Reincarnated as a Sword Vol. 4

by Yuu Tanaka

  Eugene was apparently half-insect. An insectile beastman. At least, half of him was. The eyes and feelers were all he got from his bug heritage. Ordinary insect beastmen must’ve looked more insectoid than human.

  He really was a master alchemist though. One quick Identify indicated that he had maxed out his Alchemy skill and its advanced form, Biochemistry. He bore the titles Item Expert, Poison Master, Potion Master, Master Alchemist, and several others.

  He invited us to sit down and introduced himself.

  “My name is Eugene, an alchemist employed by the Adventurers’ Guild at Bulbola.”

  It made me wonder…

  “You’re not in the Alchemists’ Guild?”

  “Ha ha ha. Indeed. I used to be, but I had to take responsibility for one of my apprentice’s mishaps. I was hired by the Adventurers’ Guild afterwards.”

  “Oh, but none of it was your responsibility, Doctor. Your apprentice was already an established alchemist. There was no need for you to step down,” the elf interjected as she served our drinks.

  It sounded like there was a long story behind his employment.

  “Perhaps. But the fact remains that he used the knowledge I taught him for evil.”

  “I still think your banishment was over the line!”

  The anger in the elf’s voice made for a terrible impression of the Alchemists’ Guild. She must’ve really liked him.

  “Wouldn’t joining the Adventurers’ Guild make your relationship with the Alchemists’ Guild worse?” Fran asked. The alchemists couldn’t have any fond feelings for an exile who joined another guild so easily.

  “It did,” said the elf. “They harassed him every day until their Guildmaster stepped down.”

  “That was five years ago. I get along just fine with the current Guildmaster.”

  “There are still people who bear a grudge against him, though. Not to mention those alchemists who hate adventurers to begin with.”

  The scandal was so huge that the animosity trickled down to Eugene’s former guildmates. Did that extend to the Adventurers’ Guild as well? Surely, strained relations with the alchemists would make getting adventuring supplies more difficult.

  “Does the Adventurers’ Guild hate Eugene?”

  “Not at all. In fact, many of our members are grateful to him.”

  “How come?”

  “Thanks to the Doctor’s alchemical skills, we are able to produce our supplies here at the guild itself. He effectively broke the Alchemist Guild’s monopoly on such things. The price war made everything cheaper, and that meant many happy adventurers.”

  “You can see why a lot of alchemists would hate me.”

  I did. I felt sorry for Eugene’s banishment, but we did get a top-notch alchemist out of it, and we didn’t even have to leave the building.

  “Either way, the old guard at the Alchemists’ Guild is beginning to change. We’ve started cooperating with them again.”

  “Yes. However, the new moderates in the Alchemists’ Guild are as lukewarm in their studies as in their grudges. I get the feeling they’re just here to steal the Doctor’s work sometimes.”

  The elf left the room after that, still seething with resentment.

  “Please, have a drink before we get started.” He offered us a cup of what looked like oolong tea.

  “Thanks.” Fran took small sips, her cat’s tongue not allowing anything more.

  “My goodness, you’re fine after all that?” Eugene asked with wonder, taking a sip out of his own cup.

  Was it poisoned? It shouldn’t be. My Identify only revealed regular Oboe Tea. Fran hadn’t caught any status ailments, either…

  “Well, I love this stuff, you see. Thing is, most of my visitors find it too bitter. They end up spitting it out more often than not. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with your tongue, young lady?”

  “No. It’s nice.”

  “Well, I’ll be! I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who understands the wonderful flavor of this tea!”

  Was it like senburi tea? If so, it must have been an acquired taste.

  “It’s bitter, but tasty.”

  Fran had a sensitive tongue, able to distinguish fine flavors in the background of bitter and spicy. It allowed her to find the deliciousness in even the oddest of combinations.

  “Indeed, indeed! I’m glad I’ve finally found a kindred spirit. Would you like some of the tea leaves, young lady?”

  “Please.”

  Fran nodded and took the small pouch of tea leaves Eugene produced. He was really excited as he handed it over; happy to find someone who liked his favorite drink.

  “So I can make really good tea with this?”

  “Actually, there is another secret ingredient. I used Mana Water. Mana-laced water with no particular side effects.”

  “So infusing food with mana makes it taste better?”

  “You didn’t know? The human tongue has mana-receptive taste buds. That is why monster meat has that extra bit of flavor compared to regular livestock. Mana-infused water is usually used to brew tea and soup.”

  “If mana can make all food taste better, why isn’t everyone using it?”

  That was a good question. Mana seemed to be the best general purpose seasoning. However, Eugene shook his head.

  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. There are different types of mana, and the ingredient itself must be infused with mana from the outset. The mana water I use comes from a spring that is naturally infused. Adding mana after the cooking process wouldn’t have the same effect.”

  That was unfortunate. And here I thought we’d found a way to give us an edge for the contest.

  “Also, it is not good for one to consume too much mana in one’s cooking.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Consuming too much mana causes you to crave it. It can get so bad that it overpowers the other flavors.”

  In human terms, it was like someone who always needed to have his food extra spicy or extra sweet. Their taste buds were dulled by the strong flavors. Mana had the same effect.

  “Take the Magi, for example. They have a natural sensitivity to mana. They love their food to be drenched with it. Unfortunately, feasting on mana-rich food from an early age leads to a dulling of their tongues. For a Magus, the taste of mana is all that matters. I remember having to eat food cooked by a great magus once. That was the most difficult plate of food I’ve ever had to consume.”

  I remembered Jean the necromancer and the food that he served in his laboratory. That was the only time I ever saw Fran not clean her plate. Jean’s tongue must have been dulled that way, too.

  I needed to make sure that Fran understood mana wasn’t the crux of cooking but only one of many subtle flavorings. As I renewed my cooking resolve, Fran finished her tea, returned it, and bowed her head.

  “Thank you for the tea. It was delicious.”

  “Ah, it was my pleasure. Now, what did you come to talk about?”

  “I wanted you to take a look at this bottle.”

  “Oh?”

  Fran took out the metal case and produced the Soul Essence from inside.

  Eugene took one look at it and immediately deduced what it was. I expected nothing less from a master alchemist.

  “This is Soul Essence. You happened upon a most interesting substance.” Eugene looked surprised as he rested his chin on his hand. Soul Essence must be rare.

  “I found it in a bandit’s hideout. What is it for? Is it a magic drug?”

  “Not exactly, although it is technically a magical drug…Soul Essence is used in the manufacture of artificial crystal.”

  “Artificial crystal?”

  “Which, in turn, is used in the creation of familiars. Soul Essence is the base of their crystal. The fact that this one is so difficult to Identify means it has the potential to become a very strong crystal indeed.”

  “How much is it worth?”

  “Hmm. One hundred thousand at least, one hundred million at m
ost.”

  A hundred million? Then that thing was worth a fortune! I guessed the crystal it could produce must be worth at least that much, if not more! Eugene did say that it could produce an immensely strong crystal…

  “What kind of crystal will it become? Can you tell?”

  “Unfortunately, no. An Identify would usually reveal what crystal it can become, but this Soul Essence seems impervious to it. Which leaves us with consulting the manufacturer…”

  Eugene checked the bottle and every nook and cranny of the box.

  “I can’t seem to find any documentation… Where was this made?”

  “There wasn’t anything else where I found it.”

  “I see. Well, I can look into it. It’s going to take some time, however.”

  “Can’t you just…turn it into a crystal?”

  If so, we could take it from there. But things weren’t that simple.

  “The process of converting Soul Essence into crystal requires other materials and magical drugs, all dependent on the potential crystal. We cannot do it until we know what crystal it is meant to become.”

  Basically, we couldn’t just wing it. I could have easily absorbed whatever crystal it ended up as, too. We couldn’t think of alternative ways to use it, so I guess this was going to have to sit pretty in our inventory for a while.

  “How long will it take to know what Soul Essence this is?”

  “Three days at least, ten days at most, I suppose.”

  The way Eugene put it, I’d expected the process to take a few months. Fran looked as surprised as I was.

  Teacher?

  I guess we could give it to him…

  Eugene seemed trustworthy, and it wasn’t as if he was going to bolt. If he did, he’d have the entire Bulbolan Adventurers’ Guild on his tail.

  “Still…” Eugene said, frowning.

  “What is it?”

  “This box looks exactly like the ones the Alchemists’ Guild would use, even with its lack of documentation. Its manufacturer must be using the guild’s channels for transportation.”

  “But I found it in a bandit’s den.”

  “And I believe you… It’s just…”

  Something was bothering him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. There is something I must ask.”

  “Well?”

  “You are an adventurer and the one who found this box. It’s only right that you know. When a powerful Soul Essence goes missing, it would usually be a serious incident. The aggrieved party would contact the Adventurers’ Guild and we would post a recovery quest for it.”

  “But nothing went up for this?”

  “No. Not that I’ve heard. The creation of Soul Essence is regulated by the government, so there is a possibility that whoever lost it is keeping quiet so they don’t draw attention to themselves. I’m not sure what the original purpose of this thing even is. Only the Alchemists’ Guild would know.”

  Which didn’t concern us, though we wanted to be kept out of this mess if at all possible.

  “Of course. I swear to keep your identity a secret, Fran.”

  He wasn’t lying, so we had no choice. The Soul Essence sounded important, and we had every right to be worried about our names getting attached to it.

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So about the Soul Essence. Can you look into it?”

  “Are you sure? It is very valuable, you know.”

  “Yeah. I trust you.”

  Fran nodded as she looked into Eugene’s bug eyes. The alchemist’s face flushed for a moment, and then he nodded in return. I supposed it wasn’t every day that he gained the trust of a child.

  Soon, Eugene regained his professional posture and carefully took the Soul Essence into his hands.

  “All right. I’ll take good care of it.”

  “Thanks.”

  That settled the matter. The true identity of the Soul Essence would be revealed sooner or later. Fran shook Eugene’s hand, and we left his laboratory.

  ***

  “Are you telling me that our plans have gone astray?”

  “Someone discovered our base of slaving operations.”

  “What? You mean the one with ties to Raydoss?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what possessed the Count to do so, but he seems to have ordered the raid himself.”

  “The Count? I thought he was in our pocket.”

  “I believe he was swayed by the visitors coming for the Festival of the Moons. Our slaving base has been taken over by the Knight Brigade.”

  “That’s bad.”

  “The materials we had stashed in our hideout have been stolen as well.”

  “Even the Cure Turmeric?”

  “Yes. It’s all gone.”

  “Damn it. Who did it?”

  “An adventurer, according to my sources.”

  “But those were mercenaries only posing as bandits! Are you telling me a lone adventurer took them all down?”

  “They had the misfortune of mugging a high-rank adventurer, I suppose. Our mercenaries were completely wiped out.”

  “That’s troubling… Any chance of our plans getting back on track?”

  “Our chances are slim… The Cure Turmeric was vital.”

  “Can’t we substitute it for something else?”

  “No. Not when we’re this pressed for time. Additional research would take too long. Our plans have already been set in motion.”

  “Right. We’ll have to make do with our reserves.”

  “Indeed. All that’s left is the matter of the ritual.”

  “Leave that to me. Preparations might be difficult, but I’ll have it arranged.”

  “Please.”

  “We will need that girl soon.”

  “Right. The girl. Something came up.”

  “But we settled the orphanage’s debt. That was the deal.”

  “His precious little brother went berserk. It threw a wrench in the works.”

  “I thought the plan was to pay off his debt in exchange for the girl?”

  “Yes, but he seems to want the girl’s secret soup recipe, and now he’s withholding her.”

  “Soup?! The people of this town, I swear…”

  “He doesn’t know how much of a mess he’s making of our plans.”

  “We have a few days left. We need to settle it before then.”

  “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

  Chapter 3:

  Festival Night

  We discussed our next move as we left the Adventurers’ Guild.

  We’ll go to the Lucille Trade Association to sell our materials. Then let’s check out the kitchen Rengill mentioned.

  “Sure.”

  There’s an orphanage on the way, so let’s drop by and say hi.

  “What for?”

  I hear they’re one of the favorites in the contest.

  “But it’s not like we can eat for free just by dropping in.”

  True.

  From what I heard, competing stalls didn’t veer too far from their base of operations. If the Dragonhead were competing, they would sell their food outside their main store. It followed that whatever the orphanage was selling would be sold outside the orphanage itself. It made for a shorter supply route, and they could leverage whatever popularity they had from the year before. We might as well see what our rivals were up to, especially when it was on the way to the trade association.

  So we headed to the orphanage, expecting to exchange friendly greetings with whoever was there. But things didn’t turn out as we hoped.

  “Yaaah!”

  “Waaaah!”

  “Get that woman out here!”

  Instead of a warm welcome, we heard the terrified cries of children and the angry voice of a man.

  The commotion came from within the orphanage walls. It was the opposite of tranquil. We sneaked closer to the building, curious to see what was going on.

  “I think you gave
me the wrong recipe.”

  The thug, sporting an appropriately thuggish mohawk, was waving around a small piece of paper. The object of his threats was a middle-aged woman in a plain old habit. She seemed slim, almost haggardly so. The children were cowering behind her.

  “B-but it is the right recipe. You promised you would leave us alone when I gave it to you.”

  “I think I remember asking for your prize-winning soup recipe. Am I wrong?”

  “I-I’m telling you, I already gave it to you.”

  It didn’t sound like ordinary money trouble. The thug said something about a recipe. Could this be linked to the cooking contest?

  “You expect me to believe that? This recipe’s all ‘a dash of this’ and ‘a splash of that’?”

  “Oh, but I don’t usually measure when I cook…”

  “Are you serious?! How could Garbage Soup have possibly passed the preliminaries?!”

  “I promise you, I don’t measure when I cook!”

  The man held the orphanage’s famed soup recipe in his hand. He’d somehow managed to obtained it, albeit through devious means. But apparently it was incomplete. From his complaints, the recipe was too vague to be useful.

  However, the woman was telling the truth. She never measured an ounce of salt when she cooked, and yet she finished fourth place in last year’s contest. It sounded impossible.

  With a quick Identify, I found that the woman, Io, was quite spectacular. Cooking 9, Enhanced Taste Buds, Blessing of the Food God. With skills like those, she was literally exalted.

  Her lack of precision was probably because she only used what was right for each particular batch. She had the recipe engraved into her subconscious and could cook entirely by intuition. That way, she could draw out the best flavors of any ingredient and make prize-winning food using even the cheapest vegetables.

  The man didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Stop talking nonsense!”

  “Eeek!”

  Yeah, I figured.

  Teacher, I’m going in.

  Don’t go too crazy, now.

  If Fran went overboard, it might cause trouble for the orphanage.

  Okay.

  She leapt into action, silently closing in on the man. He had no idea she was right behind him.

  “This recipe won’t cut it, you hear me?! You’re gonna have to give us something else. Bring out Charlotte—hurk!”