Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Elf and the Coffee Farm (4)
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Nobles have long entertained guests as a nod to ancient customs. Back when communication magic and other means of staying in touch were nonexistent, it was all about gleaning outside news from wandering merchants and travelers passing through.
Of course, there's hardly any need for that nowadays, so the practice has mostly faded away. That said, in territories where agriculture trumps commerce, lords still occasionally invite farmers, so it's not entirely extinct.
So, what's the takeaway?
The reason they invited me is a bit murky.
"Doesn't seem like bad intentions."
My current getup doesn't scream wealth. It's not beggar rags, but it's basically the same as my old cafe work clothes—your standard commoner look.
Sure, a guy tooling around solo in a cart can't be flat broke, but it strains credulity to think they targeted me for that.
Anyway, as long as I stay sharp, I'm not the type to end up knifed in a ditch somewhere. Should be fine if I keep my guard up.
I'd grabbed the essentials from the cart, including my coffee gear, and on the way out, that girl who'd approached me earlier had taken a shine to it.
Bit young for coffee, though. Made me think trying decaf at the farm might be worth a shot.
Though I'd need to figure out how to target and strip the caffeine from the beans.
A servant called me for lunch, so I straightened my slightly rumpled clothes and headed out.
Through a modestly decorated corridor to the reception room, where the Hamia couple—who oversaw Katr—were waiting.
"Hello."
I deliberately fudged the etiquette a touch. Best not to come off as nobility.
"Thanks for accepting our sudden invitation. Must've caught you off guard."
"Not at all. I'm just grateful for your hospitality."
"We don't get many visitors, so forgive any lapses in manners."
Armin Hamia, the local lord, served up dishes heavy on dairy products typical of the continent's deep south. Mostly fresh cheeses that were tricky to distribute—likely because the climate around Labyrinth City Astraea was practically desert, making spoilage a nightmare.
Probably a local specialty they couldn't export.
One main was a spreadable cheese like ricotta or mozzarella, mixed with olive oil, perfect on bread.
A thriving lord might use transfer gates for bulk long-haul trade, but this place didn't seem that flush.
The only sounds were clinking cutlery for a bit, and once the first course was done, Armin spoke up again.
"The southwest farm is elf-run. You know of it?"
"Yes. They farm the cooler highlands off the western mountains."
"Well informed. Imperial citizenship's a hassle for non-humans. The elf working that place is solid, but the southern nomadic horse elves are pressuring her—over citizenship and territory issues."
"You'd like my help resolving it."
"Frankly, yes. No clue what brings you there, but I'd appreciate it if you could."
"Does it tie into Katr's situation?"
He let out a groan at my question, clicked his tongue, sighed, and began explaining.
"Our one brag-worthy product here is cheese."
"Processed for long storage..."
"Any warm southern spot can do that. Only fresh cheese is special enough for the capital or Labyrinth City Astraea."
"Makes sense. But delivery's impractical, so you pivoted to local sales..."
"To nomadic elves, yeah. They ride horses or camels—cows aren't common. And they don't fuss over elven dietary rules, so dairy was a safe bet."
I nodded along, and he bobbed his head too as he continued.
"Lately, though, friction's brewed between that highland farm elf and the nomads. They've pinned it on imperial citizenship and cut off trade with us."
"That's the official line. What's the real beef?"
"No idea. They won't say."
He sighed heavily. Territory woes from outside drama are a headache. We'd had our share back home between Imir Kingdom diplomacy and the demonkin—tense when it soured, relaxed when it smoothed out.
Lucky the big-picture alliance held.
"Any specific role you have in mind for me?"
"We're not that shameless. Like you said, just sniff out the real reason. Heading solo into dicey southwest means you're confident in your skills, right?"
"Yes. Unless it's some massive snag, reaching the place should be fine. Though getting deep enough to hear the truth? Not sure."
"Even trying would help."
"That much, I can manage."
I flicked a glance at the bracelet hidden under my sleeve. Should I flash it?
With that, we resumed eating. Couldn't help my ingrained manners entirely, so I downplayed them through lunch.
After, they introduced the kids: Miya—the one eyeing me—Cassy and Nia, oldest to youngest.
The other two seemed indifferent, so I passed. Miya wanted a peek at those gadgets from earlier.
While the couple and older girls chatted, I excused myself and fetched the siphon coffee maker—king of spectacle among my tools.
First, filled the round bottom flask with fresh water and attached the mana heater, waiting for it to boil.
Meanwhile, I dampened a cloth filter for drip coffee in the top flask and laid it flat on the bottom.
Confirmed the seal, and once boiling started, submerged the tube connecting to the top flask's base in the hot water below.
As it boils, water in the bottom turns to steam, expands, and pressure forces hot water up the tube into the top. Once enough's up there, dump in coarsely ground beans—like for French press—and stir.
Let it steep, then kill the heat before the bottom water fully evaporates.
Heat off, steam condenses back to water, pressure drops, and it sucks the now-brewed coffee back down through the filter—emerging as a clear, golden elixir.
"Whoa."
Whether it was the water rising and falling or the pretty hue of the light roast extraction, Miya gasped in awe.
Simple principle, but flicking the heater on and off makes the liquid dance into coffee—prime cafe showmanship.
Our regulars were all immune to the gimmick, though.
"What's that brown water coming out?"
"Coffee. Ever heard of it?"
"Yeah, they grow it at that farm over there."
"Yep, probably."
"Cool. Does everyone drink it like this?"
"Nah."
I gave a wry smile. Siphon coffee's basically immersion-style like French press—top flask dumps grounds straight in—but the cloth filter strips the grit while retaining oils for a robust body.
Longer brew time than standard drip, and cloth over paper means a touch more texture in the flavors.
I was about to sip, but the glass flasks' bubbling caught the others' eyes from afar—they crowded in, curious.
Quick rundown, and Lord Armin—who'd had coffee before—tried a cup, looking surprised.
"Folks usually just chew the berries or boil 'em rough. This method transforms the taste and aroma."
"My cafe uses even more ways to brew. Regulars each have their faves."
"Brew changes the flavor?"
"Yep. Same beans, but roast level and extraction method make a world of difference."
"Fascinating. Where'd you say you're in business?"
"Running a cafe in Labyrinth City Astraea."
"...If this mess sorts out, I'll drop by. That your reason for the farm?"
"Yes. Want to tweak their bean production and processing—chat with the owner."
"Good luck."
Couldn't serve Miya the caffeinated stuff, so I used my grinder on fresh grapes for juice instead.
Mediterranean vibe here—grapes aplenty. Down the line, prime for trading cheese, grapes, olives with the cafe.
Bonded with Miya: piggyback rides, coffee tool demos, splitting chocolate—good times.
Heading out tomorrow, but it felt like a fulfilling day all the same.