Amadeus Fondue Mid-Diet
"...This fruit is Amadeus?"
"To be precise, it's the raw ingredient."
"Then how do you make it?"
"You add cream or milk, dump in a mountain of sugar, and let it set. That's how you get Amadeus."
Godwyn leaned back a little. He had heard that the hard, solid Amadeus was made from fruit, but seeing it like this felt completely different.
"It's a little strange."
There is a term called a food desert. At first glance it sounds like a desert where food rains from the sky, but the concept is the opposite. It is a place with no real food at all. Even in modern America there are children who believe tomatoes grow not on vines but as ketchup in plastic bottles. Quite a few of them. Europa was no different. Dwarves who had lived only inland often recoiled in horror at the sight of people eating shrimp or crab, convinced they were devouring insect monsters. In extreme cases, nobles who had spent their entire lives on meat and fruit only belatedly realized that vegetables were not livestock feed.
Of course Godwyn was not quite that far gone.
"Is it really that fascinating?"
"It's such a clear heart shape, and so plump and firm."
Godwyn turned to look at Karem, then lightly tossed the Amadeus fruit to William, who was staring at it with open curiosity.
Whoosh—thud.
"So, how exactly are you going to make a substitute out of this fruit?"
"A substitute...?"
Before Karem could even open his mouth, Corvus twisted his head all the way around so that one eye could look at Godwyn, Karem, and the fruit in turn. Then he clacked his wing-claws together with a sharp snap.
"I see. No wonder you were starting to look plump again. If you have been eating Amadeus by the handful, that would explain it."
"And for that, they are telling me I have to take responsibility."
"Isn't that a bit of a stretch?"
Rustle—thud. Pooooof! A green-skinned beauty named Flora tumbled down onto the mountain of fallen leaves gathered at the base of the tree. Corvus let out a heavy sigh at the ruined work and started raking again.
"If we must assign blame, would it not be Young Master Godwyn's own lack of restraint?"
The crow monster's single pitch-black eye fixed on Godwyn.
"Who on earth would hold a knife to a grand duke's son and force him to shovel mayonnaise into his mouth?"
"...Corvus. Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"If sweet words from my beak could restore the sharp lines of Young Master Godwyn's rounded jaw, I would do so gladly."
"..."
It was pure, unassailable logic. Pinched so neatly, Godwyn felt thoroughly uncomfortable. Plenty of people throughout history, both on Earth and in Europa, had lost their heads for speaking too much truth. Of course Godwyn was not the sort of noble who would draw a sword over something so petty.
He pursed his lips.
"So, Karem. How do you plan to make a substitute out of this?"
He decided to change the subject. Even to Flora, who was busily making leaf-angels with her arms and legs in the pile of leaves, the shift felt unnatural, but Karem played along.
"Just wait a moment. It won't take long. Corvus, may I borrow your kitchen?"
"No, wait—what are you planning to make?"
"Amadeus fondue."
With that answer, Karem headed straight for the storeroom the instant Corvus gave permission. He conscripted Gordon, who had been loafing around, into fetching stale bread and fruit for dipping along with the milk for melting. The moment they reached the outdoor kitchen by the nest, he began prepping the Amadeus that Flora had thoughtfully brought over.
Amadeus fondue. Europa's version of chocolate fondue. Whether it was cheese fondue or its chocolate cousin, eating it as a meal was completely inappropriate for Godwyn in his current state. Cheese fondue—high-calorie cheese melted with wine and used as a dipping sauce—was originally a winter survival food from the mountains of Switzerland. Europa surely had something similar. Chocolate fondue was even worse. The calories from dipping cookies, bread, and fruit into chocolate easily rivaled cheese fondue. So Karem boldly omitted the sugar. He added only a pinch of salt instead, to amplify the faint natural sweetness he remembered from the Amadeus fruit. Any missing sweetness would be supplied by the fruit used for dipping.
Gordon, suddenly pressed into service, started out grumpy, but the promise of food soon had him diligently slicing bread and prepping fruit.
"So how are we supposed to dip this fondue, anyway?"
Gordon pointed at the fire pit with the tip of his dagger while peeling a firm peach.
"You're not planning to just set the pot on that and melt it, are you?"
"Of course not."
Corvus's outdoor kitchen—shelves, oven, and fire pit all crammed together—was not remotely convenient for actual eating.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"Just watch for now."
By then both the Amadeus and the dipping ingredients were ready. Karem filled a large pot with water and nested a smaller pot containing the Amadeus inside it. The protruding handles of the smaller pot rested on the rim of the larger one so the bottom never touched. He handed the double boiler to Gordon, then carried a few bricks from beside the oven over to the table where everyone was waiting. Under the questioning gazes of two people and one monster, he drew his favorite magic kitchen knife—Winter's Lie—from his coat and twisted the handle. The blade glowed red-hot.
Clank—whoosh—thud.
He laid the glowing knife flat on the bricks and set the pot on top of it. The handles made it sit a little crooked, but it was stable enough.
"We'll put the milk in here and double-boil it."
Everyone except one fairy and a Sword Master couple was struck speechless. What, after all, was a magic tool? Even a cheap one cost dozens of silver coins. A proper one changed hands for gold. Murder over a low-grade magic tool was commonplace; sometimes local wars broke out. And right now such a magic tool was sitting on a brick, heating a pot of water.
"..."
"Gordon. Pass me a plate. We have to keep stirring while it melts. Why is everyone looking at me like that...?"
"..."
Of course they were looking. He was using a magic tool to boil water. Granted, there were everyday magic tools designed for starting fires, cooking, or boiling water. The Felwinter treasury alone held a whole pile of them. But there was a vast difference in perception between a magic tool made and used for that purpose and one being pressed into a completely different role. Especially when the tool in question was named Winter's Lie. It was only a kitchen knife, yet it carried the name Felwinter. A magic tool bearing the surname of a ducal house—even a provincial one—was currently sitting on a brick, boiling water. Godwyn, William, and Corvus opened and closed their mouths in rapid succession. There was simply too much they wanted to say for any of it to come out.
"Is it pretty much melted?"
"Yes, it's done."
"So we just dip stuff in this and eat?"
"Yes. Hang on a second—"
He had forgotten forks and was about to go fetch some when something tapped his arm. At Flora's gesture, vines began growing fork-shaped skewers and passing several to each person.
"Perfect timing. Young Master Godwyn, go ahead and try dipping something."
"Hm?"
At Karem's words Godwyn snapped out of his daze, nodded, and picked up a skewer while staring at the fully melted dark-brown pot.
"But... it doesn't look like you added any sugar."
"If I did that, it would defeat the whole point of a Nutella substitute."
"Hmm. You're not wrong. It would pack on the pounds just like Nutella."
There was no arguing with that. Still, the disappointment lingered. Godwyn dipped a piece of dry bread into the thick Amadeus pool and lifted it. A long strand stretched and broke into droplets; he caught them on his plate.
"Like this, the smell is definitely nice."
A soft, nutty aroma with a bitter edge at the finish. Unlike the scent that made his mouth water now, the raw Amadeus fruit itself had been merely average—not delicious enough to seek out, but the kind of flavor you occasionally craved and went looking for.
"Mm. It's decent enough, I suppose."
While Godwyn was still evaluating, William had already started dipping bread and moved on to fruit. The others followed suit.
Pororong? Porong.
"Oh, I was worried because there was no sugar, but Young Master William is right."
"Indeed. The fruit makes up for the missing sweetness."
"Brother, what are you doing? You're just staring into space."
"Your Amadeus is dripping."
At that, Godwyn nodded. This snack had been prepared for him, after all. He scraped the Amadeus that had fallen onto his plate and begun to harden with a piece of bread and ate it.
Chew—
Godwyn's eyebrows rose in surprise. For something with no sugar, it tasted surprisingly good. The hard bread soaked up the dense Amadeus and crunched crisply, while a rich, nutty liquid with a memorable bitter finish swirled in his mouth. The more he chewed, the clearer the sweetness became. Beyond what the bread itself released, the subtle natural sweetness of the Amadeus came forward thanks to the light saltiness.
"So, are you satisfied?"
"As a special treat? Yes. As a Nutella substitute? No."
"Still, there isn't a better substitute than this."
"Really?"
"If you want more flavor, the only way is to add sugar."
"I know. I'm just disappointed."
While Godwyn said this and dipped another piece of bread into the fondue, William, who was eating peach, spoke up.
"If you miss the sweetness, just dip fruit."
"Is it worth eating?"
"That one's good in its own way."
Godwyn immediately followed William's advice. The added sweetness definitely made it better. Even so, a substitute was only a substitute. The taste that fell so far short of Nutella painted Godwyn's face with regret.
At this rate, maybe I should just give up on substitutes and actually reduce how much I eat at once.
That complicated thought was still spinning through his head while his hands stayed busy when a voice reached his ears.
"So why did you make this, anyway?"
"Young Master Godwyn said he needed a Nutella substitute. It's so good he can't control himself."
"Hmm. Well, if the amount available is forcibly limited before next spring is over, that might solve it."
The words struck like a bolt from the blue.
"Baron Bolton. What in the world is that terrifying thing you just said?"
At that, Karem's and Gordon's eyes met in midair. There was no need for either of them to explain. Godwyn figured it out on his own. He figured it out all too well.
"Right. A vassal of Felwinter, not a household retainer...!"
"This spring I'll have to head down to my territory with the lord's support. It's my land now, and I'm not alone anymore—I've got retainers. I can't leave it sitting idle forever."
"Wait, but the tree is still here—"
"I hear Amadeus trees can only be grown and tended by dryads..."
The look that asked I got that right, didn't I? made Karem nod. In any case, the one who had spoken—or rather, the one of that rank—had spoken, so it was essentially settled. Godwyn screamed silently.
"No need to scream. I've already signed a regular trade contract with the lord."
"Still, there's an absolute difference between having it right here and having it hauled in from far away...!"
"Well... I suppose so?"
No. Merciful heavens. Skadi, Tutatis, and the Nameless Traveler have mercy! Why have You laid such a terrible trial upon me...!
No, wait. Gordon's departure was as good as confirmed. That meant clinging to him for as long as possible was the last chance to eat Nutella freely. In that case, there was one way.
"This spring I'll join Father on the journey to Kingsland, the royal territory, and we'll split off for my domain somewhere along the way. If I just join that expedition, I can eat that much more for even one extra day!"
"Weren't you trying to lose weight?"
"I can lose weight later."
"Oh, for crying out loud."
William threw his fork at Godwyn.
Attached Materials
Chapter 245: Amadeus Fondue Mid-Diet
— Chocolate Fondue —
A picture drawn by ChatGPT.