A Blessed Cup of Morning Coffee
As soon as dawn broke, Ian and his group prepared to depart.
"What's the nearest castle from here?"
"It's the castle of Baron Inoti."
"Let's head there and ask for help."
Ian chose to seek refuge in the closest noble's castle. Their pursuers were barbarians—nothing a wild animal's evasion instincts couldn't handle.
Even though they were being chased by enemies, Ian's group made sure to eat breakfast. It might seem like dawdling, but it was a rational decision. Skipping meals when they had no idea where the enemy was would just drain their stamina needlessly. In truth, the enemies had no clue where Ian's group was either, so preserving energy with food was essential. It was a classic case of the Red Queen's hypothesis—both sides eating the same way meant no time was wasted in the end.
"Hm?"
While rummaging through the pantry for breakfast ingredients, Ian spotted an odd sack. He'd been hoping for leftover tomatoes, but sadly, yesterday's batch had been the last.
"What's this?"
It was a small sack, tightly sealed with obvious care. The merchants who'd stayed here were fakes, but the house itself belonged to a real trader, so the pantry held some valuable items.
Ian carefully untied the sack. What could be inside? Cloves? Pepper, maybe?
But as soon as he opened it, a fragrant aroma tickled his nose. Ian recognized it instantly.
"Ian? What are you doing in there?"
Kira poked her head into the pantry, looking around.
Ian thrust the sack toward her right away.
"Kira, know what this is?"
"Hm... no clue?"
Kira sniffed curiously, then her eyes widened.
"It smells sweet!"
"Right? It's coffee... though I have no idea what they call it in Imperial tongue."
"Coffee?"
What Ian had found was none other than coffee beans. Produced in the far south of the empire, it was common enough in the southern regions but virtually unknown up north.
"Looks like there's a grindstone over there. Let's roast some."
Ian grabbed the sack and headed to the backyard. He gathered kindling, lit a fire, and roasted the beans in a pan—the most primitive roasting method imaginable.
"Ian, what weird thing are you up to now?"
Belenca, searching for Ian as breakfast time approached, caught him at it again.
"Boiling spoons for disinfection?"
"No, not spoons."
Belenca had often seen Ian boiling spoons, thinking it was some cleansing ritual. It was his tearful effort to maintain personal hygiene on the road. But she couldn't quite grasp it. According to him, it drove away a certain illness... She didn't get the spoon-illness connection, but if the mage said so, she let it slide. If someone caught a cold later, she'd try boiling spoons in front of them.
"Perfect timing. Mind grinding this for me?"
"...?"
Belenca turned the grindstone as Ian directed. Fine coffee powder piled up, and the sweet aroma wafting from it drew an unwitting gasp from her.
"The scent is incredible."
"Told you. We're brewing it into tea."
"Oh ho, something to look forward to."
Luckily, Ian had also found sugar in the pantry. Before the coffee, he'd debated just shoving it in his mouth plain. But now its purpose was clear.
Ian mixed the finely ground powder with water and sugar, then boiled it. Done. Not Turkish coffee... well, Turk coffee. Medieval style: grounds straight into the water and boiled. Espresso machines? Clean Americanos? Those were for weak modern folk. True coffee had grounds swirling in your mouth!
Ian poured the thick medieval Americano into cups, one for each. Once a Korean, he loved coffee. If chili powder was Korean passion, coffee was their rationality—a drink that forcibly awakened the brain and boosted efficiency!
One sip of the rich brew, and memories of his past life flashed by like a montage. Ah, chained to the desk, burning vacation days, chugging coffee through all-nighters at the office~!
"Fucking delicious."
The long-awaited coffee was tear-inducingly good. And functional too! With a chase ahead, its awakening effect would keep their bodies moving.
"Alright, everyone—coffee time!"
Morning coffee finally made it feel like they were alive. Channeling a boss handing out complimentary brews, Ian shared with Belenca and Kira, with enough left over for the monks too.
"This... is excellent."
"Yeah! Tasty!"
As expected, the Ian Company employees raved. Their warm reception made him smile. If only there were cakes or cookies to go with it.
"I'll share with the monks too."
As Ian stood, Belenca hesitated.
"That... well, do what you want, but..."
"...? Why? Problem?"
Was she regretting the leftover coffee? They'd already left too many suspicious traces to hog it selfishly. Better to share upfront than get called stingy.
"Not sure the monks will like it."
"They will."
Without a second thought, Ian approached the monks with the coffee.
"Morning coffee, anyone?"
"...?"
The monks stared at Ian's offering in horror.
"No, brother! What is that devilishly black brew?!"
"Ah, this is—"
Ian figured they just didn't know what coffee was. Wrong.
"That's the drink of the sand empire folk Saint Marcus saw during the southern campaign!"
"..."
Saint, my ass. Why was a saint heading south? Must've happened in Takarion-universe.
"Heh. Drinking a heathen's brew is dangerous for us Heavenly Faith followers~"
Takarion seized the moment to butt in. Jealous of Ian's spotlight, this was perfect.
But Ian wasn't fazed. If anything, he was thrilled. Not drinking this gem? Their loss. All the coffee for him today—jackpot.
"You sure you won't?"
"We're worried for you. Tampering with heathen drink might bring heavenly wrath..."
The monks fretted over Ian's soul, fearing divine anger at blasphemy.
"Eh, I'll pray and settle it with the man upstairs later."
"Don't say that. Just give it to us—we'll return that unholy stuff to the earth."
"You're gonna dump perfectly good coffee?!"
"Better than drinking and getting smited!"
Now Ian got Belenca's lukewarm reaction. Monks were conservative sticklers, intolerant of anything against doctrine. As a knight dealing with clergy often, Belenca instinctively wary.
"Hand it over!"
"No way! Do you know how I brewed this?!"
Precious coffee and sugar—wasted on the dirt?! Unacceptable.
"Wait!"
Ian desperately clutched the pot and shouted.
"Right now! I'll ask heaven itself!"
"??? Ask what?"
"If it's okay to drink!"
The monks faltered, unable to object rashly. Ian had hatched a holy relic and overcome poison ivy. Stopping him now looked bad.
Maybe heaven will answer if Ian asks...!
Definitely a no!
"Black water! Is it okay to drink?"
⟨ Prayer to the Heavens ⟩
He deliberately used the Maronius Language they wouldn't know—for dramatic flair. Plan: fake a show, get a [Sure, go ahead~], then bolt.
But.
Yes! Of course, Ian.
Drink up to your heart's content~
Ian never dreamed his prayer would actually reach heaven...!
"L-look there!"
"What in the?!"
While Ian closed his eyes, feigning prayer for the show, the coffee pot gleamed with sunlight!
"A blessing!"
"Ian blessed the heathen's brew!"
Ian opened his eyes to holy light shimmering off the coffee, speechless.
"..."
What kind of god was the Heavenly Faith's deity...?
#
"Saint of Coffee! Ian!"
"Me too! Let me taste the blessed brew!"
Ian begged the monks to chill, finally wrapping up breakfast. Looked like their bored god was just messing around. Why not chat openly?
Challenge – Worship the Heavens! Don't forget!
"..."
Ian irritably dismissed the nagging banner. Want real talk? Finish Anorilsil first, huh.
"Ooh! Blessed coffee!"
"Any special power?"
Ian asked the monks gulping it down. If truly blessed, buffs should kick in...
"Unbelievable! Such power... strength surging!"
"Mercy me, the blessing's might?!"
Ian shook his head. That's just caffeine, folks.
But with the monks raving ecstatically, he let it slide. Highly concentrated caffeine was hard to distinguish from a blessing anyway.
"Time to move."
"Yep!"
Ian left the merchant's house for the nearest castle. Fleeing, sure—but their pace was surprisingly leisurely. Belenca's insistence.
"Neither side knows positions. No need to burn energy rushing."
True. Barbarians and Ian's group were equally in the dark. They'd head to the merchant house first, sure... but after? No clue. Spitting in their palms for luck was all they had.
Skilled scouts would track, so not pure RNG. But pursuit was tough regardless. Chasing unknown foes in a mapless world? Nightmare.
The pivotal twist? The Mioinia nun's betrayal. She'd sold them out, leaving assassins without a base—so the barbarian trackers floundered.
Thus, Ian's group... walked away.
Sunshine warm, breeze gentle. Fresh grass scents sweetly alluring. Ian yawned lazily. Ah, wanna spread a mat and nap...
"Speed up near the baron's castle."
Leisurely march, but tension held. No more breaks for Takarion's whining.
"Wanna rest... wanna go home..."
Takarion drooled broth, mumbling. Ian marveled quietly. Sweating that much? Melting? Volume down by monastery arrival?
"Yeah, should've lounged at home. Meals served, no assassinations. Paradise, right?"
Takarion glared at Ian's jab.
"I-I didn't wanna come! But holing up sells no gospels!"
"Really?"
In the gospel biz(?), fame was fortune. More buzz, more sales. Ian whistled low. Era's authors hustle door-to-door. Tough gig~
"If I become a saint... gospels would fly off shelves..."
"Aha."
Had Takarion healed Baron Drbosi, locals would've saint-hyped. Already popular, a miracle would've skyrocketed him—silencing haters. Unmissable event.
"But you hatched my relic...!"
Takarion quivered double-chin indignantly. Ian was baffled. Familiar now, huh? Casual af.
"Hatched, not ate. And did I wanna? It hatched itself—what could I do?"
"..."
"Wanted saint cred? Rush when baron fell. Not lounge till rumors hit me, then whine—what changes?"
Takarion trembled but fell silent. All facts...
Kira chimed in.
"Speaking of—Wini hasn't eaten once. Why?"
The "holy relic"—er, white egg chick—now under Kira's care. Her deft hands kept it safe always. Ian let her continue, convenient.
"Hm. Special bird, maybe."
Takarion averted Kira's eyes, muttering. Still couldn't face her.
"Paradise bird, perhaps~"
"Paradise bird?"
The grandly named Paradise bird lived on dew alone, soaring eternally—no food, no legs needed.
"But it has legs."
"Baby yet. Gone when grown?"
Maybe? Ian tilted head at chick. It mimicked.
"You a paradise bird?"
"Cheep! Cheep!"
No past-life bird YouTuber, Ian knew zilch. Even then, probably fantasy bird. Takarion said so—relic guy, credible-ish.
"Caw! Master!"
"What, Oberon?"
Oberon flapped to Ian's shoulder. Free spirit, he vanished wordlessly for days sometimes. Ian didn't mind. Roadside pickup, meant for wild release anyway. Stayed for tasty food.
Spotted weirdos nearby!
Bearskin-wearing guys!
Not great news.
"Deranged hunter... or barbarian. One or the other."
Likely latter. Ian relayed to Belenca.