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Due to a busy schedule, it’s common to delay meetings or claim that one might arrive late, especially during disputes over control.

Once you press it once, the conversation will be led by the one who postponed it.

This gives a slight advantage to the one holding the reins.

However, Catherine’s inability to meet Count Hadriano was certainly not just a part of this power struggle.

Especially not for the Felwinter Family, which is famously known for its good relations among kin in the upper class, to have its former head quarrel with his son.

Although he may have thrown his titles and territory to his son and fled.

“Surely—”

“Oh, that’s not the case at all, Sir Atanitas.”

As Catherine’s eyes began to narrow, the steward awkwardly interjected, his expression troubled.

It was somewhat disorienting while eating chicken, though.

“Your lord confirmed that His Grace the Duke is quite capable and chose to step down himself. There is no reason to postpone a meeting with a guest of such stature over a mere struggle for control.”

“…So, the Count is currently not at the fortress?”

“Indeed, as the rumors suggest.”

The steward’s face eased into a more relaxed expression.

“The Count is currently out on a reconnaissance mission, investigating an unexpected incident occurring beyond the Highland region and the mountain range.”

“And this unexpected incident is?”

“Undead.”

At that remark, Karem inadvertently exchanged glances with Gordon.

If it’s the undead…that would be it? Probably. Undead out of season.

“There have been sightings of undead occurring in the autumn, neither in spring nor summer, throughout the Highlands and beyond the mountain range. Just in case you might—”

“Ah, I suspect as much. Kid. Hand it over.”

“Huh? Ah.”

Though there was no subject, what was being asked was quite clear.

Called upon, Karem pulled out a small leather pouch that made a clinking noise from his garments.

“The…byproducts found from the thieves who turned into undead monsters after being hunted down by Sir…Stark, is that right?”

“Correct. Under no circumstances could mere thieves who had received fatal wounds survive and rise again without any sign.”

The testimony indicated that the headless corpses could only move their heads.

Wallace hesitated to take the leather pouch he had reached for.

Though Karem was curious, he soon realized that Wallace’s eyes were darting back and forth between the chicken and the bucket.

“Um, there’s no hand to assist.”

“…Would you like a hand?”

“May I ask you to?”

“Chicken is a serious matter, after all.”

Yet, addressing a steward (presumably) with such politeness? And chicken? Why?

Karem, filled with question marks, extended his arm towards the aged steward, whose eyes glimmered mysteriously.

Wallace, continuously chewing on the chicken, turned his gaze toward the small opaque bluish-green crystal piece, which was a magical stone.

“This is a magical stone. This should suffice.”

“Oh! You’re quite concise. Then it’s clear that the—”

“You’ve become embroiled in an extraordinary event.”

“But is it alright to be here when the Count is not present?”

Her purpose in visiting was to lay the groundwork for a business venture.

Even if it was merely a preliminary agreement, the absence of the person in charge and the sudden mishap posed problems and variables.

“Before his expedition, I received full authority until my lord returns, so there are no issues. And—”

Wallace slightly diverted his gaze.

Unlike the Chief Magic Consultant, Baron Bolton, and the house fairies, Karem’s face was turning red with cold despite being oil-laden.

“I think it’s rude to remain outside any longer, so for now, allow me to escort you inside.”

Isn’t it rude to tear into chicken in front of guests?

Karem barely managed to suppress his surging thoughts about voicing that sentiment.

Nonetheless, as the caravan’s wagon and carts made their way to the stables, and the servants, maids, and guards moved elsewhere, Wallace held tightly onto the chicken and the bucket until he could guide the group to the fortress.

Yet, confusion still lingered in everyone’s minds.

Wait, what was that ridiculous matter from earlier? And why on earth was chicken being eaten straight out of the bucket?

A short while later, Karem discovered the reason.

*

*

*

Although just a year had passed since coming from Iceland, Karem had more than enough time to delve into Icelandic food culture.

The food culture in Iceland can be summed up in a single word.

However, it didn’t revolve around just meat and greasiness.

Being sincere about meat is not solely a characteristic of Iceland.

If this were casually mentioned in a tavern, it would surely ignite a bloody debate involving people from across the Kingdom of Seophone.

The same goes for the matter of oiliness.

Being a cold area, Iceland preferred greasy foods, but it was rather the regions in Bersengzeto and parts of the Kingdom of Adobice that doubled down on that.

In the first state, the culinary basics began with equal amounts of butter compared to the main ingredient, and in the latter, they poured oil and butter in such excess that it was almost overwhelming.

Of course, in recent times, due to the increased oil concentration in Icelandic cuisine, people’s waistlines had thickened more compared to before, but it was still no match for the two other nations.

So, what exactly distinguishes Iceland?

That would be its abundance.

Those who were born and raised in Iceland, and have aged a bit, generally have a fixation on eating.

This reaction stems from the sudden disappearance of famine in Iceland one day.

Jokingly, it is said that the causes of undead occurrences in Iceland are due to three things: starving to death, freezing to death, or dying in battle.

Some even doubt whether such self-deprecation is truly a joke.

To those people, flour (from the Kingdom of Adobice) started pouring in.

The sheer amount was enough to eliminate famine in Iceland at once.

Moreover, it was just wood (a living air conditioner) that exacerbated the already cold environment and hardly ignited properly.

The dramatically improved food situation was more than enough to completely overturn the food culture of Icelanders, who had been starved for a long time.

Of course, that abundance may pale in comparison to Adobice, but regardless—

Every Icelandic person loves meat, favors greasy dishes, and strives to serve generously, with this culture becoming stronger the further north one goes in Iceland.

So, what does this have to do with chicken?

Chicken was ‘fried’ ‘poultry.’

Moreover, when stacked up, the crispy batter makes it ‘appear plentiful.’

“So that’s the trend throughout the Highlands now?”

“I just went around a little in Present, and it was evident everywhere. Chicken, chicken.”

“Then where is all that oil coming from—”

“Isn’t it from the mage’s territory? That ‘Bang-what’s-to-come.'”

Gordon, who entered Karem’s room, reached for the wooden bucket overflowing with chicken sitting at the table.

The chicken was a reward for his investigative request.

“Wait, but that wasn’t what I asked for.”

“Huh?”

“Why does everyone talk to me like that…?”

In an instant, Karem was at a loss for words, unsure how to express himself.

Not that he truly forgot, but it was somewhat embarrassing to say it out loud.

Regardless, Gordon was tearing into the steaming chicken, clearly impressed.

“This has a slightly different taste. It’s soft and spicy?”

“If it’s marinated in buttermilk with various spices, then—no, that’s not what I—”

“Why are you being so formal and polite?”

As he waved a piece of chicken in the air, Karem flicked a finger towards Gordon. That was exactly it.

“What? That’s it. Just that.”

“What? Being treated well is good, right? Kid. You’ve made it big!”

“I asked for an investigation, but if you’re saying that—”

“Ah, ahh! It was a joke! A joke! Can’t I make jokes?”

Gordon quickly hugged the bucket of chicken as Karem tried to mimic his actions of taking it away.

“Well, the reason is straightforward. It might be partly your responsibility too.”

As Gordon, with crumbs falling from his mouth, took another big bite of chicken, he continued speaking before Karem could open his mouth.

“Hmm. Ultimately, who was the genius that first crafted this?”

The answer was obvious.

With a begrudging expression, Karem pointed to himself, causing Gordon to shake the chicken in disbelief.

“Exactly. The renowned kid chef praised by all the gourmet elites of Coldon and Winterhome. Even the one who developed this thing called chicken?”

“So, does that mean I’m famous here?”

“Precisely. Famous kid.”

“So this is the same in Highland as it is in the fortress?”

Hmm, Karem held out the empty bucket to Gordon, who had polished off all the chicken.

Despite being supposed to stay in Catherine’s room, it felt unfairly lavish.

Decorated with rugs and furniture, plush bedding, and luxurious silk covers, and the material of the curtains hanging from the windows.

Having long suspected, Karem could no longer dismiss it.

This was a guest room meant for nobles.

“Honestly, while it’s not as grand as where the mage or I stay, don’t you think this is overboard for you?”

“…Hmph, I had been thinking it was just that there were extra rooms left.”

“Isn’t it time to accept it after all these days?”

Gordon lightly tossed a bone into the bucket.

“Popular kid.”

“Oh, be quiet.”

“Why? Wasn’t it similar in Winterhome too?”

“Are they the same here and there?”

Karem frowned and grumbled.

“Why not just come up and speak like in Winterhome instead of being so cautious? It’s uncomfortable.”

“Well, that’s because you’re a guest.”

“That’s supposed to be the reason?”

“Yeah. Besides, is your background not impressive enough?”

The essence was simple.

Curiosity from seeing a popular figure makes it difficult to interact casually.

Added to the fact that he was a guest in the fortress, it was only natural for interactions to be cautious.

Though there were some exceptions.

“Well, still, it’s been just a day. Something should change soon. But honestly, was the reason you were holed up in here because of your astonishment at that?”

The quick inquiry made Karem turn his head sharply, avoiding eye contact.

Gordon couldn’t help but laugh as crumbs from the batter scattered around.

“You’re acting like a girl experiencing a debutante ball for the first time.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you say, you’re right.”

“Now that I think about it, you were the youngest Offerer in Wintersend, and had provoked the audience in the square during a demonstration, right? Compared to that, this is nothing, is it?”

“Hmm.”

Indeed, putting it that way, it was clear.

Karem couldn’t deny it.

The emotions and treatment he felt here seemed no different from those in Winterhome involving Zigmeser or the other chefs, plus the servants and maidens weren’t really much different either.

Thinking about it like that eased Karem’s mind considerably.

Had he really been overreacting to something trivial?

“…But still, I feel pressured by the gazes.”

“This guy is annoying—”

“Oh, it’s just that I can’t help feeling pressured.”

“Just get used to it. Wasn’t it similar in Winterhome?”

“Well, there were other things to focus on regarding that.”

True enough, as back then, his priority was understanding the safe boundaries with the house fairy, who aimed to control him while also looking for ‘food’ to tame him.

As the door knocked and Mary entered the room, Karem nodded toward her. Despite the brief time, Gordon’s understanding of the workings of the Wizard’s Tower was clear, and he responded, “Ah, I can see that now.”

“…? What on earth did you say for him to nod at me without a word upon seeing me?”

Mary shot suspicious glances between the two.

 

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