Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody, Vol. 3 Page 2

  Arisa shook her head.

  I see… So it was the durability that was lacking.

  “Well, why don’t we all work on the cushions while we wait for lunch to be ready, then?”

  I reached into the Garage Bag and pulled out a large sack filled with firewood, cooking utensils, and ingredients for Liza, and then I gave the Garage Bag itself to Arisa. The straw cushions were bulky, so I figured the children might need that bag for carrying them.

  Then, since Lulu had nothing to do, I brought her with me to deliver the cooking supplies to Liza.

  On the bare soil a short distance from the carriage was a stove of rocks, looking much sturdier than I’d been expecting. I spoke to Liza and Nana as they reviewed their work.

  “This is more impressive than I expected.”

  “Yes. We need something of this caliber to prepare stew for so many people.”

  Lulu handed the cooking utensils to Liza.

  “Ms. Liza, shall I prepare the firewood?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  As Lulu started arranging the firewood in the stove, Liza perused the cooking supplies.

  “Master, my work is completed, I report.”

  “Yeah. You did great.”

  Nana reported to me rather proudly, and I answered her with appreciation.

  “Master, is it all right if I start the fire now?”

  Lulu had finished loading the stove with firewood and was holding flint in one hand.

  “Hold on, Lulu. Use this instead.”

  Because lighting a fire with flint was a fairly difficult task, I handed Lulu the Tinder Rod I’d brought along.

  “Ah, I’ve never used this Magic Item before. How does it work?”

  “Fire comes out of the tip when you press down on that raised area.”

  Lulu looked flustered when I handed her the tool, so I explained how to use it.

  “Wow, how remarkable! Being able to make fire this easily is like magic.”

  “Well, it’s a Magic Item, after all.”

  Lulu’s eyes widened with surprise at the convenience of fire at the flick of a switch.

  When Lulu stayed with her aunt on her mother’s side in the city, they’d had only flint, and when she was Arisa’s attendant in the castle, she wasn’t allowed into the kitchen. This was her first contact with a Magic Item for creating fire.

  “Have either of you ever cooked before?” I asked Lulu and Nana.

  “I’ve kept watch over the fire and peeled vegetables and such, but I’ve never done any proper cooking.”

  “Number 3 had all the cooking duties, so I lack hands-on experience. I am learned in the basic operational sequences of cooking, but I do not have any recipes registered to my library. I would very much like to install them, I wish.”

  Liza seemed to be the only one who could prepare a meal, but these two would at least be able to lend a hand.

  Nana’s choice of words was strange as usual, but I understood what she was trying to say. I wonder if filling a homunculus with knowledge is as easy as installing an app on a smartphone.

  I was sort of curious, but appeasing everyone’s hunger took first priority.

  “I’ll task you two with helping Liza, then. I request you do as Liza tells you and make us some delicious food.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “Yes, Master, I confirm.”

  Apparently, Nana’s peculiar manner of speaking was rubbing off on me a little.

  “Liza, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  After a quick discussion of the menu, I left Liza in charge of the kitchen.

  Halfway between our makeshift kitchen and the horse-drawn carriage, Arisa and Mia were struggling to spread out the blanket they’d gotten from the Garage Bag, so I went over to help them.

  Pochi and Tama arrived right on time with rocks, which we set on each corner to weigh down the cloth, creating our rest area.

  Arisa piled the straw cushions on top of the blanket.

  “Okay, Pochi and Tama, please remove the cloth from the straw bundles. They should come off if you untie this string.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Aye-aye!”

  “Mia, if there are any pieces of straw in the unwrapped bundles jutting out, please remove them.”

  “Mm.”

  Arisa delegated assignments to the younger girls.

  Next to Arisa, I laid out a sewing set, bundles of various cloths, and tanned goatskin leather.

  “Hmm? What do we need leather for?”

  “If we use this for the part you sit on, straw won’t poke out there, right?”

  “Yes, that’s certainly true, but is it all right for us to use something as expensive as goatskin leather?”

  Arisa tilted her head uncertainly.

  “Sure. I wouldn’t want everyone’s rear ends to get all scratched up just to save a little money.”

  “That makes sense. They wouldn’t be soft to the touch anymore!”

  Arisa nodded with a big smile, but that was nowhere near my intention. I had no plans to touch anyone’s behind, least of all theirs.

  “If we can use the leather, then we won’t need the thick cloth. Master, can you cut it into pieces about this size? My hands are too small to use such large scissors very well.”

  “Sure. I’ll take care of it.”

  I cut the leather to the size Arisa had specified and handed it to her.

  Struggling with the large leatherworking needle, Arisa sewed the leather piece to the cloth that Pochi and Tama had removed.

  This is the perfect chance to show off my reliability as a master with my “Sewing” and “Leather Crafting” skills.

  I threaded a needle of my own, then stitched the leather and cloth together effortlessly. The speed and accuracy of my fingers would put a sewing machine to shame.

  “I-incredible! How can you be so absurdly fast with that needle…?”

  “Amazing, sir!”

  “Amazingly amaziiing!”

  Heh. All this praise feels pretty good. After I finished, I tugged on the needle to tighten the seams when…

  “…Huh?”

  “Mm?”

  For some reason, the thread slid right out, and the leather and cloth separated.

  I voiced my confusion in unison with Mia, who’d been watching at my side.

  “Why?”

  “…What do you mean, whyyy?!” Arisa howled toward the sky.

  When she was more or less done, she regained control of her breathing and pointed out my mistake.

  “Honestly! You forgot to knot the end of the thread!”

  A knot… Somewhere in the back of my mind, I vaguely remembered reading this in a textbook long ago. I must’ve learned something about it in home ec way back when.

  I would have to let Professor Arisa teach me the basics of sewing.

  I guess just having the skill wasn’t enough to make up for a lack of basic knowledge after all. Reality is cruel.

  On my next try, I was able to finish properly and bask in everyone’s praise. Then we bound the completed leather-backed cloth to the bundles of straw.

  I couldn’t help but note that Arisa tested my work each time to make sure it was free of mistakes.

  There was some yellow cloth amid the fabric we’d bought in Seiryuu City, so I prevailed upon Arisa’s know-how to create a palm-size chick plush toy. I used little balls of felt for the stuffing.

  > Skill Acquired: “Doll-Making”

  > Title Acquired: Puppeteer

  I gained the relevant skill, but my “Sewing” skill alone seemed to be enough to make a stuffed animal, so I didn’t bother allocating any points to it.

  “Meeeat?”

  “What a plump little bird, sir!”

  Tama and Pochi must have been hungry, because they were eyeing my newly made plush toy with relish.

  “Mm, cute.”

  Mia squeezed the toy a few times with pleasure.

  �
�Master!”

  Nana abandoned her work at the pot and rushed over, though her face was impassive.

  What’s going on?

  “Permission to care for this larval creature, I request.”

  Without taking her eyes off the toy, Nana grasped it in both hands, pleading with me.

  “You like it, do you?”

  “Yes.” Nana nodded emphatically, her expression still blank as ever. “So remarkably soft and round… Indeed, it is very cute.”

  She rubbed her cheek against the little stuffed chick. Despite her unchanged expression, she seemed very happy.

  I guess she is technically less than a year old.

  “I’ll give the first one to you, then, Nana.”

  “Mrrrr…”

  “Don’t be angry, Mia. I’ll make one for you, too,” I reassured Mia, who was sulking about the loss of the stuffed animal.

  I built a rabbit out of white cloth for her, then a little Pochi doll for Tama and a Tama doll for Pochi.

  “It’s a tiny Tama, sir!”

  “Mine’s a tiny Pochiii?”

  Pochi and Tama showed each other their dolls with huge grins.

  “Bunny.”

  “Yeah, it’s a rabbit.”

  Mia contentedly embraced the rabbit plush she’d received.

  Arisa and the nearby Lulu and Liza, who were preparing the food, were looking our way with interest. I guess I’d probably be stuck making dolls for all of them soon, too.

  Meanwhile, signs that lunch was nearly ready were beginning to waft through the air.

  I put away my stuffed toy–making tools and worked with the younger kids to lay out tableware on the quilt.

  “Is it readyyy?”

  “I’m sure it will be soon, sir!”

  Tama and Pochi hovered around Liza as she finished up with the food, watching her intently. Their impatience was clearly reaching a fever pitch, since they were rocking back and forth rhythmically. Their tails were busily wagging away, too, of course.

  “Mm, smells good.”

  “Ohhh, my stomach is about to start sticking to my back!”

  The delicious aroma drifting over from the pot had captivated Mia and Arisa as well. Apparently, Pochi and Tama weren’t the only hungry ones.

  “The food is ready, everyone.”

  “Need heeelp?”

  “I’ll carry it, sir.”

  At Lulu’s call, Tama and Pochi rushed over, wiping the drool from their faces with their arms.

  The two of them clamored around the huge pot as Liza lifted it, but it was far too big for either of them to carry, so Liza simply brought it over herself.

  Pochi and Tama trailed eagerly behind her, gazing up at her with excitement.

  The younger kids finished setting the table, and with a chorus of “Thanks for the food” (a custom Arisa had spread to the others), the meal began.

  Mia knew the phrase, too. She explained that a hero who had lived in her Elvish village before she was born, which in Mia’s case meant at least a hundred years ago, had popularized the custom.

  Today’s lunch was a quiche and pickled vegetables courtesy of the Gatefront Inn, along with stew made by Liza and company. The stew contained beans, potatoes, onions, and dried meat.

  The somewhat oddly cut potatoes were probably the result of Lulu’s and Nana’s handiwork.

  I ate a mouthful of the thick, creamy stew. Overwhelming saltiness hit my tongue first, followed by the strong flavor of potatoes and dried meat. A moment after that, the sweetness of the onion brought a bit of relief from the harsh salty taste.

  The beans resembled large fava beans, but their softness and delicious flavor bore a closer resemblance to edamame. I’d love to boil these beans and try them chilled as a snack with a beer someday.

  Compared to meals made by more skilled chefs like the ones at the Gatefront Inn, this meal was more like the heartily seasoned cooking of an unrefined bachelor, but it was still appetizing in its own way.

  “It’s delicious, Liza. Lulu, Nana, you did great, too.”

  “Much obliged.”

  Liza responded to my words of praise with a prim expression. But deep down, she was probably pleased or embarrassed, because her tail was beating the quilt. Those tails sure are a dead giveaway.

  Nana nodded expressionlessly with the stuffed toy in one hand, but Lulu seemed self-conscious.

  “Liza’s cooking is always so good, sir!”

  “Liza’s the beeest!”

  Pochi and Tama praised Liza, too, spoons clutched tightly in hand.

  “Mm, good.”

  “Maybe a bit salty, but it’s delicious.”

  Mia and Arisa also voiced their satisfaction.

  “Master, the wheat porridge is pleasing as well, I report.”

  Nana, the only person with a different meal, gave her conclusion in her usual deadpan.

  We weren’t bullying or excluding her, of course.

  Homunculi like Nana had weak stomachs for the first six months or so of their lives, so she had to either receive MP directly or stick to a liquid-only diet.

  This information was also documented in the journals of Trazayuya, the person who’d designed the homunculi; I had no doubt it was true.

  When she had been Zen’s subordinate in the Cradle, they had entered a facility called the “regulation tank” to be supplied with magic and nutrition.

  Nana had already passed the six-month period, but given the circumstances, we thought it best to keep her on a liquid diet for a while to see how she would fare. The plan was to introduce solid food gradually to avoid any issues.

  If I had skills like “Magic Manipulation” or “Practical Magic,” I’d be able to restore her magic myself, but none of our party members could use those skills, and I thought it would be better for her to eat with the rest of us anyway.

  “Will that be enough for you, Nana?”

  “Master, it is not a problem, I affirm.”

  Nana seemed perfectly content, but I decided to offer her fruit water later to cleanse her palate.

  Everyone seemed to be eating happily, save for one individual.

  For some reason, Mia was extricating the pieces of dried meat from her stew and setting them aside in a smaller dish.

  “Mia, don’t be fussy. Just eat it.”

  “Elf.”

  Yeah, you’re going to have to say more than that if you want me to understand.

  As if she’d heard my thoughts, Mia mumbled the word meat and drew a little X in the air with her finger.

  “Oh, so elves don’t eat meat? Yep, that’s how fairy races ought to be!” Arisa commented happily. True enough, it did seem appropriate for elves to be vegetarian, but Mia was tilting her head uncertainly at Arisa’s comment.

  Right—since there’s a real elf right in front of me, I should ask a question that’s been bothering me for years.

  “Mia, if elves don’t eat meat, what do you have bows for?”

  “Monsters.”

  That made sense. So they were for self-defense and hunting monsters?

  Before the beastfolk girls had gotten strong enough for close combat, I’d instructed them to attack from far away by throwing stones. It would make sense for elves to teach their children to fight from a safe distance with archery or magic.

  My thoughts had veered a little offtrack, but if not eating meat was part of her race’s culture, it would be best to respect that.

  “Well, if you’re not just being picky, it’s all right.”

  Mia’s attention shifted away from me, as if she’d noticed something else. I tried to follow her line of sight, but all I saw was grass swaying in the wind.

  At any rate, I’d have to tell whoever served meals from now on not to put meat in Mia’s portion. She seemed able to eat vegetable stew in meat stock without a problem, so we probably wouldn’t have to prepare an entirely separate dish like you would for someone with allergies.

  Pochi and Tama finished off the little bits of meat from Mia’s d
ish as she removed them.

  Now then, it was time to sample the food they’d prepared for us back at the Gatefront Inn.

  The quiche had stayed faintly warm in my Storage—impossibly so, in fact, considering the temperature of the air outside. Storage provided some solid insulation.

  I’d have to try a performance test on the journey. If I could transport stew and the like and keep it warm, preparing meals would be a cinch.

  As I contemplated this, I absently broke off a bite-size piece of quiche and popped it into my mouth. The Gatefront Inn’s handiwork was superb, as always.

  Both Liza’s stew and the innkeeper’s quiche were delicious, and we all happily ate our fill.

  The conversation as we shared lunch together might have been the best spice of all.

  After we all washed the dishes and cleaned up the meal, we took a break for about an hour.

  A part of the reason we were in no hurry was so we could let the horses fully recover, but I also wanted to let the kids play for a while, especially the young Tama and Pochi.

  “Private Tama! Private Pochi!”

  “Aye!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Good answers. They were facing me, but their ears twitched whenever they heard something rustling in the nearby bushes. They looked ready to break into a run across the grassy meadow at any moment.

  “I have an important mission for you! Go and investigate that giant stone at once!”

  “Aye!”

  “Sir!”

  I watched as they zipped away like a pair of arrows. “I’ll call for you when it’s time to leave, so don’t go too far!” I called after them, just to be safe.

  At the sound of a clear little tone, I turned to see Mia playing a reed pipe. The melody was complex enough for an expert.

  “You’re very good, Mia.”

  “Oh?”

  Mia tilted her head as if unsure of her own skills, though she seemed to appreciate the compliment.

  “Princess Mia, I would like to learn the reed flute as well, I entreat.”

  “Not ‘princess.’”

  Nana had called Mia “princess” when she was still Zen’s servant. Mia held no ill will toward Nana herself, but she strongly disliked the title “princess.”

  “But Princess Mia—”

  “Nana, Mia doesn’t like being called ‘princess,’ so please don’t do it.”