Reincarnated as a Sword Vol. 4

by Yuu Tanaka

  We circled around to the front gate but found no nameplates for identification. And so we asked the neighbors. An adventurer asking about the owner would raise anyone’s alarm, but Fran was young enough that people let their guard down around her. We asked questions without raising alarm, and Jet even helped by transforming himself into a puppy for extra cuteness.

  If Fran was talking to a man, she would tilt her head and glance shyly up at him. Her act was enough to make the hardest of them melt.

  “Hey, mister?”

  “Wh-what is it, little girl?”

  “I wanna ask you something.”

  “Sure, of course, what is it? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  I apologize to the men she enticed to sin.

  Women were a much more straightforward affair. Her cool expression was more effective against them than any contrived act.

  “Say, ma’am?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Who owns that huge mansion over there? A noble?”

  “That old thing? Yes, I suppose that is the biggest building around.”

  “Terrible company, though.”

  “Oh, yes. Very distressing. I have no idea who owns it, but the company they keep ain’t good.”

  “Really?”

  That was surprising. I was sure the local Society of Housewives would know.

  “But just between you and me, that place looks like it’s being used by some bad people. They always enter the mansion under the cover of night.”

  No wonder the building felt out of place. The fact that the thug came here pretty much confirmed those suspicions.

  “Like some kind of secret society?”

  “Ha ha, wouldn’t that be the day! I don’t think any secret society would settle down in our part of town. Although I do remember hearing that one of the Count’s carriages was seen entering that place.”

  “The Count’s in on this?”

  “Who knows? It did have his crest, though. Your guess is as good as mine whether the Count was actually in it.”

  We carried on our inquiries, but it didn’t look like anyone knew who the mansion belonged to. However, there were lots rumors about it being used by a crooked bunch. Everyone advised Fran not to go near it, especially at night.

  There were people inside, right, Jet?

  “Ruff. Arf.”

  Jet nodded. There was quite a number inside the mansion.

  Well, barging in would be reckless…

  We didn’t know how many people were inside or how strong they were. We needed proof. We’d be charged with breaking and entering if we charged through those gates now.

  We would have to hold off for another day.

  Do you have their scent, Jet?

  “Woof.”

  Good. Keep an eye out for them.

  “Arf, arf!”

  We didn’t know when the thug or his boss would come, so the best we could do was be vigilant. For now, we had business at the Lucille Trade Association. I guess we could ask them about the mansion while we were there.

  One hour later.

  “And that’s all of it.”

  “Hm. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Best of luck with the contest.”

  We were in front of the condemned restaurant that the Lucille Trade Association had prepared for us. The place still had working stoves and ovens, along with a well in the back. The LTA had people come and clean it periodically, which explained the lack of dust.

  Our ingredients were stacked up neatly in a corner. Everything was present and accounted for: spices, vegetables, flour, and oil. There was a lot to account for, too. It nearly filled the whole shop. The LTA had prepared everything we ordered in a little over a day, as expected of a great trade association.

  Should I store these?

  Yeah, might as well.

  The Pocket Dimension meant we could take whatever we needed out of storage, and it came with the added benefit of preserving whatever was in it. Fran proceeded to store everything away there, while the couriers Rengill had employed stared in shock. This little girl was easily storing away barrels of vegetables and sacks of flour they had had to transport with their own sweat and tears.

  Rengill even offered Fran a permanent spot as an employee for the LTA.

  The captain knew about the Pocket Dimension, but actually seeing it in action drove home its convenience. It sounded like our Pocket Dimension outclassed even storage spells.

  “You can’t store this much with a Space-Time spell?”

  “No. The Space-Time mages that I know could only store a third of this.”

  Pocket Dimension was a Skill instead of a spell, after all. It was much stronger than most Space-Time spells and came with unique perks. Merchants would die to get a hold of it.

  The paper bags we’d use to sell our wares were also included in the package. Paper was widely used in Bulbola, and even ordinary citizens had access to it. In this world, parchment was used by mages, while laymen used ordinary paper.

  The bags looked like the brown paper bags back on Earth, all the way down to their thickness and uneven texture, though I had a sinking feeling that the overall quality was lower.

  They came in two sizes: one large enough to hold two curry breads and one large enough to hold six. Cutting the smaller one in half would make it perfect for carrying a single curry bread around town. It would look pretty good, too. Oh, how I hoped our bread would catch on in this world.

  We also cut holes at the top of the paper bags for handles, making them easier to carry.

  “We have a lot of bags in storage, so feel free to place an additional order if you need it.”

  “Sure.”

  We asked Rengill about the mansion Jet had discovered, and he seemed to have some idea of the proprietor.

  “It might belong to the Ythra Trade Association.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They are former mercenaries and bandits who employ slaves to do their bidding. A mean bunch, to say the least. They’re not shy about their cruel methods, either.”

  Ythra Trade Association. Got it.

  “They have ties with the aristocracy and underground associations, so I recommend you have as little to do with them as possible. Even we at Lucille avoid them.”

  The Ythra Trade Association sounded more like a mob than merchants.

  Rengill handed us the keys to the place before leaving. It was his way of saying the contract was complete.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  We had a kitchen. We had our ingredients. Now, we could get to cooking.

  Wait—we still had to register at the Chefs’ Guild. They required each contestant to register their ingredients and submit a sample of their dish.

  Let’s make a sample batch for the Chefs’ Guild before we get going.

  “Hm. It’s finally time.” Fran clenched her fist, full of motivation. She really was set on making curry a household dish.

  We started making our sample batch then. It was easier than I thought, since I already had experience making curry. I prepped the water and filling for each type of curry: sweet, spicy, and very spicy. I used pork, beef, and chicken for the fillings, though it wasn’t really pork, beef, and chicken. It was monster meat.

  Making bread strong enough to contain the curry was the real challenge. After several failed batches, we finally made one that was satisfactory both in shape and taste.

  Okay, that should do it.

  I looked at the freshly deep-fried curry bread. It looked about the same as the ones sold in Earth’s bakeries.

  “Leave the taste test to us, Teacher.”

  “Woof! Woof, woof!”

  I left the breads on a wire rack to cool and drain off excess oil. Fran and Jet, who already had their midday snack, approached them while wagging their tails.

  Hang on. It’s still oily. It needs to drain for a little bit.

  “Aww.”

  “Ruff…”


  My hungry companions waited right in front of the batch, eager to get a taste. Not that staring at the breads would make them dry any quicker.

  The dough of the standard pork curry bread was cooked to golden brown. The spicy beef bread was speckled with red chili. The super spicy chicken was decorated with green herbs that looked like cilantro. In total, I’d made six of each.

  After a fifteen-minute wait on the cooling rack, the curry breads were ready to handle and eat. I stored half of the batch away in the Pocket Dimension to submit to the Chefs’ Guild and gave the remainder to Fran and Jet.

  It’s ready now. Here you go.

  “Hm!”

  “Woof, woof!”

  The insatiable duo finished the remaining curry bread as soon as I gave them the go-ahead.

  “So good.” Fran finished the plain curry bread in three bites.

  “Arf, arf.”

  What do you think?

  “I think it’s amazing! Curry rice was good, but curry bread is on a whole different level.”

  “Bark!”

  It was a line right out of a cooking manga. I was glad she liked it.

  “This one’s good, too.”

  “Woof, woof, woof!”

  Jet seemed to like the spicy one more than the plain. He had the tongue for it, I guess.

  What do you think, Fran?

  “No complaints here.”

  Fran didn’t have any trouble with the spicy version, but what about the super spicy bread?

  “Hot. But good. But hot.”

  “Woof! Woof, woof, arf!”

  I guess regular spice was as far as Fran could go. Very spicy was a huge hit with our direwolf, though.

  How much of each should we make? Very spicy was definitely an acquired taste… I would go with forty percent regular, forty percent spicy, and twenty percent very spicy.

  How’s that Cure Turmeric?

  “Hm… I can’t tell.”

  “Arf.”

  I used it in all of my breads. I added it for depth of flavor, but apparently it had the secondary effect of healing. Properly prepared, it should have the same effect as a status ailment curing potion.

  I had zero knowledge of magical pharmacy, but Cure Turmeric was as magical as it was tasty. My Cooking skill kicked in, and I was able to prep it without a problem. It should be enough to trigger a cleansing effect in the body, but it was difficult to observe in healthy consumers. I didn’t mind, since I wasn’t treating it as a cure to begin with.

  Looks like we’re good on the taste front. Let’s go to the Chefs’ Guild.

  “Sure.”

  Thirty minutes later, we’d successfully submitted our curry bread to the guild. Not that much could go wrong, since all we needed to do was give them the sample and the recipe.

  Let’s head back and get prepared.

  “Hm.”

  I planned to make a huge batch of curry bread and store it in the Pocket Dimension. We were going to have to spend the entire night making it. Whatever we cooked would be a ploy to attract more customers. The bulk of our stock would be made in advance in an effort to keep downtime low and sales high. Any leftovers would go to Fran and Jet.

  “Fran! There you are.” Colbert greeted us in the lobby of the Chefs’ Guild.

  “Colbert? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been looking for you! You said you planned to come here today, so I decided to wait. It’s almost time for the contest, and I wondered if you needed any help?” Colbert huffed as he approached us. He was really into this contest. “Anything at all, really! I just want to help. It’s not like I want to have a taste of your master’s cooking or anything!”

  So that was his plan. Well, if he really wanted to help, I wasn’t going to stop him. I’d treat him to as much as he wanted, in fact.

  Teacher?

  He seems honest enough. Ask him if he knows any criers.

  I was going to ask Rengill for recommendations, but having adventurers around meant that they could double as our bodyguards.

  “We’re looking for a crier for our food stall. We need someone to be the cashier and do basic food prep, too. Three of them if possible.”

  “You got it! I’ll get a party ready by tomorrow!”

  “We’ll be generous with our pay.”

  “All the better. I’ll get you the best in human resources!”

  That should cover the staff. We had two days left until the contest, and things were going as planned.

  You’re helping too, Fran.

  “Hm. I’ll do my best.”

  Jet, you’re our watchdog.

  “Bark!”

  We returned to our base of operations and got to work on preparations.

  First were the spices. I organized them by the type of bread I’d need them for. This would be instrumental in creating consistently delicious bread. Our spice blend needed to be just right.

  Jet, stop sniffing the spice bowls. Your breath is enough to blow them away! Oh no, now Fran’s sneezing from the spices in the air! Anyway, I’ll stay in sword form and organize the spices now.

  “Hm.”

  “Arf…”

  I asked Fran to prep the rest of the ingredients.

  “You got it.”

  “Ruff?”

  There’s not really anything you can do, Jet.

  “Arf, arf…”

  You can give me puppy dog eyes all you want, but them’s the facts.

  “Woof, woof!”

  He was really energetic today.

  “Bark…!”

  Standing on your hind legs isn’t going to help…

  His legs were shaking now, too. I was worried he’d fall over something. Jet really wanted to help, and I wondered if there was something he could do. He’d have to use either his front paws or his mouth. Maybe he could use his mouth to hold on to something…

  Oh, I know. You can help us make butter.

  “Arf?”

  Hang on.

  I took out a barrel of monster milk from the Pocket Dimension. We’d ordered a few barrels of the stuff from Rengill. It was expensive, but the captain said it was worth every penny. Drinking the milk by itself was good, but that wasn’t all it could do. Its composition meant it could be turned into butter easier than regular milk.

  I was going to use magic to save time but decided to delegate to Jet instead. I asked him to turn himself into his former size.

  Say “aah,” Jet.

  “Aarf…?”

  I placed a barrel in his gaping maw.

  Whatever you do, don’t bite into it. It’s just a wooden barrel and you might get splinters.

  “Ruff.”

  All right, now I want you to shake that barrel as hard as you can.

  “A-arf?”

  You’re the one who said you wanted to help. Now, get shaking, boy!

  “W-woof!”

  Jet started to headbang on my mark. At his rate, we’d have butter within the hour. I went back to cooking and lost myself in it. Next thing I knew, it was getting dark. How time flies when you’re in the zone.

  Jet was curled up in a corner after an hour of non-stop headbanging. Even a direwolf couldn’t keep his head straight after that.

  The sun was almost fully set now.

  Fran, how about we take a break and have a look around the festival? The Festival of the Moons started when night fell.

  “Hm. Food stalls.”

  Sure, but I think there’s a parade, too.

  “Yeah. Lots of good food.”

  Well, whatever makes you happy.

  That was what mattered most.

  “Come on, Jet.”

  “A-arf…”

  Jet staggered as he followed Fran out the back door. Even in his dazed state, he was still set on protecting his master. He truly deserved the title “Beastman’s Best Friend.” Not that it actually popped up on his status sheet.

  “So many people.”

  “Woof.”

  The stars were out, but there were as m
any people as during the afternoon. No, there were probably more. The streets were lit up and lively tonight, and the silence of midnight was interrupted by laughter. Food stalls lined either side of the street, reminding me of the festivals back on Earth, albeit with a lack of chocolate-covered bananas, hot dogs, and fried noodles. Instead, they sold skewers of grilled and salted fish, mystery meat, and the tongue of some unknown creature. Things I could never find back on Earth.

  It sure is lively tonight.

  “Hm. Munch, munch.”

  What’s that you’re eating?

  “Grilled squid thing.”

  “Munch, munch.”

  Is that a ham hock, Jet? You sure found your appetite quick. We haven’t even been out that long.

  And here I thought Jet was still reeling from churning the butter.

  “The good food is calling us.”

  “Woof.”

  Jet’s appetite overpowered his drowsiness. They wandered from stall to stall, letting their stomachs lead the way. Eventually, we reached the square and heard the sound of music. It sounded western and quite unlike anything I’d heard at Japanese shrine festivals. The rhythm sounded somewhat Latin.

  We walked to the source and found the band. I recognized something that looked like a violin and a bagpipe among the unique instruments.

  “This festival’s a lot of fun.”

  “Woof!”

  As we took in the atmosphere, a roar of applause boomed through the crowd.

  Sounds like there’s something coming this way.

  “It’s huge.”

  Something was making its way along the main road, and the crowd parted to watch.

  Looks like a parade float. Who’s that on it?

  “Priestess.”

  Ooh. Yeah, I guess her outfit does look quite holy.

  A quick Identify revealed her class was Oracle. I wondered if she could really hear the voices of the gods. They were proven beings in this world, after all.

  The float was headed to the temple square, where the oracle would offer a dance and a prayer to the gods. We would’ve followed her, but the crowd became too thick to navigate. Everyone wanted to see the ceremony.

  Fran, let’s get to higher ground.

  “Hm.”