The Anniversary of the Warrior Who Became a God Through Sheer Effort
There is a saying that if you have guests to receive, first serve them delicious food. When the tongue is delighted and the belly is full, a person's spirit tends to soften.
The guests, who had spent some time praising the cooking as they ate, seemed to have filled their stomachs enough that they slowed their utensils a little and began chatting with Catherine.
Once the conversation shifted from the food itself to other topics, Karem finally managed to catch his breath. The sharp atmosphere from earlier had clearly been a joke.
Even so, Karem still had not gotten used to it.
Simply sharing a space with high-ranking people piled fatigue onto him.
That much, at least, was the same in both his previous life and this one.
Having slipped quietly out of the guests' attention, Karem savored the brief respite and replayed what he had overheard from them a short while earlier.
Winter-Ascend.
The anniversary of the Three Gods Sect celebrating the day the War God Tutatis ascended to divinity.
He had been told that every city and village in Iceland held festivals and ceremonies.
Beyond that, he knew nothing more detailed.
The conversation had already moved on, after all.
Still, Karem could not let his guard down.
At any moment the focus of interest might swing back onto him.
He simply hoped as hard as he could that it would not.
Every time gazes concentrated on him, it felt as if a hole were being punched straight through his stomach.
Though their eyes were no longer rolling back the way they had at first, Godwin and Victor kept their utensils moving without pause even while they talked, so the dishes must have been to their liking.
And then there was the Maoines.
The extravagant praise the guests had heaped on it had clearly been no empty flattery; Karem had been forced to shuttle back and forth several times just to refill the bowl.
His arms had gone past tingling and were now steadily losing all sensation.
Yet the guests showed not the slightest sign of being satisfied.
"Hoo… I think I finally understand why Alicia praised it so highly. If it would not be too much of an imposition, might I take some of that sauce called Maoines with me?"
"That is no difficult request. Karem."
At Godwin's follow-up, Karem barely managed to clamp shut the mouth that had been about to fall open in pure shock.
He had heard that people in cold climates instinctively craved rich, oily food, but he had never imagined they would devour nearly every egg and drop of oil he had in storage.
The guest had asked and the master had given permission, however, so Karem obeyed in silence.
Wringing out the last of his strength, he filled a large bowl with Maoines, sealed the lid, carried it out, and recited the storage instructions.
"Please keep it sealed in a cool, dry place where water will not freeze. That way it will not spoil."
"Hm? No need to worry about that."
"Pardon?"
"I suspect we will have finished every last bit before evening arrives."
Mayo, huh. Looking at how thoroughly the man seemed to have fallen for it, Karem thought the same thing by pure reflex.
After that, Karem joined Catherine and Mary in seeing the guests off.
Only when Godwin and Victor vanished beyond the wall of snow did Karem finally release the deep sigh he had been holding, as if the very ground might collapse beneath him.
"Hooo… I thought I was going to die from the tension."
"This is already the third time, counting Lady Alicia and the Duke. Is it not about time you grew accustomed to it?"
"No—these are high-ranking people we're talking about!"
Of course Karem's nerves were not entirely unfounded.
In the Middle Ages, catching the wrong eye of a noble, a knight, or even a local powerbroker and having your entire life ruined was practically an everyday occurrence.
On the other hand, if you benefited from academic ties, regional connections, or blood relations, you could blur the boundaries of class or even climb higher, so it was never absolute either.
Catherine, who stood as Karem's backer, spoke up.
"You worry far too much. Simply by becoming my personal chef you are already as good as a quasi-noble. Walk about with a little more confidence."
"Eh? Quasi-noble? Since when?"
"Since the day you entered Winterhome, of course."
Even after she said it, the idea still refused to feel real.
In his previous life he had lived in an officially equal democratic society, and until he fled the village the only "high-ranking" people he had ever met were the village chief, the priest, and the occasional tax collector who stopped by.
Being told he had somehow become a noble left Karem feeling awkward beyond measure.
No—there was one clue he could finally place.
"Come to think of it…"
"What?"
"Back in Drywood Village, the people always used honorifics with me and called me 'Young Master.'"
Only now did Karem understand.
Why the village chief, his son, and the rest of the villagers had been so flustered around him.
Watching his face, Catherine snapped her fingers.
"Exactly. You are already a perfectly respectable noble. Or perhaps we should say quasi-noble. Marry a second, third, or fourth daughter from another house, rack up a few merits, and you could even become a lower noble. Interested?"
"Hmm."
Not particularly?
No—to be completely honest—
He was not interested in the slightest.
It was not so much a lack of interest as the fact that the whole notion was too vague and too new for any sense of reality to settle in.
"Well, later things can be thought about later. Right now, cooking like this and living in peace suits me just fine."
"Heh. Peace, is it? It is already far too late for a quiet life."
"Huh? What do you mean by that?"
At the flat declaration that it was hopeless, Karem's eyes filled with bewilderment. Mary began ticking points off one by one.
"It began with Lady Alicia. After hearing her words, Duke Felwinter took an interest, and now Young Master Godwin, the heir himself, has come calling in person."
"Ah."
"Do you truly believe living quietly is still possible?"
Lightning cracked through Karem's mind.
In modern terms it was exactly as if the youngest daughter of a chaebol family had shouted something so loudly that the chairman took notice and the next chairman showed up in person.
Even people who normally paid no attention would sit up and take notice of a matter like that.
As if driving a nail straight into Karem's thoughts, Catherine snapped her fingers again.
"Congratulations. As of today you have become a celebrity who receives more attention than anyone else in the ducal house."
"Damn it—my peaceful daily life of feeding a female mage who cannot even eat by herself!"
"Ahem. Word choice. When you put it that way, the nuance becomes rather strange."
Mary flared up at once.
"Again, again, again! Assisting the contractor's meals is the duty of this Karem junior—not yours!"
"What—out of nowhere!?"
"Hmph. Trying to lower my guard with talk like that. This is precisely why I can never relax around you!"
"When did I ever say anything of the sort?!"
"Say what you will, I will never lower my vigilance! Looking after the contractor who cannot even eat alone is my job! Looking after the contractor is solely my duty!"
"In the first place I never even said I wanted to feed Lady Atanita, all right?!"
"Are you looking down on meal service right this instant?!!!"
Even Karem, who had been trying to keep things pleasant at first, felt blood rush to his head when the conversation simply refused to mesh. Honestly, they kept picking fights over something he had zero interest in—was he supposed to be a bodhisattva and just keep enduring it?
As the ten-year-old kid chef and the brownie of indeterminate age launched into a full-blown argument that never quite connected, Catherine, who had taken an unexpected barrage of linguistic stray bullets, finally roared in pure fury.
"I am your employer, you damn servants!!!"
The Middle Ages were fundamentally an era famous for everyone doing their own separate thing.
There were many reasons, but the basic one was that transportation had never developed properly.
The continent of Europa only added various threats on top of that.
Even so, each of the nations built through loose feudal contracts on the Europa continent did possess an officially declared state religion.
Officially.
In the provinces, however, it was common for a religion different from the state church to hold the upper hand.
Especially when the history of that province was older than the nation itself, the situation was only natural.
Iceland of the Seophon Kingdom was precisely such a place.
Iceland worshipped the Three Gods Sect that served three deities:
the Winter Goddess Skadi, the War God Tutatis, and the Nameless Traveler.
Hearing the explanation up to that point, Karem roughly grasped the idea.
"So Winter-Ascend is something like a holiday of the Three Gods Sect?"
"More of an anniversary, really. It commemorates the moment when Skadi's great warrior Tutatis ascended as the War God."
Unlike the simple festivals he had been expecting—something like Chuseok or New Year's—the enormous word "ascension" struck Karem's ears with force.
Yet when he thought carefully about it, the concept was not entirely unfamiliar.
Even Greek mythology, famous in this field, had such cases from time to time.
Heracles and Dionysus were the classic examples.
And the story of the real historical figure Alexander the Great being transmitted and distorted into the Buddhist guardian deity Vaisravana was something those in the know already knew.
"It is an anniversary on which skilled people from every city and village pour their full strength into offerings and hold festivals to honor and celebrate Tutatis, who rose to the seat of a god through pure ability."
A holiday to honor a god.
That, too, was somewhat familiar to Karem.
Things like National Foundation Day, Buddha's Birthday, or Christmas—days he had celebrated only as red-letter holidays once a year because he was non-religious.
"But what's with the recommender system? Aren't more offerings always better?"
"There is a reason for that as well."
"What is it?"
"Tutatis is picky."
Picky. That was yet another thoroughly fresh piece of information.
Catherine, however, pointed a finger straight at Karem with complete seriousness.
"If an offering is tainted with impurity, falls short in skill, or otherwise fails to please him, he delivers punishment."
"…Punishment just because he doesn't like the gift?"
"You must never take an offering to a god lightly. An offering is the most important object that displays that god's dignity, directly increases power, and indirectly multiplies faith. Presenting something substandard or impure is the same as flinging a bowl of stew straight into the god's face. Doing it on the anniversary dedicated to that god is no different from advertising, 'Please punish me.'"
Well, considering that two-thirds of the twelve Olympians had scattered curses for the most trivial reasons, this side might actually be rather faithful to a god's proper job.
Any sprout of faith that might have begun to rise in Karem's heart withered the instant Catherine continued.
"Of course, Tutatis also simply has a filthy temper and a picky palate."
"Uh… isn't that wording a little too disrespectful?"
"What of it? It is a solid fact written even in the Three Gods Sect scriptures."
"Aren't the believers being a bit too merciless toward their own god?"
"On the contrary, the priests of the Three Gods Sect take pride in it."
"In having a filthy temper and a picky palate?"
"It also means he never compromises with reality and that there is no falsehood in his actions."
"Uh… that part isn't wrong."
"Still, they say one should not refuse to pay because the food tastes bad, nor immediately swing a weapon at a swindler simply because one has been swindled."
Conversely, the fact that such warnings were necessary at all meant there were plenty of people who did exactly those things. Karem's face contorted beyond any possible description.
Both the god and the believers were wild in the extreme.
"Anyway… so you're saying I can offer a sacrifice to a god like that?"
"Tutatis values skill above all else, after all. In any case, that is how things stand, so get ready, kid. Prepare thoroughly."
"Uh, saying it that way only makes the pressure worse."
"Oh, exactly. On rare occasions, when the offering falls short of the mark, the recommenders get punished right alongside the offerer."
The burden multiplied by a hundred.
Karem broke out in a cold sweat.