Reincarnated as a Sword Vol. 4

by Yuu Tanaka

  Chapter 1:

  The Chefs’ Guild and the Contest

  Evening fell on the day we left Seedrun. Soon, we’d arrive at Bulbola, the greatest of all harbors in the kingdom of Granzell.

  The journey should have taken us ten days, but we got there under a day with a little help from the Water Dragon. It was immensely fast, and no monsters dared accost us.

  However, the Water Dragon couldn’t make port at Bulbola. Not at the moment, anyway. That wasn’t to say Bulbola’s harbors weren’t big enough—no, they had more than enough room for a Water Dragon or two. But Water Dragons required advance notice to make port at the harbor city. I say “advance notice,” but with all the paperwork involved, it was more akin to gaining authorization.

  Which was fair enough, really. The Water Dragon was a B-Threat monster. A single one could sink a small island nation. So making port was difficult, even if the creature was under contract.

  In modern Earth terms, it was like an aircraft carrier shuffling into a civilian harbor. The slightest misunderstanding could trigger an all-out war, and panic was definitely a given.

  Instead, we contacted the Lucille Trade Association, which was based in Bulbola. The Water Dragon would set its anchor on the outskirts, and a smaller vessel from the Trade Association would come and pick us up.

  “Until we meet again!”

  “Yeah!”

  “Woof!”

  From the deck of the merchant vessel, Fran waved goodbye to Miriam.

  Miriam, the second princess of Seedrun, had no time for leisure. As captain of the Water Dragon, she needed to return to her homeland immediately.

  The revolution was still burning in her people’s minds, and the state was still unstable. There was no time for detours. Fult and Satya, prince and princess of Phyllius, joined Fran to see Miriam off.

  Fran, who didn’t want to say goodbye to her new friend, looked gloomy on the top deck of the ship.

  It’s not like this is our last goodbye. We’ll see her again someday.

  Hm…

  Despite my best efforts, Fran only gave a dismissive nod.

  Oh, look at you. Do you really want her to see you mope like this? Smile. It’ll make Miriam feel better, I promise.

  “Hm… Bye-bye, Miriam!”

  “Indeed! Bye-bye, Fran!”

  There you go.

  Even a forced smile could chase away a bad mood.

  The Water Dragon turned and sped off into the distance. Soon, it was nothing more than a speck.

  “We should go into Bulbola.”

  At Rengill’s command, the merchant ship made its way towards land. It wasn’t long before we made port at Bulbola. We walked down the ramp, and it was time to say goodbye to Fult and Satya.

  “You’ve done a great deal for us, Fran.”

  “Thank you so much for everything.”

  “Hm.”

  This time, Fran wasn’t particularly bothered by the parting. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, just that their next meeting had already been decided.

  “Well, we must go to the Count’s mansion,” said Fult.

  “Promise me you’ll come find us when you’re finished with your errands,” Satya added. “The mansion is in the center of the noble district. You can’t miss it.”

  “We’ll tell the Count all about you, Fran.”

  Fran nodded. “All right.”

  Initially, she’d refused their offer to stay at the Count’s mansion. Fran wasn’t refined enough to deal with members of high society, and there was Jet to worry about. Still, she couldn’t refuse when the chamberlain asked her personally.

  Sellid took a liking to her after the episode at Seedrun. I suppose it was inevitable, given that she saved his life. Of course, the old chamberlain accompanied the invitation with one of his usual backhanded comments, saying “It does Their Highnesses no good to associate with you, but I suppose they have taken a liking.” This was typical. Sellid had played the role of cranky chamberlain for so long that I didn’t think he could speak like a normal person anymore.

  “We’ll be seeing you.”

  “Do take care of yourself.”

  “You take care too, Jet.”

  “Woof!”

  The prince and his entourage got into a carriage prepared by the Lucille Trade Association. Once we’d seen them off, Rengill came to speak to Fran.

  “We’ve finally arrived.”

  “Thanks for everything, Rengill.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve done nothing.”

  Fran, the little adventurer, was growing friendly with Rengill, a member of a great merchant association. They’d not known each other for very long, but they faced death together in the Seedrunian revolution. Back then, Rengill had felt inadequate for letting Fran do all the fighting. He held Fran’s hand and bowed his head.

  “Without your help, none of us would be in Bulbola. On behalf of myself and my crew, I thank you. Nothing we can do could ever repay you, but if you need anything, do not hesitate to call on the Lucille Trade Association. We shall do everything we can.”

  “All right.”

  I had every intention of asking for help the first chance we got. The trade association was very influential.

  Fran shook Rengill’s hand and left the harbor.

  We’re going to need to stop by the local Adventurers’ Guild.

  After everything that had happened, we still needed to turn in our completed security job. The circumstances were iffy, but the Phyllians didn’t seem to mind. Fult sent one of his attendants to the guild as soon as we made port. All we needed to do was claim the reward.

  “We also need to sell our monster materials.”

  Right.

  We had collected a decent amount on the way here. It would be good to offload them.

  “I want to check out the town, too.”

  Bulbola was a huge city. There were lots of places to see.

  “Woof, woof, woof.”

  “You wanna walk around town too, Jet?”

  “Woof!”

  Jet was all for it. I wanted to check out the town as well, so a walk was the first order of business for this dog.

  Let’s see what Bulbola has in store.

  “Hm.”

  “Woof!”

  We could look for the Adventurers’ Guild as we walked. Two birds with one stone.

  Bulbola. Granzell’s Maritime Melting Pot and its second biggest city. The gigantic harbor could famously hold a hundred vessels, and over twenty countries traded within its walls. People said there was nothing you couldn’t buy here.

  It was bustling and prosperous beyond our wildest dreams. The road to the city district was as packed as a Japanese train station. The buildings were large, too. Even the local guard office was four stories high. Alessa was the first town I saw when I came to this world, and the guard station at Bulbola was at least ten times the size of the one in Alessa.

  The city must need that many soldiers to ensure its smooth operation. Its scale and population were on a whole other level.

  Wow, there are so many shops here. I don’t know which ones to visit.

  “Amazing.”

  “Woof.”

  Stalls lined both sides of the main street, and the sight made Fran and Jet’s eyes sparkle with wonder. Mine too, of course. The stalls sold a myriad of food and souvenirs, and the main road had everything from popular shops with people lining up outside, to seedy-looking places selling contraband.

  Being a melting pot, the foods came from all over the world. I saw a stall selling something that looked like Japanese oden. Naturally, there were western-type food stalls as well.

  “Whoooa.”

  “Aroo.”

  Fran and J
et looked at them with gluttonous eyes. We had money, so I told them to eat whatever they liked.

  I soon realized the error of my ways.

  “So good.”

  “Arf!”

  “That one, too.”

  “Woof, woof.”

  “Munch, munch.”

  “Urf.”

  It was actually easier to account for the time they weren’t stuffing food down their throats.

  Fran and Jet were quite a sight to behold: a small girl holding an inordinate amount of food and her big black dog continuously munching on something. Fran even got a round of applause for gobbling a large shish kebab in one bite.

  While they ate everything in sight, we came upon a large square. It was huge, at least two hundred meters in diameter, and the buildings around it were appropriately massive and gorgeous. It reminded me of Marunouchi or Times Square.

  As I gazed at the buildings, one of the signs caught my eye.

  That’s…

  What is it, Teacher?

  That building over there.

  I’d happened upon the banner of the Chefs’ Guild: a fork and knife crossed over each other.

  Never seen that before.

  What kind of guild was it?

  “Do you want to check it out?”

  Please.

  There were other big guilds here, like the Blacksmith’s and the Merchant’s. I even saw the sign for an embassy. The Chefs’ Guild must be reputable if it could stand side by side with these giants.

  “Here?”

  Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look like Jet can go in…

  The sign on the door said: “No pets or familiars allowed.” Understandable, since they worked with food.

  What if he stayed in the shadows?

  That should be fine. Jet, no coming out while we’re inside, okay?

  “Arf…”

  Jet let out a dejected whine before retreating to the shadows. He’d expected to be fed well here.

  “Excuse me.”

  The lobby was luxurious and looked a lot like the Adventurers’ Guild back in Alessa. The wooden floors and the reception area were exactly alike. However, there was carpet on the floors here, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling, giving this guild a much grander feel.

  I guess guilds are all built to similar specifications.

  The main difference was the people here were not adventurers, but cooks and merchants. As we looked around the lobby, the receptionist called out to Fran.

  “Hello, little girl. May I help you?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Um…?”

  She was completely flabbergasted by Fran’s brazen honesty.

  “I’ve never seen a Chefs’ Guild before.”

  “Aah, I see. I suppose you don’t see much of us in other cities. Bulbola is called the cook’s paradise! There are so many foodstuffs and ingredients flowing in from other countries that it eventually became necessary to establish the Chefs’ Guild.”

  The receptionist patiently explained everything to Fran, the way she would to a child. I expected no less from the face of an established guild. This place was home to chefs, merchants, and anyone else involved in the food industry. Membership was initially limited to chefs, but now initiates were allowed in too, along with anyone with a healthy curiosity about recipes.

  “That sounds great.”

  Fran didn’t do much cooking, but she did appreciate a delicious meal. She nodded, approving of a guild that existed to help the cooks whose food she devoured.

  The receptionist mistook Fran’s interest for something else.

  “Are you a cook yourself, young lady?”

  “Maybe?”

  “O-oh…”

  Fran did no cooking despite her Level 10 Cooking skill.

  “But my teacher is a master chef,” she continued, sensing the receptionist’s confusion.

  “I-I see.”

  “His cooking is the best.”

  “Is he a member of this guild?”

  “No.”

  “Would he like to be a member then? If he performs well, he will have access to exclusive ingredients and the ability to trade recipes. And there are many other benefits. We would love to have him on board.”

  Special benefits, you say? Now I was interested. I wondered if Fran was allowed membership, as well. She was already in the Adventurers’ Guild, so I was worried that would be a problem.

  “Oh, that’s perfectly fine. In fact, most of our members have dual membership,” the receptionist said plainly. “We have fewer prospective members than the Adventurers’ Guild. No one would sign up with us if they only had to choose one. Think of us as a casual guild you can devote time to on the side. We were founded as a support group for cooks, after all.”

  “Then I’d like to sign up.”

  “Do you have a Bulbolan trade license?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Then I will register you as a cook.”

  I guessed the membership categories were separated into cook and merchant.

  “That’ll work.”

  “Cooks are required to take the entrance exam, however. Will that be all right?”

  We would gain the convenience of buying ingredients from the guild, so I guess it was a small price to pay.

  “Exam? What kind?”

  “One of our judges will taste your cooking and, if you pass, you get signed up. We have a prep kitchen solely for examination purposes, or you could bring your dish in with you if that’s more your flavor.”

  Would Fran be able to sign me up, then? I would love to be a member.

  “Yes. All you need to be a member of the Chefs’ Guild is your name and the Guild Card.”

  I thought the guild would be more exacting about this kind of thing. I guess the receptionist lady wasn’t kidding when she said this was casual. The guild card also doubled as a membership card and a points card.

  “Can I just give you the dishes I have on hand now?”

  “I suppose…”

  For the umpteenth time today, the receptionist had a puzzled look on her face. Fran didn’t look like she had any dishes on her, so the receptionist was surprised that she wanted to present her food immediately.

  “I’ll go with this and this.”

  “Huh? Oh, is that an item bag?”

  “Here.”

  Fran took out some curry and skewered boar. The fragrant aroma of spices filled the lobby and attracted the attention of the chefs. I would be judged on my curry, and Fran on her skewers. She had actually cooked the boar skewers herself too, so it wasn’t cheating.

  “Ah. Wait a moment, please. I’ll go get the judge.”

  “You’re not judging these?”

  “Oh, no. One of our top managers will do the judging.”

  After having two plates of food shoved in her face, the flustered receptionist left in a hurry. As we waited for her to return, I asked Fran about something that was bugging me.

  I know it’s an entrance exam and all, but are you sure you want to use some of your curry for it?

  She hated it when she had to share her favorite dish. What had gotten into her today?

  Your cooking’s going to be tested, Teacher. We can’t present anything that’s less than perfect. Your curry’s going to knock the socks off that judge, Fran said, nostrils flaring.

  O-oh. Thanks for your vote of confidence, Fran.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. Right this way.” The receptionists called for us five minutes later, and we followed her to a grand dining room. The table was adorned with a beautiful cloth, and the furniture looked exquisite.

  “So, you’re the new chef.”

  “Hm.”

  An old man with sharp eyes was waiting for us. He looked like a gourmet stickler or like one of those food critics who never gave anything a good rating. Now I was nervous.

  “Meckam, here is what you will be judging today.” The receptionist presented the two dishes to the old man.

  “There’s two
?”

  “This one’s mine.”

  “A skewer… all right, let’s have a taste.”

  Meckam took the boar skewer and examined it. He sniffed it for the aroma before putting the skewer in his mouth. He chewed slowly to savor and examine the flavor.

  His lack of expression scared me. The taste test only took seconds, but it felt like minutes.

  “Hm. That was all right,” he said after finishing Fran’s skewer.

  “Can’t help it.”

  Fran knew the limits of her cooking and had no reason to be upset. The skewers were a snack she’d made on a whim after getting her Cooking skill.

  “But it wasn’t bad, by any means. Your dish showed an amount of skill. It showcased your desire to make good food under less than ideal circumstances.”

  Well, then. The old man knew his stuff. Fran did try her best when she made those skewers. Yes, she’d cooked them without preparation, but she’d put her back into it, the way she always did when the chips were down.

  The skewers themselves were grilled for thirty minutes using a combination of magic and technique. We used ingredients and seasoning you could find anywhere, but I still think they came out delicious. Unfortunately, Fran lost all interest in cooking when she realized that it took time. The examiner’s insight into Fran’s psyche was terrifying, considering all he had to work with was one skewer.

  “You pass.”

  “Hm.”

  Good. If the examiner thought Fran’s boar skewers worthy of admission, then he should have no problems with my curry. Actually, what was the point of me being a member of the Chefs’ Guild? We could just piggyback Fran’s membership, since she was already in.

  No.

  Fran insisted that we continued with the examination.

  Why?

  I want to shock him with your cooking.

  She didn’t care about membership. Fran only wanted to show the snobby old man the deliciousness that was curry. She confidently shoved the plate in front of him.

  “This one next.”

  “Interesting. It looks like an Azelian dish but with a richer aroma. High-quality ingredients must’ve gone into making this.”

  “It’s called curry. Teacher made it.”

  “An original invention of your master?”

  “Yeah. This is the ultimate dish. It took blood, sweat, and tears to create.”

  No, Fran! No! Curry is a dish you can find on any old street corner back on Earth! It is a simple dish to make as long as you have the right spices!