Garlic Chicken: Knightly Hell, Korean Heaven
Ian ragged on the cooking in this medieval fantasy world, calling them "barbarians who only know the taste of salt," but that was only half right. The further north you went, the more his "salt cooking" description rang true. Salted meat, salted fish, salted cabbage... Even a splash of vinegar or butter felt like a whole new world of flavor. It was like Columbus discovering the New World all over again.
The northern continent really was barbarian territory. But the south was different. Down there, you could find proper dishes made with spices, a rainbow of vegetables, seafood, grains, and meats—real Western-style cuisine. Truth be told, there were plenty of delicious foods in this world. Ian was just getting the short end of the stick. Blame it on being born in the Holy Empire, maybe.
That said, Ian did have his chances at fine dining. Unlike empire folk, mages had to wander the world by necessity, sampling all sorts of exotic eats. No wonder Eredis was such a good cook. In that vein, the mage Mani Campbell was no slouch when it came to food either.
In her youth, she'd roamed the globe collecting seeds of rare plants. While traveling the southern continent, she encountered a spice called "garlic" from a kingdom beyond the Coral Sea. Garlic was a pungent, spicy vegetable with a sharp, biting kick, and the Coral Sea folk used it liberally in their cooking.
Mani was blown away by her first taste. That zingy aroma and spicy punch! It was a stimulating spice unknown in the north. Hooked on garlic, Mani smuggled some back north and grew it in her garden. Garlic was tough to cultivate up there, but for a mage who raised sunflowers in caves and cacti in snowfields, it was child's play.
"Kekekeke..." Mani cackled like a wicked witch, clutching a bulb of garlic.
At first, she'd planned to share her beloved garlic with neighbors. But the empire's northern barbarians rejected it as too spicy and stinky! They'd eat it, sure—but just a sliver for a faint whiff. Way too little to satisfy a die-hard garlic fanatic like Mani.
"If you want my help, at least enjoy the meal I've prepared!"
For the approaching knight order, Mani cooked up a storm. She plopped a plump chicken in a pot and simmered it long and slow. Ordinary chicken stew so far. But then... she crammed it full of ginseng from the east and garlic from the south!
"Kekekeke..." The nose-searing garlic fumes made her giggle uncontrollably. She'd dumped in so much garlic it nearly overflowed the pot—like potatoes in a stew! Add the ginseng's bitter, earthy tang, and an indescribably pungent stench filled the air. Any passing farmer would've pinched their nose and bolted.
The garlic reek wafting from Mani's hut was pure torture for innocent northern noses. The knights had pissed off a mage, plain and simple.
Mani felt a tiny pang of pity for the righteous fools hunting manticores. What had they done to deserve this trial? But she shook it off. A little chaos would teach the priests not to take her lightly. The church treated mages like servants, and that rubbed her the wrong way. Sorry, knights... but garlic ginseng chicken soup it was!
She simmered it for hours until the garlic stench seeped deep into the chicken. She figured the knights would flee at the smell alone.
...But she hadn't counted on a black-haired alien named "Ian Eredis Raven" being in their midst.
The mage lived alone in a hut deep in the remote woods. As they approached, Elder briefed them on her.
"Mani Campbell is a renowned herbomancer."
"Oh? A herbomancer?"
Herbomancy. Magic that commanded shrubs and trees. Ian knew of them—masters of plants, but weirdly never helping with farming. Instead, their knowledge of herbs and rare flora made them favorites among nobles.
Well, which mage didn't nobles love?
"To hunt a beast as fierce as a mantacore, we need potent poison."
Herbomancers doubled as expert poisoners, blending plant toxins into deadly brews.
"Simple enough, then. We grab the poison and go, right?"
Ian spoke, but Elder gave a wry smile. "Not that easy, lad. The church strong-armed her into helping, so she'll be in a foul mood."
"Hilarious. Why are we cleaning up the church's shit?"
"...The order took their money."
Money. Fair enough. Ian shrugged. The suspiciously well-equipped knights were church-funded, after all.
"Still, they won't kill us! For your sake, at least, she'll go easy."
"No..." Elder seemed to see Ian as a talisman against her wrath. And honestly, Eredis's name might carry weight.
By the time their chatter died down, the hut loomed close.
"...What is that smell?" One knight pinched his nose, grimacing.
An indescribable stench poured from the mage's hut.
"Typical herbomancer. Smells like boiling plants."
Talk dwindled as everyone clutched their noses. Everyone but Ian.
'...Chicken soup?'
It smelled just like the samgyetang houses back home—heavy on the garlic!
'Ah... I miss samgyetang...'
His mouth watered. Dropped into this uncivilized medieval fantasy hell, force-fed super-salty slop, his Korean soul craved bold flavors. Spicy! Salty! Hearty!
Sure, plenty of Koreans hated samgyetang. Why drown good meat in water? But Ian loved it as much as fried chicken. No need to distinguish—they were both chicken. Foolish child. Chicken was chicken. No hate, no discrimination. Peace and chicken. Amen.
"Urk...!"
"Elder! Let's head back!"
While Ian basked in nostalgic bliss, the Saint Santiago Knights were visibly shaken. Some whined to turn back without even seeing the mage. To northern palates innocent of spices, garlic's sharp tang was unbearable poison!
"Really turn tail? Fighting a mantacore without her deadly venom is folly. And fleeing from a mere stink? What'll the faithful think?"
"But...!"
As the knights wavered, the Dehitri brothers stepped forward.
"Heaven gazes down upon us..."
"Heaven gazes down upon us..."
"The sun shines bright!"
"It walks with us!"
'Huh. That worked?'
Ian couldn't fathom it. Garlic stink and they're chanting hymns? The knights marched boldly to the hut, inspired by Dehitri's faith-fueled advance.
They burst in grandly. But the moment they crossed the threshold, they froze stiff.
"Kekekeke! I've been waiting! Warriors of Santiago!"
In an atmosphere ripe for ominous Latin chants, a hag-like old mage greeted them.
"Mani Campbell?"
Elder chatted with her, but his eyes locked on the bowls and pots on the table. What was that hellish, sulfur-boiled sludge?
'Trouble.'
He'd urged them not to retreat, but seeing her "meal" soured his resolve. In a way, her soup held magic—it made even him want to hunt manticores barehanded.
The knights eyed her warily: "No way she expects us to eat that..."
Bad feelings always prove true.
"Long journey—you must be starving! I prepared something special. Dig in!"
Mani gestured to the heaping table. Garlic-laced bowls of her signature "garlic ginseng chicken soup."
Ian gawked. 'Samgyetang? Real deal!'
...Too Korean? Call it chicken soup, then. Looked like samgyetang, but chicken soup anyway.
The knights' faces twisted at the sight.
"Mage Mani, we know your fame as a herbomancer. No need to prove it like this."
Elder chided gently. In short: "You didn't have to go this far."
Even eccentric mages had limits!
Mani snorted. "What? I'm just serving guests my favorite dish. Made with crops I grew myself. If you're decent, you'll play along."
"..."
"Or leave if you're not guests."
She radiated street-fighter energy—master of devilish dilemmas. Eat the stinky chicken and earn hospitality, or bail and lose everything. Lose-lose for the knights.
'No choice.'
Elder sat with grim resolve. As spiritual advisor, he couldn't bail. The rest followed sheepishly.
"Kuhuhu... Eat up!"
Mani shoveled a huge spoonful, cackling evilly.
'Hmm...'
She paused, expression odd. Overdid the garlic? But she wolfed it down happily. So what if it was garlic soup now? Watching church dogs squirm was worth it!
"Cough! Cough!"
"Ughhh!"
"...Water! Gimme water!"
Predictably, the knights exploded in agony after tasting it. Boiling garlic like potatoes yielded this carnage.
Elder had sniffed out danger early, pretending to eat while cheering them on.
'...Huh?'
Then he spotted the anomaly. Amid the table of convulsing knights... one man shoveled garlic soup like a maniac.
Not maniacal—straight-up insane. Mage Ian Eredis Raven had transcended human reason into pure madness.
"...You."
Humans fear the unknown. For a split second, Elder feared Ian. He stared like at a monster.
"Y-You alright?"
He'd meant "Tasty?" but couldn't shatter his worldview. No one could enjoy that garlic sludge.
So Ian's chaotic reply obliterated Elder's sanity.
"Fucking..."
"Fucking?"
"Fucking delicious, right?"
"..."
Elder had forgotten. Ian Eredis Raven was the mage who treated drakes like pets. He'd seemed so normal lately... but yep, total mage.
'Eccentric beyond words.'
The knights dropped spoons, mesmerized by Ian's feast. Same vibe: "Whoa. That guy's nuts..."
If he weren't a mage, it'd be inexplicable. That level of madness? He'd believe Ian ran a drake ranch over summoning them.
Even chef Mani Campbell gaped. 'This is tasty?'
As some recoiled in horror, others in disbelief... Ian blissfully devoured more than anyone.
Whoa! Homeland flavor after so long! Mani Campbell? Might cook better than Master??
Only Ian grinned ear-to-ear, savoring Korean soul food.