A Cup of Alrune's Tear, with Snacks on the Side
The great undead invasion.
Truth be told, Karem was not particularly worried.
They said a massive undead army was marching in from the so-called border between civilization and barbarism, but one look at the sheer majesty of Afterglow Fortress was enough to make any lingering concerns evaporate. By modern standards, without missiles or an air force, the place looked about as assaultable as a brick wall.
Of course, the Present side had already been surrounded. A siege was already underway.
From that, Karem could roughly picture how the undead beyond the mountains would assault the fortress, and how the fortress would answer them in turn.
Arrows and chunks of ice flying from the walls and the ranks behind them. Magic of every color and kind. Adventurers, soldiers, and knights locked in combat with the thinned undead ranks. Even without a direct hit, the shockwaves alone erased at least a dozen undead at a time—yet the enemy paid it no mind, surging across the snowfield like a literal tidal wave.
And you cannot stop water with bare hands.
First came the overwhelming curtain of firepower. Then the second line of living bodies. Even the undead that managed to push past both and draw close to Present simply collapsed under hastily prepared anti-undead arrows.
Those “anti-undead arrows” were nothing fancy. Silver-plated shafts said to be especially effective against the undead, or tips dipped in holy water. Some had blunt weights fixed to the heads; others were simply fire arrows.
And the fallen, silent corpses were periodically cleared far from the walls by whoever had free hands—to keep the undead from piling the bodies into hills and trying to climb over.
When Karem first heard that, he could not hold back a snort of laughter. Something straight out of a movie from his past life. Had to be exaggeration, right?
But the undead horde pouring toward Present in a genuine tidal wave, clearly visible through the window, drew a different kind of snort out of him. At that density, yeah—it was possible.
Unlike the chaotic, bustling streets below, the fortress still felt relatively relaxed. Relatively, of course. The fortress itself was busy preparing for battle.
Combatants drilling for every conceivable scenario or standing watch. Mages preparing spells of every description. Servants, maids, and laborers crafting and hauling supplies by hand. Herbalists and healers preparing bandages and medicinal plants. Priests consecrating equipment and brewing salt water until they collapsed from exhaustion without even a chance to rest.
Of course, even in all this, a few people still had leisure.
Catherine, Gordon, Mary, and Karem. The guests, in other words.
“…Haaaaah.”
Karem closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
Having finished a light lunch, the group had gathered in Catherine’s room for a snack to cleanse the palate.
Today’s spread was unusually simple. Butter and shortbread cookies in various shapes. Bread with raspberry marmalade and blueberry jam. And a few drinks to go with them. That was all.
“…Do you really like it that much?”
“Quiet. I’m savoring the aroma.”
“Well, the smell is nice enough, but why do you enjoy that hot, bitter black water so much? You steeped it forever until it was concentrated, and you didn’t even put anything in it.”
Mary stared at Karem—more precisely, at the mug in his hand—with an expression of pure incomprehension.
The white mug held a pitch-black liquid topped with pale and deep brown foam. Water steeped for a long time with dried Alrune.
“I just really love this smell.”
“Never mind the smell—the taste is the problem. The taste.”
“You can say that all you like, but you’re the only one who dislikes it.”
Karem was right.
There were several drinks to pair with the cookies. Plain water, milk, cream, wine—six beverages in all. Among them was the coffee substitute, the dried Alrune brew. And everyone except Mary was drinking the Alrune brew that Catherine had named Alrune’s Tear.
“If the bitterness bothers you, just dump in a ton of sugar. When I do it the way Karem says, the bitterness disappears and the aroma comes through even stronger. I like it.”
“Sir Stark. Then why not just drink milk with honey in it?”
“Personally, I like eating cookies with this more than with that.”
“What.”
Mary looked at Gordon as if she could not believe he had just said that. Even so, she continued attending to Catherine without pause.
Catherine swallowed what was in her mouth, accepted the shortbread cookie Mary held out—the one she had already been eating—and took another bite. She followed it with a sip of coffee, melting the cookie and savoring the fragrance.
“Hah. At this rate I’m going to get addicted to the aroma. That’s a problem.”
“It truly is a problem. I simply cannot understand it.”
“You should try it once. Your opinion might change. At first I didn’t think much of it either, but it’s surprisingly drinkable.”
“Hah. Better than warm milk with honey?”
“Better than milk? Yeah. Better than milk.”
“Hah!!!”
Mary voiced her refusal with short, fierce conviction.
Not that she held any particular grudge against so-called Alrune’s Tear. She herself admitted that the tiramisu made with Alrune’s Tear and its dried powder was one of the undeniable masterpieces among all the dishes Karem had introduced.
But if you could make something that delicious with it… why on earth would anyone drink the bitter, astringent stuff by itself as a beverage?
The aroma? Well, yes, the aroma was good. The complex, seductive, luxurious scent of roasted beans and heated nuts mixed with bright acidity.
So what? It was still bitter and astringent.
Mary frowned as the fragrance completely took over the room. Every breath brought back, vivid and unforgettable, the dual assault of astringency and bitterness she had tasted the first time she tried Alrune’s Tear.
“Well, so the bitterness and astringency are the real problem, huh?”
“When you use it as an ingredient in desserts, it has a nice way of clearing the palate. I won’t deny the aroma, at least.”
“Then it’s simple.”
…What now? What kind of scheme is he cooking up this time?
Catherine and the person in question, Mary, felt a faint unease. Gordon watched Karem’s hands with pure curiosity.
And, surprisingly, there was nothing especially complicated.
Karem poured Alrune’s Tear into a fresh cup, added five spoonfuls of sugar, stirred until it dissolved, then carefully poured cream from the pitcher along the wall of the cup.
“…Oh?”
Unlike a moment ago, Mary sounded faintly impressed.
As the cream flowed into the pitch-black liquid, pure white clouds dyed Alrune’s Tear a light brown—visible right through the surface. The vicious, bitter, astringent liquid that had conjured images of the heart of darkness was now wrapped in thick brown foam like a scar, transformed into a soft-looking light-brown drink that looked gentle just to look at.
“…Can’t really steam it under the circumstances.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Anyway—done.”
“All you did was carefully add cream.”
“Still, try tasting it. It’ll be different.”
Mary looked down at the cup with suspicion. Even if all he had done was add cream, she was a house elf. She could imagine the flavor.
Alrune’s Tear, a generous amount of sugar, and cream. That would make the astringency… not quite “manageable.” In the end it was still just cream mixed in.
Clinging to her near-religious faith in dairy, Mary lifted the cup with an unnecessarily solemn expression.
Slurp—
“……!!!!!!!”
That near-religious faith was set aside for a moment. By none other than the very person who had invoked it.
The soft, warm, sweet liquid that washed over her lips, tongue, and mouth in turn carried almost none of the astringency and bitterness that belonged to the original Alrune’s Tear. A faint trace remained—but that faintness was actually better. It made the taste and aroma stand out even more than before.
They had taken the head and fruit, then the leaves, roots, and stems without leaving a scrap. That malice thick with the will to curse had vanished without a trace under nothing more than fresh cream.
There was simply no keeping up with this kind of leap in thinking.
Keeping her iron-mask expressionless face, Mary swallowed her admiration, took another natural sip, then set the cup down and reached for a shortbread cookie. If she dipped this in here, it would definitely taste—
Tap-tap!
“Hey. You. Snap out of it.”
“Hah. What was I just about to—”
“I figured you’d be like this the moment my cream went in. But is it really that different just from adding cream?”
“Contractor. I will state this clearly.”
Mary nodded with a blank face.
“It is completely different.”
“Then let’s have some. Let me try it.”
The process itself was not complicated. There was no need to copy every step Karem had taken. Just top up the existing mug with Alrune’s Tear and sugar, then add cream.
Catherine tasted the provisional Alrune’s Tear latte Mary had made and liked it even better than the original; she kept sipping steadily.
“But… is it really all right for us to be like this?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It just feels like we’re being way too relaxed.”
Still not quite free of the surreal feeling, Karem picked up a butter cookie and lightly dunked it in Alrune’s Tear.
“Is it really okay for us to just sit around like this?”
Honestly, he felt a little guilty. Everyone else was running around busy, and here they were enjoying snacks?
Of course, Richard himself had told them to stay like this. So why did it still feel so uncomfortable?
“I was wondering what you were fretting about before you even drank your Alrune’s Tear. Useless thoughts.”
“Useless? That’s a bit harsh.”
“Of course they’re useless. We’re only guests here.”
Catherine wagged a finger and bit into the butter cookie Mary offered.
“And the master of the fortress told us to stay quiet until he asks for us. Moving around on our own without even asking permission would be a serious breach of etiquette.”
“Still, isn’t it a little strange to leave powerhouses on the level of an archmage and a Sword Master sitting idle just because they’re ‘guests’?”
“Well, pride is probably part of it.”
“Huh?”
A completely unexpected remark delivered in a flat tone. Or maybe not. Thinking about it carefully, it was not hard to understand. The other party was a high noble who lived and died by pride.
“Yes. Exactly as you guessed. The honor of having guarded civilization’s front line for countless years. A noble’s duty. Even if retreat was part of the plan from the beginning, the fact that they retreated doesn’t disappear.”
“There’s probably also the calculation that the defensive battle is going better than expected.”
“Precisely. The part the mercenary pointed out is also true.”
When her cup emptied, Catherine ordered Mary to make another Alrune’s Tear latte like the one she had just been drinking.
“Still, once the real fighting starts, they’ll call for us right away. If you want to use the trump card you’ve been saving at the perfect moment, you still have to keep an eye on the battlefield.”
“Come to think of it, winter’s almost here. You’re not going to wipe out the entire undead army by yourself, are you?”
“…Well, if I had about a week, maybe. Right now it’s impossible. Impossible.”
A half-joking bit of flattery was met with a completely serious answer. Karem looked at Catherine with a weary expression.
No, wait. When I think about it, haven’t I heard this kind of thing until I was sick of it?
A few days ago in the office he had heard the same bold claims. On top of that, there was the raw power Gordon had displayed on the way here. He had carved dozens of people apart—weapons, armor and all—without a single drop of blood on him, and his breathing had remained perfectly calm, as if he had not even broken a sweat.
“Hiiiiiyaaaaaaa—!!!”
A piercing scream rang out.
Karem, who had just been about to relax and enjoy his drink, flinched. He exchanged glances with the others, then stepped out into the corridor with Mary to see what was going on.
Far down the hall came the sound of murmuring voices.
“Shall we go find out what happened?”
“No need. I can roughly hear what it is.”
Mary closed her eyes and tilted her head, concentrating on the sounds.
“…They say that just like the former priest Rowan, they used a junior’s leftover bean paste and holy water to catch a third spy—and it turned out to be undead.”
“A third? So there’s a fourth?”
“I hear they’ve already checked everyone currently inside the fortress. This is probably the last one.”
Using doenjang to root out spies… what kind of world was this? Whatever the case, being at the origin of the whole detection method left Karem with a complicated feeling he could not quite put into words.
“Ah, thank goodness. Would you happen to be Sir Karem and the lady’s house elf?”
A servant who had been running down the corridor stopped in front of Karem and Mary, who had poked their heads out through the open door.
“Yes. We’re the people you’re looking for. What seems to be—”
“Please. His Excellency the Margrave requests the cooperation of your lord and Sir Stark. If possible, he would like them to come to the command room right away—”
Karem and Mary locked eyes.
Then they shut the door and went back into the room before the servant could even finish speaking.
When the door opened again, Catherine and Gordon were already leading the way.
Coffee (in-story: Alrune’s Tear)
A picture drawn by ChatGPT.