Rumors about Arad’s Stew spread rapidly across Haven.

“They say Arad’s Stew tastes incredible?”

“And they give one bowl free to every city guard every day?”

“Let’s go eat right now!”

“Make sure Jack’s Inn is the first stop on every patrol route!”

“Providing free stew to our hardworking officials? The impoverished junior clerks will love it. If Jack’s Inn submits any complaints, make sure they’re handled as a priority.”

At first, it was the city guards and low-ranking officials who began frequenting Jack’s Inn.

“Hey! Kuro Family! Why are you still hanging around here?”

“Well, uh...”

“Did you forget what I said about rotting in the mines for life if I saw you again?”

“S-Sorry! Let’s go, guys!”

With law enforcement constantly visiting Jack’s Inn, the thugs disappeared in no time.

But the effects didn’t stop there.

“Centurions, why are you hosting a gathering in such a shabby place? Are you trying to save this captain’s wallet?”

“Since when have we cared about the captain’s purse? That place serves stew at 2 copper a bowl.”

“Two copper? Are they out of their minds?”

With free Arad’s Stew for guards and junior officials, the inn gained significant business and publicity.

“Captain, have you still not heard about Arad’s Stew at Jack’s Inn?”

“Arad’s Stew? Oh, that place?”

“Yeah, and they give us guards one free bowl each.”

“Really?”

“So let’s go eat!”

“Alright. We should boost their sales as a show of appreciation.”

Those who tasted Arad’s Stew began naturally spreading the word to their superiors.

“Arad’s Stew is really that good?”

“Yes, sir!”

“No matter how good it is, Jack’s Inn is a place for poor folks. Isn’t it beneath us to eat there? Wouldn’t it be better to stick to the usual meals at Polly’s Inn?”

“These days, even imperial adventurers, high-ranking mercenaries, and wealthy merchants visit Jack’s Inn just for the food! Most people sleep at Polly’s but eat at Jack’s.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! It’s that good. And we get one bowl free!”

“Hmm... Very well. We’ll hold our next gathering at Jack’s Inn.”

Even Haven’s elite began to grow curious about the stew that their subordinates so highly praised.

“This... This kind of food exists here in Haven?”

After hosting a gathering at Jack’s Inn, they became the stew’s most enthusiastic advocates.

“Is it really that delicious?”

“Yes, Mayor. I swear it’s better than anything I’ve ever eaten. You couldn’t create this flavor even with the most expensive and rare spices.”

“Even so, a mayor dining at such an old inn... doesn’t it look undignified? Why not eat at Polly’s instead?”

“We thought the same at first, but please, just try it once. That’s all we ask.”

“If you insist so strongly... Fine, I’ll go.”

Eventually, even the Mayor of Haven himself visited Jack’s Inn.

The entire city was swept up in the culinary phenomenon and promotional efforts that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“The Mayor is coming! Set up the premium seating! Full course only!”

“The Captain of the Guard is visiting Jack’s Inn with his centurions!”

All of this unfolded in less than a month.

++++
 

The biggest losers in this whirlwind success were, of course, other restaurants and inns in Haven.

At Polly’s Inn, the largest and most luxurious establishment in the city, a gathering of restaurant and inn owners took place.

“Have you tried it?”

“You?”

“It’s incredibly delicious. No spice could ever replicate that taste.”

“Exactly. It’s so good that I don’t even feel jealous, competitive, or angry—just defeated.”

“They say the secret of Arad’s Stew lies in Arad’s Salt.”

“Can’t we just buy the recipe from the chef at Jack’s Inn?”

“Would you sell it if it were yours?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t even share it with my own children.”

“Ancestors, grant me the courage and strength to endure this trial!”

The main topic of discussion was, naturally, Arad’s Stew. Specifically, the magical ingredient: Arad’s Salt—a Northern spice, seasoning, and salt all in one.

“Has anyone tried recruiting him?”

“I’ve hinted at it a few times, but he’s not someone who moves for money alone.”

“Rumor has it he promised to stay until Jack’s arm heals.”

“So, when will his arm heal?”

“Even if it heals, it’ll take a very, very long time... right?”

“If it were me, I’d deliberately injure myself to keep that bandage on forever.”

“What on earth did Jack offer to the ancestors in sacrifice to be blessed with such a miracle worker?!”

Sighs of frustration filled the room.

“Can we sabotage them?”

“Not a chance.”

“Every thug in Haven avoids Jack’s Inn now, don’t they?”

“He’s a clever one. Who would’ve thought to provide free food to the guards and officials?”

“And what about that takeout service? No one’s ever heard of such a thing before.”

“Apparently, all of those ideas came from Arad himself.”

“He’s not just a healer and a chef. He’s probably descended from a family of master merchants.”

Their distress only deepened.

At this rate, they feared they’d all go under before spring arrived.

“What if we pool our money and bribe the Mayor and Captain of the Guard?”

“And then what?”

“Well... we could find an excuse to shut Jack’s Inn down.”

“An excuse?”

“We could claim that Arad’s Salt contains drugs or poison.”

“No, that won’t work. Most of Haven has already eaten the stew, and everyone seems fine. In fact, people say they feel healthier after eating it.”

“Exactly. Haven is already addicted to Arad’s Salt. The Mayor won’t accept our bribes, or if he does, he’ll pretend not to know. And if the public turns against us for taking away their stew, we’re finished.”

There’s no solution—none at all.

No one could think of a way to surpass Arad’s Salt.

“Hey, Polly. Don’t you have any good ideas?”

“Right! Polly, didn’t you once serve at High Castle?”

“You’re acquainted with the former Grand Duke, the current Grand Duke, and the high-ranking knights, aren’t you?”

Naturally, the gathered inn and restaurant owners turned their attention to Polly, the most influential person in the group.

“Hmm...”

Polly, a middle-aged man with a kind face, furrowed his brow deeply as he fell into thought.

“Don’t you have any connections in High Castle? If it’s a knight of Renslet, even the mayor wouldn’t dare oppose them.”

Desperate suggestions poured in toward the pensive Polly.

“No disgraceful actions!”

Polly firmly shook his head.

In the past, Polly had served as a soldier at High Castle.

He had been one of the rare soldiers who could read, which earned him the role of orderly, responsible for the meals of the knights.

Thanks to this position, he had connections with high-ranking knights and even the Grand Duke himself.

In other words, Polly was a veteran who had to uphold honor more than anyone else.

‘Above all, the Grand Duke often travels incognito through the Grand Duchy with his knights.’

The disgraceful plans that the inn and restaurant owners had just discussed—if such actions were carried out and discovered, it would be the end for all of them.

How else could a former soldier like Polly have come to run one of Haven’s largest and finest inns?

It was all thanks to the favor and protection of the Grand Duke and the high-ranking knights he had befriended during his military service.

“Polly, you and your blasted honor! We’re on the brink of starving to death!”

“Does honor feed you? You need to survive first before you can worry about honor or anything else!”

Naturally, the merchants and owners found Polly’s response infuriating.

“Hmm...”

Polly, too, was equally frustrated.

He crossed his arms, trying to think of a way to preserve his honor while finding a solution to their predicament.

“Honestly, what is that Arad guy even doing here? With his cooking skills and secret techniques, why is he stuck in this backwater town?”

“It’s maddening! There are bigger cities in the North filled with wealthy people. Why is he stirring up trouble here of all places?”

“He could easily find a position in the Empire or as a head chef at High Castle. Why is he wasting away here?”

As Polly pondered, some of the attendees began venting their grievances.

“Wait a minute!”

Hearing their complaints, Polly suddenly felt a spark light up in his mind.

“That’s it! High Castle! We’ll send him to Renslet Castle!”

Right then and there, Polly began drafting a letter.

The current Grand Duke was known for enjoying incognito travels and a love of fine cuisine.

If Polly sent this letter, the Grand Duke would undoubtedly take an interest.

++++

 

In the far northern reaches of the Grand Duchy of the North stood an immense and imposing fortress.

The main stronghold of Renslet, where the Northern Grand Duke resided.

The true heart of the Grand Duchy.

Often referred to as "High Castle" rather than its formal name, this was the location of a banquet celebrating the Grand Duke's birthday.

“Hahaha! Drink and eat to your hearts’ content!”

“A toast to the Grand Duke for hosting this feast!”

“To the Grand Duke’s birthday!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

The Grand Duke, ministers, and high-ranking knights raised their glasses together.

True to the frugality and practicality that defined the North, even this banquet celebrating the Grand Duke’s birthday was modest.

Instead of the endless course meals that were standard in the Empire or other kingdoms, this banquet resembled a buffet. The food was laid out all at once for the guests to serve themselves.

“The stew tastes bland. The meat smells, and there’s not enough seasoning.”

Suddenly, an elderly knight spoke up, his tone critical as he ate.

Making negative remarks about the taste of food at a birthday banquet hosted by the Grand Duke was a serious breach of decorum.

However, this was no ordinary man. He was one of the five Sword Masters on the continent and the only one in the North—Balzac, the Frostblade Ghost.

Moreover, Balzac was revered by knights not only in the North but across the Empire and the continent.

“The Empire has raised the price of spices again,” a nearby official responded to the knight’s murmured complaint.

“What’s the reason?”

Balzac’s brow furrowed as the Empire was mentioned.

“They claim they don’t even have enough for themselves.”

“Their audacity grows by the day. What else are they saying?”

“They’ve added that if Your Grace were to accept the recent marriage proposal from the Empire, they’d lift the trade restrictions, including on spices.”

“Those bastards... How dare they propose a marriage after what they did behind our backs? Their shamelessness knows no bounds!”

The iron spoon in Balzac’s grip crumpled like a piece of paper.

“Can’t we retaliate? What if we limit the supply of high-grade mana stones from the North?”

“Mana stones can still be sourced within the Empire to some extent. But spices and essential goods...”

The official trailed off, his point evident.

Balzac clicked his tongue in frustration.

It was always like this. The Empire constantly held the North’s leash, shaking it at will to assert dominance.

Balzac’s gaze drifted to the young ruler seated at the head of the banquet table.

With snow-white skin, silver hair, and striking blue eyes, she was a captivating figure.

Arina Rune Renslet, who had come of age just last year, had inherited the title of Grand Duke two years ago after her father’s death in battle. She was the embodiment of the North’s noble lineage.

But now, the youngest-ever Sword Master in the North sat silently, mechanically cutting the meat on her plate.

Her movements were lethargic, and her expression devoid of energy.

Only recently, she had been galloping freely across the snowfields, sword in hand. The abrupt shift to the suffocating role of Grand Duke was clearly taking its toll.

The increasingly blatant and disgraceful behavior of the Empire’s royal family added to the immense burden she bore.

Balzac’s heart ached to see his ruler, whom he regarded almost like a granddaughter, in such a state.

‘I need to take Her Grace hunting soon. A ride through the Abyss to let her feel the wind on her face again should lift her spirits. If not, even a Sword Master as remarkable as her will fall ill under this weight.’

Resolving to take action, Balzac bit into the faintly seasoned meat before him.

The light sprinkling of spices barely masked the meat’s unpleasant smell, but it made it just tolerable enough to eat.

Thinking back to his youth, when spices were non-existent, Balzac marveled at how they had managed to eat at all.

Meanwhile, Arina Rune Renslet remained oblivious to Balzac’s sympathetic gaze, focusing instead on the food before her.

‘It’s terrible...’

The more she cut and ate, the more her mood darkened.

Her palate, accustomed to richer flavors, found the mildly seasoned food increasingly difficult to stomach.

‘This is entirely my fault.’

Recently, the price of spices had risen sharply. With 70% of Renslet’s budget allocated to military expenses, not even the Grand Duke could afford to use spices lavishly.

Hosting this banquet under such circumstances was undoubtedly a strain.

But it couldn’t be avoided.

This was the first banquet since her father’s death two years ago.

Furthermore, it was being held under the pretext of celebrating her own birthday.

To hold a banquet without spices on such an occasion was unthinkable.

As a result, the chefs at High Castle had been forced to stretch the limited supply of spices as thinly as possible to save face.

‘A rare feast like this... I feel sorry for everyone.’

Arina felt a pang of guilt toward the knights and retainers who had come expecting a meal rich in spices.

‘If only I could create spices by swinging a sword, I’d be willing to do it all day long...’

Never had Arina felt so powerless.

Even as an unofficial Sword Master, a title yet to be known to the world, she had no means to address this issue.

It was three days after her birthday when a letter arrived from an old comrade and subordinate from Haven.