Dark Roast, Memories of Adventure
Just as Ulphred had boldly promised, Catherine's request was fulfilled not long after the commission form was filled out.
For Ulphred, it was a tragedy.
He was about to enjoy a rest he never normally got.
Rest—how sweet that word sounded.
And not just any rest, but one spent in the company of someone so exalted he would never ordinarily meet her. That sweet ring hid a deadly poison. His stomach gave a sharp, twisting pang.
Couldn't he just refuse?
A proposal from someone that high up was synonymous with an order.
Ulphred knew that fact all too well.
And so two sacks of Alrune leaves, stalks, and roots—scraped together from every corner of Coldon—arrived at the reception room of the Coldon Adventurers' Guild First Branch.
The amount was small for something gathered across an entire city. But then, few people possessed any in the first place, and even those who did kept little of it, so there was nothing to be done.
Karem dragged one of the bundles closer and, gloved hands carefully turning the Alrune stalks this way and that, inspected them. At the motion of his fingers the stalks bent slightly this way and that.
"Hmm. Kind of feels like old, wilted vegetables."
"Indeed. Their appearance is hardly appetizing."
Mary swallowed a thoughtful hum.
Stalks wrinkled from lost moisture.
Thick leaves already fading toward a pale yellowish-green.
Roots that looked like nothing more than oversized grass roots.
Not one of them stirred the appetite.
"Young Master Karem. I hate to ask, but I must be certain."
Ulphred stared at the most renowned chef currently in Iceland without bothering to hide his tension, dry-swallowing hard.
It was well known that the famous Catherine Atanitas had fallen head over heels for the little personal chef who had grown so rapidly under a black mage's curse.
Ulphred's own palate had long since been taken captive by the countless recipes Karem had scattered about.
And now that very captive and his companions were forcing him to consume deadly poison.
"Of course. Ask away."
"You're not going to eat this as is, are you?"
"No. First we have to remove the deadly toxins from the byproducts."
"I have heard there is a method to remove Alrune's poison…"
Ulphred dragged the words out, praying it wasn't what he feared.
"Yes. They say if you dry it thoroughly and then roast it over fire, the poison disappears."
"Then we won't be drinking any today."
At last a sigh of relief escaped him. Yes—processing would take time, never mind the effort. That meant no awkward rest period either. If they would just leave now… he could get a signature on one more form—
"Hmm. So the key is simply drying it thoroughly, is that right?"
From Mary's mouth came a remark that struck someone like a bolt from the blue. While Ulphred blanked out, the conversation raced ahead without him.
"Then rather than drying it separately, couldn't we simply roast it hard in a pan over high heat?"
"Like roasting nuts? High heat, quick and fierce?"
"Yes. Dry it thoroughly and roast over high heat. Is that all? You're certain there are no sunlight or other conditions?"
Karem traced the words of the old herbalist Rowan he had read at Afterglow Fortress (though it had not been him reading them at the time) and the contents of the diary, then nodded.
"Yes. Dry thoroughly and roast over high heat—that's it. There was nothing particular said about the quality of the Alrune byproducts."
"Then may we borrow the kitchen for a moment?"
If there were no variables, that was enough.
Mary took a portion of the byproducts and, borrowing the authority of the Guildmaster and Catherine, commandeered one corner of the busy kitchen in an instant. She washed the Alrune, chopped it, and roasted it.
And so Alrune's Tear was ready.
It was quite different from everything they had obtained and drunk at Afterglow Fortress.
Quite different indeed.
The appearance alone set it apart at once. Where the previous roasted Alrune had been a deep blackish-brown, this batch was charcoal-black, yet glossy enough to shine.
And above all, the aroma.
"The smell is more intense, just as it looks."
Catherine stirred the air with her hand and inhaled.
"It almost smells scorched, yet stays right on the edge…"
"The stalks, leaves, and roots weren't fresh, so just in case I roasted them until they were on the verge of burning."
"I think this one's better—the fragrance is richer."
Karem silently agreed with Catherine's words.
Her judgment was flawlessly accurate.
If the scent of the Alrune's Tear they had drunk until now had drifted gently into the nose, this one struck the nostrils like a lance even before it touched water—an intense, just-before-burning aroma.
Of course, the rich, savory fragrance exploded just as powerfully.
It was the sort of smell one might easily mistake for something burnt.
As living proof, Mary said bluntly:
"I dislike it even more than before."
"Why? Because of the smell again?"
Mary made no effort to hide her discomfort as she answered tartly. As if she wouldn't go soft the moment cream and sugar were piled on.
"…Didn't half of that come straight from your inner thoughts?"
"Oh dear. But isn't it true?"
"Be quiet."
While Karem bantered with Mary and Catherine wordlessly savored the aroma of the dark-roasted Alrune, Ulphred found himself sinking into a forgotten memory.
I miss those days.
For an adventurer, camping is daily life.
Lighting a campfire to chase away the cold, lying on the bare ground nursing an aching back, tearing into whatever trail rations one has brought, and—when circumstances allow—throwing whatever scrap ingredients one can find into a pot for a tasteless stew.
Ulphred had always carried a frying pan. It could double as a weapon in a pinch, and more importantly, he used it to roast beans.
After a rough meal, as one settled down for the night, no one could resist the power of roasted beans spreading through a campsite. Dwarves, who went mad for drink, of course; elves and even the carnivorous beastfolk could not hold out against it.
On the hot pan the beans—green, yellow, white, every color—blackened and blackened further, exploding with fragrance every time they popped.
Before he had made the wrong choice, that had always been the smell of adventure.
"Hmm. We call this roasted Alrune a dark roast."
"Kid. That's from that place of yours before?"
"Yep."
Ulphred collected himself and rubbed his wrinkled hand over his aged face for a moment.
He must not give in to temptation. Just because it smelled of adventure did not mean it was that same fragrance from back then.
The smell? Yes. The smell was certainly excellent.
But he must not give in to temptation.
Even if it was the fragrance that held the unsullied bitterness and savory depth one could only taste from beans and nuts roasted to the brink over a campfire's heat, this was still something made from the stalks, roots, and leaves of Alrune—said to hold deadly poison. Even if the memory of adventure he had forgotten under the weight of years had risen up and made his tongue cry out.
While Ulphred, drunk on the aroma, wrestled with himself, Mary—who had stepped out with the roasted Alrune—returned carrying a tray.
"Alrune's Tear. Dark roast. Served."
"Dark roast?"
"It means roasted until it turns black."
At those words Catherine, who had been appreciating the fragrance of the roasted Alrune in the pouch, opened her eyes.
"It's more bitter than the Tear you usually enjoy. Just in case, I brought cream, milk, and sugar from the guild kitchen."
While the honored guest and her two companions chatted cheerfully, Ulphred found a dry laugh rising unbidden.
He could no longer avert his eyes from reality.
He would have to drink this memory that stirred recollections of adventure.
"By the way, why has he been standing over there like that the whole time?"
Mary paused while setting cups from the tray and, glancing at Ulphred as he approached with a solemn expression, whispered to Karem.
"Maybe he dislikes bitter flavors as much as you do. Why? Isn't this far more bitter than what you usually drink?"
"Liking bitter is the strange part."
"Fair enough. Three spoons of sugar with milk?"
"…The taste and aroma are stronger, so whipped cream. And ten spoons of sugar."
While Mary tilted the kettle over a wooden cup, Karem added whipped cream and sugar in turn.
"…Hmm."
White cream swirled into the pitch-black liquid that looked like the bottomless abyss of a collapsed dungeon, and sweet light-brown waves began to rise.
The light-brown waves sank cloudily into the deepest depths and rose again; with each addition of sugar the bitter smell faded.
"Ahem, ahem. I can hardly refuse hospitality from the personal chef of the famed Archmage herself."
Ulphred sat down with a troubled expression.
Instead of the bitter smell, a sweet fragrance rose from the cup. A light-brown liquid that looked as appetizing as it smelled.
Outwardly it looked rather delicious.
Far more so than the utterly black drink of a moment before.
And yet, for some reason.
Ulphred felt a strange disappointment.
Even he himself did not know why.
Gulp.
Come to think of it, buried in work, he had not managed a proper meal since yesterday.
Before he could even feel the squeezing pain, his empty stomach, the moment it caught the sweet scent of sugar, forcibly moved his hand to seize the cup.
Ulphred carefully sipped the contents.
"…Hm?"
He had drunk it half in resignation, yet the thing the guests called Alrune's Tear was surprisingly pleasant even to Ulphred's palate.
Perhaps because of the generous cream, the drink that slid smoothly into his mouth was quite sweet, yet not overstimulating even for an old body.
The sweet light-brown liquid warmly heated the entire inside of his mouth.
Like a stream melting a frozen valley, the liquid passed down his cold throat, wrapped once around his empty stomach, and pooled there, solidly warming his belly.
Without a chance to breathe he slowly savored the flavor and soft texture, and only after completely emptying the cup did Ulphred let out a long breath all at once.
Hoo— suup.
With every inhale and exhale, the deep roasted-bean aroma that had first stabbed at his nose now lingered faintly and gently.
Certainly, this dark-roasted Alrune's Tear with cream and sugar added was perfect for warming an empty stomach and heating a cold body.
But Ulphred could not be satisfied.
At last Ulphred could feel it.
No—he realized it.
"Young Master Karem. One more cup, if you would."
"Of course. Cream and sugar—"
"Ah, that won't be necessary. Just Alrune's Tear alone. One cup, please."
"It seems you liked it more than expected."
And as the pitch-black liquid poured from the kettle into the cup with a gurgle, the roasted-bean aroma rose intensely once more, stimulating his nose again.
A layer of light-brown foam forming atop the abyssal liquid.
This was it. The fragrance of the past. The memory of adventure.
He drank the Alrune's Tear while recalling once more the brilliant, unrecoverable memories of adventure that had revived in his mind.
The Alrune's Tear that touched his tongue was certainly rough, but that much he had already expected from the aroma that stabbed his nose.
"If the bitterness feels too strong, adding sugar will make it better."
"No, it's fine. This level is just right for me."
Ulphred firmly shook his head at Karem's suggestion. Karem could feel the sincerity in it.
Shrugging, Karem simply added one spoon of sugar to the cup Catherine held out.
"Do you need more?"
At Karem's words Catherine stirred well with the spoon, tasted it, then slightly furrowed her brow and held the cup out again.
"The aroma and flavor are richly good, but it's excessively bitter and astringent."
"Then how about adding cream or milk like Mary?"
"Hmm. Yes. Five spoons of sugar."
At that, Mary lifted her chin as if to say, See? I was right.
"Supreme Magic Advisor of Atanitas. This may be rude to ask, but…"
Ulphred hesitated a moment, pressing his lips together, then looked at Catherine with serious eyes.
"Would it be possible to give me some of that roasted Alrune from a moment ago—"
"Out of the question."
"…Mm."
The middle-aged man worn down by life was a sad sight.