The Northern Mage
Klaus had accepted Frau's order—the mage from the north and her final dish made by her master before dying, Topliya. In exchange for her cooperation in nailing the exact flavor, he'd dive into figuring out what this Topliya really was.
Frau would stay at a village near the restaurant and wait. "Near" still meant a full day's carriage ride from here, but whenever he needed taste tests, he'd send a messenger bird, and she'd come straight back to sample and give feedback, no questions asked.
"Hmm... not gonna be easy to get down there as is."
He peered into the storage shed next to the restaurant, piled high with all sorts of junk. It was the basement under the shed, built as a precaution when he'd first set up the place. A storage spot for all the items and cooking books he'd collected during his adventurer days. Most of it was useless now, and he'd thought about ditching it all upon retirement... but it felt like a waste to sell or toss, so he'd crammed everything into the big basement.
"Ehhh... are you looking for something specific, boss?"
Aris sidled up as he stared into the shed.
"Perfect timing. Help me sort this warehouse."
"Huh? This place?"
"Yeah. It's a mess 'cause I just shoved stuff in randomly, but tidy it up and you'll see a door on the floor."
The warehouse looked like a bomb had gone off. Junk furniture, trash, mysterious artifacts, weapons, armor—all jumbled together. It was pretty spacious, so sorting would take a good chunk of time.
"Me... by myself...?"
"Pull everything out first, then stack it Tetris-style from the back. It'll work out."
"Te... Tetris?"
"Uh... think of it like a puzzle game."
He shoved the stunned, wide-eyed Aris toward the warehouse.
"Boss~! You're a mage, right? Can't you just whoosh whoosh it clean with magic?"
"Don't know any spells like that. I'll help a bit, so get to it! No time to waste!"
"Uuuu..."
Aris dawdled, making it painfully obvious she hated it. But it was true—he had no magic for tidying. He was a grand mage, elite among mages. But every mage specialized in certain fields.
Magic in this world came from "conceptualizing" mana to manifest it in reality. In simple terms, turning imagination into reality by channeling mana. So mages struggled with fields they didn't know well or care about—personal aptitude and interest varied, just like anything else. Stray too far from your specialty, and you couldn't conceptualize it properly, or it was inefficient.
For him, anything useful for cooking conceptualized easily. Elemental magic was his mainstay because it was the most versatile for cuisine. But warehouse sorting? Even in his past life, he'd had zero interest in house cleaning or organizing. Sure, he'd clean the shop and kitchen tools right after use, but that was different.
"Uuuuh-! Uuuuh-!"
"What's this box? Did I even put this in here?"
"Boss-! Over here! It's heavy!"
"You're a ghost. Even if it crushes you, you won't die."
"Auuu-!"
Aris dragged out a dresser the size of her body. He cleared some piles too, until the basement door finally appeared.
"Hmm... shoulda thrown some of this out after all."
Hours later, the chaotic warehouse was empty, and outside, mountains of stuff loomed next to Aris.
"Good. Keep stacking neatly from the back. I'll pop down to the basement quick."
"Making me do this, you could at least give me a snack, right?"
"Dinner later—eat as much as you want."
She griped about how tough it was, but ghosts were ghosts. Hours of labor, and she showed no fatigue. A normal person would've collapsed, but Aris just whined verbally while moving fine.
"Anyway, be right back."
"Uuu... yeeesss..."
He opened the floor door and descended. First time since building the place.
"Pfft! *Cough cough*!"
His foot kicked up dust, making him cough. But it had to be here somewhere—the book on regional specialties...
"Light."
He lit the dim interior with magic. In a musty corner, amid shelves against the wall, he spotted it.
"Found it. '30 Regional Famous Dishes: Northern Continent Edition'."
If Topliya was common home cooking like Frau said, it'd be in here. He flipped through standing up.
And midway...
"Good thing I didn't toss it."
There it was: the recipe for the northern traditional home dish Topliya. Color illustrations showed the steps. Looked like a meat stew for cold regions—similar to borscht from his world's Russian cuisine.
"Tomatoes and northern-breed beef... Elmont and Talis leaves for aroma... hmm..."
Pot cooking, not hard if he got the ingredients. A few unfamiliar spices, but big markets would have them. Great—make a basic version, feed it to Frau, get feedback.
He grabbed the recipe book to head up...
"...Huh?"
*Rattle rattle.* The ceiling door wouldn't budge. Not locked, but something heavy pressed down.
No way...
"Hey! Aris! Hey! What'd you stack on the door! Hey! Can you hear me!"
He pounded it, and soon panicked Aris replied.
"Ack! Oh... I was sorting like you said! Ah! Aaaah!"
"Don't block the door! You trying to trap me down here?!"
"S-so... sorryyy!"
Grunting and shuffling followed. Minutes later, he escaped.
A dainty lump of ice glowed prettily in Frau's palms.
"Master..."
In her inn room, she gazed at the ice-encased chunk of Topliya meat. This restaurant felt different from the others. She'd visited famous spots across regions, begging chefs to perfectly recreate her master's Topliya, staking her life on it.
The flash-frozen meat inside would yield the nostalgic flavor if thawed right. But once thawed, refreezing wouldn't restore it. That's why she'd demanded chefs stake their lives—no half-assed cash-grab risking this treasure.
But that Klaus said he didn't need it now. To recreate her perfect memory of master's Topliya, her advice from recollection mattered more than the preserved meat.
It had been a long journey. She never forgot the taste. Her master—orphan-rescuing foster mother, raising her from infancy into a mage. But Frau's memories weren't all warm.
Her master was the Ice Witch of the Northern Continent, an object of terror. No one approached her tower, so Frau grew up isolated, friendless.
Powerful but cold and cranky, the witch scolded toddler Frau constantly.
—Frau! I told you to memorize this spellbook by today!
—What are you doing, Frau! You idiot girl!
—Can't even handle this simple spell? You!
No beatings, but daily verbal lashings harsh for a child. As she grew, she dreamed of fleeing the tower but feared she wouldn't survive. Days of tearful desperation to avoid more scolding.
No matter her progress, no praise came. Her sole comfort: master's weekly Topliya dinner. Not exceptionally tasty, but memorable. Eating it meant no nagging.
"..."
After staring long at the ice, Frau tucked it back in her bag. As she went to lie down, a pigeon slipped through the window with a note.
From Misikdang Slow.
[Come the day after tomorrow to taste the first Topliya.]
Seems the first batch was ready already. Frau scribbled a reply on the back and sent the bird off.
Heart pounding, she lay down.