by Yuu Tanaka
“Y-yeah…urk.”
Our little episode looked like it happened by pure chance. Today was going so smoothly that I was beginning to get suspicious.
Well, I guess there was one problem. An intense-looking man had joined the line. He looked to be either an adventurer or a mercenary. While the man didn’t bother our customers, his mere presence was enough to intimidate them. A lot of folks squirmed. They were too deep in the line to leave, but they were too scared to ask the burly man to go, either.
He was there because he’d heard about the healing effects of our curry bread. Cure Potions were invaluable among the adventuring crowd, and any item that claimed to do the same thing for a measly ten gold was worth buying in bulk. Still, our shelf life wasn’t great, so they would be much better off buying actual potions.
“Whoops, I guess I said too much.”
Colbert was the culprit all along. The B-Rank’s endorsement of a tasty cure-all food was the cause of the curry bread’s boom among adventurers.
While the man looked intimidating to the general public, at least he wasn’t a bother. He added to our sales, and I imagined he would deter any thug who wanted to shake us down. We ended up letting him stay in line.
There was another drunken outburst before the day came to an end, but soon it was time to go back to the Chefs’ Guild.
Being on the lookout all day was taking its toll on me… Had the YTA given up on their antics?
I kept my eyes open on our way back to the guild hall, but no one came to attack us. A frontal attack would’ve been foolish with Colbert and the others around.
The other food carts had already been returned by the time we arrived. All the owners seemed to know each other, since most of them were native to Bulbola. They filled the lobby of the guild hall, chatting away and exchanging information.
A new figure emerged, then. It was the Count’s youngest. He had his posse with him, as usual. Jet wasn’t around, though. Had he gotten a new lead elsewhere? I knew how smart he was and trusted his judgment.
“That was some fine cooking today!”
“You’re going to win for sure!”
The Count’s son wasn’t surrounded by his usual posse of kitchen staff but rather his bodyguards and the tradesman in charge of his supplies. Some aristocratic-looking folk were there too, doubtless trying get into the Count’s good graces. The Count’s youngest was as arrogant as aristocrats came. He definitely didn’t seem the sort to prostrate himself for the sake of his people.
As I continued my harsh criticism, someone approached Fran to talk to her. His lack of presence startled me. Since we weren’t in battle, we weren’t fully alert. All the same, for him to sneak up on us… I was impressed.
I looked up and saw why.
“Good evening.”
“Evening.”
“I am the owner of the Dragonhead. The name’s Phelms.”
He was the former A-Rank adventurer and current owner of the award-winning Dragonhead. He had wavy blonde hair and narrow eyes. His clothes clung to his tall and well-built body. I reckoned him about one hundred and eighty centimeters. He had proportionally long legs and arms, too. His gentle smile had captivated more than his fair share of women, and the wrinkles around his eyes didn’t subtract from the gentleman’s charm. I still thought he looked like a spry forty-year-old.
I Identified him again, just to be sure. His age hadn’t changed, and he was human. How much anti-aging cream did he use? Not that any of us needed it right now. Still, I knew some old aristocrat lady would pay him a lot of gold for his secret.
“Hi, I’m Fran.”
“I had my staff buy me some of your curry bread.”
What’s this? Was he going to criticize our product?
“There are still foods I have yet to sample, after all. I heard your teacher was the one who made it.”
“Yeah, it was all Teacher’s idea.”
“I think it’s brilliant. Tell your teacher he moved the heart of an old man.”
He shook Fran’s hand. Honestly, I was happy to receive compliments from a chef of his caliber.
Tell him I’m happy to hear that.
“Thanks. Teacher’s happy to hear that.”
“You and your teacher are welcome to visit my store any time. If you’ll excuse me.”
He wished us luck in the tournament and went on his way. His gentlemanly demeanor almost made me fall for him.
Soon, the other chefs came to greet Fran, having waited for the right time. After all, she was cold and expressionless, which made her difficult to approach. They told her how much they loved curry bread—as delicious as it was original.
I heard someone say, “That sword of yours scared me, you know. Made it hard to talk to you.” Was I the reason the other chefs avoided her the other day? As I faced a mild existential crisis, the Count’s youngest son approached.
“Hoo boy, here he comes.”
“Be careful he doesn’t tell his daddy on you.”
“He might not be a cook, but he keeps himself clean.”
“You watch yourself around him, all right?”
The chefs scattered, whispering to Fran. It was clear that no one had any love for the guy.
“I am Weint. Owner of the Noble Dish. I had one of your curry bread things, too.”
“Hm.”
“It is a very novel snack. I think it’s quite good.”
“Hm.”
“The best of luck to us both.”
Lie after lie came out of his mouth. This bastard even wiped his palms after shaking hands with Fran. He was scrubbing them, too! Don’t think I didn’t see that, noble boy!
“It was most gracious of you to flatter even the lowliest of beastmen.”
“Oh, it’s nothing much. You just need to remember to smile.”
Once they’d moved off, Weint and his cronies ran their mouths as if we couldn’t hear them.
We can hear you just fine, asshole! If you don’t like sullying your hands, how about I just chop ’em off for you? Where the hell was Jet?! I needed evidence to justify taking this smug bastard down.
“People are only buying it for its novelty. This curry bread is a crude dish by itself.”
We’ll let you off today, but just you wait…!
We finished our business at the Chefs’ Guild and returned to the restaurant. I was irritated beyond belief about what happened, although Fran didn’t seem to pay it any mind.
“Teacher.”
Got it.
Fran stood alert, staring at the supposedly empty restaurant.
We sensed the auras of a few people inside. The lights were off, and they were smart enough to diminish their hostility. Whoever they were, they weren’t friendly. Our uninvited guests were total home invaders, and they deserved nothing less than annihilation, although it needed to be bloodless. We didn’t want to get our workplace dirty.
We’re going to have to play it quiet.
“All right.”
I used Silence to mute the sound of the opening door, only to find it still locked. Did they come in through a window? We would need to find out. We opened the door slightly and peeked through. There were no immediate signs of life. They must be hiding behind the upholstery or something. Were they planning to catch Fran off guard?
Unfortunately, their best efforts were no match before our Sense skills.
I’ll take the one on the right, you take the one on the left.
Hm.
I cast a dome of Silence on the room and launched a lightning spell at the man hiding behind the door. His mouth opened and closed in a silent scream as the electricity jolted through him.
Behind me, Fran took care of the other with a well-placed Stun Bolt. It didn’t take long for us to incapacitate the rest of our attackers. They were quite strong this time: all of them over Level 20. If Fran were an ordinary D-Rank adventurer, they would’ve killed her. We lined up the four men and began our questioning.
I woke the one who looked the s
trongest, as he was probably the leader. Fran slapped him awake.
“You up?”
“What the hell… Get this string off of me!”
“That depends on how well you answer. Why are you here?”
“Hah! You think I’m gonna tell you? You won’t get away with this, I swear!”
Ten minutes later…
The home invaders sat on their knees, quivering quietly. They were much more well behaved now that their faces were bent out of shape.
“So you attacked me to prevent me from going to the contest tomorrow?”
“Y-yes, ma’am…”
They were supposed to ambush Fran alone in the restaurant. We were getting ambushed way too much lately. When Fran asked who sent them, they mentioned a familiar name.
“Linford? He’s the one behind this?”
“Yes.”
The ringleader behind the rogue mercenary group allegedly working with the Ythra Trade Association, Linford was an old mage with a fragile build. Apparently, he was staying at the mansion with his crew. This man was one of them.
What is going on in this town?
We got in the way of the YTA’s plans when we took their Soul Essence, but why would they try to prevent us from participating in a cooking contest? I couldn’t see the connection.
I would love to bring one of the YTA bosses in for questioning…
Guess all we can do is wait for Jet.
“Yeah.”
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
“What on earth is going on?!”
Why wouldn’t anything go as planned?! I am Brook Christon, the second son of the Marquis Christon! I should dictate how things happen in this city!
“What is the meaning of this, Zelyse?! You said there would be riots all over the streets!”
I glared at the man in front of me. He was wearing that ever-present detestable grin, but at least he was useful.
Zelyse was an alchemist. A student of the great alchemist Eugene, who now worked for the Adventurers’ Guild. In fact, Zelyse was the reason his master was thrown out. He lived in the Bulbolan underground, taking part in illegal dealings to further his means. He lacked the fear of the gods that normally kept alchemists in line, conducting crystal implantation in humans and experimenting to create monster-human hybrids. He had talent enough to spare and had readily accepted the job I offered him.
Zelyse’s specialty poisons proved useful in dealing with women who refused my advances, along with any of the rabble who had any ideas about telling my father.
Because of his usefulness, Zelyse had almost become a confidant.
“Yes. It appears someone keeps getting in our way.”
“Who is it?”
Had someone figured out my plan…?
“Do you know of a food cart called the Black Tail?”
“Never heard of it.”
A food cart? What did a food cart have to do with it?
“They are one of the participants in the cooking contest.”
“What of it then?!”
“I hear that their food uses a particular magic plant. Cure Turmeric. They say just a bite of their curry bread will make all your ills go away.”
“Are you certain of this?”
It was unlikely that a mere food cart could afford to use Cure Turmeric, or any magic plant for that matter.
“Yes. I sent someone to fetch a sample. It does have curative properties.”
“Damn it. So they’re the ones getting in my way.”
“Indeed. They are selling their wares for a mere ten gold.”
“And it’s selling like hot cakes?”
“I hear they’re selling five thousand pieces a day.”
“Meaning whoever eats at Noble Dish will likely eat there as well.”
I didn’t think they knew of my design, but they must be taken care of. They were getting in my way.
“Bring that shop down.”
“Attempts have already been made, and they have all failed.”
“They have guards?”
“Yes. A B-Rank adventurer called Steelclaw Colbert is among them. The girls manning the cashiers are a D-Rank party.”
“And what of Linford’s men? That’s why he’s in on this operation.”
Linford was a researcher like Zelyse. The alchemist had introduced me to him months ago. The old mage was apparently running a mercenary outfit. It was made up of combat veterans, although some of them had criminal records so long I had to intervene just so they could get into the city. These men were even worse than Zelyse, but at least they were good at unnecessary violence.
They were registered under the Ythra Trade Association, though they answered directly to me.
“We’ve sent some of our strongest out there, but…”
“They were defeated? The owner is a measly D-Rank!”
“Well, not a single one of our men has returned. I’ve even sent some of the YTA men, just to make sure. But they haven’t contacted us, either. It’s like they completely disappeared.”
“What…? Is someone secretly protecting her?”
“I do not know. What I do know is that this D-Rank adventurer has ties to the Phyllian royalty.”
“The Phyllians, you say?”
“According to my sources, yes.”
“She might have a personal guard attached to her… Find out more about this girl.”
“I am looking into it, rest assured. However, given that she only recently arrived, there isn’t much information. She has ties to the Lucille Trade Association, but you know how tight-lipped they can be.”
How were we supposed to exploit her weaknesses when we didn’t know anything about her? This lowly adventurer kept getting in the way of my plans! Damn it all!
“Shall I mobilize the mercenaries and YTA tradesmen?” I asked. “I doubt she would be able to hold her own against thirty men.”
“You could, but wouldn’t your father take notice?”
“Damn it.”
My father had men loyal to his cause. If I moved too quickly, my plans for a coup might be exposed. Loathsome old man! If not for him, I wouldn’t have to bother with any of this!
“Brook, you are not suited to become count,” my father had said.
How dare he deny my birthright! My numbskull elder brother was only good as dumb muscle! He had neither the knowledge nor the pride of a true aristocrat! I wanted to kill him every time he was friendly to the rabble. I was the rightful heir, not him! If my father couldn’t see that, I had no choice but to make him.
I would throw Bulbola into chaos and pin the blame on my father. I would kill my fool brother in the confusion, and then I would be Lord of the House of Christon.
I tasked Zelyse with concocting the chaos. I originally planned to contaminate the city’s water supply with his poison, but Zelyse suggested our current plan. A plan so destructive it would be enough to throw the entire state of Bulbola into disarray. I adopted his plan. Many would surely die, most of them commoners. A small price to pay for me to become Marquis Christon.
The crux of this plan was my other fool brother, Weint.
Weint was a talentless little brat. He was the youngest and apparently touched by the spirit of cooking as a child. It moved him enough to pursue a lowly profession as a cook. He’d pursued it genuinely too, not content to let it be merely a secondary source of income. The brat opened a restaurant. Not that it flourished by virtue of his skills—he was talentless. I tasted his cooking once. It was nothing special.
He’d lost interest in the culinary world long ago and only kept his store open for the fame. Now he was a third-rate cook, serving third-rate food at extortionary prices.
Still, I needed his restaurant to further my plans. Oh, the look on his face when he passed the preliminaries… The fool actually thought he had talent! He only got through after I greased the palms of the Chefs’ Guild committee, and his regulars were other nobles who wanted to get in the good graces of my father an
d brother. Weint seemed to have mistaken their brownnosing for actual approval.
I had underestimated his idiocy, though. I did not expect him to hire such loose-lipped thugs to intimidate the other stores. And his ploy to play the victim himself to try and gain approval? The fool. The Chefs’ Guild had already begun investigations, although I supposed I could convince them to hold off his disqualification until after he served his purpose. The guild might seem like it was filled with stubborn snobs, but not all of them were unflinching. Some of them gladly took my donations.
That was how I got this plan rolling in the first place.
I supplied Weint with cursed Mana Water to use in his cooking. Linford and Zelyse specifically manufactured it for that purpose.
I did not know the specifics, but this Fiend Water cursed anyone who consumed it, causing them to become Possessed. Consume enough of it, and it sent them flying into a blind rage. The genius of Fiend Water lay with its timed release, allowing the citizens of Bulbola to disperse and go about their business before they went berserk.
Not that I told Weint, of course. I just let him know it added a little something special to his “already delicious cooking.”
I expected the Noble Dish would get three thousand customers per day throughout the contest. That made close to ten thousand in total, more than enough to send Bulbola into a chaotic riot. Then we would use Zelyse’s familiars to subdue the city.
After that, the Count would have to take responsibility. Abdication at best, criminal charges at worst. All for failing to protect Granzell’s Window to the World.
The mere image of my father in court was enough to cheer me up, but now came a stumbling block to my plans. Bread which could cure anything… How dare she create such an abomination! Zelyse mentioned that while crime rates were up compared to last year, more guards were posted in anticipation. I had to get rid of Black Tail one way or another.
“Bring him in.”
“Are you sure? He might make more of a splash than you expect.”
“We have no choice!”
“Understood. I’ll call him right away.”
Ten minutes passed.
A giant of a man, over two meters tall, stood before me. His bronze skin was covered with innumerable scars. He was muscled to the point where armor seemed unnecessary. You would be forgiven for thinking that he had Ogre blood.