A Light Late-Night Alio Olio
They say going out is tiring in and of itself.
The wagons were piled high with byproducts, and the subjugation force moved more slowly than when they had first set out for Drywood village—fatigue weighing on them every bit as heavily as the cargo.
"It's taking longer to get back than I expected."
"Of course it is. We loaded the empty wagons with Iceworm byproducts until they were bursting."
"That's the third time you've given me that answer."
They say when three people gather, plates get broken. But even chatter, if it goes on long enough, eventually runs out of material. And Catherine, for her part, was still buried under the work she had brought from the castle.
Until now, that is.
Seated in her place in the carriage, Catherine put a final period on the parchment she held. Carefully sealing the inkpot so she wouldn't make a mess and setting down her quill, she shouted,
"Damn it! Finally! Finished! This is a scam!"
A cheer that carried liberation, accomplishment, and pure joy all at once. Just from the sound, Karem could read every emotion on her face. After all, from the moment the subjugation force had begun its return, her features had been steeped in exhaustion and shadow—until a smile like a ray of sunlight finally broke through. Who wouldn't notice that?
"I finished the damn thing!"
"Lady Atanitas. Does that mean you're completely free of work now?"
"Yes! No—wait, not completely. We're still short-handed. Hah... to think I have to handle even this sort of menial crap myself."
Of course she did. Everything she had just finished was the backlog that had piled up while the exclusive mages were away, and the manpower shortage hadn't been solved. Still, as long as nothing unexpected happened, she could probably rest easy. There would be more work waiting after her absence from the castle, but compared to what she had just cleared, it would be the kind of thing she could knock out in an instant.
"By the way, it's stacked up like a little hill over there."
"Contractor. Shall I tidy it up?"
Still savoring the afterglow, Catherine lounged back in her chair and waved a hand. Mary, who saw that thoroughly lazy gesture, could not hide her delight. While her master had been drowning in work, the retainer had been dying of boredom from having none.
"Lady Atanitas."
"Hah. Unless it's important, don't ask. I want to enjoy the aftertaste of this free time."
"No, it's not that. Do you need something to chew on?"
"I was just getting peckish. Perfect timing."
A few snacks still remained in the storage box. Karem promptly portioned out some nuts and properly cut cheese into a small dish and held it out. Catherine, eyes still closed, accepted the snack Mary passed her and began to eat.
Crunch—crunch-crunch—
"Mm. Even at this speed, we should make it to the castle by today."
"You can calculate that?"
"Of course. The years I've spent traveling speak for themselves."
Catherine said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Well, even in a medieval age without navigation systems—or even accurate maps and clocks—there had been people who kept time with thorough precision, if not quite modern standards. Merchants, for instance. Combining the positions of the stars, remembered landmarks, and the experience of those who traveled the routes, calculating distance was entirely possible.
"Anyway, lunch is almost here. Don't tell me the meal is Iceworm again?"
"Well, right now all we have is that, or whatever we ate on the way here."
"Hmm—"
Catherine let out a dissatisfied breath. But even Karem truly had no answer for this one. If he had known earlier, he would have packed all sorts of things, but he had been dragged along with the subjugation force with no time to prepare. Just managing to bring the basic seasonings had been lucky. Not that he had gotten to use them all that much anyway.
"Having even this much is better than nothing, isn't it?"
"Isn't there really something you can do?"
"If we stop for a bit, I could make something."
"Except the subjugation force hasn't stopped moving since it left Drywood."
Marching without rest. That was the sort of thing that practically invited a mutiny. But there was a reason. Winter had arrived earlier than usual, and if they delayed any further and the real blizzards started, they would be isolated long before they made it back. More importantly, unlike the outward journey, the wagons were now full of Iceworm byproducts. Dumping the cargo would speed them up, but who would actually do that? So they had to make up the difference with marching time. Even those full of complaints understood as much; they cursed under their breath but kept putting one foot in front of the other without causing trouble.
Catherine—whose palate had been thoroughly corrupted by Karem's cooking, leaving her patience in tatters—raked her fingers through her hair.
"Hah! If I'd known it would be like this, I would have packed a few magic tools."
Still, thanks to that, the subjugation force reached Coldon.
The force disbanded and important settlement work remained, but Catherine, as if it were none of her concern, cast off most of the duties along with the credit and returned to the Mage's Tower as freely as an animal finally released from long confinement.
They had arrived late in the evening. The rough dinner they had eaten on the road had long since left their stomachs, and Winterhome's evening banquet had ended ages ago. But Catherine was hungry. So was Mary. And Karem felt exactly the same.
Hungry Karem made a proposal to his employer.
"We all seem to be of the same mind. How about we all have something light together?"
"At this late hour?"
Her words pretended otherwise, but the excitement in her voice was unmistakable. Karem considered pointing it out, then decided—for the sake of Catherine's dignity—to pretend he hadn't noticed.
"Yes. In that sense, Mary."
"Karem Hubae?"
"Would you give me a hand?"
With unanimous agreement, Karem went straight to the food storage, gathered an armful of ingredients, and thrust them at Mary. That Mary felt a quiet satisfaction at being entrusted even with such a minor task was not particularly important. What mattered was the evening meal—no, the late-night snack menu. And Karem had already decided on it during the walk from Winterhome's main gate to the Mage's Tower.
"We've got garlic, flour, eggs, and there's still olive oil left—"
"Karem Hubae. Anything else we should grab?"
"Ah, let's take this cheese too. The smell is just right. Do you know what it's called?"
"Parma cheese."
If it was a late-night snack, it absolutely had to be noodles. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Karem was hit with a fierce craving for ramen—the spicy broth, the savory depth that hit the base of the tongue. But of course there was no way such spicy ramen existed here. The Western-style ingredients, however, were plentiful. That left only one option: pasta, slurped down with abandon. And discovering a cheese with a nearly identical name, shape, aroma, and flavor was practically a divine revelation.
Clear skies were rare enough in the Seophon Kingdom to count on one hand, but for once the heavens had opened enough to show the moon and a scattering of stars.
In the utterly quiet dining hall, silver moonlight filtering through the window, Catherine rested her chin on her hand and drummed her fingers on the table—until she suddenly twitched at the thick scent beginning to fill the air. Two distinct smells drifted toward her. The sharp, tingling aroma that brushed the tip of her nose was unmistakably garlic. Behind it, with a faint acidity, came the gentle fragrance of olive oil. Both were familiar ingredients to her, yet curiosity bloomed fiercely: just what was he making that the smell could roll through the room this strongly?
At that moment, Karem entered the dining hall with Mary carrying a tray.
"Kid. What on earth did you make that it smells so much like garlic..."
"It'll be faster if you just look for yourself."
"No, just how much garlic did you put in?!"
"About twenty cloves?"
"Good heavens."
Unlike Koreans, who were often said to be garlic-mad, Western cooking generally considered even a single clove—or half a clove—quite a lot, and sometimes merely rubbing the pan with it and discarding it was enough. Mary immediately set the plate containing the explosive garlic aroma's protagonist in front of a still-stunned Catherine.
The food on the large plate was a shape she had never seen before. Thick yellow strands like coarse hair filled the dish, thoroughly coated in garlic and grated cheese, with pepper flecks studded throughout.
"W-what's it called?"
"It's Alio Olio."
"I can tell there's garlic and olive oil in it, but—"
"Yes. The name of this dish is Alio Olio pasta."
Hearing that, Catherine immediately understood why the food was called what it was. Even with this much grated cheese on top, the garlic and olive oil still filled the air.
The same question rose in both Catherine's and Mary's minds. Just how was one supposed to eat this thing? Looking at the curly shape and the fact that a fork had been provided, it was clearly not something meant to be eaten by hand. And before that—pasta? She had never seen or heard of pasta that looked like this.
As if reading her thoughts, Karem promptly twirled the noodles on his own plate with a practiced motion of the fork.
"Mary, you just twirl it into a bite-sized portion with the fork like this."
"Hmm. Even without knowing the trick, it seems simple enough."
Mary immediately twirled a portion sized for Catherine's small mouth and held it out. Catherine hesitated at the intense garlic aroma. With a scent this powerful, anyone who wasn't Korean would naturally pause. But Karem had never once disappointed her before, so Catherine squeezed her eyes shut and accepted the pasta.
The sharpness was as strong as the aroma—but only at first. Then the fragrance of the Parmesan cheese surged in with an explosive nuttiness that suppressed the sharpness and filled her mouth. Just as it threatened to become overwhelming, the acidity of the olive oil and the heat of the pepper corrected the balance.
"Mmm? Mm?"
"Different from what you expected, isn't it?"
"Yes. Very different indeed. Hidden under the garlic, the nuttiness of the Parmesan is maximized by the olive oil, and the heaviness is cut by the pepper. This creamy texture is..."
"I emulsified the pasta cooking water into the oil."
Truly, Catherine was someone who made cooking for her worthwhile. Even if, lacking crushed red pepper, he had simply used black pepper instead. It was exactly as Karem had intended.
"By the way, I've never seen pasta in this shape before. All long and stringy. What's it called?"
"Uh, I don't really have a name for it."
"That won't do."
Of course, pasta of this shape already had a name thoroughly familiar to Karem—spaghetti, utterly common and widely known. But Catherine's reaction made it clear that pasta of this form was new to her, so Karem quickly pretended complete ignorance.
After a moment of thought, Catherine snapped her fingers.
"Pasta is a dish of the Servianus Kingdom, so a name from that region would suit it. The long shape looks like rope—spago—but it's smaller than that—spaghetto—and comes in bundles, so spaghetti seems exactly right. What do you think, Mary?"
"You barely thought about it and already came up with a plausible name."
"Well, when you develop magic and make magic tools, coming up with fitting names is important, so of course. Kid, what about you?"
"Uh, it rolls off the tongue nicely."
Originally, the names of dishes changed according to appearance and origin. A meat dish created by Su Dongpo was called Dongpo pork; a carbonated drink made with the kola nut became the byword for cola. Considering that, Catherine's naming had been quick but extremely appropriate.
"Anyway, with this much garlic, oil, and cheese, it's clearly heavy, yet it goes down with surprisingly little resistance. Remarkably so."
"Well, it's long and stringy, so it slips down easily."
"I want more, by the way."
"...If you eat another full plate of this, you'll definitely put on weight."
Karem said it with a look of exhaustion, but Catherine didn't even bother to snort.
"Hah. I have a constitution that doesn't gain weight no matter how much I eat."
"Oh, the contractor is the same?"
Karem's expression turned serious.
"...Please never, ever say that in front of other people."
If a woman—or any other noble—heard that, who knew what kind of retaliation might follow. And more than that, even as a man, he couldn't help feeling envious.
Forcibly suppressing his true feelings, Karem finished his plate, stood, and headed for the kitchen.
— Reference Material —
Alio Olio
This is a picture drawn by ChatGPT for us.