Chapter 490: Eligibility Pending
I took a sip of chamomile.
Soft and delicate. Warm without being overbearing. A refreshing aftertaste. A hint of vanilla.
Overall, a pleasant surprise–and so I nodded.
“1.5/10.”
My judgment came with the gentle clink of porcelain as I lowered my teacup. Both my declaration and the clink were barely heard. Because while this cafe was small, it certainly wasn’t cozy.
For one thing, it didn’t even have walls.
It did have a fountain, though.
Carved of stone as old as the royal capital’s foundations, it was the centrepiece of the old town centre.
Although many years had passed since it represented the bustling centre of Reitzlake, the fountain remained a symbol of prosperity even as the surrounding streets fell into disrepair.
Shimmering with clear water that fanned around a statue of a smiling mermaid, her fins bravely tried to distract from the chaos swirling around a small table just beside her.
She failed.
Squeezed between the many stalls like an afterthought, this outdoor cafe was the least peaceful establishment I’d ever frequented. And most of the disturbance wasn’t even coming from the stall keepers, but rather those they were competing with.
“Feast your eyes! 20 bouts and 20 triumphs! Draum the Direwolf is here to taste victory once again!”
“Hedge your bets on The Iron Baroness! Your gold is as good as my fists!”
“Jaws! Muscles! Guts! I only need one to triumph! It’s a three-for-one deal just for today only!”
Yes.
It was them.
Participants in the Arena Grand Tournament.
As was tradition, they lined the edge of the old town square, each seeking sponsorship while also wearing slightly less clothing than the last. Competing in both scandalousness and boastfulness, they flexed their muscles, flashed their smiles and proudly pointed at whatever teeth remained.
A terrifying sight … and yet despite the half-naked gladiators, the most concerning thing was an elven woman enthusiastically consuming a slice of lemon cake.
And pound cake. And almond cake. And cherry cake. And all the other cakes piled before her.
“Wonderful,” said Lady Celisse, her smile causing several passersby to stare as her cheeks bulged with cake. “Overly moist, oppressively buttery and alarmingly sweet. This is my 6th time coming here in 2 days. If I’d known this kingdom could create such decadent desserts, I would have visited decades ago.”
Coppelia nodded in agreement.
Her own cheeks needed to deflate before she could actually speak.
“Not bad, right?” she replied, eating the cake slices that weren’t hers so she could have more for herself later. Or so she thought. “Human kingdoms are terrible. Everyone complains about the smell of horses even though they’re way worse. But they’re really good at making unhealthy food.”
“Indeed, if I’d been able to try warm chocolate fudge cake before, I would have insisted on learning how to bake from humans. Elven desserts are meticulously crafted to the finest detail, but that leaves precious little room for sugar.”
“And taste.”
“And taste, yes.”
The pair fixated themselves on sampling everything I wasn’t paying for.
Naturally, I joined in, carving the corner of my spongecake and taking a bite.
I nodded at once.
Light and fluffy. Plain but not dull. A smooth interior with a slightly crispy outer layer.
A pleasant surprise … much like the child who knew to actually apologise after bumping into my chair due to the lack of workable space.
Again. 1.5/10.
“I’m delighted you’ve acquired such a fondness for our cakes,” I said with a polite smile. “Even should the atmosphere be unacceptable, our desserts rarely are.”
“Yes, I’m quite envious. It’s usually the other way around in the forests. There’s plenty of frolicking, but very little substance. Here, however, I can taste the passion behind every bite.”
“That isn’t passion. It’s diligence. There’s an official recipe for every conceivable cake, refined over centuries by the wiser rulers of this kingdom. Those who aspire to rise in status take due care to follow it. It is, frankly, the simplest route to earning a title.”
“Goodness, perhaps I should consider a change of vocation. Although I’m referred to as a lady, it’s merely an honorary title. I’ve no noble birthright, nor any titles I may pass down.”
“Oh? And yet I believe an honorary title is quite the rare thing. May I ask how you acquired it?”
“Of course. I’m an artisan.”
“An artisan? Of what?”
“Of all things. Most elves specialise in a single corner of the arts. I do them all, from painting and crafting to writing and sewing, as my interests dictate. My title is an acknowledgement of both my expertise and the breadth of my clientele.”
“My, how wondrous that someone so esteemed has come to enjoy the Summer Solstice Festival. It’s a great shame that trouble has befallen you.”
“Quite so, but I’m hopeful I’ve found just the right adventurer to help me. It’s a wonderful coincidence that the back I poked happened to belong to the one I’ve heard so many rumours about.”
I offered a tidy smile, all the while ignoring the half-naked lady lathering herself with oil nearby.
Or rather, I tried to.
“... Lady Celisse, the only reason I allowed myself to be led away from the crêpe stalls where I’ve important research to conduct is because I don’t believe in coincidences. And while I don’t hold to the idea that elves are forever plotting something, it’s curious timing that an elven woman should find me just as I was searching for another.”
A feigned gasp met me in response.
“Gosh, that’s a shocking thing to suggest. We elves are always plotting something.”
“Excellent. Another thing somebody else needs to worry about. Unless it concerns the Snow Dancer. I take it you’re familiar with her?”
“Deeply familiar. My atelier is responsible for crafting the extra squishy Snow Dancer plushies being sold via troll consignment.”
I nodded.
“Very well. In that case, you need to speed up production.”
“Excuse me?”
“More plushies. Given her bizarre popularity combined with the shamelessness of trolls, there’s no better time. The greater her notoriety, the more I can claim from her reward.”
Lady Celisse tilted her head slightly.
Her smile creaked ever so slightly. She stopped playing with her lemon cake.
“... Ah, I was wondering if I might have misheard in the Adventurer’s Guild. You truly wish to claim her bounty, then?”
“Of course. It’ll hardly scratch what she needs to pay in mental damage, but everything’s a start.”
“I see. That’s somewhat worrying. Forgive me if I seem biased, but I believe the accusations against her have been levelled by old men with less than perfect vision. Isn’t it possible that she’s not responsible for the burglaries throughout the city?”
“If it isn’t her, then it’s her ducks. And I dare say they deserve their own bounties. Either way, I’ve little doubt she’s involved, just as she is in every major public disturbance.”
“Yes, well, the Snow Dancer certainly has a way of tangling herself in messes she should avoid. Despite her talents, she has quite the poor read on people. Communication was never her strong point.”
“You underestimate her. She communicates her insanity perfectly well. With that said, I still need to find her. Where is she and who might she be robbing now?”
Lady Celisse hummed, her eyes looking upwards in thought.
Then, she shrugged.
“I’ve no idea,” she said simply.
“Excuse me? Is she not your client?”
“Client is a bit of a strong word. She didn’t necessarily give permission for the special edition plushies. As an artisan, I saw an opportunity and a festival in desperate need of a cute mascot. I’m afraid I’ve no knowledge of where the Snow Dancer might be at present.”
I groaned.
Elves.
They were like trolls. Except instead of doing whatever they wanted because they were very big, they did whatever they wanted because nobody else wished to get involved.
I gave it several moments of consideration.
“... Fine. Your ordinary problem. What is it?”
Lady Celisse clapped her hands together. The smile that had briefly wavered returned in full.
“Ah! My apologies, we hardly came here just to delight in the scenery, did we? … I’ve an issue that urgently needs fixing. But 20,000 gold crowns is no small amount for me to offer. Before I divulge the details of my request, may I ask you a brief question just to ensure you’re fully appropriate for the task?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Very well. What’s the brief question?”
The elven woman nodded … just before retrieving an entire clipboard from beneath her cloak.
Naturally, I was horrified.
I had no idea what else she was hiding there.
I just knew nothing was going to be as problematic as this.
“Ahem …” Lady Celisse lifted a quill, taken from the same void that Coppelia apparently used. “My question is this–you and your significant other have your dinner plans ruined. Your favourite restaurant has burned down in mysterious circumstances and reserving a table elsewhere might prove challenging. It is technically your turn to cook. What do you do?”
My mouth opened wide.
“Excuse me?! What sort of question is that?”
“It’s an important question.”
“Important for what?! Knowing if I’ve the foresight to predict arson?! How does this have any relevancy to what you need?!”
“I need somebody tactful, able to communicate clearly and also possess the ability to compromise. But you needn’t overthink this. The question is simply a formality. What would you do?”
“Well, naturally, I would remind my significant other that there is no such thing as my turn to cook! If the restaurant is burning, then I’ll insist that the chefs use the flames to prepare the dinner I expected.”
The elven woman nodded, then swept a straight line across the clipboard.
“I see. Thank you. That was most useful.”
“Good. Now what is–”
“You and your significant other are stranded on a deserted island. There is enough food supplies to last a week, but rescue will take two weeks. What do you do?”
“W-What sort of questioning is this?!”
“Resourcefulness in the face of hardship is an important attribute.”
“What ordinary problem needs me to prioritise food rations?! Do you need me to go into the sea?! Is there a risk of me being shipwrecked?!”
“In adventuring, as in life, anything is possible. I must simply make sure that you can overcome any adversity. But like I said, you needn’t overthink this.”
I pursed my lips.
“Well, in such a scenario, I would naturally prioritise myself. No matter who my significant other is, I’m guaranteed to be more important. It’s only correct etiquette that sacrifices be made for my survival.”
Another straight cross.
“Hmm. Thank you very much. That was very useful.”
“Good, now if–”
“You and your significant other are–”
“No! I am not answering any further questions about this!”
“It’s the last question.”
“Last or not, this is clearly unnecessary.” I stood up from the table. “My apologies, but I am exceptionally busy. If you need to ensure that your help is tailored to your exact specifications, then I suggest heading back to the guild. The receptionist there will be delighted at the sight of a clipboard. She has few worthy foes. As for myself, I’ve other matters to attend to.”
Clink.
Lady Celisse instantly dropped a bottomless pouch onto an empty plate.
Its tip was slightly open, revealing an unnatural amount of glinting despite the small size.
“... One last question,” I said as I regally sat back down. “But I’m warning you now, I am not being shipwrecked for 20,000 gold crowns. It needs to be 30,000. Minimum.”
“Of course. Rest assured, these questions are purely hypothetical.”
“Fine. What is the last one?”
“You and your significant other are trying to stab each other–”
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
“Why would we be trying to stab each other?!”
“Miss Juliette, please wait until I’ve finished the question.”
I placed my face in my palms.
A deep breath later, I found the will to look up again.
The elven woman nodded, then raised her clipboard in preparation.
“Ahem … you and your significant other are trying to stab each other owing to previous disagreements. An opportunity presents itself to go for the vital parts. Do you attempt to murder, severely wound or de-escalate with a smaller stab?”
Elves.
I didn’t know what was more concerning.
The fact that all arguments inevitably led to stabbing, or that de-escalation only happened when somebody decided to stab slightly less.
“None of them,” I answered regardless. “If my significant other has done something worthy of my ire, then I wouldn’t allow them in my presence. I’d simply punt them through the nearest window. Hopefully onto a deserted island with only a week’s worth of rations.”
My interviewer nodded, then added another cross.
“Understood. That’s almost all I needed to know.”
“Almost?” I was aggrieved. “You said that was the last one!”
“It was. But there is a new one now.”
“Yes? And what would that be? Which tea I’d pick after all the stabbing?”
“No.” Lady Celisse lowered her clipboard. “I would like to know what you would do if someone highly suspicious, heavily armoured and wielding a powerfully enchanted weapon suddenly appears behind you while you’re poking a spongecake at a table.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A moment later, I watched the growing shadow looming over me, then turned to look behind my shoulder.
There, standing with the sun silhouetting his back, was a towering figure armoured entirely in untarnished obsidian.
His helmet revealed only the faint gleam of crimson eyes. A colour matching the ragged cloak, its frayed edges billowing slightly in the evening breeze, but also the bloodied cloth covering the great weapon at his back.
I thought for a moment.
Then, I turned back to the elven woman and lifted my fork.
“I’d return to eating cake.”