Ivan and Lehman Left for the Capital
Ivan and Lehman Left for the Capital
Ivan headed to the capital with the knights of House Perdes.
Unlike their arrival, the luggage the knights carried as they departed was laughably light.
No surprise there.
"You weren't planning on eating for free, were you?"
Ivan's pointed remark had done the job.
Under that threat, the knights emptied their own purses to cover their meals—at a rate far steeper than what the menu actually listed.
I didn't bother correcting it.
Well, they should have thought of that before trying to freeload.
"I'll be on my way, Master."
Ivan bowed his head to Lancelot and me. Armor secured, a famed blade Lancelot had gifted him at his hip, and strapped across his back—the wok and ladle I'd given him. Thus equipped, he set out from Britten.
I'd told him he wasn't getting a damn thing from me when he was running off to the capital, tried to shove him out empty-handed.
His answer: "So you want me to just mess around instead of practicing the whole way to the capital?"
Couldn't argue with logic that flawless, so I ended up sending him off with the wok and ladle as parting gifts.
A romance fantasy male lead with a wok strapped to his back.
'He's good-looking enough to pull it off, I'll give him that.'
Still, there was no denying the image was surreal.
With Ivan gone—
"Well, well. Ivan, a son of House Perdes."
Lancelot clasped his hands behind his back and clicked his tongue, watching Ivan's retreating figure heading toward the capital.
"You didn't know?"
"How would I? I'm out in the countryside."
"Even after seeing that deep black hair? The Perdes trademark?"
"...I assumed a branch family."
Averting his eyes from me, Lancelot coughed dryly and returned his gaze to Ivan's shrinking silhouette.
He'd probably guessed.
There was a passage in the novel where Lancelot suspected Ivan's background was anything but ordinary, after all.
"Didn't expect him to be summoned to the capital this quickly... Seems the winds there are sharper than I'd heard."
"The succession struggle is fierce. Perdes backed the First Prince. If the First Prince fails to claim the Crown Prince's seat, they'll have to make contingency plans, won't they?"
"For a man who runs a shop in the sticks, you're awfully well-informed about central politics."
Couldn't exactly tell him I read it in a novel, so I just shrugged.
"Well, you were with the Imperial Princess's Knight Order. You'd have kept an ear to the ground. And you seem on close terms with Lady Camilla."
"For a retired knight, Commander, you're also pretty attentive to central affairs yourself."
"Tch. When blood starts spilling up in the capital, the spray reaches even backwaters like this. I have to keep my wits about me."
He let out a heavy sigh.
"Just hope the bloodshed doesn't splash all the way out here."
By the time the Perdes knights and the mounted Ivan had shrunk from view entirely, Lancelot's eyes found their way back to me.
"So, about that. Kitchen closed for the day? I'm feeling a bit peckish..."
"There's nothing."
"Now, now, don't be like that. Just once, for an old man..."
"Last time you pulled this, you ended up giving me the Sword of the Lake. What are you offering this time?"
"...You do realize that's a legendary blade, don't you?"
"Of course. It slices clean through bone."
"You scoundrel."
Having failed utterly to cadge a free supper, Lancelot clicked his tongue.
"Come during business hours. There's no special treatment just because you used to be my commander."
"Hmph. Fine."
Lancelot sighed heavily.
"Are you sure you don't need to go with him?"
"...With Ivan's skill, nothing's going to happen to him in the capital. And Perdes won't do anything to him, either. None of that man's other children outshine Ivan."
Lancelot sounded like he knew Perdes intimately.
"Though, a student leaving does leave things feeling a bit empty."
"Heimer would be heartbroken to hear that."
"Hohoho, the Britten Order kids are far too intimidated by me. No fun to spar with."
His eyes drifted toward me.
Seemed like he was hoping to plug the lonely gap Ivan had left with my company.
"Not a chance."
"Hmph."
Andrea, for her part, seemed genuinely regretful that Ivan was leaving.
"Too bad."
For all their bickering, they'd apparently grown on each other.
"He made the work a lot easier, too."
Losing an excellent pair of hands—always a shame.
"On the bright side, I never have to listen to that gukbap zealot's gukbap sermons again. I might actually survive."
Andrea shook her head like she was utterly fed up.
"Boss! Stir-fried meat for dinner tonight, please!"
"Shall we? Everyone's worked hard. I'll break out the tuu beef—been a while since we've had that..."
"N-now, see here, Lucas! Didn't you tell me there wasn't any?"
"Commander Lancelot, you aren't an employee. This is a staff meal."
"Wha—?!"
I turned to Bldi.
"Go round up the knights who've finished training. Everyone but the watch—tell them to come eat."
"Okay, Master!"
Bldi scampered off.
"L-Lucas! Just one bowl! Please! It's been ages since I've had your cooking!"
In the end, only after extracting a promise that he'd help me out once when I needed it did Lancelot get to join the meat party.
The charcoal-grilled tuu beef, served up for the first time in a long while, was outstanding.
Outstanding enough that the viscount's whole family turned up when word of the meat party spread.
***
That evening, after Ivan had gone.
A note from Riman was lying on my table at home.
—The carbonation technique is complete.
The moment I read it, the paper flared up and crumbled to ash.
Some kind of single-use sending charm that mages apparently used. I'd heard about them: write the message you want to deliver, send it to the recipient's home, and it burns up the instant they read it.
A sort of fantasy-realm KakaoTalk, you could call it.
"Complete, huh."
I glanced at the bottle of Riman's carbonated water still sitting in my refrigerator.
The 95%-completion batch.
'An unfinished prototype—weak carbonation bite, fizz doesn't last. Store it for just a month and all the bubbles vanish.'
Tssss!
I opened a bottle that had been kept less than two weeks. The fizz had already gone completely flat.
And that was in a sealed bottle.
"Tch."
Carbonated water with all the fizz gone just didn't taste like anything. That pop on your tongue was missing—without it, the stuff was basically indistinguishable from plain water.
I'd judged it unsellable as-is and decided to wait until he could produce a finished version that kept its carbonation.
"Looks like he pulled it off."
Didn't even bother getting the meat smell off me. I made straight for Riman's lab.
And there—
"...You've come?"
Riman was draped over a chair like a wet towel, peering up at me with eyes ringed in deep, bruise-dark circles.
Gaunt face. Ashen skin.
One glance told you the man was nowhere near healthy.
Even so, he was smiling.
"Where's Blackbeard?"
My question was answered not by Riman but by someone else.
"Gwaaahh!"
Blackbeard stood before the carbonation injector, a bottle I'd never seen before in hand, gulping down something cool and crisp.
White foam frothed through the black beard covering his mouth.
"This is it! The taste of carbonation flooding my body! Gahahaha!"
"He's running additional experiments, says he's going to produce a non-alcoholic beer. Judging by his expression, he's succeeded."
He'd made non-alcoholic beer, too?
"Progress was faster than I expected. I thought you'd only just finished the carbonated water."
"Carbonated water, non-alcoholic beer—the two techniques are fundamentally the same, aren't they? Forcibly inject carbon dioxide to create a supersaturated state, then keep it from escaping. Hahaha!"
Riman hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, delivering the explanation through a face that was utterly drained.
He made it sound simple, but actually pulling it off must have been a hair-tearing ordeal.
"You've put in the work."
"Hahaha, there's nothing more enjoyable than researching new techniques. I'm happy to work hard for the advancement of magical engineering."
I picked up a bottle of the carbonated water.
A glass bottle with a narrow waist—like a Coca-Cola bottle from my old world.
"You even paid attention to the packaging design?"
"Yes. I had time remaining, so I devised and produced the bottle design you mentioned. Mr. Blackbeard and I deliberated at length over achieving this elegant curve."
"You had time remaining?"
"Yes. The truth is, the first completed draft of this carbonation formula was ready last month. But I had to test it for a full month to see if the carbonation held—hence the delayed report."
"Ah."
That made sense.
"Of course, it's still the first completed draft. According to the data, the carbonation will still dissipate within three to six months, even in a sealed state. I'll be working on improving that further..."
While Riman talked, Blackbeard drained the last of his non-alcoholic beer and gazed at the glass with an expression of deep, sentimental bliss.
"Hoho, a drink that doesn't intoxicate... Remarkable. Truly remarkable."
He lifted his head and only then seemed to notice me, his face lighting up.
"Oho, Sir Lucas! You've come."
"You look pleased."
"Of course I am! Thanks to you and Riman, I've made something this fine!"
He finished speaking and downed another gulp of non-alcoholic beer. Even though the carbonation was stronger than ordinary beer, he polished off the bottle in one go.
"Kha! I never imagined beer without alcohol could taste as good as the real thing! Though I suppose that says everything about my own skill. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"The results are to your liking, then?"
"Truly delicious! The barley and malt flavors are deep and satisfying. It's on par with what we brew in our dwarf villages. Khahaha!"
I took the sparkling water I'd received from them and drank.
"Sir Lucas, please try it. This carbonated water has been aged for a month."
Gulp.
Tzzzzzzt!
A sharp, electric fizz slid down my throat. The carbonation was so fierce it assaulted my palate and esophagus, making me squeeze my eyes shut.
Ah, here it comes. There's no stopping it.
The physiological reflex that surges up naturally after a sip of carbonation.
"Ghhhhaaa!"
I clenched my teeth and let the sound rip out before I could help it. The crisp, stinging sensation of a cold carbonated drink burst out of me, a perfectly natural reaction. The sparkling water felt freshly made, jolting my palate to life. My sensitized mouth had no choice but to respond.
"Delicious! It's genuinely delicious!"
If I mixed in syrup and lemon juice, I'd have cider. I could make ades, too — all sorts of fruit syrups would become drink menu staples at the restaurant.
"I'm glad you're satisfied."
Riman finished speaking and dropped to his knees before me.
Thud!
"What are you doing?"
"There is something I've been wanting to say."
His face, looking up at me, was gaunt, but his eyes shone brighter than ever.
"Speak."
"Mages, and alchemists, do not have a fixed lord. Unlike knights, we must conduct our research free of such bonds."
"The preamble's too long."
"Ahem. To be blunt, I wish to serve you as my lord, Sir Lucas."
"Serve you?"
"Yes."
Riman ended his words with a wry smile.
"In the past, my arrogance and narrow-mindedness ruined everything. I even fell into gambling and squandered what little wealth I had left. I ended up indebted to Golden Wagon and became Lady Camilla's mage, taking on various tasks under her command."
His face was etched with regret for his past.
"In the course of that, I met you, Sir Lucas, and for the first time in a long while, I conducted research worthy of the name. In that process I understood. Ah, this is a man I must never let slip away."
"I don't follow. How did it jump from research to that?"
"Mages and alchemists are the most selfish of all. We don't want to exchange our research results with anyone — not even our own families."
But I had shared them. That was Riman's point.
"You told me I could use the completed research outcomes as I pleased. You have no idea how profoundly that moved me."
"...Even so, if you take me as your lord, there won't be much you can actually do."
"That doesn't matter. The fact that you own a knight restaurant is irrelevant to my decision. Even if you were a village nobody, I would have sworn my loyalty all the same."
"......."
"So please, accept my resolution."
"All right."
Had I agreed too readily? Riman stared at me as if he couldn't believe his ears.
"Truly?"
"Of course. I'm not the type to lie about something like this."
"...Thank you. I didn't think you would accept so easily."
I looked at the finished sparkling water Riman had completed with Blackbeard. The clear bottle sloshed with bubbling carbonated water. The skill was undeniable.
Even if Riman had run off with the technique, I wouldn't have cared much. The reason I entrusted him with its development was simply to confirm whether the technology I envisioned could be realized.
He had shown me it could. If he'd taken the secret method and fled, I would've cast another alchemist and started fresh.
'The main dish I'm after isn't the sparkling water anyway — it's the secret syrup I'll mix into it.'
I intended to use this carbonated water to make cider.
'Originally, I wanted to make Coca-Cola...'
Regrettably, I didn't know the formula. Though if you asked whether I knew the recipe for cider either —
'That, I also don't know.'
But I could produce a similar taste.
So I hadn't paid it much mind, but —
'I guess it looked different from Riman's perspective.'
It seems it left a deep impression. I don't know how mages view their own techniques, so I just lucked into it, but —
'Still, having an alchemist bound by oath is more trustworthy than an external one.'
"Then I shall swear the Mana Oath —"
"Before that, what are you going to tell Lady Camilla? You owe Golden Wagon money."
"That's not a problem. I can repay it soon. I can take on Lady Camilla's commissions while working under my lord!"
This sounded incredibly unplanned. Not that I could refuse him here.
"How do we do this?"
"Please hold out your hand. I shall inscribe the oath mark upon it."
I extended my hand as instructed, and Riman, kneeling, pressed his forehead to the back of it.
In that instant, light bloomed.
Fwoosh!
A mark of the same pattern was engraved on the back of my hand and across Riman's forehead.
"Is that it?"
"Yes. I have bound the Mana Oath ritual to you, my lord. Should I ever betray or harm you, this mark will rupture and shatter my mana circle entirely."
"...The spell is that severe?"
"Yes."
Riman looked at me as if to ask why that was strange.
"No, I mean, a light oath of loyalty would've sufficed."
"You were a knight, so you likely trust in fealty. Mages, however, are a breed that changes their words at a moment's notice. A certain method is the only way to guarantee peace of mind."
Riman shrugged his shoulders, almost proudly. I wasn't sure that was something to be proud of.
'Mages are incomprehensible.'
"What should I do from now on?"
"Rest for today. Starting tomorrow, load a cart full of carbonated water and ramyun soup and head to the capital. With Blackbeard as your escort, you'll be safe enough."
"The capital, you say?"
"Yes."
"May I ask why...?"
"Now we announce the technology we've created to the empire."
"Understood. I'll present it under your name, my lord —"
"No. Don't do that."
"Pardon?"
Why would I want to watch someone get hauled off? If word got out that I'd laid out the blueprint for this technology, Diana would come for me.
She was already talking about riding here herself just because I'm a cook. Add the attribute of alchemist to that, and —
— "Alchemists are invaluable assets. Seize him at once! If he resists, beat him soundly!"
No way. Absolutely not!
"You and Blackbeard must be the principal developers of the freeze-drying and compressed carbonation injection methods."
"But my lord!"
"Do as I say. You've sworn a Mana Oath, so I know you won't run off with it."
"Yes, but..."
I turned from Riman and looked at Blackbeard.
"I'm counting on you."
"But of course, Sir Lucas! I shall unveil our dwarves' new technology before all the world!"
As expected, the man was unshakable. A dwarf with a colossal liver.
***
Camilla emerged from the Rose Palace, where Diana resided, dragging her exhausted body back toward her own estate.
Ever since Diana's investiture as crown princess, her days had grown more draining thanks to the princess's relentless determination to push her will through. Today, she had had to deliver ramyun soup personally just to pacify the clamoring princess, and was finally on her way home.
"At this rate, she really might become a tyrant."
Doubting whether she'd truly made the right choice, Camilla suddenly spotted a familiar face on the street.
"Huh?"
A man with black hair and red eyes. He was the same man who occasionally appeared at Lucas's restaurant — now riding alongside knights of House Perdes.
"Ivan? What is he doing here?"
What was going on?