Shall I Roll One for You?
Shall I Roll One for You?
"Feeling a bit better now?"
"Hoo-hoo-hoo. Ahem! Yes, much better, thank you."
Amelia, who'd been grinning a moment before, cleared her throat and composed herself.
The faces she'd been making while she ate had me worried the food was off, but that clearly wasn't it.
She wasn't having strange thoughts, was she?
She was certainly a saintess with enough imagination to have strange thoughts about meat.
Probably just because it's her first proper meal in a while.
"There's a separate staff quarters. I'll have Andrea clear a room for you. You can rest there a few days and recover your strength."
"...Thank you. Britten Territory, was it? How long would it take to reach the capital from here?"
"Lilyan's connected to the capital by teleport gate. If you ride hard, you can make it in three days."
"Then I need to regain my strength as quickly as possible and find a way back. There's no telling when the pursuit will catch up."
"You don't intend to continue your pilgrimage?"
"Something more urgent has come up. Whoever ambushed the Saintess—the messenger of God herself—and attacked the Holy Knights needs to be dealt with first."
Her expression hardened.
I watched her steel herself, then asked.
"From what I understand, the knights concealed your presence here for your safety. If you wish, I can alert Viscount Britten to your arrival."
"...Is the Viscount someone I can trust?"
She was asking which faction he backed.
She feared he might be one of the Noble Faction supporting the First Prince—the same kind of men who'd attacked her. Perfectly reasonable fear.
"Officially, he stays neutral. His territory's too small for backing anyone to bring him much in the first place."
"...Then simply notify him. And convey that I am not formally requesting his aid."
"Will you manage on your own?"
"There isn't exactly another way."
Amelia smiled bitterly.
Escorting her to Lilyan wouldn't be too much, would it.
From there she could contact Camilla and get help. At the very least, it'd be better than sending her off alone.
Get Amelia back to the capital alive. Then she officially throws her support behind Diana.
That should at least keep her from falling into corruption the way she did in the novel.
"If it comes to you having to go alone, I'll accompany you."
"Sir Lucas, but..."
Her eyes drifted toward the restaurant.
She seemed worried about forcing me to close up shop because of her.
"Shutting the doors for a few days won't be a problem."
"Truly, thank you. I will not forget this debt. Once I'm back in the capital, I'll report your service to the Order at once and have a plaque of commendation—"
"Please don't."
"Pardon?"
"Don't mention that I helped you."
"Why would you..."
I was the man who'd fled the capital to avoid the tragedy in that novel.
Even if Princess Diana and the Imperial Knight Order had long since gotten along fine with a new chef, nothing good would come of my name popping up back there.
And I was currently in Britten, at the southern tip of the Empire—not in Lorant, my home territory in the northwest.
Nothing good would come of anyone knowing I was in Britten either.
Paperwork says I went to the countryside, but...
Verbally I'd said I was heading home, which, strictly speaking, meant I was nowhere near my designated posting.
The last thing I want is to cause trouble by broadcasting my location.
Amelia, however, seemed to have drawn a different conclusion. Her eyes shone as she clasped her hands together.
"Sir Lucas, your heart is truly noble. To conceal your own good deeds and take no reward... Perhaps I have been misjudging you."
She spoke with obvious emotion, then swallowed audibly.
Misjudging me?
I couldn't recall having done anything that warranted being misjudged in the first place.
"Misjudging me? What do you mean by that?"
"Hm? Ah, that's... I'm afraid I cannot say."
She squeezed her eyes shut and changed the subject.
"A-anyway, the Order will repay this assistance in due course. If formal recognition is unwelcome, there are any number of informal means by which we can show our gratitude."
With a gentle smile, she murmured a short prayer. Soft light began to flicker around me.
"I've bestowed a simple blessing upon you, Sir Lucas. From this moment, God's protection walks with you."
"Thank you."
And it was a genuinely simple blessing—a minor spell to speed up recovery.
Hope this won't cause problems for Bldi.
It was weak enough that it shouldn't have any adverse effects. I'd have to ask her when she came in.
"Those clothes are far too conspicuous as they are. I'll ask Andrea if she has something more suitable."
"Thank you. For everything..."
Amelia followed Andrea back to the staff quarters.
Later, when Bldi arrived to help with the evening shift, she took one look at me and immediately grimaced.
"Euuugh! B-boss, you're... weird. Too... zappy."
Amelia's blessing, evidently. Bldi backed a step away from me.
"Uwaaah... euu."
"Is it that bad?"
"Hiiih!"
I took one step toward her and she flinched, scrambling back to open the distance. She bolted behind a pillar.
I'd expected something like this, but seeing it actually happen stung a little. Felt like having a kitten who used to eat out of your hand suddenly hiss at you.
Should've passed on the blessing.
***
Ivan. Lancelot's disciple, and the man who'd picked a fight with Lucas not long ago and gotten himself thoroughly wrecked.
A stubborn knight who, after tasting gukbap once, had fallen harder for it than anyone.
He exhaled.
Another grueling round of training behind him, Ivan looked over at Lancelot, who still held his sword with perfect ease.
"You've improved quite a bit."
"Thanks to your teaching."
"Is it only my teaching? That talent of yours is what really shines."
His master. The Sword Master Lancelot, once counted among the finest swordsmen in the Empire.
Ivan had grown up in the forest with his mother. After she passed—his only friend, his only family—Lancelot was the first human being he ever met.
—You've got good eyes.
Lancelot had told Ivan he possessed remarkable potential, and that he wanted to raise him as his disciple.
From then on, Ivan trained with his sword almost every day. Every two weeks, Lancelot would visit his forest to spar and teach.
And recently, a new addition had been made to the routine.
"Then am I permitted to go to Britten Castle this time?"
"You truly want to go that badly?"
"Yes."
A visit to Britten Castle. It was a reward Lancelot had newly instituted—when Ivan met his training goals, he earned a trip to Lucas's Knight Restaurant.
The food there always gives a knight tremendous inspiration.
As Lancelot said, Lucas's cooking imparted new insight from every direction every time you ate it. A form of deep instruction that ordinary people couldn't feel.
It was genuinely uncanny how his mastery inched upward with every meal.
People said you could learn everything from a great knight.
And Lucas was a knight who'd reached a realm Ivan couldn't even gauge himself against.
After the sparring match, Lancelot had said:
—Even I cannot best Sir Lucas. So how could a boy who hasn't even reached Master hope to win?
—Have you crossed blades with him?
—There are ways of knowing without crossing blades.
Ivan was curious how Lucas, who looked roughly his own age, could possess such strength. That was why.
The reason he kept visiting Lucas's restaurant.
If it were entirely up to him, he'd have left the forest and settled in Britten Castle to study more deeply, but the thought of leaving the land that held his mother's memory always gave him pause.
"I hear Britten's knights have begun working there recently."
"Working at the Knight Restaurant?"
"That's right. Far as I can tell, it's a ploy—they figure working at the restaurant will let them eat the food more often. But Sir Lucas is no easy mark. By all accounts, the training he's putting them through now is harsher than what I gave them."
Lancelot chuckled fondly, no doubt picturing his disciples' cheeky scheme.
"Training? What sort of..."
"I've heard it's training to spread one's sword energy as thinly and evenly as possible."
"...What would be the point of spreading it thin? To punch through an enemy's heavy armor, isn't the standard approach to imbue as much mana as possible?"
"It is. That's the textbook answer. But Sir Lucas, it seems, doesn't follow that textbook."
A question mark bloomed in Ivan's head.
"To Sir Lucas, his opponent isn't a foe in heavy plate armor—it's ingredients. To cut ingredients more cleanly, to preserve their flavor and keep their form intact, he has to wield his mana with greater precision."
"Wield mana with precision... Could that be why his growth has been so explosive..."
"It means he gives his all to everything he does with mana. Even day-to-day, he trains to refine the precision of his mana control."
Ivan felt he finally understood how Lucas had reached such heights at a young age.
Using the image that formed in his mind from the description, he tried layering mana onto his blade as thinly as possible.
Woooong!
The thin film of aura lost coherence almost instantly and scattered.
The kind of control required was so demanding that just those few seconds left him gasping.
"Haah... haah... I want to know. How he teaches it..."
"Heh. Looks like I'm about to lose my most gifted disciple as well."
Lancelot let out an easy laugh as he studied Ivan.
He could see it—a firm goal kindling in those red eyes.
The ambition to grow. The hot blood of a young knight who hungered to learn new swordsmanship.
Seems the wolf who's lingered at the bottom of the well may finally step out into the world before long.
His last disciple, the one with the most brilliant talent of all—this might be what pushed him out into the broader world.
He'd have to prepare a gift for him, something to give alongside the Sword of the Lake he'd passed on to Lucas.
"Go see for yourself. It may prove a great help to you as well."
"Understood, Master."
Ivan set off for Britten Castle alongside Lancelot.
***
Two days had already passed since Amelia arrived at the restaurant.
I'd put together a menu for her: leafy greens with ssamjang, pan-fried tofu, sautéed zucchini, and seasoned vegetable salads. Andrea watched her eat nothing but plants with an expression of total incomprehension.
"Why is she eating those tasteless weeds?"
Amelia, for her part, found Andrea equally incomprehensible.
"Ugh. A debauched elf... I always believed elves were a noble and chaste race, but that hunk of meat Sir Lucas made for her... haah! Such a huge thing in her mouth... Goodness. Goodness me."
An elf eating meat without the slightest inhibition had apparently rattled her quite a bit.
"They're both weird..."
Bldi kept her distance, as if she found both women equally baffling. Though the real issue, strictly speaking, was the holy power that naturally hovered around Amelia's body.
Bldi seemed especially drained, so I'd given her blood sundae, seonji haejangguk, and a supply of fresh blood to drink.
Without that, she'd probably be crawling across the restaurant floor by now, barely clinging to consciousness.
"Euuuugh... Boss... I'm clocking out early todayaaay."
She looked like she really might keel over, so I let her go early.
"What's on the menu today?"
Amelia had started looking forward to every single meal.
"There's a dish that's the pinnacle of simple, convenient vegetarian eating. Care to try it?"
"What is it?"
"Vegetable gimbap. No meat at all—just rice, vegetables, and seaweed. It's the vegetarian's best friend."
"Gim... bap?"
Amelia's eyes widened as she blinked at me.
"Shall I roll one up for you?"