu Pad Pong Curry, complete."
And so, coconut curry, tom yum sauce, and Pu Pad Pong curry were finished.
As the three dishes unleashed a massive wave of aromas across the plaza, an urgent shout came from the watchman atop the walls.
"Commander! At the gates! Surrenderees! It's those guys from yesterday!"
. . .
"Malik."
I flipped up the visor of my pitch-black helmet and called his name.
He lay prostrate on the dirt with his dozens of comrades, not daring to raise his head.
"…Saint."
As he slowly lifted his head, I couldn't help furrowing my brow.
His back. Peeking through the tattered leather rags were horrific wounds.
Whip lashes festering, oozing pus.
"…Those wounds are severe."
As I murmured lowly, Lumiel stepped forward from beside me.
Gone was the childlike expression from helping with the cooking; she approached him with the saintess's innate compassion.
"Lord Jonathan. May I… heal them?"
"Please do."
Malik flinched warily at the approaching figure in white.
But Lumiel unhesitatingly placed her hand on his torn back.
- Fwoooosh…
Dazzling golden holy power erupted from her hand.
"Urgh…!"
Malik's shoulders convulsed briefly before his torn flesh miraculously began to knit.
The gruesome wounds vanished without a trace, revealing the sturdy hide of a forest troll beneath the rags, restored to perfection.
"I-it can't be…!"
"A miracle…!"
Malik's companions rubbed their eyes in disbelief, murmuring in awe.
Forgetting their earlier wariness, they knelt as one, foreheads to the ground before Lumiel.
Lumiel finished healing Malik and smiled gently at them.
"Rise. In the Saint's land, there is no hunger or pain."
I thanked Lumiel and addressed Malik, who was dazedly touching his back.
"First things first, you need to eat. Rak Jin."
"…Your orders."
Rak Jin had been momentarily entranced by the miracle but responded instantly to my call.
"Share food with them too. Same as the refugees."
"…Understood."
The surrenderees, still wide-eyed in shock, were led to the distribution line.
Plates identical to those of the imperial soldiers brimmed with the three freshly made dishes—coconut curry, Pu Pad Pong curry, and the red tom yum sauce.
And as they took their first bites, expressions of shock spread across their faces.
"Th-this flavor…!"