Chapter 302


Sigurd IV is a A-Class Adventurer dwarf.

He’s from the Beolseong family, even if it’s a collateral line.

His achievements and status are quite formidable. In fact, he can proudly boast that he’s tasted more varieties of alcohol than most folks.

People commonly misunderstand that dwarves only drink beer, which is completely untrue.

To a dwarf, beer is like bread.

Saying that dwarves don’t drink other alcohol just because they drink beer is like saying a person who eats bread doesn’t eat fruits, meat, or vegetables.

Dwarves just enjoy any alcohol equally.

They just prefer beer a tad more than the others.

Drunken Fire is Sigurd IV’s personal favorite drink right after beer.

It’s as light as water, has no aroma like water, and tastes like water.

Yet, when you drink it, it feels like you’re swallowing fire.

“…You’re saying you just served it in a shell?”

In that regard, the Drunken Fire served in the Ship’s Claw Crab shell was something… unique.

The hot and concentrated umami rushed over my tongue, which had moisture drained, while the faint fishy smell that lingered weakly faded away like the ebbing tide down my throat.

The empty space was filled with a rich earthy aroma, enhancing the unique smoky flavor rather than contradicting it.

Typically, when the aroma becomes this strong, the taste of the usual snacks would weaken, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.

“I’m tasting sweetness, where’s that coming from?”

“The innards of the crab are quite fragrant, but the subtle sweetness is exquisite. It pairs well with the crab meat, right?”

“Just pairs, huh.”

As I bit into the smoked crab leg, the subtle sweetness blended with the umami melted into the liquor.

The flavor of the crab infused into the liquor was different each time, but met at the core of the same two aromas.

Rich earthy smell.

A unique smoky scent reminiscent of burnt bread.

Every time I bit into the crab leg, which absorbed the liquor’s moisture and was generously enhanced, the flavor burst forth, melding seamlessly with the liquor, while the pressure released from the crab meat absorbed the liquor once more.

The energy source allowing the drunkard to endlessly drink was forming right here and now.

But you can’t enjoy this forever.

As I swallowed the crab leg and the liquor from the shell, an explosive fragrance surged up my throat as if asking, “Aren’t you going to drink more?”

Sigurd IV felt satisfied.

But… something was missing.

Something… just something felt off.

Catherine observed him intently, and after tasting the drink Mary offered, she tilted her head in confusion.

“This really isn’t to my taste.”

“I figured as much. It must be the aroma, right?”

“More that the Drunken Fire is just not good. Give me wine or beer—”

“Beer!”

At the sudden booming exclamation about beer, the three people’s heads turned. Sigurd IV, lost in the aftertaste of flavors and aromas, tossed the crab shell to the ground.

“Right, what’s up with Drunken Fire? The drink best suited for a dwarf is beer! So in that case, do we have any beer!?”

“Well… we don’t have ale from the Obsidian Berries, but we do have lager made from wheat—”

“Just give me that! Ah, I’ll take that!”

Sigurd IV snatched the beer pouch from Karem’s hand like the wind. In a daze, Karem was clutching a rugged yet vintage dagger tightly in its sheath.

“Isn’t that a bit too expensive for beer?”

Sigurd IV was too busy enjoying the beer after dismantling the crustacean to pay attention. Instead, Mary keenly interpreted the gesture of his empty hand.

“Value is relative. In a moment like this when beer feels so vital, the price surges, making it a fair value.”

“That such a simple gesture conveys that message?”

“As long as you understand gestures that represent certain words, the rest is easy.”

“It doesn’t look easy at all.”

“Besides, he said it’s a spare dagger he made himself, so it’s not something to feel burdened about.”

Mary disregarded the counterarguments and continued interpreting. Then she shrugged her shoulders as if to say, ‘What now?’ Karem, with no options left, decided to check the dagger.

Clink

“Oh, if it’s the Beolseong family, even if it’s collateral, they must be a warrior clan. Such impressive craftsmanship!”

“Is the dagger well-made?”

“Yeah. The strength of well-forged bronze surpasses iron.”

“Oh, so that’s why it has that color.”

Karem inspected the dagger from side to side, reflecting the campfire’s light. The blade gleamed bright yellow.

‘But, where would I use this?’

Karem, after all, was just an ordinary cook. If Marta knew this thought, she’d likely shout, ‘Where can you find a cook like you?’ but Karem was serious.

There were plenty of cooking tools, including the Magic Tool named Kitchen Knife, the infamous deception from Felwinter.

Weapon? Karem found clubs were easier to handle and provided more tactile satisfaction than any regular weapons.

Well, he could give it as a gift to the prince and lords. He decided to treat it as a tourist gift for William, who wasn’t in this village at the moment.

“Barrrrp! Haha! Indeed, dry snacks and beer are the perfect match!”

From repeatedly savoring the smoked crab legs, an earthy belch erupted from Sigurd IV as if to release his soul.

“I swear on the backside of the Hammer God, just smoked like this, who would’ve thought a crustacean would taste this good!”

“Draining moisture to condense flavor, huh? Backside?”

“Listen, the Grand Prince ordered this made. It was surely meant for sale!”

“Is that so?”

Smoked.

A method that enhances preservation by removing moisture from ingredients.

The more moisture they removed, the higher the preservation rate.

He didn’t know the details, but even a pirate-made variant of smoked meat, if stored well, could maintain a long shelf life, having been smoked for almost half a day simply.

Sigurd IV instinctively grasped the characteristics of the perfect snack to pair with beer.

“Exclusive! Exclusive contract! Even as a collateral line, I’m a descendant of Beolseong Sigurd, so let’s discuss an exclusive contract—”

“Hmm, hmm. That’s something we need to discuss with them.”

At that, Sigurd IV turned his head, as did Catherine and the others.

“Ah, Grand Prince. My apologies for interrupting.”

“Not at all. I’m relieved to hear that you liked the product.”

“Liked? This smoked crab leg is just the devious enchantment that calls for beer!”

Sigurd IV stared at Godwin with fiery eyes, fueled by his passion.

“Then, Viktor. I’ll entrust you with this.”

“Of course, my First Young Master.”

“Keep it moderate. Just moderate.”

“Who do you think I am?”

Viktor chuckled heartily at Godwin’s words. Detecting the golden aura emanating from his natural demeanor, Sigurd IV instinctively narrowed his eyes.

“First, how about we decide on a name? If there’s no proper name, as a dwarf, I’d suggest—”

“Nihtwyn, meaning ‘gift of night.'”

“Gift of night? Viktor, that seems a bit random.”

“Pffft. First Young Master, once you hear about the effects of this smoked delicacy, you’ll understand.”

The conversation ahead was hardly an informal contract.

It was a light meeting to throw jabs and exchange proposals before any contract discussions actually began.

Of course, the seller desires to sell as high as possible while the buyer aims to buy as low as possible. The gazes exchanged between Godwin, Viktor, and Sigurd IV sparked like flint in the air.

“Then… shall we consider one issue resolved for now?”

You couldn’t prevent the famous Ship’s Claw Crab from being talked about. Why not gather it all up, smoke it, and sell it? Karem seemed to have come to that conclusion, staring at the back of Godwin’s head.

“But work will pile up as we go along.”

“Pile up, you say?”

“Yes.”

Catherine, who had cleared the aftertaste with wine that Mary had brought, began folding her fingers one by one.

“This small village can hardly manage to capture, process, and smoke crabs while also processing peat.”

“We’ll need to hire some people. Obsidian Berry?”

“It makes sense since it’s three days away. It’ll cost to hire, but that’s something we have to endure.”

“If the number of people increases and food becomes scarce, won’t the Steam Palons attack?”

Right now, the Steam Palons were simply swallowing the Ship’s Claw Crab now and then, mumbling about how fine the weather and crab tasted, but once competition began to kick in, they’d undoubtedly turn hostile.

“We need to hire adventurers too.”

“We haven’t solved the fundamental problem yet.”

“That… we can’t solve.”

Right at this moment, people in Theophon’s land, dreaming of dragon meat, would be risking their lives exploring sublime and magical territories and dungeons.

How could they stop thousands, if not tens of thousands, of mutated crustaceans flocking due to the fuel-soil of the swamp?

“This is our best option. We’ll capture every last one that comes our way.”

“Can’t we chase them away like cockroaches?”

“Is that even possible?”

Catherine shook her head at Karem as if to say, ‘You must be kidding.’

“Just the cost isn’t worth it.”

“Ah, true. The swamp is rather vast.”

“It’s probably fine as long as it’s just the swamp. Shall we stop eating?”

When Catherine nodded, Mary packed the smoked sea crab, Nihtwyn, back into the box she was holding.

“The issue is that the Ship’s Claw Crab is still coming up from the coast at this very moment.”

“Ah, even if we chase them away from the swamp, as many as we chase away—”

“Yes, that’s what the problem is—that more keep coming up.”

When Mary looked at Catherine as if her words were valid, Catherine nodded in agreement, implying that this was indeed correct.

“More so, I’ve a salty mouth.”

“Shall we prepare a sweet snack?”

“Yeah. Might as well make it light.”

“Mary, please lend me a hand.”

As the boozehounds deliberated over the snacks, a sweet smoke wafted up from the lodge where the Grand Wizard and their parties were staying.

*

*

*

Two days later, the caravan of the Grand Prince departing Ishikobaharten.

Godwin’s steps were light as he returned to Coldon.

Of course, he wasn’t walking on foot but riding in a wagon, much like when he came to the village. In any case, Godwin felt great.

When he saw Ishikobaharten filled with the Ship’s Claw Crab, he considered tossing the job to Viktor and Catherine, thinking, ‘Alright, I’ve never learned to deal with something like this.’

In fact, he could have easily tossed it.

The qualities of a ruler are better not to solve the problem themselves, but to delegate the task to those who can effectively resolve it and provide support.

And from Godwin’s perspective, Viktor and Catherine were just capable enough to tackle the problem no matter what.

However, Godwin came up with a solution himself.

First, he thought about smoking when he saw the campfire.

He prepared it as smoked delicacies through Karem.

From the rescued Sigurd IV, he could infer the product’s value.

Then he entrusted Viktor with tuning differences for the first negotiation, establishing the groundwork for manufacturing, distribution, and selling the product.

Of course, partly thanks to the fortunate encounter with the castaway Sigurd IV, but luck must come hand in hand with the skill to seize opportunities.

“By the way, Sigurd. What was your original destination?”

“I was initially aiming for Obsidian Berry. From there, I planned to go to Coldon.”

“So the ship you escaped from was actually a pirate vessel?”

“Yes. The beer had sleeping drugs before being laden with the yellow blighters.”

Since he couldn’t just toss out the beer, he downed it and took a deep breath, then slaughtered the vessel and crew that had long since passed the Obsidian Berries.

“But what would you do in Coldon, not in Kingsland?”

“I came to see the face of a friend who boasts about achieving his dreams.”

Just like that, the caravan returned to Coldon, crushing wild undead without encountering any difficulties.

Alfred, thrilled with the tasks that had been accomplished beyond expectations from Godwin and Viktor as a father and Duke, ordered a feast.

However, the impromptu feast in the Great Hall did not proceed as Alfred had envisioned.

KAAAAAHHHHHHH-!!!

“Zigmeser! The runaway madmen are hiding here!!!”

“Grrr! D-uncle! What on earth are you doing here!?!?!?”

The dwarf’s knife-fight in the Great Hall of Winterhome was halted by a stew pot, meeting family after decades of separation.

“Uh, what do we do now?”

“It should be fine to just leave it be.”

“Mary. The stew pot?”

“Mary’s right.”

“You too, Miss Catherine?”

“There’s no malice there.”

Catherine’s words were indeed precise. Zigmeser’s gestures tapping against Sigurd IV’s pot were suspiciously slow for a user of black-grade magical powers.

Suddenly, Karem recalled how Zigmeser spoke of becoming the head chef of the Felwinter family by some accident.

“So, anger towards a distasteful relative who ran away and shaved his beard off?”

“The head chef seems to be a collateral from the Beolseong family.”

“Now what do we do?”

“Let’s just watch until he calms down. Mary.”

“Crab salad. Confirmed.”

Karem briefly surveyed the surroundings and caught Mary’s eyes. The two subordinates exchanged shoulder shrugs at their master’s words.