Fluffy Cloud Has Fallen (2)
Even when the body is weary, a monotonous daily routine repeating itself makes people turn their eyes toward pointless things.
A generous escort commission payout remaining even after the advance. Massive mimic spoils still waiting for settlement. Just imagining what the adventurers would do once they reached town or city could fuel conversation for a day or two at most.
Talk of what to eat and what to buy soon gave way to boredom, and once a drink or two went down, people reverted to their primal selves. Layered on top of that was the local custom of prioritizing ability over status or bloodline, so every time the procession halted, large and small disturbances broke out all over the place.
Not even the former Duke of Iceland, current Margrave of Hadrianus—the strongest man in Iceland—joining them changed a thing.
Even the most renowned real men of Europa could not endure the grinding boredom of walk, eat, sleep, fight, repeat. Those who had been so bored they started light brawls for fun now watched with sparkling eyes as two Sword Masters who had reached the realm beyond humanity clashed in the center of the camp.
"Hahaaaah! You're getting on in years—how about stepping aside for the younger generation already? Those joints of yours won't take much more!"
"Greedy little brat! Take this!"
"Oof! At an age when you ought to be heading for the graveyard, what's with all this...! Take this—Lightning Pound!"
"Rude pup! Who shouts the name of their technique out loud?!"
A dragon-head hilt collided with a massive double-bladed axe. Sparks scattered in every direction, only to be whipped away by the wind from the two superhumans' invisible movements and snuffed out before they ever touched the ground.
Even back when Gordon had single-handedly carved through dozens of bandits, Karem had thought the same thing: no matter how you looked at it, these people weren't human.
Well, I do shoot ice beams with divine power myself...
Still, there had to be limits. Every clash sent vibrations like two dump trucks ramming each other racing through the air and ground, rattling his entire body.
"Gordon's the same, and every knight I've met so far—none of them feel human, you know?"
"..."
"Oh, just now His Grace looked a little shaky too."
"..."
Karem tossed in the occasional comment for Alicia, who was still sulking. It had been Richard's earnest request—he wanted to show off a cool side and soothe her anger. Separate from that, the action really was Hollywood-blockbuster caliber, so there was nothing awkward about watching. Alicia, however, remained stubbornly puffed up. She looked exactly like an angry pug.
"Four Sword Masters. If this weren't Iceland, countless requests for handshakes would be pouring in from every direction."
Catherine, Mary in tow, watched with keen interest from the improvised VIP seats.
"Countless requests for handshakes?"
"Checks. As in keeping them in check."
"Aren't Sword Masters idols to every warrior who wields mana?"
Iceland's current strongest, Richard Felwinter, and his royal guard captain Baston—chief of the Vanguard tribe. Giant Churchill, commonly known as an ogre born in human form. And newly added, the mercenary-turned-baron Gordon.
"That's separate. When that much combat power is concentrated in one region, of course people get wary."
"Ah, the political side?"
"Iceland just lives too much on brain muscle."
Considering what a Sword Master could do, it would be stranger not to be wary. Archmages were no different.
"Of course, part of it is that successive Dukes of Iceland have never once in history waged a territorial war outside Iceland."
"Not even once?"
"They probably never had the strength to, even if they wanted to."
Barely a generation ago Iceland had still been starving. They lacked the capacity for even local skirmishes, let alone territorial wars.
"In places near the border that simply couldn't take it anymore, raiding broke out and local territorial fights did happen. But they always ended at the vassal level and never escalated."
"Isn't Kingsland royal territory? Raids, and it just ends there?"
"Just because it's royal territory doesn't mean the king rules every inch of it himself."
KRAAAANG—!
The impact snapped every gaze back to the clearing. The sparring match that was really a full-blown brawl was drawing to a close.
A double-bladed axe wreathed in blue aura swung. It collided with the dragon head that exhaled a tangible breath while its blue eyes flashed. Not a single scratch was left on the dragon; the axe bounced away instead.
Thud—then came Richard's elbow. The giant whose breastplate had caved in under the blow rolled several times and flattened a cluster of spectators who had been watching and were now screaming in panic.
Hmm. The hand-feel wasn't clean.
Richard lost interest. It was good that the juniors were sturdy, but right now he had something far more important than any solid successor who would rise after his retirement.
Why had he even agreed to this nuisance? All for his adorable granddaughter. He had intended to show her something cool and make her anger go away.
"My little bear cub!"
"...Hmph!"
It was nowhere near enough to turn sulking Alicia's heart. Feeding her something delicious and begging forgiveness would clearly have been more reliable.
Karem had nothing to say under Richard's "what went wrong?" stare.
"I did try, you know."
"Hm? What was that?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
In any case, Karem had tried. For the record, Fluffy Cloud—who had been knocked out cold by a single flick—was currently loaded onto an empty cart under Alfred's orders and receiving intensive care from an adventurer experienced in monster taming.
The southernmost tip of Iceland. Only as they drew near Borderster—the northernmost part of Kingsland—could Karem finally feel that spring had arrived.
In Iceland, snow barely melted even in summer, yet the farther south they went into the warmer lands—or rather, the warmer region—the environment changed. Blue grasslands where new shoots were rising. Trees filling empty spaces with fresh green leaves. Wild undead that looked a little more lively.
That meant two things. One: the procession would soon enter Kingsland. Two: Richard would soon have to leave the column to return.
Alicia's still angry.
After his ungrateful son had gone independent and his beloved wife had died, nothing made him happier than seeing Alicia—except mealtimes. Yet that same Alicia refused to let go of her anger no matter what.
Why? The plan was perfect!
Richard immediately grasped the reason. Alicia simply had no interest in that sort of thing. A spectacle that would drive men and women of all ages wild? To her, a single cookie in her hand right now was far more precious.
But it was already too late. Only one day remained until he had to return. There was no time to prepare anything.
Still, Richard did not want to send off the adorable granddaughter he was seeing for the first time in two years like this. Wait—thinking about it, one method remained.
As he had realized earlier, Alicia was a glutton who valued the cookie in front of her more than anything. And right now this procession had a certain expert who had completely overturned Iceland's food culture.
So the moment evening came and the column halted, Richard sprinted straight for the kitchen tent where that expert would be.
"So... you came to me for that?"
"Yes."
"Even if you say so..."
The sudden request left him a bit awkward. Karem's eyes met those of the Felwinter brothers, who had been casually roasting dried sausages over the campfire with him.
"Ahem. Grandfather, won't this put Karem in a bit of a tough spot?"
"But I'm in a tough spot too."
Richard flopped down by the fire and, with a restless expression, snatched William's sausage and ate it.
"Ah, Grandfather, that was mine."
"There are plenty more here. More importantly—"
"More importantly? I was roasting that to eat—"
"Isn't there any way?"
Any way? To put it bluntly, it wasn't that there was none. The conclusion was that he wanted to make something delicious to soothe Alicia somehow. There were just a few problems.
First, it was evening. He still had to prepare Catherine's dinner. Of course, if he made something that could double as a dish to placate Alicia while preparing Catherine's meal, that part would be fine—but another issue remained.
"Even if he makes something, with how plump she is right now she'll still pout that Karem made it, won't she?"
William muttered while pulling out a new dried sausage and skewering it. It was exactly what Karem had wanted to say.
"If you don't want her saying that, you'll need ingredients you prepared with your own hands—something that really stands out."
"But all we've run into these past few days have been wild undead, haven't they?"
"We didn't run into anything before that either."
No matter how appetizing the livestock herds trailing the procession looked, a Sword Master was radiating presence. Even beasts and monsters waking hungry from hibernation took one look and pretended not to notice.
"Well, if you go hunting right now—"
"No. I do have meat I hunted with both my own hands."
"...What?"
"I'll bring it right now!"
Richard shot to his feet, snatched a long thin dried sausage that had been sitting in the fire with his bare hand, and hurried out of the tent.
"He's still remarkably spry."
"William."
"What? It's true. He's a Sword Master, the pinnacle of Iceland, and people even badmouth the king when he's not around. This isn't even badmouthing."
"He can hear everything at this distance."
"Huk."
Unlike the usual scolding, this was a statement of fact; William's eyes spun. The sausage skewer he had been about to eat dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
"Aw, what a waste... More importantly. Any idea what it is?"
Godwin wiped the grease from his lips and shrugged. William dusted off the sausage that had fallen, took a bite, and shook his head.
"Second Young Master, you just dropped that on the ground."
"It was only a second. Dusting it off is enough."
"At least put it back over the fire once more."
"What a pain."
William grumbled as he turned the half-chewed sausage over the campfire. Godwin let out a small sigh and shook his head.
"Well, he probably hunted something on the way while racing here day and night."
"Would he have had the leisure?"
"Some unlucky beast or monster that happened to cross his path."
If Godwin's guess was correct, for that beast or monster it would have been a bolt from the blue on a clear day. Karem offered a silent prayer for the possible victims.
"More importantly. What should I make for dinner tonight?"
Mary had said something earlier, and the weather was gradually warming, so jjamppong was out for now. That far into his thoughts, Karem felt the stares and tossed out a line.
"Have you already gotten permission for tonight?"
"Ah."
"Ah."
The two brothers, momentarily blinded by appetite, finally remembered the person whose permission they needed. Whoosh—without either waiting for the other, Godwin and William grabbed their dried-sausage skewers and bolted out of the tent.
"...Yes! Big score."
Karem quietly celebrated and quickly stashed the dried sausages that had been wrapped in cloth by the fire. The firm texture, the surprisingly rich fat, the concentrated umami—all of it was to his liking.
Flap!
"I'm back!"
Richard flung the tent flap open and strode in. Under one arm was a thick lump wrapped in plain cloth. The shape looked rather familiar.
"Is that meat?"
"You recognized it at a glance?"
"Well, if you wrap it in plain cloth like that, of course it's meat."
Fair enough, Richard agreed, and set the mysterious lump on a simple shelf. Thud—a weighty vibration rang out.
"It's giant dungeon hamster meat."
"..."
Karem froze mid-motion while putting away the dried-sausage bundle.
"I specifically brought a cut with lots of fat."
Wasn't that the exact reason Alicia was sulking? And the meat he brought was giant dungeon hamster?
"...For real?"
"Yes. No way to preserve it, so I salted it on the spot. It should be decent enough to eat. Taste will vary a lot depending on preference, but—"
"..."
Karem stared at Richard with a gaze that could have been pure salt, then shook his head. The man was completely sincere. Richard left the request with as much haste as possible and hurried out of the tent to find Alicia.
"...Well, I was curious."
He had been curious, after all. Whether he cooked with it or not, he first had to taste it to decide what—if anything—to make.
The giant dungeon hamster meat was unique. First of all, its appearance was different from ordinary meat. A pink lump of flesh thoroughly rubbed with salt, where the boundary between fat and meat was invisible. When he touched it, oil seeped onto his fingers at once—it was that fatty.
"With this, I won't even need to add oil..."
He cut a small piece and tossed it into a heated pan.
Sizzleeeee—
"Oh."
The provocative sound the moment it hit the pan. A short while later he flipped the meat that was sliding around in its own rendered fat; the golden-brown, crisp-seared surface looked delicious. On top of that, the salty scent rising from the pork-like greasy aroma tickled something deep in the back of his mind.
It felt... familiar.
"...No way?"
Crunch.
Through the crispy texture that met his teeth came oily meat that crumbled far more easily than a meatball, so soft there wasn't a single muscle fiber to be felt.
Deep inside Karem's mind, the sleeping Garam jolted awake in shock.
"...Spam?"
And then despaired.
There was no rice.
***Attached Materials***
Dried Sausage
Spam
A picture drawn by ChatGPT.