“Of course. Could you grab some wine for me, though? My legs are like this.”
They ate while helping one another. Those who had hands fed those who didn’t, and those who could walk fetched food for those who couldn’t.
“Brother, does this mean you’re also an executor now?”
“…”
“Wait a second. Judging by your attire, are you with the Frost Knights?”
“…”
“Oh! By the way, what happened while we were gone? I heard from the witches that this food isn’t seasoned with spices but with something called Arad Salt. Is that true?”
“…”
“And what’s with ‘Mary’s Blessing’ and the potato fields all over the High Tower? I’ve heard bits and pieces from the healers and witches, but I still can’t believe it.”
“…”Theo’s chatter filled the air, but Rosie wasn’t listening.
His focus was solely on the disabled soldiers, including his brother.
‘Arad… Count Arad Jin might have a solution, don’t you think?’
A certain someone popped into Rosie’s mind.
Inside the Hall of Glory, the grandest room of the palace, the banquet continued.
The hall, typically reserved for high-ranking officials and knights, was no stranger to such events, having hosted similar feasts over the years.
Even the banquets for the expeditionary forces, held every few years, were considered nothing more than occasional large gatherings.
“I wasn’t able to exact revenge. We searched every inch of the frozen seas beyond the Far North for those white orcs, but… we couldn’t find them.”
Commander Sun, seated before Arina, spoke in a low, somber tone, despite the delectable dishes—arguably better than any spice-seasoned food—laid out before him.
Though the expedition had set out with vengeance in mind, the results were unsatisfactory.
They had only managed to deal with some Far Northern orcs, sea monsters, and barbarian tribes before having to retreat.
While even this cleanup effort deserved praise, Sun saw it as a mission failure.
“If I’d gone, they would’ve shown themselves.”
Arina, wiping fried crumbs from the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, responded to Sun’s report.
“That would’ve been unacceptable.”
“Why not? I’m an adult now. Things are different than before.”
“It’s still unacceptable.”
“Hmph!”
“…”
The two shared a brief but tense exchange.
“Hahaha! Come now, Sun! Can’t this discussion wait until after the banquet? We’ve already received the major reports via messenger falcon!”
Balzac, holding a chicken leg in each hand, interjected with a hearty laugh.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to bring up such matters during the meal.”
At Balzac’s remark, Sun bowed his head toward Arina.
“It’s fine. Truly, you’ve done well.”
Arina’s soft smile, as if the tension had never existed, calmed the atmosphere.
“Don’t brood over it—enjoy the food instead. Much has changed in this land during your absence, and food has changed the most.”
At Arina’s urging, Sun grabbed a ladle-sized spoon to accommodate his massive hand and scooped up some stew.
“Hmm…”
The stew was delicious, enough to draw an audible murmur of appreciation from the typically stoic Sun.
However, concern soon followed.
“Aren’t we indulging too much? Using so many spices like this…”
Still unaware of Arad Salt, Sun voiced his unease.
“Ah! That’s right! We haven’t told Sun about Arad Salt yet! Ohohoho!”
“Now it makes sense why he looks so worried despite eating this fantastic food!”
“Certainly, the peculiarities must’ve stood out to you as you approached the High Tower, right? Commander Sun, allow us to explain everything. Feel free to ask anything.”
Isabelle, Balzac, and Haita chuckled in turn, addressing Sun’s concerns.
“I should’ve included some details in the messenger falcon’s reports.”
“As I recall, our dear Grand Witch insisted on keeping it secret to surprise him, didn’t she?”
“Oh my, how my words have been twisted! I merely suggested not distracting the soldiers on the front lines. Once it’s in the reports, news has a way of spreading, you know.”
“…?”
Sun still looked perplexed as the others continued their banter.
“Don’t worry, Commander. I’m always frugal. These dishes contain no spices as you know them. Their flavors and aromas come solely from weeds native to the North and salt extracted from local rocks.”
Arina reassured him with a gentle smile.
“Is that so…?”
“It is.”
“This might be a good time, Your Highness, to share what’s happened here with Commander Sun and the knights of the expedition. It seems fitting for a banquet conversation.”
“An excellent idea. Let’s do so.”
“Now then, where shall we begin? Ask anything, my friend.”
Balzac, ever the veteran knight, turned to his longtime comrade and mentee with a warm smile.
“In that case… I’d like to start by asking about Your Highness. Your presence feels… lighter, almost cleaner, but also weaker somehow. What has changed?”
To everyone’s surprise, Sun chose to ask about something entirely unexpected.
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