But That Guest Is Someone Quite Extraordinary
As if it had waited long enough, the sky scattered pure white heavy snow.
Had it stopped there, nothing would have been particularly unusual. Snow in an Iceland winter was as ordinary as breathing. But snow pouring down for over a week? Wasn’t that a little serious? Karem fretted over it for days, only for Catherine to scold him for fretting over nothing and for Mary to spout nonsense about how it was actually a good thing.
Well, by house-brownie standards it wasn’t nonsense at all. Heavy snow meant snow removal, and snow removal meant more work. For a workaholic like Mary, even offering prayers of thanks to the heavens would not have been enough.
“Are you sure it’s really all right…?”
“It’s needless worry. Can’t you tell just by looking? That’s the look of someone overflowing with pure joy because work is pouring in day and night.”
“Well, yes, I can see that much, but still.”
Inside the Mage’s Tower lounge, filled with cozy warmth while a miniature blizzard danced like a sword outside, Karem listened to Catherine’s scolding and watched Mary through the window. A single figure was bundled tightly in winter clothes and furs. Even a brownie, it seemed, could not ignore the cold. Since early dawn she had been building snow walls around the Mage’s Tower. No—not only around the tower. Everywhere he looked outside the window, snow walls were rising steadily around the other castle facilities as well.
“With this much snow piling up…”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about. More importantly—candied fruit. It’s been a while.”
“The knights sent sugar as a gift, so I tried making some.”
“Chewy and crunchy at the same time. Perfect.”
Catherine bit into an apple candied fruit and sipped milk boiled with honey and cinnamon, looking as satisfied as a well-fed cat. The knights who had credited her with the subjugation’s achievements had sent sugar little by little by way of thanks. Dust gathered into a mountain, and the amount had become considerable. Thanks to that, Karem was able to indulge in a luxury medieval commoners could only dream of. Some of the sugar had faded from poor storage, but not enough to be noticeable. Today’s snack was milk laced with honey and cinnamon, plus sweet-and-tart chewy candied fruit made from apples, pears, and peaches, and sweet, crunchy candied nuts made from walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts. Karem felt the effort of preparing so much was worthwhile.
Crunch—crunch-crunch—
“Hmm. When you said you were boiling nuts in sugar I thought you were making jam, but it was this?”
“A change of perspective, I suppose. But aren’t you eating a little too much?”
“Hm? Too much of what?”
Catherine held out a bowl that had been piled high and was now scraped clean, looking utterly baffled. It was a silent demand for more.
“How exactly do you plan to eat lunch after this?”
“Ahh, you don’t know?”
“Pardon?”
“Women have a separate stomach just for snacks.”
So there was no problem—hurry up and bring more. It was a stupid argument they had already repeated countless times, so Karem gave up at once. It would have been one thing if the snacks actually made her skip a meal. But she always ate just fine afterward. Karem brought over an extra serving of candied fruit. Meanwhile, outside the window, Mary set down her shovel as if taking a short break and stretched this way and that. She supposedly radiated hostility the moment anyone tried to help, yet Karem’s conscience would not let him simply watch.
“I think I should take a little something for Mary.”
“Well, if you take care of her in moderation she’ll be pleased.”
“In that spirit, I’ll take a little for her.”
“Hey!”
Ignoring Catherine’s protest that it was already her share, Karem portioned out some candied fruit, poured honey-and-cinnamon milk into a cup, and stood. Just as he was about to leave with Mary’s share in both hands, Catherine—still radiating sulky displeasure—called him back.
“Ah, right. A guest will be visiting for lunch, so prepare something appropriate.”
“You should have told me that first!”
“For reference, the guest is the eldest young master, Godwin Felwinter.”
“…Excuse me!”
When he handed Mary the snacks and delivered the news, she reacted as if she had known long ago. So only he had been left in the dark? There was no time to protest. The guest visiting for lunch was Godwin Felwinter. If Karem’s memory was correct, he was none other than Alfred Felwinter’s eldest son—the heir. Even if they ate generously at dinner and kept breakfast and lunch comparatively light, one could not prepare half-heartedly for someone of that stature. A table had to be abundant for the master’s pride—and the chef’s pride—to stand tall. Within the time allowed, Karem did his absolute best. Still, the tension was unavoidable. The man was, after all, someone impossibly high above him.
“Junior Karem, don’t be so nervous.”
“How am I supposed to not be nervous? He’s the duchy’s eldest son.”
“You’ve already met Lady Alicia, haven’t you?”
“Well, Lady Alicia is… you know.”
“Mm, true enough.”
From what he heard, Alicia had been banned from going out for the crime of barging in uninvited and was currently engaged in lively chase games with the soldiers inside the main castle. True to their lively first meeting, she was still as wild and free as ever.
“I can’t do this. I’m too nervous.”
“Pardon?”
“Hand everything over.”
Before he could even say “uh, wait,” Mary snatched the tray from his hands and held it with both of hers. Karem started to protest, then accepted it himself. Noble or not, it was better to leave it to the professional—no, the fairy who did this for a living—than risk spilling everything because of nerves in front of the guest.
The moment they opened the dining-room door, Karem sensed something wrong with the atmosphere. People with good instincts could feel that uneasy air the instant things started going sideways—whether it was hormone detection or simple intuition. The air that should have been warm felt as cold and heavy as if someone had left a window wide open.
“Junior Karem, what’s the mat—”
Shh. Shh!
Mary must have read the same air, because she cut herself off mid-word—but it was already too late.
“Boy, Mary. What are you doing standing outside instead of coming in?”
“Nothing at all. Mary, let’s go.”
“Ahem, ahem.”
At the rebuke that cut through the chilled air, Karem stepped inside and Mary followed. Once in the dining room he could see the guest and his attendant. Godwin, with his short, neatly cut hair and a close-cropped beard that ran from sideburns to chin and lip, gave the first impression of cold hardness even at a young age. He looked older than Karem had expected—clearly the combination of medieval early aging and the beard. Sitting beside him, cold ice-like eyes fixed on Catherine, was a man who looked like an attendant. By appearance he seemed the oldest person in the room; his beard and hair were already fading to gray. The man, who had been sitting with a stiff expression, let out a hearty sigh, then turned to look at Godwin.
“Pfft. Young Master, I believe the prank has gone on long enough. How about ending it?”
“Damn it, Victor. It was just getting fun.”
“Good heavens. You’re about to have your coming-of-age ceremony and you still have the rotten habit of teasing servants and maids?”
“They say childhood habits never die, don’t they?”
Cold, ice-like impression? Karem disagreed. When Godwin laughed cheerfully, Victor frowned, then turned his body toward Karem.
“You needn’t worry. Your master was simply playing along with the young master’s rotten habit.”
“Oh—so it wasn’t the terrible atmosphere I was imagining?”
“Pfft. Why don’t you take a look at Lady Atanitas?”
Only then did Karem turn toward Catherine. The sharp atmosphere was nowhere to be found; she was resting her chin crookedly on one hand and grinning.
“This is more fun than I expected. Indeed.”
“So teasing a kid who hasn’t even had his coming-of-age ceremony yet was fun for you?”
“Can’t you tell just by looking?”
It looked plenty fun, which was exactly the problem. Karem shook his head in mild disapproval, and Godwin spoke.
“I simply got curious about the little chef our youngest Alicia is so desperate for, and the playful impulse slipped out. I won’t apologize.”
“…Lady Alicia, you say?”
“Yes. From the day she received her ban on going out until now.”
“Lady Atanitas? Didn’t you refuse her then?”
At her personal chef’s question, Catherine shook her head as if exhausted. Which clearly meant she had refused, yet Alicia had not given up and was still watching for an opportunity.
“I came in person because I was curious about the one who took our Alicia’s tongue and stomach prisoner.”
“It’s true my little chef cooks well.”
“You sound quite confident.”
“It’s worth looking forward to. The boy has never once betrayed my expectations.”
“True—our youngest may not be a picky eater, but she is rather particular about taste.”
Karem quietly gauged the mood. It did not feel like the usual roundabout speech or honeyed daggers exchanged among high personages. Which meant Godwin had spoken the simple truth: he had come because he was curious about the food. And that was hardly reassuring. If he had heard even one day earlier he could have put more care into the dishes, but he had only learned a few hours ago and had been forced to wring his brain dry. Normally recipes sprang to mind at once, yet the moment a situation like this arrived, overload hit and a headache from the heat rising in his head was never far behind. He had focused on things that took relatively less time, at least.
“Lady Atanitas, you could have told me even a day earlier.”
“Hmm. So you’re not confident?”
“Honestly? I’m completely terrified.”
“Don’t worry—trust me, who trusts your skill. So stop fretting over nothing and just open those lids covering the plates.”
Mary had nearly finished setting the table. And after hearing words like that, he could not stay frozen. Karem squeezed both eyes shut and lifted the lids from the dishes one after another.
Attached Reference
— Candied Fruit
This is a picture drawn by ChatGPT.