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Currently, Winterhome is bustling all over.

Not just anyone, but it’s to welcome royalty.

…Honestly, there’s no real need to be this busy.

The arrival isn’t even the King himself—just his younger brother.

Even though he’s the King’s brother, and there’s that noble with the great sword who would chop necks if orders were disobeyed, he’s still of a much lower rank than dukes, of which there are only seven in the kingdom.

There’s no need for such grand preparations. If anything, there’s even less reason. So why all the fuss?

Karem thought there wasn’t any special reason.

After all, peeling away the grand titles, the current King Sephorn, Inamark, and Alfred were said to be friends since childhood. And the one coming is the brother of such a King.

Naturally, they’d want to treat a close friend’s brother with joy.

Of course, there are several intertwined purposes and reasons, such as the dignity of a duke, ties with a (royal) friend, and external bragging rights.

‘But man, this is really a spectacle.’

Karem suddenly recalled the scene of the Ice Worm dissection from last winter around this time.

The Ice Worm the subjugation team hunted was almost the size of a whale.

It might have even been bigger than that.

Processing such a huge creature was closer to deconstructing a building than just mere work.

The scene of hard labor he had seen at the kitchen transformed warehouse was now filled with ingredients both familiar and foreign to Karem.

– Tap tap –

As he lowered his head, he saw Zigmeser’s smooth head.

The bald dwarf with a bushy beard wore a sinister smile.

“Quite the spectacle, huh?”

“Certainly,” came Karem’s reply to Zigmeser, who looked like he was about to explode from excitement. The panorama inside the gigantic warehouse, now remodeled as a kitchen, truly was a sight to behold.

‘Griffin, Owlbear, Grizzly Beaver, and Wyvern—a dragon species… Is that a Hunter Drake? Do we eat that too?’

The monsters he had seen once before seemed like nothing.

The other surrounding ingredients were even more astounding.

There was a sky-blue Snowrunner the size of a wagon, a bear growing armor, a massive eagle the size of a pterosaur, grotesque root bundles, chubby, wriggling green fruits, and bucket-sized mushrooms with limbs, among other dragon species.

It was hard to define what was animal or plant, as everything was being processed there—cleaning, butchering, seasoning, roasting, stir-frying—descriptions failed him.

Yeah. He was a bit stunned.

“Ugh, sniffle.”

Suddenly, Zigmeser covered his mouth with his thick hand.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Was it really something to cry about? Karem found himself momentarily speechless.

“…Is it really that tear-jerking?”

“Ugh. Who would have thought the day would come when we’d prepare a banquet worthy of a duke with ingredients fit for great nobility?! Sniff.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Interpreting that meant the food of the past banquets and festivals hadn’t been up to par.

“Well, it was humble until now?”

“Of course! How could dishes made from ordinary livestock without any magnificent or rare monsters match the dignity of the kingdom’s seven greatest nobles!”

Zigmeser shouted, hitting his palm.

Karem staggered back, recalling past dinner banquets.

Generous seasonings were basic, but there were various meat dishes including roasted and steak, along with fresh fruits and vegetables or dishes made from them, were synonymous with luxury in Iceland, not to mention desserts loaded with sugar and butter.

What on earth was humble about that?

“Things you could only buy with money don’t fit a great noble’s or duke’s dignity! Even with money, it’s hard to obtain the powerful and rare monsters and creatures! Moreover, this time, even the lord has permitted the unrestricted use of the treasure vault!”

At Zigmeser’s boast, the cooks in the kitchen once a warehouse nodded in agreement. Surely a banquet prepared with rare and powerful monsters, beasts, and whatnot would surely have a certain dignity.

Huh? Wait. Three days—no, four days ago that place was a warehouse?

Are they really transforming and cooking it all in just four days?

“When’s that brother of the King arriving?”

“Ah, in two days, it seems.”

“…It feels like there’s not enough time.”

“Well, I got told suddenly, so it does feel like there’s not enough time. But Karem, I think you forgot something important.”

“What’s that?”

“If there’s a shortage, you can buy what you need with money.”

Indeed, that wasn’t wrong. The saying that if something cannot be resolved with money, then you should check if you have enough money is famous from his previous life, and it applies here too since people live here.

“Food stocks blocked by winter? Starving and turning wild? Not enough time? Just shove gold in their mouths and think about it. Plus promise a double bonus, and the adventurers will come running!”

“Just treating them like groceries.”

“Well, they are all edible!”

“But isn’t the bigger issue making it taste good rather than just getting rare ingredients?”

“Customarily, nobles should have a little interest in luxury.”

Zigmeser clicked his tongue and stood on tiptoe to pat Karem on the shoulder.

It felt like a parent telling him to study a bit.

“Of course, those came from the wild, so some might not taste good. But tell me, what’s the purpose of cooking?”

“To make tastier food.”

“Exactly. They may be precious, but what if they taste bad? If you make it delicious, that’s all that matters!”

Zigmeser’s words were on point. Boiling broth, tenderizing, curing, processing ingredients—everything was for the sake of delicious meals.

And for that, one thing must be established.

“Well, then we’re…”

Karem began to trail off mid-question.

The answer to his inquiry was right next to him.

A cook approached, holding a bizarre oval-shaped stick with a handle, rubbing it against a Wyvern’s wing. The thick marinade painted on its surface was slowly creeping in like a slime.

It looked like a video of curing and seasoning sped up hundreds of times.

‘They really are buying time with money.’

Green flames erupted from the pan. The seeds on the fruit remained unmarred, and the surface of the meat pierced by the stick shimmered like waves.

Karem couldn’t even begin to guess the functions of the rest of the magic tools, barring a few. Not at all.

“Are all these magic tools from the Mage Tower?”

“Well, some? Most were from the treasure vault.”

“From the treasure vault…”

A certain location sprang to mind.

The room where it was said they had all those practical magic tools.

“Right. Your chef’s knife was probably in that room too, huh? Most of what’s in use now were items rotting away in the vault.”

“Ah, I see.”

The magic wand for time acceleration must have been there.

Familiar objects and tools difficult to describe all had their unique functions.

“I’ve never seen them used before.”

“Of course not. You can’t swing a longsword for catching a chicken. Using those on cow, pig, or chicken would probably turn them to mush.”

“Mush.”

“You can’t expect a magical resistance like a monster from ordinary livestock.”

Zigmeser pointed to the side.

“Still, you can’t let them become reliant, so usually, it’s all done manually.”

Young cooks were weeping while peeling onions, removing skins, boiling broth, and rushing at the call.

‘Man, that looks really hard.’

Unlike the cooks who had to feed countless people, he only had to prepare one person’s share. Mary’s share was a bonus.

He didn’t even have to handle the preparation, cleanup, washing dishes, or kitchen cleaning—all tasks cooks dislike but must do.

Others, including Mary, even volunteered to get mad.

He never enjoyed such luxuries while cooking in his previous life.

“The storeroom door is too low! I can’t get in!”

“Stupid! Hunch down! I said hunch down!”

“Everyone be careful, one. Two! Heave-ho!”

The only part resembling the previous storeroom was the commotion at the entrance.

Several workers gingerly brought in boxes that looked questionable if they would fit through the storeroom door. Fortunately, they didn’t get stuck.

The big letters on the box read “King Frost.”

They were likely resizing it with magic.

“So, how do you plan to use that?”

“Oh, um. King Frost?”

“Seems it really is King Frost. Can we eat it?”

“Well, if it can’t be eaten, we’d have to prepare it as if you could eat it if ordered, but would the lord do that?”

Zigmeser shrugged and clicked his tongue as if he were being asked something absurd.

“Everything I brought with full authority is safe for humans to eat. There’s none that are poison or cursed.”

“Even that King Frost?”

“Of course!”

Karem recalled the sight of Jack Frost crumbling.

Crushed and scattered into ice, leaving only the remains.

If King Frost is just an enlarged version, it would probably be similar.

“But, do we really need that?”

“Seems we’re short on symbols.”

Once tasting the broth, Zigmeser added more salt and finally smiled.

“While I’ve gathered various rare ingredients, they all lack impact as decorative dishes to symbolize Iceland.”

“Is that why we need that?”

“Yeah. The moment I saw it, I thought ‘ping!’ You’ve lived here for about a year, so you know what’s common.”

Karem scoffed.

“Well, winter, snow, ice?”

“Right. Especially an ice-cold King Frost. How is that not comical?!”

It would certainly be ridiculous for a once-frozen fairy-monster to remain intact after dying and scattering into ice, very absurd for anyone who knew.

“Especially since Sir Atanitas used all his might to defeat him! Oh, this is storytelling right here!”

“Was that the purpose?”

It seemed a good advertisement for a duke to employ a renowned magician, a magnificent grand wizard, to entertain guests—Karem, who didn’t know much about that side of things, thought so.

“Well, the reason for going all out is different, but…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. There’s no problem at all! People generally don’t care about the detailed backstory!”

“So, have you decided what to make?”

As the box in the center of the storeroom opened, King Frost’s corpse inflated like a balloon, slowly rising. The workers attached ropes and gently lowered it.

“Uh, King Frost?”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine what to make.”

Ice had been a symbol of wealth up until modernity.

Thus, the affluent of the East and West widely utilized it.

Cold drinks with ice, sorbets, ice cream, shaved ice, punch—desserts from various countries regardless of ethnicity had existed, and with advancements in technology, it developed into dishes beyond human imagination.

‘But if we do it that way, it loses meaning as a decorative dish.’

In the end, to prepare those dishes, they’d have to break King Frost.

But that would devalue it as a decorative dish.

Karem had seen countless recipes through books and videos, but when it came to decorative dishes, he was truly clueless.

So he was looking forward to it.

“Ahem! Um! A dish to make with King Frost…”

Drops of water formed on Zigmeser’s smooth head, slowly dripping down.

“Have you not decided?”

“Not decided—you think so? I can only get one right now, so I’m carefully considering the menu, so saying that is quite inappropriate!”

Well, he indeed hadn’t decided.

 

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