Salmon Coulibiac with Amadeus Sauce

The air at the table froze solid.

There was no need to hunt for the cause.

Throwing down utensils out of nowhere?

The culprits were Godwin and the ever-cheerful Flora.

Everyone else, excluding those two, flinched on reflex.

It was only natural. No matter how well the brothers got along, for a mere second son of a ducal house to hurl tableware at the heir was practically the same as spitting in his face.

Yet Corvus merely twitched the feathers on his neck.

No one pointed it out.

As mentioned, the party concerned—Godwin—stayed perfectly still. More than that, he was concentrating on the fondue as if nothing had happened at all.

After gauging the atmosphere a moment, Karem asked a question, partly to change the subject.

"Your Grace the Duke is going somewhere in the spring?"

"Karem. Just a moment. I need time to settle the sorrow of knowing I might not get to eat Amadeus to my heart's content when I return from the royal territory."

"But you need to lose weight anyway."

"Even so, there's a world of difference between a situation where you can seek it out whenever you want and one where you can't."

Godwin spoke with utmost seriousness—so serious it matched Alicia facing her last slice of pie. Having muttered that once, he soon returned to savoring the fondue.

Among the others who, not to be outdone, resumed eating Amadeus, Karem joined in moderately while his thoughts continued.

Kingsland.

Heading to the royal territory of Kingsland come next spring, was it.

A duke reigned over his domain almost like a true king. Without special reason, there was no cause to leave his own lands.

Was stepping outside the castle counting as leaving?

People wandered here and there to catch their breath with a stroll, meet friends, or handle work and duties anyway. In Europa, where underdeveloped transportation made the bounds of civilization and the breadth of perception smaller than in modern times, visiting another region was essentially the same as visiting another country. Considering how often culture differed from city to village, it wasn't exactly wrong. In extreme cases, even the language differed, making communication impossible.

"Young Master William. Did you know about this?"

"What? About going to the royal territory?"

Even at Godwin's offhand remark, William seemed unimpressed.

"Well, yeah? We were invited."

William ate a raspberry coated in Amadeus skewered on a stick with a subtle expression.

"Alicia is going too."

"What about Young Master Robin?"

"I heard he's not going because his studies are more important."

That nerd—how many chances for travel did he get? Karem grumbled, but it wasn't something that ended with grumbling. As said before, leaving one's home to go to another region was not much different from visiting another country in modern times. And if that person was a duke, it essentially became a state-visit-level event.

"So the first and second young masters, the young lady, and even the duchess?"

"Mom is staying at the castle as Dad's proxy with Iona, I hear? Dad has some business meeting the king or something."

"Then why are the three of you going?"

That made it even stranger.

"You said he's going for business."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it."

Gordon spoke while eating the fondue Flora held out.

"Networking. Building connections. For those noble personages with heavy asses who can't move around freely, after family and territory, the most important thing is connections."

"Connections, huh. Ugh. Just hearing it makes me feel tired."

"That's because Young Master William is a special case."

Anyway, if it was connections, it was understandable. Even on modern Earth where democracy was the main trend, school ties, regional ties, and blood ties still held powerful social force. But in a class society as the trend, with monsters everywhere and inconvenient transportation, the importance of those three ties rose even higher. Ultimately, it all came back around to credit and trust. And building credit from the ground up started with facing each other face-to-face.

"But why are you talking and looking at it like it's someone else's business. You're going to tag along with the young masters and young lady too."

"What? Who?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Mr. Popular."

Before saying why, Karem thought for a moment. Alfred Felwinter was a duke of a nation. Naturally, he would bring a large escort force. Even just visiting Obsidianberry Port, only three days from Winterhome, so many people had tagged along—it was natural. Catherine had been part of the escort then too.

"Oh."

"Yeah. No need for more explanation, right?"

"No, then doesn't that mean you have to go too?"

"Hey. I have to go to my territory. How long am I supposed to stay here. I have to restore the place that got devastated... ugh."

The Barony of Bolton, devastated by monster hordes. Villages, cities, walls, outposts, pastures, fields, and so on. Gordon, who had deliberately shoved the fact that he had to restore all that to one side of his mind, shuddered and shook his head.

"Still, we'll need at least one swordsman, right? I think Sir Giant Churchill might tag along."

"Swordsman?"

Calling a Sword Master just a swordsman? At William's look asking if that was right, Gordon waved his hand.

"Then he's a swordsman. If you have a complaint, become a Sword Master and I'll listen."

Gordon, with a sly expression, promptly accepted and ate the bread piece Flora held out before the melted Amadeus could drip off. Everyone seated (except Flora) lost their words at the atrocity that only a Sword Master could pull off.

Whether it was the harsh words of one who had already arrived, the grand young master's nonsense about wanting to freely eat Amadeus longer, or the Kingsland trip—spring had not yet come.

What Karem had to do did not change.

Taking care of Catherine's meals and snacks.

Normally, even if he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chatted more in the greenhouse and took it easy, there wouldn't be a shortage of time, but because a certain house elf was on vacation (disciplinary leave), his work had increased. Of course, he didn't dislike it. Karem was just annoyed. With Mary's vacation, the intensity had also risen, so for the first time in a while, Karem had to make everything from start to finish solely with his own power.

What's hard about making something for a loved one?

Originally, with tools, cooking is one-third done. With the all-purpose tool named Mary gone, Karem cooked while inwardly reaffirming the gratitude for an all-purpose worker who did everything as ordered through the hardship of his body.

Salmon Coulibiac.

An Italian dish made in the Russian imperial court. The name was grandiose, but to put it bluntly, it could be seen as a salmon version of beef Wellington, or just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a salmon pie.

On the pastry Mary had prepared, he laid chopped and sautéed mushrooms, topped it with seasoned salmon fillet, then layered toppings like crispy bacon bits and boiled eggs, and wrapped it again in pastry. Next, brush with egg wash, bake in the oven, and eat with sauce—done.

"Ah, make the sauce with Amadeus."

"What? Make what with what?"

"Amadeus sauce."

That would have been the end. The sudden order left Karem flustered. But thinking carefully, it wasn't impossible. The sweet-salty combination was peerless. Add spiciness to that, and it was invincible. Yes. When you think about it, seasoned chicken sauce wasn't much different. It was just a level with more additives besides the sweetener. Instead of making a seasoned-chicken-based sauce, replace the sweetener honey with Amadeus. Add gochujang, red masoon paste, and red masoon oil for additional spiciness and sweetness to blend, and for stronger flavor. After tasting it, Karem finally felt relief and proudly served the salmon coulibiac and Amadeus sauce to Catherine.

"Hmm..."

Pastry placed atop the dark brown sauce. The layered toppings and salmon wrapped inside. Various colors like black, brown, white, yellow, red harmonized colorfully on the plate, looking appetizing.

"A more proper item than I expected."

"You can praise me for bringing a proper item even when receiving such sudden, random orders every time."

"Too bad. It's too bad."

"Why does that sound like a regrettable reaction?"

"No way. How could that be?"

Catherine looked down at the plate, avoiding Karem's narrowed eyes. No, actually, that was exactly it.

I've thought this before, but he rarely makes mistakes and shows no openings, so it's not fun in that regard. Another failure this time.

Truly the heart of a cat dropping a water glass filled with liquid placed on the edge of a desk. If she heard about the failed experiment during the day, the reaction would be different again, but for now, she felt a bit sulky. Mary felt the same. Of course, separate from her feelings, Mary's body faithfully attended to Catherine, the cause of her sulky mood.

Crunch—slide—clink—

"Fish pie, huh. Unlike what I heard, it's a more proper item than expected."

Under the pastry that crumbled with a rustle like multiple thin sheets of paper layered, various filling ingredients chewed. The fillings like mushrooms and onions stir-fried over high heat had a richer taste. The salmon was also at its peak oiliness, rich in taste and aroma. But it was dry. The salmon had fully cooked inside the pastry, and due to the moisture-evaporated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fillings and boiled eggs, the salmon's texture stood out. However, the moment she tasted the sauce, the discomfort felt in mouth and tongue was relegated to a brief protest. Spiciness stimulating the dry tongue robbed of moisture. Then the sweet-and-salty taste of the sauce rushing in. The thick sauce enveloping mouth and tongue thickly supplemented every lacking aspect of the dish, making Catherine's other regrets even larger.

"Fine. I'll praise you as you wish. It's regrettable that you didn't make a mistake this time either, but as the master, I can't not praise."

"So you really wanted me to make a mistake."

"This would be fine as a main sauce too?"

No opening to let my guard down. Karem sent a salty gaze but stopped. It wasn't the first or second time, and right now filling his stomach was more urgent. He liked salmon too. Thus, for a while, only the soft clinking of utensils sounded in the magic tower's dining hall (which almost no one used except the three masters).

"Ah, by the way, are we going on another business trip in the spring?"

"Business trip? What's that about?"

"I heard we're going to Kingsland."

Catherine, who had already finished the first piece and was polishing off the third, tilted her head slightly.

"Where and from whom did you hear that again. You said you went to the greenhouse?"

"Yes. Well, I happened to hear it from Young Master Godwin."

"Ah. Then that makes sense. Well, going itself isn't something to keep secret, so it doesn't matter."

Catherine nodded after eating the coulibiac Mary offered.

"Well, to commemorate this Crystal Jubilee, the king is holding a large-scale event. He even sent invitations to the dukes of each region."

"...Pardon, but what's a jubilee?"

"What? Ah."

Catherine, who tilted her head for a moment, understood immediately. As a former serf, and even a reincarnator from another world, he might not know.

"It's an anniversary. An anniversary. An event commemorating the 15th year of the Seophon king's coronation."

"Then our Duke will of course...?"

"Yes. Even before being a duke, as a friend he hadn't seen in a long time, he accepted gladly wanting to meet after so long."

Catherine suddenly clicked her tongue lightly with half-lidded eyes.

"But that's only the pretext. In reality, they're gathering for another purpose."

"Another purpose? The usual collusion of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠high-ups? Politics?"

"Hmm, you got somewhat close to the answer. About a quarter of the way."

"Then that's essentially a failing grade."

"Yes. What happened in the North this fall?"

What happened—it wasn't something to brush off as 'what happened.' A large-scale invasion by an undead legion. Infiltration by a rare demon called a Shapeshifter. Even circumstances of their mutual cooperation. If coincidences hadn't overlapped, the front line of civilization nearly collapsing from the inside was never something to take lightly—the thought hit him in an instant, and Karem flinched. Don't tell me similar things happened in other regions too? To the question in Karem's eyes, Catherine flicked her fingers.

"Yes. To discuss countermeasures for that, all the dukes under the king are gathering."

"It's a serious matter—can they hold a festival? You said it's an anniversary."

"That's exactly why they have to hold it even more."

If announced as is, those harboring impure hearts hoping for the rule to shake might start acting in earnest. Iceland had no problems, but the dukes of other regions didn't grip their territories as firmly as the Duke of Iceland.

"In the end, pretexts can be fitted as needed, but even so, you can't carelessly set a gathering place for great nobles."

"The current Seophon king's Crystal Jubilee is just right?"

"Yes. But since you didn't get it in one go, 70 points."

"That's too stingy with the score."

Karem felt dazed at the more serious and grave inside story than expected, and firmly resolved to himself that this time he would definitely not drop the sacred relic from his body.

By the way, Kingsland, huh.

It was the region with Moston Village full of squalid memories, but he didn't particularly have an aversion to Kingsland. In Kingsland, Moston was the boonies of the boonies, and the current destination was the royal capital where the king would be staying. Then suddenly, the outrageous remark he heard on the cafe date came to mind.

—So please enjoy the trends that came up from Serbianus made at our shop, via Kingsland!

Mint. Menthe's affair. Mint tea.

"I suddenly don't want to go."

"What nonsense is that now, Junior Karem."

The thought suddenly arose that it might be a dreadful den of evil, if not as bad as Moston. And it wasn't exactly a wrong thought either.

A picture drawn by ChatGPT.