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Europa has different environments depending on the region.

But, just like anywhere else where people live,

Autumn carried various meanings, big or small.

It was the season of harvest, the end of a year’s farming.

A final chance to prepare for the coming year.

A time to check if one is sufficiently ready to face the winter.

And, of course, it was also the season of festivals.

Whether in a small village or a big city, the harvest celebration was almost the same—holding a feast to give thanks to the gods.

Generally, coastal fishing villages and ports held a fish harvest festival.

Cities and towns by mountains and forests or near dungeons would celebrate a hunting festival.

If one was farming, they’d hold a harvest festival.

Anyway, while all these festivals were similar, the differences were that the offerings varied by location, and the deity receiving gratitude and prayers was different.

This was the case for Iceland, located on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Seophone.

Even at the frontier of civilization, it was no different.

This place had people living here too.

However, the regular autumn festival in Iceland was not a hunting festival.

It was Memorial Day.

In other words, a Day of Remembrance.

Even though times had improved, the history of Iceland was predominantly a time when death was closer than life.

Because of that, every early autumn, a Memorial Day was held to soothe the spirits of the deceased while preparing for winter at the edge of civilization.

It was common to hold boisterous feasts to ensure the deceased could travel to the afterlife without regrets, and to exchange proof of vanquishing active undead for rewards in the temple.

The raucous and wild festival usually ended in chaos, but despite appearances, Memorial Day was a Day of Remembrance.

There had been a belief from ancient times that those who had passed away preferred lively celebrations over somber prayers.

Of course, last year it was canceled due to Wintersend.

But this year’s Memorial Day would go on as planned.

Naturally, the Felwinter Family also invited guests for a modest (though significant since it was a duke’s festival) celebration to honor their ancestors.

And, of course, for a festival, food and drink had to be in constant supply, and Karem was supposed to be helping with the festival food preparations—if only he could be found.

He wasn’t even in Winterhome, let alone Coldon.

Currently, he was at the starting point of a road stretching north from Iceland.

His company was quite small.

Following the procession was Catherine, along with Karem and Mary. They had joined at Alfred’s command, with their staff, Gordon—who was there just in case something happened—and the guards.

(Gordon, who had just been enjoying his temporary job, got fired within a day and was dragged along.)

Their destination was the Afterglow Fortress at the northernmost tip of Iceland.

It was the stronghold of Duke Richard Felwinter.

Now, the caravan had stopped for a break to have a meal.

Mary was directing the servants to prepare food for the guards.

Karem was supposed to be preparing a meal for Catherine too, along with some for Mary, Gordon, and himself.

But before that, Gordon urged Karem to loosen his stiff body.

Under normal circumstances, Karem would have been wielding a whisk and a kitchen knife to help with the festival preparations, but instead, he stood up, holding a small heater shield and a baton.

‘Can’t you ever land a single hit?’

“Ugh, I can’t take this anymore.”

“Are you seriously whining while you’re following the most important lesson?”

“Gordon, my arm is going numb here.”

“And that’s why I’m handling you gently. Besides, I’m not even holding a weapon out of consideration for you!”

“What the heck?”

Enraged, Karem nearly let out a string of curses.

He barely managed to control his anger, which helped him keep his swearing to a minimum.

After all, it wasn’t wrong.

What Gordon was holding wasn’t a weapon.

No, as a cook, he didn’t want to consider that a tool as a weapon.

It was a spoon.

Just a tiny spoon, less than a handspan long.

It was a silver tableware utensil designed to scoop up broth, its handle slightly protruding when gripped by hand, and oval at the end with a slight point inward.

Karem grinded his teeth.

As Gordon spun the spoon, he laughed in disbelief.

“Do you know this is a chance any other magic user would be willing to spend crowns and go through boxes just to get?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a Swordmaster’s one-on-one swordsmanship masterclass.”

“What? You really know what this is about!”

“I’m not doing it because I want to! I thought about it before—I’m just pulled into this mess, and getting fired after one day made me vent my frustration!”

“Oh very accurate.”

“Damn it!”

It’s human nature that when someone else asks you to do what you don’t want to do, you want to avoid it even more.

Despite his reluctance, he couldn’t help but complain.

Yet, Karem was still doing this, making witty comments while doing it.

And he had been doing so since they left Coldon.

Karem had never shown much interest in training other than the bare minimum necessary for survival and health. Not even in games.

That thought had not changed even when he was reincarnated in Europa.

But he had no choice.

“It’s always like this; you start complaining, only to follow along well once you begin.”

“That’s because it’s an order from Sir Atanitas!”

“If you don’t want to, just say so. Besides, it wasn’t really an order at all.”

“Now that you mention it…”

“Didn’t he just suggest it?”

“Now that I think about it, it seemed like it would be beneficial for me.”

Karem gripped the shield and baton tighter.

This thought was solidified from his forced shopping for magic tools.

‘Why would I need defensive magic tools? It’s just his way of saying he’ll accompany me everywhere.’

Of course, Karem wouldn’t find himself in any real danger.

After all, he was stuck next to Grand Wizard Catherine, who herself would be heavily guarded in battle, blasting spells left and right.

However, there’s that saying about if.

What if Catherine fell into danger, or an enemy sneaked in somehow? He figured it’d be necessary to have at least minimal self-defense.

So now, he was obediently following this labor he didn’t want to do.

“Alright, I think we’ve had enough of a break.”

“Weren’t we just stopping to rest?”

“Okay, let’s finish this round and call it a day for training.”

“Then are you going to do it again tonight?”

“Well, of course—”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“Stop whining.”

Just as Gordon’s sentence ended, Karem exploded with a sudden leap, a surprise attack straight out of the textbook.

However, as soon as Karem braced himself, Gordon had already guessed his move.

For a Swordmaster like him, Karem’s actions were just charming.

If he couldn’t even anticipate that, he didn’t deserve the title of Swordmaster.

However, in just a few days, Karem’s skills had indeed improved remarkably.

Of course, he still had a long way to go.

With the back of his spoon, Gordon casually flicked away Karem’s baton and lightly swept his calf to trip him.

Whoosh!

In an instant, Karem lost his balance.

And he didn’t just roll on the ground dramatically!

This was at least the third time he’d done this.

While supporting his body with the heater shield and his legs, he barely stood up after rolling partially.

‘I may lack talent in swordsmanship, but I seem to have some knack for fighting?’

Initially, Gordon didn’t think much of Karem’s talent.

He was just an ordinary guy who had never touched a weapon before.

However, as he taught him various weapons, that thought started to change.

There were training swords, short swords, daggers, blunt weapons, and long weapons like spears—all equipment made for teaching younglings.

Naturally, at first, Karem struggled even to maintain his center of balance.

He had almost injured himself a couple of times from falling over.

However, Karem quickly adapted.

He became capable of handling all those weapons at a respectable level.

And as they continued training, his proficiency was steadily increasing.

While he wasn’t destined for greatness, he had enough skill not to be looked down upon by anyone.

Even an ordinary knight looking for a trainee would be tempted.

Spitting out a mouthful of dust after rolling on the ground, Karem exclaimed.

“Cough cough! Just one hit! Just one hit, please!”

“Whoa, are you about to curse? Where’s your respect for your elders?”

“I’m barely holding it together right now!”

“Whoops!”

“Hurry up and finish! We need to prepare food for Sir Atanitas!”

Wait, is he throwing decent punches?

Of course, it didn’t hit, but it was enough to make Gordon casually step aside.

Gordon knew it for a fact.

Karem didn’t have exceptional talent in any one area.

But he did have an exceptional talent for fighting, or rather, for survival.

And fighting accounted for a significant part of survival.

‘But he seems to have no interest in anything other than cooking.’

Just looking at how he was frantically yelling, it was clear.

He was on a mission to keep his employer fed.

If anything, Karem seemed more like a guardian than a mere employee, and it was only if Catherine wanted something from him that he could dig deeper into training.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t let it get to that point and wouldn’t put him in such risky situations.

Well, just a bit more solid self-defense training would suffice.

That’s what Gordon concluded in his mind.

He was about to open his mouth to end the training when, out of nowhere, he saw that sinister magical chef’s knife in Karem’s hand. It seemed Felwinter’s lies had caught up to him.

“Wait, Karem?”

“You’re a Swordmaster, you can take at least one blow, right?”

“Whoa, you’re joking?!”

Clang—whoosh!

The magical chef’s knife, igniting in flames, was gripped tightly in both of Karem’s hands as he charged at Gordon.

“Just one blow! Just one blow, I beg you!”

“Oh no, he’s gone nuts.”

Naturally.

“Your head!”

“Ahhh!”

No way to dodge.

*

*

*

“Hm, can you still move?”

“If it weren’t for my training in cooking, I would have fallen long ago.”

“Hm, as I said before, if you’re struggling, you can always leave it to me.”

“Let’s not act like this is any harder than it is.”

“Tsk.”

Turning down the obvious suggestion, Karem quickly stood up.

At least he felt some comfort in that it was cold enough that he wouldn’t be sweating, so there was no need for a wash.

“Now, what should I make…?”

At that moment,

Sizzle-sizzle-sizzle—

A passionate sound tickled Karem’s ears.

The source was steak.

The last pile of steaks from the supply cart that had followed them from Coldon was waiting to be grilled by the servants.

“Oh, steak?”

As Gordon finished organizing the tools, he approached while following Karem’s gaze, mesmerized by the steamy steak.

“Are we having steak for lunch today?”

“If you can’t think of anything else?”

“Steak sounds tempting, but I’m also craving something light and tangy.”

“You have a lot of desires, don’t you? Light and tangy, huh?”

“I’d also like some broth, if possible.”

“Light and tangy… broth?”

Light and tangy broth, huh?

Of course, such broths weren’t nonexistent.

Just thinking off the top of his head, two dishes came to mind.

Tom Yum Goong, which people would go flying to eat even by plane.

And Borscht, the eternal soul food of the Slavs.

But wanting steak too, huh?

While he could make one of those right now, he couldn’t just throw a grilled steak in and boil it at the same time.

“Is sauce an option?”

“If it’s in enough quantity like a broth.”

As Mary opened the door to the supply cart, Karem’s brain became even more complicated.

Amidst the already swirling thoughts, seeing the stocked-up ingredients made his previously organized recipes a complete mess.

“Hm, surprisingly, we only have this much tomato among the vegetables. No, wait, there are some bell peppers left too. Wasn’t that quite popular back in Winterhome?”

“Things that aren’t familiar to non-professional cooks tend to linger.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, it was said it wasn’t used for long,”

“It’s hardly been months.”

“Hm, its history is shorter than I thought.”

“In just the last year, it’s rapidly changed in popularity.”

Mary replied to Gordon as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

At that moment, a certain dish flashed in Karem’s mind.

The flavors of steak paired with a light and tangy broth.

Well, it leaned more towards a sauce than broth, but there was one dish that could combine both.

 

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