“Now then. As punishment, today’s training will continue all night. Prepare yourself.”
Doil looked at Damon’s face with a triumphant air. Though he growled, inwardly he had been expecting Damon to look flustered. Yet not the slightest trace of fear appeared on Damon’s face.
‘This brat?’
Though his enthusiasm deflated a little, Doil forced his expression back under control. He intended to use this opportunity to thoroughly correct Damon’s habits.
“This is a procedure we have already carried out countless times, so I will omit the explanation. Take your stance.”
Somewhat satisfied by the slight stiffness in Damon’s expression, Doil slowly began drawing in the surrounding mana. What he was about to carry out was none other than a mana training method. It was Doil’s own unique method, based on his personal experience, which had brought Damon to the level where he could gather mana in only six months.
In truth, gathering mana was, just as the words implied, a technique that required an extremely high degree of mental concentration. Only in a state free of all distracting thoughts—desireless, thoughtless, and selfless—could one smoothly sense the flow of mana spread throughout the surroundings and effectively draw it in. Doil, too, had passed through that stage after countless trials and errors, and based on that experience, he had finally created a training method of his own. It was a method in which an outside assistant used magic to help the practitioner achieve intense mental concentration. And Damon, having become Doil’s disciple, was the first to enjoy its benefits.
“There are many factors that interfere with mental concentration. To name a few, you see unnecessary things through your sight, and hear and smell unnecessary elements through your hearing and sense of smell, which prevents perfect concentration. Therefore, I will now use magic to paralyze your eyes, nose, and ears. In a state completely cut off from the world, you must focus solely on gathering mana.”
Doil began rearranging the mana with a satisfied smile. He was about to cast a spell that would make Damon blind and deaf throughout the night. Laughter welled up inside him, but Doil clenched his teeth and pressed it down.
‘Heh heh heh. Let’s see you suffer a little, brat.’
In truth, Doil’s unique training method really did have remarkable effects. After applying it directly to Damon, it proved to be an unparalleled method for focusing the mind. Damon’s achievements alone were practically proof of its effectiveness.
However, this training method did have one drawback: the trainee had to endure considerable hardship. To have one’s sight, hearing, and sense of smell paralyzed and be isolated from the world—while it was certainly good for concentration to be unable to hear, see, or smell, it had to be an enormous ordeal for the one subjected to it.
But since it was true that Damon had achieved astonishing progress thanks to this training method, Doil did not hesitate and gathered mana into his magic staff.
“Then I shall begin.”
Just as he was about to unfold the spell, Doil somehow managed to hear Damon muttering to himself in a voice barely audible.
“What a shame. I was going to show off my skills for Master today…”
Doil’s movement stopped dead. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Damon’s face.
“Show off your skills? What do you mean by that?”
“Heh heh heh. Master, you know perfectly well, don’t you?”
Watching Damon scratch the back of his head as if embarrassed, Doil felt the firm resolve he had built up slowly begin to waver.
“Then are you perhaps saying you were going to cook for this master?”
A look flashed across Damon’s face as if to say, Got him!
“That’s right. Since we won a great victory, there will surely be a special menu tonight, and this disciple had decided to use it to treat Master to a first-rate dish I have never shown you before. But it is unfortunate that we must train all night. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Seeing Damon’s resigned expression, Doil’s face became extremely urgent.
“W-what kind of dish is it?”
“Well, it’s a dish that cannot even be compared to the Jingjiang Rousi or Wuxi Paigu I’ve made for you from time to time. Its name is Yuxiang Rousi. You need only know that it is a special Sichuan-style pork dish with the flavor of fish. Heh heh heh. This disciple had specially prepared hard-to-find seasonings, including pepper, just for today. But regrettably, it seems I won’t be able to display my skills today. Of course. We have to train.”
Doil’s eyes widened with conflict. Perhaps his appetite had been stirred, for saliva was already trickling down from the corner of his mouth. Though he was not particularly gluttonous, Doil had long since become a gourmet thanks to Damon’s excellent cooking. His original resolve to teach him a lesson had already vanished without a trace, and Doil now began racking his brains over how to change Damon’s mind.
‘Good grief. What am I supposed to do about this?’
Six months ago—back when Damon had still been obedient—Doil had, by chance, had the opportunity to eat food cooked by Damon. Sick and tired of the supply cooks’ atrocious cooking skills, Damon had used the excuse of treating his master to procure ingredients and personally show what he could do.
Of course, Damon, whose hobby had been gastronomy, had already had his palate trained by famous chefs from all over the Central Plains, and during the days when he roamed the Central Plains, he had cooked countless dishes himself. Thus, cooking at this level was by no means difficult for him. Though there was the difference that the seasonings here were completely unlike those of the Central Plains, removing the gaminess from pork or mutton, seasoning it, and tenderizing the meat was as easy as eating cold porridge for Damon.
The first dish introduced in Truvania by Damon’s hands was Jingjiang Rousi. It was a traditional dish of the Shandong region, made mainly by braising boneless pork with soy sauce. Of course, because there were no proper seasonings, it ended up somewhat different from the original Jingjiang Rousi, but even so, its flavor was more than enough to astonish Doil.
To the palates of the people of Truvania, whose idea of cooking pork amounted to rubbing it with salt and either roasting or boiling it, the impact of a refined Central Plains dish braised with all manner of seasonings was nothing short of shocking. The cuisine of the Central Plains, with its long history and tradition, contained a depth of flavor equal to that heritage.
At the time, Doil had been so startled while eating that he nearly bit his tongue. That was how excellent the dish tasted. Afterward, Damon occasionally displayed his skills and astonished Doil, and by now Doil was deeply captivated by Damon’s cooking. It was only natural that Doil’s anguish deepened.
From the expression on Doil’s face, where conflicting emotions continued to cross, Damon realized that his scheme had succeeded. Now it was time to make him eager.
“Master, what are you thinking about so deeply? We should start training.”
At Damon’s shameless words, Doil came to his senses with a start and changed his expression, beginning to coax him gently.
“No. Now that I think about it, you must be very tired. Today’s battle was truly difficult, wasn’t it? You dealt with three ogres, so of course you would be. Of course.”
“Well, I’m all right. It was a little tiring, but not enough to interfere with training.”
Looking at Damon’s calmly brazen face, Doil gave an awkward smile. His tone was clearly full of intent to tease his master, but Doil, already out of his mind with the thought of eating the dish, thought of nothing else.
“Now that I think about it, I am terribly tired. So let us postpone today’s training for another time. Hm?”
Unlike his initial bravado, Doil was wholly occupied with gently coaxing Damon. His honest desire was to somehow cajole him into letting him taste the dish.
Since ancient times, gastronomy has always been among humanity’s most important desires. Though he was a black magician of excellent skill, Doil, too, was not free from such primal human urges. Watching Doil fall completely for his little trick, Damon smiled faintly.
“Well, if that is what you wish, we shall skip training. In exchange, I will make a dish for Master.”
“W-will you really?”
Doil’s face brightened at once. His expression was no different from that of a child who had received a toy. Damon, wearing a bitter smile, proudly puffed out his chest and rose to his feet.
“Then this disciple will go obtain the cooking ingredients.”
“Do that. And don’t keep me waiting too long…”
“Cooking is something that requires sufficient time and sincerity.”
“V-very well.”
Sensing that the initiative had already passed completely into Damon’s hands, Doil’s face twisted. After Damon disappeared from the area, Doil shook his head from side to side in disbelief.
“I know I shouldn’t be like this, but I can’t help it. That brat’s cooking skills are far too outstanding to just endure and let it pass.”
After grumbling for a while, Doil silently turned his steps toward his own tent. All the while thinking that, once again, he had been thoroughly had.
Perhaps because they had won a great victory, the 8th Corps was completely swept up in a festive mood. Though it was not a victory that would reverse the tide of the war, the fact that they had recovered at least some of the territory occupied by the orcs had raised the soldiers’ morale to the extreme.
Damon slowly walked toward the supply depot, passing between groups of soldiers gathered in twos and threes, savoring the joy of victory. The 8th Corps was currently under the command of Marquis Hauzen. Damon was certain the marquis would release stored provisions in order to maintain the soldiers’ heightened morale.
“I’ll probably get to see some meat today.”
Since a special meal had always been distributed after a victory until now, Damon firmly believed it.
In truth, the supply situation of the 8th Corps was not particularly good. Because of the orc guerrilla units operating together with wyvern squadrons, half of the supply units coming here were being intercepted. For that reason, the soldiers belonging to the 8th Corps had to continue fighting under very difficult conditions.
Of course, some corps that had advanced deep into orc-occupied territory were in even worse straits. Rumors even circulated that, due to a shortage of food, they were supplying their soldiers with meat from dead orcs. However, the 8th Corps had not yet reached that point. After walking a short distance, he saw the tent where military supplies were stored. Damon opened the door and went inside.
“What is it?”
A soldier who looked like a supply trooper, and whose personality seemed extremely prickly, turned his head. Damon nodded and stated his business.
“I am the head of Magician Doil’s guards. I have come to ask a favor.”
Ordinarily, the head who commanded guards held a position equivalent to that of a unit commander who controlled a hundred soldiers. Because of that, the supply soldier, who had been acting somewhat insolently, adopted a rather respectful attitude.
However, upon hearing Damon’s business, he could not help but be startled.
“Y-you are asking for meat, sir?”
“That’s right. I will cook it myself, so I would like you to give us the food assigned to us as ingredients.”
“Th-that is a little…”
The supply soldier wore a very troubled expression. Because the supply situation was not smooth, orders had come down from above that all kinds of meat were to be made into soup. To feed many soldiers with a limited amount of meat, there was no other method. After briefly estimating the meat inventory, the supply soldier shook his head as if he had no choice.
“I believe it will be impossible. As you know, with the supply situation being what it is, there is no spare meat…”
Before the supply soldier could finish speaking, the sound of something suddenly falling over rang loudly from inside the tent.
Crash.
Immediately afterward, a soldier appeared in a panic.