Stewed Hamburg Steak.
Even in the ancient capital’s autumn, known for its frequent rain, there are days when the sky clears up beautifully.
The sunlight is weak, and one can’t let go of their coat, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s appreciated.
These days are called “preparation days for winter seclusion” in this area, and people use them to gather firewood and repair their roofs.
Today, Eva is more enthusiastic than usual and is absorbed in cleaning the shop.
Despite it being such a good day, there was a drunkard at Izakaya Nobu, holding a tankard and rambling on, even during the daytime.
It was Arnoux.
He had been muttering complaints to the bundle of parchment in his hand for some time.
“Arnoux-san, shouldn’t you stop there?”
“Shinobu-san, this is still my first drink. My first.”
Shinobu knows that better than anyone, even without being told.
Although he is extremely strong in fights, Arnoux is utterly hopeless with alcohol, becoming completely drunk not even after a full tankard, but after just three sips of beer.
His appearance as he trudged along the Stable Road was so pathetic that Shinobu had called out to him, but she hadn’t expected him to be in such a bad state.
The cause was a letter he exchanged with the minstrel, Krowinkel.
“I was told by others that it was unique and had something worth looking at…”
Although Shinobu wasn’t listening to every word Arnoux muttered, it seemed that the letter contained quite a frank opinion. Nobuyuki is making sauce in a pot without saying anything, but his expression is complicated.
Shinobu and Nobuyuki, being Japanese, cannot judge the quality of Arnoux’s poetry.
Even so, the poems of the old minstrel Krowinkel, who had liked the dashimaki tamago, resonated beautifully in their ears.
Compared to that, it feels like Arnoux’s poetry is lacking something.
“Did Krowinkel-san say something to you?”
Unable to bear it any longer, Shinobu spoke up, and Arnoux nodded slightly.
His despondency was unimaginable, considering his usual spirited demeanor when he beats up thugs.
“‘You know the words well. The choice of rhyme isn’t bad. Your knowledge of ancient poetic forms is quite impressive. However, it fundamentally lacks the color necessary for poetry. This is a matter of talent, and it’s difficult to overcome with effort,’ or something like that.”
“How did Arnoux-san respond?”
“‘I will spend the rest of my life banging my head against a wall’.”
Shinobu barely managed to suppress a laugh.
“It’s not a laughing matter, Shinobu-san. I really want to become a minstrel.”
“But he said it would be difficult?”
“According to Master Krowinkel, my poetry is an escape. He says he can see that I’m writing to escape, turning my eyes away from what I really should be doing. That’s how it appears to the great master. He truly is an amazing master.”
That old minstrel was indeed a formidable person.
He had seen through Nobuyuki’s uncertain cooking in just two bites.
Since that incident, Nobuyuki no longer puts dishes on the menu on a whim.
Even for dishes that seem outlandish, he meticulously prepares them and no longer lets people try them until he is satisfied with the taste.
The final judgment rests on Shinobu’s tongue.
In order to continue running Izakaya Nobu in the ancient capital, Nobuyuki seems to have decided to focus on improving his skills as a chef rather than on novelty.
One of the triggers was undoubtedly that old man. There might have been something else that Shinobu didn’t know about.
“So, what are you going to do now?”
Arnoux’s response was not words, but the sound of beer going down his throat.
He probably meant that there are days when he wants to drown himself in alcohol.
Shinobu hunched her shoulders slightly. She might have to ask Isaac to come and pick him up later.
Just as a delicious aroma began to waft from Nobuyuki’s pot, the glass door was opened hesitantly.
Peeking inside were two adorable customers, a pair of children.
“Eh, is this Eva-oneechan’s shop?”
“Shop?”
“Yes, it is. Welcome.”
“…come.”
“Welcome!”
Eva has joined in on the usual greeting today.
And for good reason, these two customers are Eva’s younger brother and sister. Their names are Adolf and Angelica.
Both have red hair similar to Eva’s, and they are dressed up for the occasion.
Shinobu and Nobuyuki had heard from the two mercenaries that Eva had bought them clothes with the wages she received from Nobu.
The two of them are not here to play.
They say they want to thank Eva, their sister, for the souvenirs she always brings them. Shinobu thinks it’s a mature thought for children around ten years old, but perhaps this is normal in this world.
Six-year-old Angelica is still dragging around a stuffed animal, but her big eyes are filled with curiosity. She seems like she will be clever, like Eva.
“This is a thank-you for always taking care of Eva-oneecha-, I mean, my sister. Please enjoy.”
“Enjoy!”
Adolf handed over a pouch containing a small apple and some potatoes. The potatoes, still covered in dirt, are smaller than those seen in Japan, but they are well-made and heavy.
“Thank you very much. We will cherish these.”
Shinobu greeted them not as children, but as she would adults.
When she handed the bag of potatoes, Nobuyuki let out an impressed voice.
“They put an apple in there, huh?”
If you store potatoes with an apple, they will stay fresh longer.
This kind of wisdom seems to be common in both Japan and the ancient capital.
“Now, customers, please come this way.”
Eva is the one guiding them.
She seems more enthusiastic than usual, perhaps wanting to show her younger siblings that she is working hard. The counter chairs are high, so the fact that she helps Angelica sit down is also proof that she is paying attention to the customers.
“Ah, but we came to say thank you, so…”
Eva forcibly seated the flustered Adolf.
“There’s no way we can let someone who came to thank us leave without offering them anything.”
Leaving the customer service to Eva, who was completely in sister-mode, Shinobu re-examined the potatoes they had received.
The shape is closer to a May Queen than a Baron. The fluffy Baron and the May Queen, which doesn’t easily fall apart when boiled. You can’t tell which one it’s closer to until you cook it.
“Taisho, since we got these potatoes, can’t we use them for something?”
Shinobu asked while putting a towel blanket over Arnoux, who had completely passed out from drinking, and it seemed Nobuyuki was thinking the same thing.
“Yeah. Since we got them, maybe we can use them as a side dish.”