Potatoes and a Knife
The terms Yulia set before Christopher, lord of Cypress, were simple. She wanted every tomato currently on hand bought up in advance, and exclusive claim on the tomatoes of Cypress for no less than two years.
"And how does my lady intend to move a quantity this large?"
"I mean to start a fashion for tomatoes, beginning in Caipol."
It sounded like a daydream. But the woman seated beyond the communication circle was Yulia Edfolk herself, and even if the fashion never caught, Christopher, as lord of the land, bore no risk at all. He stilled his hammering heart and at last managed to speak.
"This is far too generous an offer!"
"A contract has to be made, so I would like to see your face once."
"The moment I'm ready, I'll set out!"
"Ah, Baron. My partner says he has a question."
"By all means!"
"Good day, Baron. This is Blow Deblique."
"Yes! Young master, ask whatever you wish!"
He had heard the name often enough that Christopher felt like bowing to the magic circle itself.
"Do you have a factory for the tomato sauce?"
"We do, but it runs on a very small scale."
"I think you'd do well to grow it."
"You mean..."
"Watch how this round goes. We'll invest, so what would you say to building a proper factory?"
"An offer I couldn't refuse!"
A few more words passed after that, and every one of them, to the lord of the territory, was entirely satisfactory. When the call ended he flung open the cupboard, pulled out a bottle, and poured for the servants who were wiping their eyes. Relief that they had lived, the luck of it, and gratitude—feeling all three, he charged them firmly.
"This goes forward without a single slip. Understood?"
"Yes!"
Once the talk with Christopher was done, Blow and Yulia moved to a coffeehouse near her hotel.
"I wanted to give you a larger share..."
"I'd only be riding on your back, senior. It's fine."
On this deal Blow's cut came to roughly a fifth of Yulia's, and he had no complaint. The tomatoes they had locked down would be sold through shops in the Imperial Capital and Caipol under the sign of Cypress Seasoning, and through grocers closely tied to House Edfolk. Every step of distribution that made it possible would lean fully on the Edfolk infrastructure.
"I'm glad you see it that way. If this goes well, we ought to open a grocer of our own, don't you think?"
"Let's. Better to do it at a proper scale."
The fewer hands a thing passed through, the more there was left to eat. If they could take distribution and the selling both, the profit would only grow. The mere thought filled him, and a bright smile spread across Blow's face.
"For that, we'll have to see our first joint venture through cleanly—the Black Bridge Gathering."
"I'll make sure of it. Melo and I are still hard at work on the pizza."
"Thanks to you, the banquet seems settled. Only..."
"Is something the matter?"
"Not a problem. A small worry. About dessert."
"Dessert?"
"I was going to play it safe with tarts, but I'm afraid safe might be too safe."
Rosalyn's furrowed brow flickered through his mind.
"Will you be serving Rosalyn's liquor with the food at the banquet?"
"Yes. Rosalyn asked me to."
"Then I think my sparkling water would be better served with the dessert."
"Hm? You think so? When I tried it, the sparkling water seemed as if it would go wonderfully with pizza..."
To Yulia's puzzled question, Blow answered at his ease.
"I have my reasons."
He sketched for her the plan that had just come to him. Yulia listened in silence, and her eyes went round.
"That would certainly be dramatic. You really do think differently, don't you?"
"I'll tell you within a few days what the dessert ought to be."
"Good. I'll think on it too!"
When his coffee was gone, Blow gave the shop he sat in a careful once-over. It was a habit he had picked up since he started in trade. His eye caught, in passing, the hotel Yulia ran—Hotel Edfolk Kaipol. Something occurred to him, and he spoke as if in passing.
"Melo starts at the hotel tomorrow, doesn't she?"
"As you know, from morning through midday. Will that interfere with your business?"
"Mornings and lunches we'll only sell a simple menu. It'll be fine."
"That's a relief. As we agreed, I said I happened upon Melo at a restaurant in the Dusk Block and scouted her. Only the head chef will know who she really is."
"Even hearing it that way, it still sounds like pure favoritism. A kitchen on the level of Edfolk Kaipol must have a selection process."
"It does. And honestly, it won't be easy—Melo finding her feet in a rough kitchen."
Yulia's voice was worried. Blow shook his head.
"Senior, did you hear how Melo made it up to Caipol?"
"Didn't you bring her?"
"No. She hid in a freight wagon and rode up in secret."
"Truly? She really is something else. Reckless, too."
Yulia's eyes glittered with interest. To her, Blow told the rest: how Melo had slipped into the kitchen every night just to cook, and how she had stayed up until dawn making dishes beside him to persuade her mother. Yulia listened closely, then added with a pleased smile.
"She'll do well. Melo will."
"She will."
The shock of the day before had kept Rill up all night. She waited out the peak hours, then came to Red Forest, meaning to learn whatever could be learned and to apply whatever she could as far as it would go.
"Welcome! This is Red Forest!"
"Red Forest!"
Clerks greeted customers in bright voices while goods piled high at the counter. Watching it, she couldn't help the sigh that slipped out of her.
"Five Foresti Made!"
"Jane's Morning!"
The line stretched on and on, and the sight burned in Rill's stomach until she thought she might go mad. She turned, listless, and her eye fell on a corner crowded with quill pens.
Why didn't I ever think of this? Try one once and any student would see how much better it is—and the variety of pens is absurd...
She was still staring at that wall when someone came up and tapped her shoulder. She jumped and turned. A strikingly handsome young man with boyish red hair stood there, and beside him a green-haired student who looked like a clerk, blinking at her.
"W-who?"
"The owner. Blow Deblique."
"What?"
Rill decided she ought to run and looked toward the front door. As if he had read her, Blow eased himself into her path.
"I hear you run the potion shop by the front gate."
"How did you..."
"Well, we're all neighbors around here. And your name?"
"Rill. Rill Cadral."
"Right. Ms. Cadral, have you had breakfast?"
"Ah, breakfast? No?"
"Then have it with me."
"Out of nowhere...?"
Caught off guard, she floundered. Blow shrugged.
"I thought we might have a talk that helps us both."
"What kind of..."
"Business, of course."
No matter how she turned it over, the air said she shouldn't refuse. After a brief struggle, Rill nodded, limp.
"All... right..."
"Let's go to my restaurant."
She hesitated, then followed him out and into the restaurant next door. Packed, of course. Her shoulders drew in, thoroughly cowed.
"Hello, boss!"
"Radness. You're here again today?"
"Yes! All three of us applied to work here!"
"Did you? I'll see you at the interview."
"Yes!"
The girls answered so brightly. Red, blue, yellow.
These girls... I'm sure they were coming to our potion shop until not long ago.
Sure enough, potions hung in their hands, and Rill wanted to cry.
"Ms. Cadral, will you sit here?"
"Yes..."
A little later, tea breathing a sweet scent and a sandwich were set before her. She drank the tea down, and only then did her composure begin to return.
Here. I'll take everything there is to take. He looks much younger than me, and in business I'm still the senior...
Steeling herself, Rill tried to meet him with a confident gaze. Blow offered her a smile that was, in its way, gentle, and began.
"The thing is, I have a proposal for you—"
Before he could finish, a crack from outside the restaurant shook the ground. Megan, in the middle of wrapping sandwiches, started for the door.
"I'll go and check."
"No. Come with me. Ms. Cadral, wait here a moment."
"Eh? Yes..."
Curiosity had already caught her, and her eyes followed him. What came into view was a sorceress dressed entirely in black, and a boulder the size of a person's body. Rill swallowed, rose from her seat, and edged closer.
"Lady Rachel sent it."
"I was going to get in touch around tomorrow. She sent it sooner than I thought."
"Yes. She obtained this mana stone on the current expedition and sent it straight away."
"I shouldn't put it like this, but... that's direct from the source."
The name Rachel froze Rill where she stood. She looked at the stone. Deep navy ran through it—a highest-grade mana stone, the sort one could hardly hope even to look at.
"Tell her ladyship the gift arrived safely."
A gift?
That high-grade stone was worth well over a hundred gold, and he called it a gift? Senior in trade—what senior was she? Rill's whole body began to shake. She wanted to cry.
"Young master, where did you say you would use this?"
"I mean to set it in the basement."
"Then I'll carry it that far for you."
"Kind of you. I was thinking of waiting for my right hand, who's due this afternoon."
"But how do you intend to use it? Her ladyship will be curious, so I thought I'd ask ahead."
"I'll lay a cold spell on it and use it for refrigeration."
Refrigeration...?
A high-grade stone that could blow this whole block away with a single spell, and all he meant to do with it was lower the temperature of a storeroom? She had gotten herself into something far beyond her. Rill's legs gave out, and she dropped where she stood.
Only then did Blow notice she had come out. He approached with a worried face.
"Ms. Cadral? Why did you come out?"
"Th-that's..."
She hesitated, then barely managed to add:
"Just... please spare me."
At words he couldn't make sense of, Blow looked at Megan. She sighed, muttered that she would at least fetch some cold water, and went back inside. And for a long while after that, Blow had to spend his time soothing a terrified Rill.
While Blow was speaking with Rill, at Hotel Edfolk Kaipol, Melo had come with Marchen, Yulia's confidante, to the kitchen on the hotel's top floor. The moment they stepped in, every cook stopped what they were doing and lined up before her.
"Good morning, Deputy Manager Marchen!"
"A good morning to you all. As I said in advance, I've brought the person her ladyship scouted for the kitchen."
Marchen glanced at Melo. Melo swallowed and stepped up beside her. Every eye fixed on her at once, and her heart seemed to shrink to the size of a bean. While she fidgeted, unsure what she was supposed to do, Marchen whispered beside her.
"Melo, introduce yourself."
"Ah, hello! I-I'm Melo Greenhill, and starting today I'll be working as an apprentice cook! I'll study really hard!"
She had practiced that introduction with Hans the whole way to the hotel that morning. The eyes on her were anything but kind. Into the hush, Marchen's voice rang out again.
"Teach her well. All of you."
"Yes."
"Head chef, a word with me."
"Yes, of course."
The head chef followed Marchen out. In the silence that settled after them, Melo gripped her apron until her hands went pale. Fierce-looking men, and women cooks whose presence seemed five times sharper than Hervena's. Melo put her hands together again and bent at the waist.
"Ah... hellooo..."
They only returned to their stations with lukewarm faces. It was the first cold air she had ever felt like this, and she didn't know what to do. Among them, the one with the smallest cap—a frail-looking man with reddish curls and a white neckerchief—came over to her.
"Hello."
"Ah, hello."
"My name's Thuy. I'm your senior, and an apprentice cook, same as you."
"Yes!"
"What we do is prep the vegetables..."
He was explaining at an easy pace when a sharp rebuke cracked down on him from across the kitchen.
"Thuy! Those dishcloths are a disgrace!"
"I'm sorry!"
Thuy answered with a bob of his head. Whispers about her kept reaching Melo's ears.
"Why on earth did her ladyship bring in a kid like that?"
"No idea. They say she happened to see her in the Dusk Block."
"Where? The Dusk Block?"
"Yeah."
"Haa. Shouldn't the head chef have said something?"
Melo's head dropped. It hurt. A little later Thuy came back, wiping sweat, and spoke to her.
"Anyway... start by prepping the potatoes. Have you done it?"
"Yes..."
"Then I'm counting on you."
With that, he set a basket brimming with potatoes up on the shelf. Melo hesitated, looking at him—she was too short to reach it. In the moment she realized, all over again, how carefully Blow had looked after her, the sneering started up once more.
"Hah. This is going to be so much work. So much."
Drawn small, Melo was looking for something to stand on when Thuy brought over a wooden crate and set it down beside her.
"Here."
"Thank you, senior."
"I'll go check the other vegetables for a bit, all right?"
With that, Thuy left. Melo washed the dirt-caked potatoes clean, and at last took a kitchen knife in hand. Every eye swung to her. The look said, let's see how good you really are. Melo let out a long breath and began to peel.
Every mouth in the kitchen fell open at once.