A month had passed.
Commander Berle’s deployment to the Central Plains was approaching.
Three hundred knights had been assembled. And around twelve hundred squires.
Additionally, there were about a thousand other various soldiers.
A total force of twenty-five hundred.
In addition to this, there was a supply unit responsible for transporting food and goods for the army.
The supply unit was a mixed group of private transporters and castle-hired porters, but they weren’t counted as part of the fighting force.
The House of Count Highwand had already dispatched an advance unit to the Central Plains.
This additional deployment was nearly the limit of what their territory’s population and finances could support.
The city of Porto was bustling in preparation for the departure ceremony scheduled for the next day.
Merchants hoping to sell weapons and charms at high prices roamed the streets.
Anxious soldiers, on the verge of departure, were easily convinced by the usual sales pitch, “This knife could save your life” and would drop large sums of money.
As with any army, prostitutes had begun to appear from who-knows-where.
Glamorous women in revealing outfits tried to attract soldiers in by showing off their thighs in alleyways.
Influential people of the region, like wealthy farmers and major merchants, had also been invited to the ceremony, turning the event into something of a festival.
Abel and Ise had been so busy preparing for the departure ceremony that they hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in the past four days.
Baron Gatu and Ise were part of the stay-behind unit, so they wouldn’t be participating in the deployment.
Their role was to continue maintaining stability within the Highwand territory.
As for the preparations for the departure ceremony, the place resembled a battlefield, with a massive number of people and supplies moving back and forth.
Temporary workers hired as attendants and porters kept coming and going endlessly.
Anyone who dawdled while carrying luggage would be yelled at by a gruff supervisor.
At that moment, Gatu appeared with a grim expression.
And the moment he approached Ise, he bowed his head.
“Ise. Sorry, but could you help with moving supplies?”
The request was so outrageous that even Abel couldn’t help but complain.
“Come on, Lady Ise’s sword skills would be wasted on this. Isn’t there some other job she could do?”
“I don’t want to ask her either. But… we’re really short on manpower.”
However, Ise herself agreed without hesitation.
“Sir Gatu, think nothing of it. I don’t consider carrying supplies to be shameful. In fact, I find it strange that others do.”
She moved to the work site at once, and with her usual composed expression, began hauling loads that even large men couldn’t lift and carried them with ease.
Armor only gets in the way during hauling, so Ise wore a simple linen one-piece dress, though she still carried her greatsword on her back. It was a peculiar sight.
A man who had been hired temporarily gave her a look that clearly said, “What the hell is with this person?”
Abel and Ise kept hauling cargo to the main castle.
The contents were food ingredients for cooking.
Just the meats alone included pork, chicken, beef, and lamb. It was a wide variety.
There were also vegetables and fruits. Unusually, there was even fish. It was river fish like rainbow trout.
It was sure to be a feast.
They entered the kitchen to deliver the ingredients.
Inside, dozens of cooks were working with fierce intensity.
It didn’t feel like a place you could casually strike up a conversation.
Among them was a familiar face. Pierre.
He noticed Abel and hurried over to him.
“Hey, if it isn’t Abel…!”
He turned his normally intimidating, criminal-looking face into a smile.
Coming from someone who was usually grumpy, the smile looked more creepy than friendly.
“Huh? Mr. Pierre, are you working in the castle instead of the dining hall today?”
“Yeah. …Come with me for a moment.”
For some reason, Pierre led him to the back of the kitchen.
“Listen to me for a bit.”
“Okay.”
“The castle cooks…they look down on guys like me who work in the knight corps kitchen.”
“I see…”
“On days like today when there’s a banquet and not enough hands, they drag us in to help. But those bastards act all high and mighty. Even though we’re doing everything from peeling vegetables to washing dishes, they still throw snide remarks at us.”
“Well… they’re the ones who usually cook for the Count, right? You should just ignore them.”
“Nah, actually…I’ve got a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Yeah! That thin fried meat dish you made the other day. The cutlet. I thought it could be a top-tier dish, so I studied how to make it and experimented with sauces.”
“I see.”
“I’m gonna serve it to the guests today. And when people start talking about how good it was, and they find out it was made by a dining hall cook… that’ll show those smug bastards!”
“That’s a great idea. If you make it, Mr. Pierre, I’m sure everyone will say it’s delicious!”
“Damn right. I was so pissed off I had to vent a little… But today, I’m finally gonna get back at them.”
Just as Abel was about to leave after listening to Pierre’s complaints, Pierre grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Wait a moment. I’ve got another favor to ask. Abel, the truth is…we’re seriously short-handed right now. And I know you’ve got real cooking skills. Could you help us out?”
With his face looking like he might commit murder, Pierre earnestly pleaded. But from an outsider’s perspective, it probably looked like he was threatening Abel…
“Uhh…”
Abel hesitated.
He owed Pierre quite a bit.
Like food for Walt, and letting him borrow the kitchen and ingredients after hours.
This was a good chance to repay that debt.
“Lady Ise, would it be okay if I helped?”
“You absolutely should. Head Cook Pierre has done much for us.”
Ise gave a firm nod.
With that, the decision was made.
Abel immediately joined the cooking team, while Ise returned to her cargo-carrying duties.
Abel borrowed a spare apron and stood beside Pierre.
Seeing the mountain of meat and vegetables sparked his fighting spirit.
—Back in prison, I used to cook for five hundred people.
I even worked part-time at that weird izakaya called the “Empire of Watamimi”.
Honestly, that place was worse than prison…
Compared to that, this is nothing.
Abel quickly took charge of peeling vegetables and potatoes and boiling them.
Pierre focused on preparing the cutlets.
The kitchen, in many ways, was like a brutal battlefield.
If you dawdled, getting kicked or smacked with a frying pan was just part of the daily routine.
As Abel got to work, he began to feel harsh gazes from somewhere in the kitchen.
—Brings back memories…
That izakaya manager who barely paid minimum wage and exploded in rage over the smallest mistake…
That creepy company with the slogan “We’re grateful for your gratitude” or whatever…
What a nightmare.
For several hours, Abel stood and worked nonstop.
He performed his tasks with quiet, steady precision.
His skill didn’t just impress Pierre—
Even the castle’s regular chefs looked on in surprise, clearly impressed.
“There’s not enough food! What’s going on?!”
Abel recognized the voice. It was Butler Keifard.
He was probably the one managing today’s banquet.
A man with heavy responsibilities.
A staggering amount of food was being made and sent to the banquet hall.
Cooks and servers worked like beasts of burden.
Water boiled furiously, and oil splattered off the heated iron griddles.
An apprentice cook who had made a mistake was getting yelled at.
He looked to be about the same age as Abel.
With a face that seemed on the verge of tears, the boy continued chopping vegetables.
Before long, Keifard who had been coming in and out of the kitchen while shouting instructions noticed Abel.
“Abel! What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were short-staffed, so I came to help. I’ve already gotten permission.”
For a brief moment, Keifard gave him a look like he was witnessing something truly pitiful…
It was probably just past evening.
Abel had been working nonstop since midday, and now even he was starting to feel exhausted.
As he stopped to take a short break and drink some water, an unfamiliar server tapped him on the shoulder.
“If you’ve got time to rest, carry this!”
They pointed to a platter piled high with a pork dish.
Refusing felt like it might get him punched, so he had no choice but to accept.
He picked up the plate and headed toward the lively noise.
The banquet was spread out across the great hall and the courtyard.
A quick glance suggested there were around four hundred people in attendance.
As expected from a deployment ceremony, the place was packed with burly men.
It looked like every knight of deployment rank was present.
Here and there, a few female knights and mages could be seen as well.
Everyone seemed well into their drinks. There was no sign of formality, just drunken revelry.
The knights shouted and laughed in booming voices.
The ones locked in heated debate were probably centurions.
“They’re putting royal members on the front lines without hesitation. Typical of the royal faction.”
“Yeah, that’s why their morale stays so high, even though they’re just an expeditionary force. Makes sense. There’s a huge difference between getting orders from some far-off castle and actually seeing royalty fighting beside you.”
“That prince Gaiakeron or whatever his name is….he’s probably still in his late teens, and we keep losing to him…”
“I heard they’ve sent another royal too. Princess Hardia.”
“Apparently, she’s even earned the nickname ‘Battle Maiden’.”
“Can’t take our eyes off Prince Yelring or Prince Rikimel, either. They’re rock-solid tacticians. And there’s no sign they’re backing off. No doubt about it. They’re dead serious.”
Abel wandered among the knights, carrying the food.
He had no idea where he was supposed to take it.
As he hesitated, a woman he didn’t recognize told him to bring it “over there”.
The place he ended up delivering the plate to was the head table, where the count’s family and unit commanders were seated.
He caught a glimpse of Berle and Lopez, both of whom he wasn’t fond of, and even Kashe.
Commander Berle and his eldest son Lopez were deep in discussion with a crowd of commanders and knights.
In the middle of all these adults, Kashe looked completely out of place. She was wearing a purple dress that matched the color of her eyes.
It suited her perfectly, but her expression was far from cheerful.
She looked thoroughly bored.
Abel hadn’t intended to talk to anyone, so he quickly tried to set the dish down and leave, but Kashe spotted him right away.
She hurriedly stood up from her seat and approached him.
“Abel. What are you doing here?”
Her face showed a mix of surprise and suspicion.
“Uh, I’m just helping out a bit right now.”
“What? But you’re… a squire, aren’t you? Did that female non-human knight called Ise make you work as a server?”
“No, that’s not it. Someone I owe a lot to asked for a favor. I’m doing this because I want to.”
Abel gave a quick, “Well, I’m busy,” and walked off to carry a stack of empty plates.
Watching him from a distance was Monke.
He was already quite drunk. Nearly to the point of passing out.
To be honest, he found this whole banquet infuriating.
He’d wanted to accompany his father Berle to the battlefield, but had been rejected as “too early”.
Monke was painfully aware of his shortcomings in martial skill.
That was exactly why he needed to achieve something glorious and to be recognized.
If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to carry the name of the prestigious Count Highwand family.
And yet, his father had ordered him to stay behind and guard the territory.
His frustration was building.
And then there was Abel.
A surge of anger and jealousy welled up inside him.
That child was creepy.
He looked like a boy but acted like an adult.
He must’ve been raised that way by his father.
Even if he was born out of wedlock, could it be that the famed martial strength of the Highwand line ran strongly through his veins?
Compared to that, he himself…the thought made Monke feel as though his blood was boiling with envy.
He slowly crept up from behind and fixed his gaze on Abel’s back as he carried the plates.
Then, he kicked him with full force.
“Gweh!”
Abel let out a noise like a squashed frog as he was sent flying.
Dozens of plates shattered with a loud crash.
—Oww… What the hell…?
“Don’t walk in front of me, you lowborn scum!”
Drunk and enraged, Monke delivered another kick.
The tip of his boot sank into Abel’s side.
“Hey! Monke, stop it!”
Noticing the commotion, Kashe rushed in to stop him.
Monke gave her a look like she was an annoying obstacle and walked off.
“Ugh…”
Caught completely off guard, Abel hadn’t been able to brace himself at all.
The pain was excruciating.
The blow knocked the wind out of him.
Keifard, realizing what had happened, quickly took action.
He gathered the servants to clean up the broken plates, then dragged Abel out of the hall.
Out in the corridor, Abel cast healing magic on himself and finally managed to ease the pain.
“Ugh, damn it! A sneak attack from behind… how cowardly…”
More than anger, it was the sheer shock of the situation that hit harder.
He hadn’t noticed the attack from behind at all.
Abel muttered to no one in particular,
“What the hell just happened? Who did that?”
“It was probably Brother Monke. I didn’t see the exact moment he kicked you, though.”
“That bastard!”
Abel reflexively punched the wall.
Apparently, some magic had unconsciously charged his fist, because the wall caved in with a thud.
Keifard hurriedly tried to stop him.
“Abel, don’t break the wall! That’ll come out of your paycheck!”
“Oh, sorry. Please don’t cut my wages.”
Frustrated as he was, Abel knew that he was just a regular employee. But going up against a relative of the family that ran the business would only get him fired.
“Damn it! Damn family-run black company hellhole!”
All he could do was raise his eyes to the ceiling and cry out in despair.
Keifard and Kashe watched over his incomprehensible rant with sympathetic, almost gentle looks.
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