Surviving on the Northern Front with Gukbap

Chapter 99 : Into the Storm (1)

Into the Storm (1)

Is it just me?

Back then, I felt like I had done my best, but looking back, I always end up with regrets.

Last time was the same.

'I didn't accomplish my goal as thoroughly as I wanted.'

I didn't find Legion, nor could I confirm whether the battalion commander received my full message.

But Plerine insisted that given the circumstances, this was the best possible result, and that all we could do now was hope that the battalion commander realized Schutmann was truly our enemy.

Of course, I knew that too.

Plerine was right, no two ways about it.

Yet, for some reason, I couldn't shake an uneasy feeling.

Two days had passed since I sent the secret pigeon to the battalion commander, and only this morning did I finally understand the source of my unease.

'Even if the battalion commander realizes Schutmann's malice, it won't greatly affect the tide of battle.'

Let's imagine the worst scenario.

The frontline, where my bodyguard Plerine isn't with me.

If, on that battlefield, Schutmann suddenly goes insane and starts swinging his sword around?

Whether the battalion commander knew beforehand or not, it wouldn't make any real difference.

A 5th-rank squire possessed that kind of force.

In other words—

'My anxiety was entirely caused by my own weakness.'

In the end, becoming stronger was the only way to raise my chances of survival, even a little.

That's how I arrived at the forge just now.

Finally, it was time to pay in full and receive the kitchen knife forged from Blood Iron.

"Long time no see, Geral—"

"You bastard, you only show your face now?!"

I hadn't even set foot fully inside before a tool came flying at me from the forge.

Of course, I avoided it easily and caught it.

"I must've been missed, huh."

I had no idea what to do with this extreme welcome from the dwarf.

"Bullshit. Talking out of your ass."

Despite Gerald's rough mouth, his eyes looked genuinely pleased.

I carefully set down the hammer he'd thrown and said,

"Sorry I didn't come sooner. I've been a bit busy lately, you know how it is."

"That's your business, not mine. Hmph. Anyway, what about the money? You brought it, right?"

Instead of replying, I took four gleaming gold coins from my pouch.

They were Harper's sweat, tears, and blood—but would soon become Gerald's joy.

But first, I needed to check whether the kitchen knife had been crafted as requested.

"What about the goods?"

As I put the gold coins back into my inner pouch, Gerald licked his lips and said,

"Wait here. I'll go get it."

He dashed into the back of the workshop and soon returned, grinning, pushing the kitchen knife toward me.

Still sheathed in a dark scabbard.

"The sheath is on the house. Emotional, right?"

It was clearly made from expensive, high-quality leather.

Solid and weighty, the finish was flawless.

It even had a loop so I could hang it from my Utility Knife Belt.

"I named this one 'Black Vein'. What do you think? Like it?"

The sheath and even the name were excellent, but—

'Is he messing with me, this dwarf bastard?'

Truthfully, my face probably didn't look too bright.

"... What's with that face? Don't like it?"

Gerald furrowed his brow, apparently not expecting my lukewarm response.

And honestly, I hadn't expected this either—since up until now, I'd always been satisfied with Gerald's craftsmanship.

"Gerald. Sorry, but... haaa."

A sigh escaped me before I realized it. Still, the mood made Gerald avert his eyes a bit.

"Hmph. Why? What's the pro—problem?"

He clearly knew what was wrong with this kitchen knife too.

I was a bit ticked off, but let's be civil and talk, like the modern man I am.

"How did I ask you to make it?"

"You asked for a rectangular single-edged backsword."

That's right. In modern terms, I wanted a Chinese-style chef's knife.

"Then why does this one look like this?"

I pulled the kitchen knife from its sheath.

Shring.

Though its obsidian blade unique to Blood Iron shone, the shape was just an ordinary chef's knife, and my expression soured.

"What's with this tip? Huh?!"

My voice got louder, and the dwarf bastard went on the offense instead.

"Oh, come on. I put my whole soul as a craftsman into this and you're saying you don't like it? Huh?!"

I was speechless for a moment, but then Ralph's words echoed in my mind.

― Gerald, I admit the guy's skills, but never forget he was born a dwarf. Don't let your guard down when you deal with him.

I remembered what Belkhazium's dwarves were like.

Loved money. Stubborn as hell.

And,

'Did all sorts of crazy things in the name of craftsmanship.'

Damn it. This crazy dwarf saw 'Blood Iron forging' as a chance to do whatever the hell he wanted.

As expected, he launched into an explanation of how his kitchen knife was superior to a Chinese cleaver.

"Look! Look at this elegant curve! It'll make slicing muscles and skin so much easier! And also..."

Always the Granfen folks.

Whenever I almost forget, they remind me of Medieval backwardness.

Still, by now, I'm fine with it.

'I'm not the same cringing outsider as before.'

Ignoring Gerald's excuses, I slammed the Blood Iron kitchen knife into the workbench.

Thunk!!

"Hey, Gerald."

Only then did the noisy dwarf shut up.

Maybe it was my unusual vibe, but he gulped nervously.

"... What?!"

He still raised his voice, but his confidence vanished.

I counted one, two, three in my head, letting my authority settle in, then struck before he could regain composure.

"As a chef, I wouldn't take payment for food that wasn't what the customer ordered. Actually, I wouldn't even make such a mistake."

Smirk.

My lips curled up without me realizing it, but Gerald's pupils started to tremble.

"Y—you maniac! Even so, you're just going to take this knife and leave? Absolutely not!! Do you know how much material, money, and time went into making this?!"

He started spewing excuses again, rapid-fire, so I drew the knife out and slammed it down again.

Thunk!!

This time it sank in even deeper. What an excellent blade.

"Who said I wanted it for free? Do I look like that kind of guy? Hahaha."

Gerald, now avoiding my gaze, fidgeted and asked,

"H—how much do you want?"

Good. Finally, you're talking sense.

"2 golden."

"What? Y—you lunatic?!"

I had yet to decide exactly how much profit to turn, but I could already picture Harper jumping for joy.

*

I used to distinguish between power and negotiation, but today I became sure—

'Diplomacy backed by strength is even more powerful!'

Gerald had no choice but to fold before my intimidation.

Eventually, the poor dwarf pleaded that the production cost alone was 3 golden, begging me to have mercy.

Of course, I directly exploited the dwarves' racial traits for a counterattack.

― 3 golden, huh. Does that mean you'll stop coming to our shop for makgeolli?

Dwarves loved money, but were a race obsessed with booze.

In the end, Gerald grudgingly took 3 golden from me and gave me 50 shilling change.

So, bag heavy with utility knives, I left the forge.

I heard a curse: 'Just wait, I'll report you to the battalion commander!'

It was sort of cute, honestly.

'Like that'll work.'

Right now, my standing in Granfen put me above that blacksmith bastard.

Realistically, I was next only to the battalion commander—

'Well. Maybe technically after Lantz.'

In any case, I returned to the shop uneventfully and handed the change back to Harper.

Receiving 1 golden and 50 shilling, Harper looked at me in awe.

"You've mastered negotiation too, boss! These days, I really just love life!"

Ever since Jeros disappeared, Harper had been like this.

He was always as excited as someone with a manic episode.

"If business keeps growing at this pace... hehe. Hehehe."

Once Harper, his eyes shining, left for accounting, Plerine approached and asked quietly,

"Boss. How long are you going to let him be like that? He might just explode one of these days."

"Just leave him alone. He's got his reasons."

I gave her a look that said 'I'm not the kind of boss who toys with his people for no reason,'

And Plerine, as if she understood, replied,

"I see. If you say so, boss."

"Of course. By the way, you notified everyone about the staff party tonight?"

"Of course."

I swept my gaze over the state of the shop and the staff work flow.

Clearly, everyone was skilled enough that the shop ran fine without me.

'Auto-farming, sweet.'

Satisfied there were no problems at the shop, I headed straight for the training ground.

My steps were quicker than when I'd gone from the forge to the shop.

'How could I possibly hold back after getting a new weapon?!'

Unable to maintain my dignity, I practically sprinted into the training ground.

There, fav and the other platoon leaders were rolling across the floor, shouting chant after chant.

"Ranger! PT! Ranger! PT! Ranger!"

A part of me regretted teaching them Ranger PT, but I couldn't exactly ignore what I'd started, so I walked over and offered a few words.

"As I said before—don't use any mana at all!"

After some advice and form correction, I headed straight to a corner of the training ground where a middle-aged man was sweating buckets.

"Wanna spar?"

Recognizing me, Ralph swung his big chin and answered.

"Sure."

"Be ready. Today'll be different."

"Let's see just how different."

*

Since returning from the battle at the spirit stone quarry, I'd sparred with Ralph whenever I had the chance.

Unfortunately, my win rate was still zero, even with the Blood Iron kitchen knife.

Admittedly, the kitchen knife couldn't reach its full potential unless it bathed in blood, but that didn't take the sting out of my frustration.

'Argh, gear luck is so unfair!'

Still, my bouts with Ralph had taught me two things for certain:

First, no matter how much I boast about being the strongest 3rd-rank, I can't beat a 4th-rank in a straight fight.

Second—

'Even with mediocre talent, if you build well and have good items, you can overcome the odds.'

In short, Jeros was wrong when he said, 'It'll all be a waste of time.'

Even with poor talent, as long as you acquire the right OOPArts, you can break through the wall of talent.

'Just like Ralph.'

This brought me to a new sense of purpose.

Consistent, intense training like now was good, but

proper item farming was also essential.

The bottom line—

'I need to get artifacts through a labyrinth raid.'

There's an order to everything.

To obtain OOPArts, my own strength was still far too lacking.

Thinking along the same lines as ever, I returned to the shop.

I cooked the officers' lunch with Dunbell,

Left regular customers between lunch and dinner to Plerine and Dunbell, and headed back to the training ground.

After finishing the evening officers' meal,

As announced, we gathered all the staff for a dinner party.

"Great work, everyone! The food's almost ready, so let's start with a drink! Cheers!"

"Cheers!!"

It was a wild party with Dunbell's hired servers and my top staff all mingled together.

I'd worried it might be awkward, but Clara, tipsy, bridged the gap, and the atmosphere quickly became lively and boisterous.

Watching that, I smiled contentedly.

"Aren't you drinking, boss?"

Dunbell came over and asked.

He seemed to feel much the same as I did.

We'd gone from fierce rivals in a cooking contest to family.

"What are you waiting for, drink up!"

Dunbell shouted with an embarrassed expression.

I still had a big event tonight, so it was too soon for me to get drunk.

To be honest, I was a bit nervous.

"I'm good. Go mingle, have a drink. I'll bring out the rice soon enough."

"Hmph. If it tastes bad when you're not even drinking, I'll tease you forever!"

With that, Dunbell gave me a quick tap and disappeared into the crowd.

I headed to the kitchen with a solemn heart.

Bubble, bubble bubble.

The kitchen was filled with the smell of broth I'd been simmering for the party.

The savory aroma teased my appetite,

But I focused intently on checking the state of the broth.

Because tonight was—

'A tasting event to debut the original Happiness Gukbap!'

Before heading off to the frontline,

I wanted to serve the dish most meaningful to me to these people.