Slice—! Swish!
The sheet of dough spread flat across the broad counter was cut into even pieces.
Using wind blades with superb cutting power in an exquisite manner, Iseria sliced the dough into small rectangles.
The others were also holding knives and shaping the dough, but they could not compare to the efficiency of magic.
“Ugh... You promised you’d give me bibimbap when we get home.”
“Yeah. I’ll give you tofu too.”
“Tofu!”
Thoroughly motivated by food, Iseria put even more effort into her magic.
Before long, small rectangular pieces of hardtack dough were lined up neatly on the trays.
The process went very smoothly.
Though the ovens weren’t large enough to cook 1,800 servings at once, so we had to bake them in batches.
I hadn’t planned to make them all in a single day anyway, and if we kept baking steadily, we’d be done around this time tomorrow.
If there was one thing that bothered me, it was that baking hardtack was somewhat tricky.
Since it was a food that needed its moisture content reduced to a minimum, it had to be baked at least twice.
The first bake was at 180 degrees for about 20 minutes, a stage to set the hardtack’s shape, cook the dough, and release moisture and gas.
If you look at the center of the hardtack we commonly eat, there are two little holes punched through it, aren’t there?
Moisture and gas escape through those holes.
So I also punched small holes into this hardtack dough.
Then came the second bake.
The second bake was done at a low temperature of around 130 degrees for 30 minutes.
To evaporate as much moisture as possible and obtain both preservation and a crisp texture, there was no choice but to cook it low and slow.
If you bake it at too high a temperature, only the outside burns while the inside remains damp.
People who can’t cook often say, “Isn’t it better to just use high heat since it cooks faster?” but...
“Then why do you take the elevator? Jumping down is faster.”
“Ah.”
When I countered like that, everyone usually understood at once.
In any case, I taught the cooking staff the baking method.
It looked like it wouldn’t be that difficult, but since they had to maintain a specific temperature continuously, it required know-how.
Even in modern times, where ovens and thermometers were well developed, there were separate chefs in charge of temperature-sensitive steaks or baking.
Fortunately, there were a few skilled assistants in our mess kitchen.
I picked out cooks who were good at controlling temperature, assigned them to the ovens, and used [Beginner Spirit Arts].
If the cooks could adjust the temperature in units of 10 to 20 degrees, the fire spirits could control it in much finer increments.
So I told the cooks to regulate the fire so it stayed roughly around the target temperature.
Then the spirits would take care of the rest.
Whoooosh—!
Eeeeng—!
As the firewood began to burn and flames formed, the fire spirits quickly grew excited and started playing around.
I asked the spirits to maintain the temperature and headed toward Iseria.
“What? Why! I cut them all!”
“You’re not ready yet.”
“Ready for what?”
“Ready to rest. Go work.”
Iseria threw a tantrum, saying things like why should she work for humans and magic and spirits weren’t meant to be used like this, but when I threatened not to give her tofu, she immediately tucked her tail and cast her magic.
Iseria used spirit arts instead of fire magic.
It was [Beginner Spirit Arts], controlling beginner spirits just like mine, but the number of spirits she could summon at once and their stability were on a completely different level.
As a result, Iseria pulled off the astonishing feat of managing three ovens all by herself.
“Oh, impressive. As expected of an elf.”
“R-right! Don’t underestimate elven spirit arts!”
I praised Iseria with all my sincerity.
I had originally expected her to control about one or two ovens, but she managed three by herself.
To make sure Iseria didn’t start questioning the workload, I had to praise her diligently.
“You’re doing great, great, great!”
“Ahem!”
And so, with two ovens handled by the cooks and my [Beginner Spirit Arts], and three ovens handled entirely by Iseria,
the five-barracks system, running every oven in the mess kitchen at full capacity, was complete.
‘At this rate, we might be able to distribute them with tomorrow’s lunch delivery...?’
Of course, that was assuming the five-barracks system operated without any issues.
So as not to disturb them, I quietly prepared dinner.
“Supply Officer! We have to go see the wounded too...!”
“Come on, just do this first.”
Of course, I wasn’t alone. I worked the priests and nuns to the very end.
How was I supposed to prep this many ingredients by myself?
For dinner, I kept it simple and prepared vegetable stew with pasta in the shape of sujebi.
I ate the mess menu too, and having curry three times in a row would get way too tiresome. Even if this was modest, it was better.
And it goes without saying, but,
“Damn it!! It seems like stew made with ordinary ingredients, so why is it this delicious?”
“When the wave is completely dealt with... the temporary supply officer is leaving?”
“Let’s lock the supply officer in the provisions warehouse.”
‘Isn’t that last one kind of strange?’
The food was delicious beyond question.
After all, I had caramelized a large amount of onions and dumped in chicken stock and sugar exchanged through the [Mana Market].
“My eyes... I can’t see...”
“Lady Maria, why have you given me such a trial...”
There was the side effect of the priests’ and nuns’ eyelids swelling up with tears while they furiously sliced onions, but it couldn’t be helped.
With great flavor came great responsibility.
After dinner service ended like that, we baked hardtack until nine at night before returning to our lodging.
We had completed roughly 600 servings, so they could be supplied as combat rations tomorrow.
‘Geon-frost, fried hardtack tossed in sugar...’
I hadn’t made them with the intention of eating them myself, but once I saw the results, I couldn’t hide my anticipation.
“Huaaah... I’m tired...”
Iseria groaned as she stretched out her short arms and legs.
Everyone had worked hard making hardtack, so maybe tomorrow I should make a special hardtack meal just for our people.
If I fried the hardtack, tossed it in sugar, and ate it with milk...
‘Holy shit.’
My mouth watered just imagining it.
At this level, couldn’t I call it Sword Master-class hardtack?
As for the existing hardtack... or rather, the bricks masquerading as hardtack, I’d have to set them aside somewhere.
Looking forward to tomorrow, I entrusted myself to the bed.
***
The weather was bright and sunny, without a single cloud in the sky.
Two days ago, thanks to Arthur’s performance after awakening during battle, the monster wave that had been half-destroyed lost its strength in an instant, coinciding with the time it was originally supposed to end.
“Damn persistent bastards.”
Thud—
“Kieeek...”
The corpses of demonic beasts stained the front of the defensive line with blood.
The soldiers were clearing the battlefield, finishing off the demonic beasts that still had a faint breath left among the bodies.
During battle, tension, excitement, and the thrill of combat surged up, leaving no room to think about anything else, but clearing a battlefield was different.
Confirming kills on demonic beasts, disposing of their carcasses, and in truly unfortunate cases, recovering the remains of comrades...
In many ways, it was disgusting, boring, and mentally draining work.
“Carlson! Come here.”
“Private Carlson! Yes, sir!”
“What’s today’s lunch delivery?”
Plain Knight Hans asked Carlson, a junior who had recently joined, about the lunch menu.
After all, the only thing that could somewhat comfort them during a dull duty was food.
But Hans already knew the menu.
He was only asking just in case; the food brought out to the field was always fixed.
“Uh... hardtack and drinking water, with a little jerky!”
“Ugh, fuck.”
Sure enough.
Brown blocks of hardtack, so hard they couldn’t possibly be eaten raw, earning them the nickname “tooth destroyers.”
For outdoor operations, food needed to have good preservation, be easy to eat, and not smell too strongly.
Hardtack satisfied all those conditions, so Hans understood it logically.
‘Since we’re just clearing the battlefield anyway, can’t they just give us normal food?’
But the monster wave was over, and at most they were just cleaning up a filthy battlefield...
At times like this, couldn’t they show a little flexibility and give them normal meals?
Hans recalled the taste of the curry he had eaten in the mess kitchen yesterday and the day before.
The moment he took a bite, harmoniously blended spices came rushing in like waves, a flavor that warmed his entire body.
It was the work of the black-haired cook who had been appointed temporary supply officer.
Having tasted food that delicious for the first time in his life, Hans’s trust in the temporary supply officer had grown firm after the curry.
“Ah, b-but I heard today’s hardtack is a bit different! They were baking a huge amount of some small rectangular things in the mess kitchen ovens...”
“They made new hardtack? Then at least it’ll be less hard.”
Perhaps Private Carlson had heard something somewhere, because he spoke about the freshly baked hardtack.
Even at that, Hans was only lukewarm.
If it had been freshly baked, it would be less hard, sure, but hardtack was still hardtack.
Bread made with limited ingredients to prevent spoilage, with moisture removed to the extreme.
Fundamentally, it couldn’t possibly taste good.
Peeeeeeep—!
While he was grumbling, the whistle sounded, announcing that the meal delivery had arrived.
Still, he was hungry, so he had to eat. Hans and Carlson approached the ration wagon.
But then,
“What’s that smell?”
“Snnf, it’s nutty... damn killer.”
“What is it? Isn’t today hardtack?”
The other knights who had gathered to receive the lunch delivery were also stirred by the savory smell wafting from the ration wagon.
Hans and Carlson likewise sniffed, trying to determine the source of the scent.
The savory smell of bread freshly baked in a delicious bakery run by a skilled baker.
Beneath the hearty aroma of wheat and barley ripening was a refined sweetness, the kind that only faintly wafted from first-rate desserts.
And the richness of dairy bound that sweetness and the bread’s carbohydrates tightly into one.
As Hans waited in line at the ration wagon, he repeatedly breathed deeply in and out.
The presence of some unknown bread seeped into every corner of the nasal membrane that sensed scent.
Just that presence alone made fullness rise within him, and he could feel his brain reveling in happiness.
Grrrrl.
Even so, a scent was only a scent.
As soon as Hans’s turn came, he swiftly received the bread.
Carlson, too, received his portion with eyes full of anticipation and followed Hans.
“Corporal Hans... is this hardtack?”
“I... don’t know either.”
Hans had never seen hardtack of this form in any knights’ order of the Empire, among adventurers, or even among other races.
Inside a palm-sized pouch were golden hardtack and jerky, and clinging in white specks to the hardtack and jerky were pure white crystals.
Their grain and sparkle were different from salt.
“S-sugar? They sprinkled sugar on hardtack?”
This was insane.
Hans could not conceal his shock at the hardtack before him.
The reason for that luxurious sweetness was this sugar.
Powder that glittered like stars, as precious as pepper and said to be something only nobles in the capital could eat.
That sugar had been sprinkled on hardtack, food considered the lowest grade, and distributed.
Hans felt an indescribable guilt, a sense of immorality, and a faint excitement.
It was like seeing a wicked noble lady brought to justice by a lowly commoner, perhaps?
‘Ugh, what am I thinking?’
Hans turned his head and came back to his senses.
No matter how hungry he was, a knight shouldn’t be thinking such things.
Hans steadied himself and picked up a piece of hardtack.
Judging from how it was served, it didn’t seem like he needed to boil it in hot water and eat it like porridge, as usual.
In an oddly tense moment, Hans brought one piece of hardtack to his mouth.
And then,
Crunch—! Crunch!
He bit into it boldly.
Both Hans and Carlson were startled by the clear, crisp sound filling their ears.
Truthfully, Hans had been a little afraid.
It looked good, but hardtack was still hardtack. Would it be all right to bite this hard?
However, because he trusted the supply officer, he had squeezed his eyes shut and chewed.
The hardtack, not betraying his expectations, crumbled crisply and lingered in Hans’s mouth.
The things he had sensed as aromas moments ago touched his tongue, then surged in with several times greater stimulation.
The more he chewed, the more saliva flowed from his salivary glands, and as that saliva soaked the hardtack, it formed the perfect texture.
Starting in reverse order, the flavors clinging to the outer surface of the hardtack struck his tongue.
The sweetness of sugar and the crispy exterior.
The rich yet smooth flavor of dairy.
And finally, the savory interior that filled him with a solid sense of satiety.
After confirming that Hans was eating it, Carlson also put hardtack into his mouth.
Chewing and swallowing the hardtack with the same crunching sound as Hans, Carlson spoke in a trembling voice.
“Corporal Hans...”
“Yeah...”
“If hardtack is like this, I think I could go on outdoor operations every day.”
“Learn your place, newbie. I’m doing it first.”
Hans and Carlson devoured the hardtack without any further conversation.
The efficiency of that day’s battlefield cleanup became strangely higher than usual.
It was one bright, sunny spring day after the monster wave had ended.