It's a Good Thing the Kid Wasn't Here. Really. (2)
What had been meant as a light snack of seasoned skewers twisted in an instant the moment people who knew Govanius caught the boiling smell of the sauce and came swarming in.
Butch arriving with an armful of sausage links was only the beginning.
A bundle of unsold bread from the bakery. A spicy stir-fry cobbled together from meat and vegetable scraps at a restaurant. Monster nectar an adventurer had gathered. A small barrel of wine from a family manor. Tarts left over from baking far too many the day before. Jerky made from young dragon meat… and on and on.
The little smithy had become the scene of a feast of completely unknown origin. But seriously.
"It's broad daylight. Aren't you lot supposed to be working?"
"It's winter anyway—hardly any customers. Who cares!"
"Whoa, what is this seasoning that tastes like this?"
With answers like that, there wasn't much left to say.
While Govanius and Butch were thoroughly distracted, Karem kept grilling the seasoned skewers, tearing into them at a leisurely pace and sampling the dishes everyone else had brought. Once he was comfortably full, he packed a few extra foodstuffs into the wooden box he had brought and quietly slipped out of the smithy.
"Govanius. You remember the order, right?"
"Yeah! But— damn it, don't hog all the skewers!"
Not identical, but still pretty good. Karem set off lightly with the wooden box in his arms. The other dishes he had tasted at the forge had been decent as well.
So they didn't settle in the inner castle by gambling, at least.
The inner castle was a residential quarter for people of real means long before titles entered the picture. Their purses were heavy enough to put quality above price, and they had the leisure to be picky; any half-baked product was weeded out by rumor in no time. If you also had to keep the high-born residents of the inner castle in mind as potential customers, it was only natural to scrutinize every single item without rest.
Having accomplished his errand and enjoyed an unexpected feast, Karem arrived back at Winterhome.
"Karem. Coming back for good this time?"
"Yes. Thanks for your hard work. Please take these."
"Oh, perfect—I was just getting snackish."
While the gatekeepers tucked tarts into their pockets and chewed on sausages and jerky, Karem glanced past the gate. Unlike when he had first left or briefly returned, the castle was clearly in an uproar from the very entrance. Servants hauled luggage; maids decorated every corner of the place.
"Preparing for a festival or something?"
The eve of the last Winter-Ascend came to mind. He was fairly sure there was no festival scheduled.
"Ah, well. We're busy with guest preparations, so of course it's hectic."
"What kind of guest warrants all this?"
"The advance messenger who came through earlier had the king's crest on his chest. Word is the Great Sword Noble is paying a visit."
"The king… of Seophon Kingdom?"
"Is there another royal house in this country besides Yates?"
Seophon King, Yates royal family. He still got a little mixed up, but if he treated the first as the title and the second as the house, it more or less clicked.
"But Great Sword? The Great Sword I know?"
"They call him the Great Sword Noble because he runs around delivering orders while carrying the greatsword he received from the Seophon King."
"What, does he split the heads of anyone who refuses a royal command?"
"I heard he sends heads flying."
The gatekeeper's indifferent reply drew nods from the others. The violence was a notch worse than Karem had imagined; he went blank for a second.
"Anyway. Thanks for the snacks."
"Take care."
Leaving the gatekeepers behind, Karem stepped inside.
Even if he delivers royal orders, isn't he still just a messenger?
A noble with the authority to split the skulls of those who defied the king's will was impressive, sure—but he wasn't the king himself. Was there really any need to prepare this extravagantly? Or maybe the lavish welcome was a way of saying, "See how much I revere the king?" Something like the old East Asian tributary order from his previous life.
Yet it still felt deeply awkward to wave it off as mere tributary etiquette. A noble was practically a king inside his own territory, and once you reached the rank of duke, even a king supposedly had to watch his step on a duke's land. Yet a Great Sword Noble—someone dispatched specifically when royal orders were refused—was coming? Unless this was the mad act of issuing an actual command to a duke…
"Meaning he's carrying news that important?"
All sorts of thoughts tumbled through his head as he crossed the open yard of Winterhome, but in the end Karem simply dropped them. Until the truth came out, every theory stayed in the realm of useless daydreams, and a mere chef—famous or not—had no real reason to lose sleep over it. He could always ask around later. Holy-arts class with Iona was coming up soon; he could dig then.
Unlike the bustling main castle of Winterhome, the Mage's Tower was its usual quiet self, save for the occasional muffled explosion. He stepped inside.
"Wel—ah, Ka, Karem. Is your business d-done?"
"Yes. I'm back for good. Brought some snacks—want any?"
"W-what do you have?"
From the remaining treats the gatekeepers hadn't claimed, Narke deliberated carefully, then settled on a tart and a mince pie.
"B-but it seemed pretty noisy outside…?"
"Apparently they're preparing to welcome a distinguished guest."
"Distinguished guest?"
"They say the Great Sword Noble is coming."
"Mm… aah."
Aah? Catching the look that asked whether she knew something, Narke took a bite of pie and swallowed.
"I heard His Grace the Duke studied in Kingsland when he was young."
"…Does His Grace have any other siblings?"
"I-I believe he's an only child."
"They send the heir of a ducal house abroad to study like that?"
Why on earth? This time Narke simply shook her head—meaning she had no idea either.
Creak—
"Hoooooo. I'm completely drained."
"Lady Atanitas. You've returned…?"
Karem could only stare. Mere moments ago Catherine had been perfectly fine. Now she looked anything but. Fatigue deeper than the all-nighters she had lived on last winter hung over her face like blackout curtains; she propped herself up with her staff and came in on unsteady, irregular steps. Only Mary, basket in hand, looked as composed as ever. Not that he had ever seen Mary look uncomposed.
"Wasn't it just snacks and chatting?"
"Snacks… chatting…"
Karem asked, baffled. At the sight of him, anger suddenly flared in Catherine.
Come to think of it, that brat's share in this is pretty large.
Catherine had always considered herself reasonably skilled at sermons and debate. She had to be. How many times had she been battered by the violence of questions at presentation halls just to get the endless papers she wrote under Olivier recognized? The barrage of purely emotional questions she had just endured was something else entirely—nothing like the logic-and-reason discussions she was used to. Strictly speaking she had experienced something similar whenever that old man Olivier got under her skin and she simply blasted magic at him… but still.
Olivier or that mercenary would have been easier. Emotional logic driven by pure goodwill and curiosity was far harder to handle roughly—especially when Elizabeth also outranked her. Yes, the brat's share was definitely large. Elizabeth's relentless questions and the resulting rumors all stemmed from her connection to him.
The anger boiling up through her exhausted body swung toward the clueless-looking Karem standing right in front of her… then crumpled halfway.
"…Grrrrr."
"Hm?"
"Shut up! Just prepare the snacks!"
Catherine bellowed and staggered up the stairs at a near-run. Listening to the thumping footsteps, Karem felt thoroughly wronged. If you want snacks, just say so—why get mad? Had something set her off while she was out?
"Mary. Mary."
"Yes."
"Why is she like that?"
Mary wore her usual blank, expressionless face, yet somehow Karem felt she was smiling.
"There was such an incident. More importantly, what is inside that box?"
"Ah—snacks I picked up when a feast broke out at the blacksmith's."
"Hmm."
She peeked into the wooden box, then headed for the stairs looking thoroughly uninterested. As expected—the desserts were already gone. But Mary, who had been climbing steadily, turned right around, came back down, and approached him.
"Something you wanted to say?"
As if that were the answer itself, Mary wordlessly snatched the wooden box with empty hands.
"I forgot this."
Sweet, savory steam rose in thick white curls from the copper cups crowded onto the tray that had just come out of the oven. Soft milk, sweet sugar, and a subtle coffee fragrance teased the appetite, yet everything was still far too hot to eat.
People, however, are not entirely rational creatures. A thick hand seized a copper cup without hesitation. The result needed no guessing.
Sizzle—
The instant the hand closed around the cup, white steam exploded outward through every gap in a violent burst. But only for a moment. The lukewarm haze quickly faded; in its place a cool mist like dawn fog began to drift from the hand, and the contents of the cup finally revealed themselves.
A clear, pale-brown surface that sparkled like a moonlit pond. Light caught that smooth surface and made it gleam like midnight moonlight.
Clink!
The hand unconcernedly inverted the cup over a small plate; still-soft pale-brown caramel liquid spilled out. Then a few light taps and gentle shakes.
Plop—
Thick caramel sauce slowly pooled on the plate as it slid from the plump, light-brown pudding that caught the light.
Rustle—
The hand that set the cup aside sprinkled pure white sugar over the pudding. A bright-red table knife approached from the side.
Sizzle—
The sugar melting into the caramel sauce lasted only a heartbeat. Heat beyond any reasonable limit made the sugar boil up in an instant. When the knife was withdrawn, a hard, dark-brown crust had formed.
"Is it finished?"
"Yep. Done."
"Finally."
The words had barely left her mouth before Mary, obeying Catherine's will, lifted the pudding plate.
"Ah—wait a second."
"Did you forget something?"
"With a small spoon, the top—like this."
Karem mimed gripping an invisible spoon and gave a light downward strike. Mary watched carefully, then struck the very top of the pudding with the spoon she had picked up.
Crack—
"Oh."
"Yes. Now you can eat."
Catherine immediately took the spoon Mary offered and tasted. The crisp snap of hardened caramel. Rich caramel sauce laced with butter. The soft, subtle give of custard. Even the alluring fragrance of roasted alraune. The sensation melted the solid lump of stress into something soft and yielding; at last the deep furrow in Catherine's brow smoothed away.
"Feeling a bit better now?"
"No."
Catherine's reply was cold and absolute. All the same, she seemed to enjoy the roasted-alraune pudding with its crisp caramel topping; she kept accepting spoonfuls and savoring them.
"Ah, right."
Watching her with quiet satisfaction, Karem finally remembered the question he had meant to ask.
"By the way, may I ask just one thing?"
"Speak."
"I heard the Great Sword Noble is coming."
"Yes."
"Isn't that a bit much preparation for a mere messenger? And people keep saying the Great Sword Noble splits heads and so on."
Even after thinking it over again, something felt off. The scale was far too grand for simply welcoming a royal messenger. Frankly, it looked as though they were going out of their way to take a loss. Exaggeration or not, the Great Sword Noble was still said to split skulls if anyone defied a royal order.
"Hmm. Yes. You certainly wouldn't know."
Catherine remained perfectly calm as she ate the caramel sauce Mary scraped up with a spoon. She glanced at the remaining copper cups with an indifferent expression.
"You know my lord studied in Kingsland, don't you?"
"Ah—I heard that from Narke earlier."
"At that time he hit it off with Ianmarc Yates—the current King of Seophon—and they have maintained their friendship ever since, he told me."
"Yes. Is that so. Wait—who with what?"
"You heard correctly. Kid. Cup."
Ah—yes. At Catherine's words Karem snapped back to attention and cooled another copper cup with a hand gathering holy power.
Sizzle—
"And the Great Sword Noble arriving this time is the younger brother of the current Seophon King, he said."
"Oh."
So they weren't welcoming a royal messenger—they were happily preparing because a close friend's younger brother was coming to visit. Karem finally understood the present state of Winterhome.
Coffee Custard Pudding
Picture drawn by ChatGPT.