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In every city and village of Europa, where monsters roam wild and magic users wield swords and spells, there’s one common feature.

They are all surrounded by walls.

The shapes and materials vary significantly—earth, wood, stone, materials from monsters—depending on the circumstances and conditions at the time of construction and the scale of the fortifications.

At least, the cities and villages I’d seen and stayed in were all surrounded by walls, without a single exception.

The rural Moston Village is no exception.

The capital of the kingdom, Bendleig, is the same.

Even from a distance, the red outer walls encircling the city, far larger than Coldon, appeared haphazard compared to the angular and uniform design of Coldon.

Moreover, because it’s the capital, I had some expectations, but the sheer overcrowding was evident from the hastily built structures piled up on the red stone buildings.

The flat terrain meant the inner castle wasn’t visible.

But my anticipation dwindled a bit.

“Well, compared to Coldon, there’s not much to see.”

“That’s the plight of a city with deep history.”

Catherine replied without enthusiasm, distracted by her book, her slender fingers slowly turning the dog-eared pages.

“Have you ever heard of any word that resembles Bendleig, the name of the capital?”

“Hmm. Can’t say I have.”

“Because it’s not in Seophone language.”

“Is that so? But isn’t Seophone somewhat similar?”

Though Karem had grown accustomed to the Seophone language, having lived longer in his previous life, he still found Korean and modern English more familiar.

“Apparently, long before the current royal family, the Yeats, established the Kingdom of Seophone, there were various kingdoms on Seophone Island. Bendleig was named during the barbaric period when invaders came and drove out the natives before any conquests.”

“Of course, there were rebellions, wars, and assassinations in between, but that sums it up pretty well.”

So, it was somewhat like the ancient city of Rome in Italy.

I had once heard that in Europe, there are many cities that have existed for thousands of years, and they can’t be altered carelessly due to their status as cultural heritage.

‘Perhaps it’s because the city itself is a cultural asset.’

While Karem was pondering whether to close the window and step inside, something caught his eye.

Outside the gate, a throng of people had gathered.

It looked as if they were waiting to welcome someone.

“There are many people outside the city.”

“Hmm? Maybe it’s because the King of Seophone is close with his lord. Perhaps it’s a return welcome for Sir Ianbert from last year.”

“Even inside the castle walls.”

“Huh?”

“It’s huge.”

Catherine closed her book, perplexed by the emphasis, and stepped aside for Karem to look out the window.

Before the castle gate, standing in orderly lines, were a group of splendidly dressed individuals in shining armor and elegantly stylish casual attire.

And beyond the wide entrance where the gates should have been, people were packed tightly in view.

All along the open path of the outer castle, beside the windows and rooftops.

As they got closer, the faces of the residents crowded outside became clearer.

And as they entered the city, cheers erupted, accompanied by a shower of flower petals.

Why?

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Often, those from the countryside marvel upon their first visit to the city.

A space of culture and history, a melting pot of the latest trends, fortified by walls of magic and protected by military strength.

And the last chance for those lower than the second son.

However, I thought the situation for the poor in Bendleig, the capital and largest city of the Kingdom of Seophone, was bursting at the seams.

If you lack money, it’s just a moment until you’re pushed to the streets, and even in such streets, there’s no shortage of ruffians preying on the destitute.

The fate of naive rural boys and girls carrying scanty money to the city speaks for itself.

Rather, they wanted to leave the city and settle in a village.

But as much as the city, the village also needed money. Naturally, the common daily pauper of Bendleig wouldn’t have enough funds to afford leaving the city.

Yet, there was a silver lining; due to a territory dispute in an alley behind the outer castle, the management organization changed, and the extortions lessened.

Thanks to that, Rob, who had barely managed to eat one meal a day, was now able to enjoy two meals, supplemented by a bit of smoked fish.

Still, it was just hardened bread and a meager chunk of smoked fish added to the stolen vegetables, but it was still meat, so he felt fuller and in a better mood.

“Rob. I’m going to be the best cook in the back alleys!”

“Fishburn, what kind of nonsense is that?”

Crazy with joy on such a good day, the homeless neighbor Fishburn rambled nonsensically before he brought back a rusted iron pot from somewhere.

The poor mostly ate hard and coarse bread.

The type varied depending on the district and skill, but generally, what they consumed was always the same. Suddenly, wanting to cook?

As mentioned, in the city, nothing is possible without money.

How would one secure a space to cook? Firewood isn’t free, and how could one acquire ingredients, the most crucial part of cooking?

So, it wasn’t strange for Rob to think of Fishburn’s actions as mere frivolity. In the city, you needed money to enjoy anything beyond just seeing other people.

But Fishburn was determined; whether he negotiated with the management organization of the back alleys or started preparing to borrow a small plot where someone had previously committed suicide, he was preparing for cooking.

Firewood came from half-rotten wood scavenged from the trash.

He used stones to create a kitchen knife and crafted a ladle from a wooden block, and so on.

“What? How much are spices? 50 pence? Does that even make sense…”

“Apparently, they were infamous for being poisonous. Thanks to a famous chef from the upper district, the trend exploded in his neighborhood.”

“Well, that’s whatever, but in the end, it’s still spices, right? Why’s it that price?”

But 50 pence?

For the likes of them, that was not a small sum.

If you worked from dawn to dusk as a laborer in the outer castle, after paying off your dues, you’d have about 10 pence left. With that, you could fill your stomach with coarse bread and smoked fish twice a day.

In the back alleys of the city, it was well-known that spices typically exchanged hands for a single small pouch of silver coins.

Some said wild herbs weren’t that expensive, but Rob, who had grown up in the outer castle of Bendleig, had never seen them.

But suddenly, spices worth 50 pence?

Upon hearing the reason, he was even more baffled.

A duke, a noble of the kingly class, had allegedly said he wanted his people to eat something tasty and instructed that it be sold at the lowest price possible?

It was also said that the 50 pence price tag was even considerably marked up by the merchants. It was utterly unbelievable.

As they brought those spices, even the neighbors living on the same street began to show interest.

One by one, they began gathering ingredients, either from their workplaces or by sacrificing their meals.

It was still just a hollow-boned chunk, scraps of discarded vegetables, as well as hard bread and questionable cheese, but as the alley neighbors gathered over a few days, the amount became substantial.

“Can we really make a dish out of these?”

“Just watch!”

And under the management of the organization, Fishburn, an unusual neighbor, truly began cooking using a broken roof piece as a cutting board and a stone knife.

There was nothing particularly special about it.

The ingredients were all subpar, and while he broke several stones to make flour from the hard bread, all he was doing was slicing, dicing, frying, and boiling.

But for those who had only ever consumed food in its raw form or preserved long past its shelf life, it was special.

Food distributed for the poor? Meals served at festivals?

In Bendleig, those were all strictly segregated.

There were no opportunities for the poorest of the poor among them.

Thus, witnessing how a simple act of cooking transformed the leftover trash and the mundane ingredients they typically consumed became a spectacle.

“Cooking is more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s for sure. Just think about bread—soft bread is rare and only eaten by highborn folks. Of course, making something like that is complicated, right?”

“Is it not done yet? The scent is starting to resemble those that only wafted from the streets during dinner.”

As Rob and the neighbors watched, the contents of the pot changed as Fishburn moved, and a new, spicy aroma wafted that poked their noses, heating them up.

And finally, when he sliced up all the cheese with the stone knife and threw it in, it was complete.

“Alright, let’s each have a bowl.”

“Is it finally finished?”

“Yep. It’ll be way better than just eating. There are leftover pieces of bread, so anyone who wants to can eat.”

“Hmm. Bread pieces in stew.”

Fishburn’s suggestion was unfamiliar to them.

They had lived their whole lives without ever having even a bowl of stew, surviving solely on cracked bread. Things had been slightly better for them recently, but still, all they had was smoked fish as a luxury.

Yet perhaps because of that, they had no resistance.

The scent, completely different from what they’d eaten before.

The delicious, oily, thick broth that had only ever been inhaled became a mouthwatering cause for drooling just from its aroma.

Slurp—

“Gulp! Cough, cough!”

“Whoa! What is this? My tongue is on fire!”

“Cough! Huhuhuh! Cough!”

And they all coughed in unison.

The pain felt on their tongues and lips.

Though the powdered Fire Witch Finger used in the dish was minuscule compared to the pot’s capacity, it was extremely spicy for Rob and the poor.

However, as their coughs subsided and their heads cleared, they continually drank the broth and scraps, chewing on moisture-soaked bread pieces.

After having a properly cooked meal once, Rob could no longer tolerate the food he’d previously consumed to survive. The same went for the neighbors.

Having only ever eaten food that epitomized poverty, the rich bone broth and spicy flavors became an irresistible allure.

Before long, they began pooling their coin to hand over to the street chef Fishburn. The quantity increased, and as hands became scarce, Rob volunteered to learn cooking.

And then.

“You, making something this good out of garbage, you’ve got some decent talent, don’t you? The kitchen at the new inn is vacant. Care to try?”

“The kitchen at the inn?”

“Yep. It’s pretty big. I heard aside from you, others are learning to cook as well. That trash stew was quite tasty.”

It was an unimaginable offer from an unusually lenient management organization official who had approached.

“You understand how big of an opportunity this is, right? For folks like you with nowhere else to stay?”

For the impoverished who scraped by day-to-day as laborers in back alleys, sleeping on the dirt, it was an utterly unbelievable offer.

“Rob! This is an opportunity! We can actually cook in a decent place!”

“No, hey. I get that this is a chance, but I need to check it out a bit more—”

“What are you hesitating for? Even half of what was said would be a jackpot for us!”

Fortunately, Rob’s concerns were unwarranted, and following Fishburn reluctantly revealed the largest inn in the outer castle.

Of course, as it had changed hands through the back alley organization, there were traces of blood everywhere, but thanks to that, they had jobs for neighbors who had often shared meals together in the back alleys.

The entire catalyst was the sudden arrival of the Fire Witch Finger spice that had usually been wasted by Fishburn.

Had it not been for that, Fishburn would never have cooked, nor would he have learned how to. Naturally, there would have been no chance to work at such a grand inn.

Then, dukes from the kingdom began arriving one by one to celebrate the king.

Even the Duke of Iceland was reportedly coming, with the king taking a personal step out to welcome him, but what mattered to them wasn’t the king.

What mattered was the person who had commanded them to sell the Fire Witch Fingers for a low price, enabling them to establish their place at the largest inn in Bendleig’s outer city.

Rob and his companions genuinely welcomed the duke’s arrival.

They even threw petals and cheered as the duke’s caravan entered the castle.

To prepare for this, it seemed there were quite a few others thinking the same way.

And thinking back, it was only natural.

For such a low price and a spice that could even overcome the chill of night and winter, it would only make sense that they could at least eat it.

The Fire Witch Finger had tremendous value.

 

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