The Mammoth's Finest Delicacy
When Jigmeser opened the kitchen door, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
It was a perfectly reasonable reaction. He had been fretting and waiting for Iona and Karem to return with the mammoth trunk, only for his superior to suddenly be standing right there in the doorway. Anyone would have been startled.
"P-Please, come inside at once."
Unable to hide his fluster, Jigmeser bowed so low his crown showed.
"Ahem. Well then, if you'll excuse the intrusion."
"Intrusion? What a terribly improper thing to say! Both of you, hurry inside. Karem—you too, quickly!"
Jigmeser cast a swift glance outside, confirmed there was no one about, and shut the door at once. He even activated a magical tool; a magic circle flared briefly across the door before vanishing, sealing it tight.
Alfred surveyed the kitchen for a moment, then approached Karem as the boy set his burden down on the table.
"So, if my guess is correct, Karem—this thing wrapped in white cotton cloth that you just set down is 'it,' is it not?"
"If Your Grace means the mammoth's finest delicacy, then yes. That's exactly what it is."
He really did hear the news somehow.
Karem had no idea how Alfred had learned of it, but under the expectant pressure of a superior he carefully, swiftly unwrapped the package.
"If I may be so bold, my lord—might I ask one question?"
Iona, who had sworn they had told no one else, wore the same curious look as Karem.
"You may."
"Th-That is... how did word of today's arrangement...?"
"You're wondering how I found out when you meant to keep it thoroughly secret?"
Alfred raised his index finger with deliberate flourish and wagged it left and right.
"Iona. Do you recall when you first mentioned the mammoth trunk to Karem?"
"Of course I remember perfectly. It was when I was counseling him after his body had finished growing... ah."
Iona trailed off, the end of his sentence stretching long.
"Lord Iona."
"Hm?"
"You said you kept the matter under airtight security, did you not?"
"I most certainly did say that."
"And on that very first day as well?"
Iona squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his forehead, his whole body declaring, So that was why...!
"I heard it from a priest who was tidying the altar before the real conversation even began. I could not be certain exactly when you would eat it, of course."
Alfred continued as he gazed at the mammoth trunk, now nearly unwrapped and looking like a flower bud on the verge of full bloom.
"This morning I was told that when you went to give your lesson, you were carrying something rather large, wrapped in white cloth."
"Were you not supposed to be busy receiving distinguished guests from Kingsland?"
"When there is mammoth trunk involved, that can wait."
Alfred answered without a shred of hesitation or delay, sharp as a blade.
"Jigmeser. Is the door properly sealed?"
"Yes! I just activated the magical tool."
"And the scent barrier?"
"Ah—I forgot that."
"Go and block the smell at once. You both know what will happen the moment meat hits a hot pan otherwise."
"Lady Alicia will come running."
Jigmeser replied as if stating that snow falls from the sky—utterly matter-of-fact and absolute.
"Exactly. In that case, a good portion of the mammoth trunk prepared today would be difficult even to sample."
After doting on her and cherishing her so much... No—the emotion in Alfred's words and gaze felt strangely familiar to Karem as well.
Where have I seen this before?
It was a memory from his previous life, and from childhood at that, so it was hazy. Wait—yes. That was it. He remembered.
It was the same feeling as when he had woken late at night for a drink of water, stepped into the living room, and locked eyes with his parents secretly enjoying expensive whiskey with fruit and ham as accompaniments.
Normally the cliché would be a curious child throwing a tantrum, insisting on trying the delicious things the grown-ups were sneaking.
Ugh, what is this taste?
But whether in his past life or this one, Karem had never gotten along with alcohol. At best he would take a few sips of beer now and then. The Eisenwald beer had been decent enough, though.
"Ha... just as magnificent as the last time I saw it."
The final layer of wrapping came away, and a gentle cheese aroma rushed up to their heads, enveloping everyone watching.
"Mmm. No matter how many times I see it, it's still amazing."
"What is? The mammoth's trunk?"
"Yes."
Across both lives Karem had seen countless cuts of meat, yet never one shaped like this. It remained wondrous no matter how often he looked.
The meat was shaped like a teardrop with a blunt tip, its surface covered in bright, vertically grained red muscle. The cross-sections at either end, however, were different. Against a base of vivid red meat, pale-pink striations gathered from every direction like rain toward two open holes, meeting in perfect two-point symmetry.
"Indeed. It looks exactly like the trunk I saw long ago."
Alfred's expression was full of nostalgic excitement—then he suddenly frowned.
"But what is this cheese smell?"
"We believe it may have been briefly aged by necromancy."
"Hm? What? Necromancy? Wait a moment—then surely—"
"It is safe to eat."
"Hmm?"
"His Excellency the Margrave guaranteed it."
"My father? Come to think of it, I heard this mammoth meat was a reward for meritorious service as well."
Richard Felwinter's guarantee. The guarantee of the former Duke of Iceland and current Margrave. The suspicion vanished from Alfred's scrutinizing gaze, replaced by clear, swelling expectation.
"Well then—do you have a preferred preparation?"
"You're asking me that right now?"
Alfred shook his head as if the question were absurd.
"I only asked just in case."
"Is there some established procedure?"
"Karem. Do you remember the skirt steak we had last time?"
"Yes. We made steaks."
"Exactly."
Jigmeser thoroughly washed his hands with salt water and strong liquor, then carefully received the mammoth trunk. His manner was as reverent as a priest handling a sacred relic.
"For now, steak it is."
Before anyone noticed, Jigmeser had a kitchen knife in hand and sliced through the meat in one stroke.
Seok-eok—
Visually, the mammoth trunk parted as easily as butter. The sound that reached their ears, however, was entirely different—the sound of dense, firm meat that had been lightly frozen. Yet it had been thoroughly thawed before they brought it. That meant the meat's density was simply that high.
A thick slice of mammoth trunk dropped onto the cutting board with a soft thud.
"It might take a while to cook, then."
"Only if the cook is unskilled."
"Ah. Fair point."
"Stop fretting over nothing and coat those pans for me, would you?"
It truly was needless worry, so Karem shrugged, lit the stove, and immediately took out two pans.
"Shall I use the salted pork fat?"
"No. For this one, Accusare oil—"
Discordant noise cut in.
—Has anyone seen Lord Iona? Lord Iona!
—It's urgent! Lord Iona! Lord Iona!
The anguished cries of underlings searching for someone echoed from afar, drew near enough to knock at the door of Jigmeser's private kitchen, then gradually receded again.
The three of them remained unmoved. Whoever was being sought, it was not them.
The person in question, however, could not hide his dismay.
"...Of all times!"
Iona thumped his chest in frustration. Each heavy impact sent his fat quivering. The furrowed expression would not smooth out.
Karem understood a little of how Iona felt. How long had the old priest been looking forward to this day? He had mentioned it at least once every lesson; there was no way to miss it.
Of course Iona could have ignored those plaintive cries. He was an Elder of the Three Gods Sect and Chief Seneschal of the Felwinter family. He had more than enough authority.
But when it came to work, Iona's nerves were not thick enough to leave matters pending. Especially not something that seemed to have arisen suddenly—there was no telling how it might rebound if postponed. He simply could not ignore it.
"Lord Iona. If it isn't truly urgent, why not eat first and then go?"
"No. Steak takes a fair while to cook; I cannot."
Iona covered his face with both hands and slowly, heavily dragged them downward. Despair trickled between the strands of his beard.
"I shall deal with it and return."
"Shall we wait for you?"
"Yes, please do. No—His Grace is here; that would be improper. Still, I trust you will not devour everything while this old man is away."
In the end, only after extracting a firm promise from everyone that at least half the mammoth trunk would be left for him did Iona leave the kitchen to answer the mournful calls.
The sight of him departing to fulfill his duty was solemn.
"What a shame."
At Karem's quiet remark, both Alfred—still gazing at the closed door—and Jigmeser—seasoning the fourth steak cut—nodded of their own accord.
Aside from those who had received the meat under the perfect pretext of lesson payment, Iona had eaten mammoth more frequently than anyone. And on the very day he was to taste the absolute pinnacle of that delicacy, events had turned out like this.
"Head Chef. Have you forgotten anything?"
"Nothing."
"Then get cooking at once."
If anything, this was better.
Having finished his moment of silence, Alfred issued the order without delay.
"Please wait just a moment."
Seasoning complete, Jigmeser meticulously resealed the door Iona had used with the magical tool once more, finished the soundproofing as well, and only then approached the pans Karem had heated.
Coated in oil, the sleek pans shimmered with heat haze over the burners.
It was a sight any chef would have seen thousands of times. Cooking steak was no different. They had even grilled mammoth steak not long ago.
But what he held in his hand now was no ordinary mammoth meat.
Chijijijichiiiiik—
The sound that always accompanied steak. The discordant harmony of meat and oil rang through the kitchen. The long, soft crackle like tearing parchment shifted into a regular duet as the cooled pan heated again, thoroughly stimulating the three men's ears.
Along the countless fine vertical grains of pale pink on the steak's side, the pan's heat rose and dyed them gray.
"Yes. This refreshing aroma. This is the scent of mammoth trunk."
Alfred made no attempt to hide his anticipation.
Karem immediately understood the meaning behind the words. The fragrance was different from every piece of Undead-Aged mammoth meat he had eaten until now.
It was the cool forest scent of late spring or early autumn that cleared the sinuses. As if a melted forest were pouring into nose and mouth. That aroma, unmistakably born from the meat, filled the lungs with a refreshing cleanliness that washed the heart clean as well. It was contradictory.
The fragrance that followed was somewhat familiar to Karem. To Alfred it was unfamiliar.
Bright, sweet citrus fruit. Rich, toasty nuts roasted crisp at high heat. And the aroma of a cheese more varied than any he had ever tasted.
"Orange, lemon, lime... walnut, hazelnut... the rest I cannot place. This cheese smell is also unknown to me. The meat I ate before never smelled like this."
"All the mammoth meat we received as reward carries the flavor of cheese."
"Cheese aroma, is it? I have never encountered a cheese that smells like this."
He was right. It resembled no steak Karem had ever eaten, no matter how many. Fruit and nut notes were layered in as well. This was the aroma of something entirely new and independent.
While that bright, sweet, nutty, refreshing fragrance gradually filled the kitchen, the sweat beading on Jigmeser's face only grew heavier and more plentiful.
After a wait that made each second feel like an hour, Jigmeser finally pulled the pan from the heat.
"At last..."
"No, Karem. Wait a little longer."
"Your Grace?"
Karem turned his gaze in the direction Alfred indicated with a tilt of his chin. Jigmeser had covered the plate holding the mammoth-trunk steak with a lid.
Only then did Karem realize what he had forgotten.
"Resting..."
"Exactly. Wait with a solemn and heavy heart. Do not grow impatient!"
"You're completely different from when we grilled the chuck flap last time."
"That was chuck flap. This is mammoth trunk!"