(Perhaps) The Mouth Is the Source of Calamity (2)
It had not taken long, yet when every preparation was finally complete, a certain amount of uproar was inevitable.
Still, under the experts' relentless persuasion, they yielded.
Suspicion, however, could not be entirely erased.
The guardian, Elizabeth, fixed a doubtful gaze on Catherine, then Robin, then Karem, and finally the bright red oil cradled in Karem's hand, looking from one to the next.
"Atanitas—no. Catherine. Are you truly certain this will work?"
"Mm. I understand your unease."
"Oil extracted from a Red Witch's Finger? Not even a potion?"
Karem found himself nodding at Elizabeth's interrogation without thinking. A guardian's doubts were justified, after all.
The Red Witch's Finger. A crop that, until recently, had been known as a poisonous herb spreading like an infestation from Coldon across the whole of Iceland, regardless of class or race.
Yet they were not feeding it as food, nor processing it into a potion. They meant to extract the raw substance as-is and have him swallow it. Put bluntly, it was crude. For a prescription from an archmage, it felt remarkably slapdash.
"Oil drawn from a Red Witch's Finger, extracting its components and energy. You could call it the raw material. Is there no potion?"
"Of course potions of that sort exist. Cases as rare as the third young master's are uncommon, but not unheard of."
"Then—"
"But right now we lack both the time and the circumstances to use one. The cold-resistance potion is still unfinished. Feeding him the raw material is more effective."
Catherine shook her head as she watched a maid trickle warmed water into the young master's mouth.
"Above all else, the third young master's body is weaker than one might think."
"That is… Robin's chronic condition—no, his constitution. He is my child, and his father's."
"If he had an ordinary body for his age—or even the body he had before—there would be no problem using a potion. In his present state, his body cannot withstand a potion's effects."
"Ah."
"Of course, we could craft a potion specialized for Young Master Robin."
If it was a cliché, so be it. If it was obvious, so be it. A carefully custom-made piece was always superior in quality and effect to mass-produced goods. But—
"As you know, specialized potions—"
"Take a long time to make. I've heard that much myself."
"You want Young Master Robin to regain consciousness as soon as possible, don't you?"
"Of course. Any parent would."
"Then there is no problem. Only—"
Having barely persuaded one of the walls blocking their path, Catherine lowered her head on a diagonal.
"Kid. I know I'm asking late, but I ordered finely ground Red Witch's Finger."
"This is Red Witch's Finger oil."
"My question has not changed."
"Young Master Robin still hasn't come to, has he?"
Catherine stared at Karem with a look that said, Can't you tell just by looking?
In that case, the answer the boy had to give was one.
"Then this is better than raw Red Witch's Finger."
Catherine's plan had been to grind raw Red Witch's Finger into a porridge-like mush and feed it to him. Hearing that, Karem had rewritten her order to suit himself.
Before even considering solid food for a patient who could not stay conscious—what kind of magical prescription said to feed someone raw Red Witch's Finger in the first place?
"By the way, this is going to be ridiculously spicy."
"Done the ordinary way, he'd spit every last drop out before he ever swallowed it."
"Of course. Wait—ordinary?"
"Set the bowl on the nightstand by the bed."
Karem obediently set the bowl down.
Catherine at once wound mana around her fingers and flicked them lightly. The mana dispersed, forming a formula; it seized the Red Witch's Finger oil in the bowl and lifted it into the air.
"Oh—telekinesis?"
"Yes. You there, maid. Step aside for a moment. And open the young master's mouth."
As Catherine ordered, the maid quickly shifted away from the bedside. A little of the water pooled in the bowl behind her rose into the air. The droplet that touched the oil spread into a thin film, wrapping it without a gap.
"Ah. So even raw Red Witch's Finger porridge wouldn't have been a problem after all."
"Well, what matters is the fire mana and energy the Red Witch's Finger holds."
The thinly water-coated Red Witch's Finger oil swam through the air as if alive, trailing a long tail after Catherine's fingers. A moment later—
Shrrrrip—!
It vanished as though sucked into Robin's open mouth.
Karem found himself frowning without meaning to.
"That is all, Duchess."
"I—it ends this simply?"
"The external fallout from mana he cannot control will be stabilized through the holy relic the kid obtained. The internal problem can be solved with the Red Witch's Finger oil I just shoved—pardon me, fed him directly into his stomach. The young master will regain consciousness soon."
"In that case… haah—"
Elizabeth, who had been wound tight with tension, released a long sigh heavy with every emotion at once. The attendants and maids nearby reacted the same way.
"Only, what comes after is the problem."
"Problem? There's something bigger than this still left?"
At Karem's question Catherine nodded. Then she turned her head and met Elizabeth's eyes.
"Young Master Robin must receive a mage's education as quickly as possible. At the very least until he can smoothly control his own mana."
"A mage… you say?"
"Young Master Robin's talent as a mage overflows to excess. Of course, not quite on the level of Vice Tower Master Olivier or myself."
Karem stared at his employer with a look gone flat and salty. Praising herself to her own face—what thick skin.
The other attendants and maids did not show it, but they were thinking the same thing as Karem.
"Well, if we dump him on that old coot Olivier, there won't be any problem."
And just like that, as if any bothersome task could simply be shoved onto someone else, Catherine foisted Robin's (temporary) future onto the stone that had rolled into their path.
"Wait just a moment, Lady Atanitas."
"Hm? What is it, kid."
"Wasn't the flow of this conversation heading toward Lady Atanitas becoming the teacher?"
"I'm terrible at teaching others. Besides."
Catherine rolled her eyes toward Karem. Then she whispered at a volume only he could hear.
"I'm the practical type. I just shove a weapon into their hands and throw them at the first goblin or slime I catch. I can't do that to him over there."
"Ah."
"If it were a count's house or so, I might, but the other party is a ducal family's child. No—normally you can roughhouse with a duke's third son or lower all you like, but the Felwinter family is strangely warm. Who knew a house like this even existed."
Wealth and power were things you could not even share with family. When things went sour, even direct blood relatives "died of natural causes" involving carriages, wine, and terraces. Karem knew that much from games and novels.
But by the standards of Karem's previous life, the Felwinter family was harmonious. The brothers and siblings, who might as well have been programmed to kill one another, got along so well it proved everything. The people of Winterhome—or at least the territory folk and nobles of Coldon—maintained unshakable loyalty to the Felwinter family.
"Lord Olivier… the archmage who came last winter."
"Yes. That old man, at least when it comes to education, clearly surpasses me. He can give Young Master Robin the most fitting instruction of anyone."
"For Atanitas to vouch for him so strongly…"
Elizabeth rested a hand on her chin and began to deliberate. At first she had found the idea distasteful, but if a sage spoke to that degree, there had to be something she could rely on.
"Well, just thinking about it sets my teeth on edge, but I can't deny that old man's ability."
"Aren't the two of you actually on better terms than you let on?"
"Be quiet."
At the low, seething voice, Karem clamped his mouth shut at once and showed both palms. Catherine shot him a sharp glare for a moment.
"Of course it will take time, but until then we can suppress it with the holy relic."
"Come to think of it…"
If one had to name the most important ability for a noble, opinions would differ, but to Elizabeth it was judgment above all. A noble was a being who gave orders and put others to work. For that, one had to properly gauge a subordinate's ability, and accurately grasp the value of objects and territory.
That judgment of Elizabeth's fell upon the holy relic gleaming with unusual light atop Robin where he lay on the bed. Even its appearance alone was far from ordinary.
She had been startled when it was suddenly called a holy relic, but if it was something that helped Robin, the price—
"U… uuuu…"
In that instant every head in the room turned toward the bed, the source of the sound. Robin, who had been sleeping as if dead with the holy relic resting on his stomach, was moving his eyelids and fingers little by little.
"Robin. Robin! Come to your senses. Robin!"
Elizabeth immediately sat on the bed and supported Robin's head, her voice a tangle of excitement, relief, and joy.
"M… mmm."
"Water? You there! Bring wa—"
"MWAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Eyes flying open. Bolting upright. Whoosh.
As if lying down had been a lie, Robin sprang up, screamed, and spat fire as though he meant to burn the entire bed.
"Lady Atanatas!? "
"What the hell—?!"
Before Karem, panicking, could even correct the mangled version of her name he had just shouted, Catherine reflexively planted her staff and unfurled a barrier.
The castle's atmosphere, thrown into chaos by Young Master Robin's condition, settled quickly once he regained consciousness.
At the news, Alfred, Godwin, William, Alicia, and the rest came rushing without a second thought, and the place grew noisy in an instant. But to cut to the conclusion: Olivier cheerfully accepted Elizabeth's proposal, which had been made on Catherine's recommendation.
Learning that his son had truly been in danger, and that even so the boy ranked not far below the two archmages under him, the duke rejoiced and heaped rewards and gifts upon them without stint.
And the same held for Karem, who had lent Robin the holy relic.
"Oh holy gods above."
On the immaculately cleaned table in the Mage's Tower kitchen, the object Karem stroked with the reverence one might reserve for something sacred was a wooden barrel roughly the size of an adult's torso, complete with a stand so it could be laid on its side.
An elegant wooden shell plastered with runes of unknown purpose. At a glance it looked anything but ordinary.
And in truth, that was exactly what it was.
The magic barrel before his eyes was one of the items Karem had coveted most in the Felwinter family treasury—high enough in the rankings to compete for the top spot.
The Oak Cask of Abundance.
In other words, the so-called 100x Magic Barrel, which accelerated the time of its contents a hundredfold—Catherine and Mary's name for it.
"Kid. Is it that good?"
"My lady. My heart is so elated I cannot put it into words."
"And where did you pick up vocabulary that refined?"
"That's how happy I am."
Karem answered Catherine with an infinitely serious face and movements that were anything but.
"If you liked it that much, you should have chosen the Oak Cask of Abundance instead of Winter's Lie."
"Contractor. Even if Junior Karem had chosen this back then, the moment he got his hands on a kitchen knife later he would have acted exactly the same."
"True enough. Comparing how he looked coming out of the treasury to how he looks now, he's still every bit the boy of that age."
Catherine nodded firmly, agreeing with Mary's opinion.
And Mary, realizing she and her contractor were of one mind, asked the question she considered most important in the present situation.
"So, Junior Karem."
"Heh heh heh heh. Yes? What is it?"
"What do you plan to make with that 100x Magic Barrel? Beer? Wine?"
"I'm going to make kimchi whenever I feel like eating it."
Catherine and Mary both crumpled their faces like crumpled paper.
Whether her two mistresses did so or not, Karem simply continued stroking the wooden barrel with meticulous care.
Honestly, more than kimchi, I wanted to make soy sauce.
Kimchi took a lot of hands and various ingredients, but once you got down to it, it did not take all that long. It only dragged when you were putting up dozens of heads for winter kimchi season.
But soy sauce—soy sauce was hard to manage. Of course it was. Even if you threw yourself into cooking as a hobby with everything you had, who started soy sauce from zero? You just went to the nearest mart or shop and bought it.
What Karem knew about soy sauce amounted to three things.
That the ingredients were water, salt, and meju.
That you put them in a jar and aged them a long time.
And that once enough time passed, the liquid became soy sauce and the meju became doenjang.
Even that was a lot for an ordinary person to know.
A professional chef might have known the scientific principles behind making meju as well, but Karem had never dedicated his life to cooking that thoroughly.
Meju is supposed to be boiled beans mashed into blocks and wrapped in rice straw… what can I use as a substitute?
Now he had money, space, and time to spare, so it was worth experimenting.
Of course, Karem had forgotten one fact: when you aged meju and soy sauce, the smell was so bad that garum would run away holding its nose.
"But Lady Atanitas. Is it all right for the third young master and Lord Olivier to keep going like that?"
"Hm? What's the problem?"
"Well, the two of them have been shut up in that room for days now."
Karem lifted his head and looked toward the ceiling of the kitchen, where Olivier's office-cum-laboratory would be.
"Of course I'm worried. How long has it been?"
"It's the third day now—no. The fourth."
"Four days. Just what kind of dangerous work are they doing that the room's been off-limits for four whole days?"
Mary shrugged both shoulders without a moment's thought. Overwhelming indifference radiated from every motion.
"Who knows. The meals for two come back empty and clean every time, at least."
"Well, if what they're doing is what I think it is, it should be wrapping up soon."
"Contractor, do you know what the two of them are doing?"
"Of course. I've done it myself."
Catherine swept her hair back as she spoke.
"Since the subject came up, want to go take a look?"
"We don't even have the room's owner's permission. Is that all right?"
"I am the master of this tower."
In other words: there is nowhere I cannot go. Having nothing particular to do just then, Karem headed with Catherine and Mary for Olivier's room on the floor beneath the tower's topmost level.
Kagagagagak!
"Uh."
And the moment they opened the door, more than a dozen metal cubes the size of adult heads came flying at them.
Karem immediately regretted it.