Chapter 113 : Chapter 113

Chapter 113 : The Oath of Bastion (2)

Sure enough.

‘The Morning Greetings in Ludglen’ was a good start. The refreshing sensation lingered from my mouth to my throat, not fading quickly.

‘It feels like my throat is being cleansed.’

Especially that tingling sensation teasing the tip of my tongue.

I didn’t dislike it.

“Since it seems like you’re going to ask, I’ll say it upfront: it’s not magic. It’s Godin’s unique fermentation technique. Now, while that freshness lingers, hurry up.”

Bill handed me ‘A Veteran’s Birthday’.

He said it was a snack made of round oat dough baked golden and drizzled with honey.

The honey pooled enticingly in the small grooves on its surface.

“Was the owner a soldier? This name’s easy to guess. Probably a snack shared on a comrade’s birthday, right?”

“Heh heh, but the taste won’t be so simple.”

Indeed.

Chomp.

This…

This chewy texture.

It strangely paired with the bittersweet freshness of apple cider, despite seeming like it shouldn’t.

The sweetness of the honey was merely a side note.

My gaze inadvertently turned to Bill.

He leisurely curled the corner of his mouth.

“You’re saying I figured out the secret of that chewiness. Bihen, you must be curious, but even for you, I can’t just spill it easily. Try thinking about it yourself.”

I nodded roughly while diligently working my jaw.

Of course, I didn’t plan to dwell on it that much, but the happiness from the sweetness slightly softened the sharp edges of my mood.

Right now, I just felt like agreeing to everything.

“So, how’s it, tough-looking guy? Does the food suit your taste?”

From across the table, the owner, Godin, leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and asked.

My eyes caught his forearms revealed under his rolled-up sleeves.

The finely chiseled muscles looked familiar.

I pretended not to notice and replied.

“You’ve got some skill Angelo.”

“Heh heh. Thanks for that. But, you said you’re Bill’s friend, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Hahahaha…”

He grinned with just the corners of his mouth, then abruptly turned serious and spun around.

Bill quickly whispered in my ear.

“Bi, Bihen. For now, we’re hiding our identities, so, uh, keep it low-key…”

“You mean play along?”

“…Yeah.”

“Got it.”

Bill’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t expected me to agree so easily.

Chomp.

I ignored him and popped another piece of ‘A Veteran’s Birthday’ into my mouth.

The sweetness quietly filled my mouth.

Not too much, not too little.

Like someone bowing politely according to etiquette.

Soft and courteous.

It was hard to believe this was the work of that ill-tempered owner.

Of course, I didn’t know yet.

Even just this one piece had softened my temper this much.

Depending on how much the upcoming dishes impressed me, my attitude might shift a bit, no?

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“Well eaten.”

I showed Godin the crown of my head.

“Hahaha! Good, good! It feels great when someone eats so heartily! That one word makes a chef feel like he’s got the whole world.”

I quietly wiped my mouth.

A meal this satisfying was rare even in my past life.

I looked down at the empty plate in front of me.

The plate, scraped clean to the bottom, gleamed with a polished shine.

‘It was a delicacy of land, sea, and air.’

In order: ‘Inside the Abandoned Wagon’, ‘The Crossing, That Inexplicable Mystery’, and ‘Herb Scent Blossoming from the Spear’s Tip’.

The taste was a given. Each dish had a story behind its name and a distinct flavor direction to match.

For example:

The supply wagon, belatedly sent for rescue, had only a single dead field dove, and ‘Inside the Abandoned Wagon’, born from roasting its carcass, carried a strong salty taste symbolizing tears.

In the case of ‘The Crossing, That Inexplicable Mystery’, the white fish flesh was so dry I thought something was wrong, but as I chewed, the flavor deepened. It expressed the hardships and rewards of the crossing operation.

The final ‘Herb Scent Blossoming from the Spear’s Tip’ was an honest steak, true to its name.

Even to a culinary novice like me, it felt devoid of any special tricks. Well-aged meat, well-cooked on a grill—that was it. It shouted victory through its straightforward taste. The herb was merely a single drop on this solid foundation, truly the finishing touch.

“Were you a soldier?”

I asked while rinsing my mouth with the apple cider greeted in Ludglen.

Godin, cleaning the counter, turned his head to answer.

“Bastion. Ever heard of it?”

What Bill had said earlier wasn’t an exaggeration.

Cooking was indeed a profound art.

A fine dish stimulated all five senses, naturally evoking memories.

It was during a battle with Draven, one of Callence’s Four Wings.

—Flames of Bastion!

—To the ashes of Conwell!

Thanks to the good food, my senses must have been sharpened.

The shouts rang vividly in my ears.

“…I know. Fine soldiers.”

Godin pulled the corners of his mouth wide.

It was a smile as proud as when I’d said I ate well.

“You’ve got an eye for things, despite your looks.”

I had fought Bastion.

They followed Draven’s orders, and Draven was the Archduke’s loyal vassal.

Now that all the fighting was over, was there still bad blood between me and Bastion’s soldiers?

Well, I couldn’t speak for them, but for me, no.

In my past life, I was a loyal soldier of the Empire, faithful to the chain of command. I stood at the forefront of the Kingdom’s invasion, but I bore no personal malice toward anyone in the Kingdom.

‘If anything, it was the opposite.’

It was just orders, and I was a soldier swept along by their current.

If I had any personal feelings, it was a degree of respect for an impressive enemy, despite being foes. In all my past life, few Kingdom units annoyed me as much as they did.

“Did you retire?”

Polite speech came easily now. I’d decided to respect Godin as a senior in this field.

“Well, something like that.”

“You’ve been cooking since your Bastion days, it seems. Most of the dish names are tied to barracks life.”

“Yeah. They’re good memories.”

Godin answered absently, engrossed in cleaning the counter. He seemed uneasy about responding.

“Haaack—!”

It was Bill.

He was groaning, tongue sticking out. His mouth, smeared with spicy sauce, was bright red.

“*Hiss*, ha! Hiss—Haaat!”

Bill was tackling the one challenge he hadn’t conquered in this place: ‘The Oath of Bastion’.

‘The Oath of Bastion’ was thinly sliced chicken marinated in deep red seasoning, then swiftly stir-fried on a scorching iron plate. The spiciness wasn’t just spicy—it was a deranged level where the mere smell choked your breath and made you sweat instantly.

‘Why go through the trouble?’

I sipped my apple cider and glanced at Bill. Just watching made my tongue tingle.

“I-I don’t get it! No, no matter how I think about it, it’s impossible! You’re supposed to savor the taste to guess the ingredients, but the more I chew, the whiter my mind goes!”

“*Chuckle*, Bill. Are you underestimating the ultimate cuisine?”

“Another ‘The morning greeted in Ludglen’!”

That made seven cups…

Bill was set on filling his stomach with apple cider.

If I didn’t respect Godin as much as I did now, I’d have suspected the dish was insanely spicy to sell more of that Ludglen stuff—a marketing ploy.

Gulp gulp.

Bill downed the apple cider in one go.

When he burped, the spicy smell hit my face, and I nearly raised my hand to smack the back of

his head.

“*Chuckle chuckle.*”

Godin looked at Bill and laughed lazily.

The smile of a victor.

“Not only did you not figure it out, you couldn’t even finish it. My complete victory, Bill.”

“That’s life, Bill. I’ll cover ‘The morning greeted in Ludglen’ today for the vibe.”

I closed my eyes gently.

In my mind, I drastically upgraded my evaluation of Godin.

Creak.

All our gazes turned to the door.

A man poked his head through the slightly open door. He glanced at us and greeted Godin.

“Oh, you’ve got customers. Godin.”

“What’s up?”

“Just a quick word outside…”

“Tch, what a hassle.”

I stared at Godin as he headed out, then turned away. Bill had his head down, clutching it.

“If we’re done eating…”

“Bihen.”

“Yeah.”

“…Do you ever feel despair?”

I blinked.

The question was so obvious it stunned me for a moment.

“Who hasn’t felt despair?”

“….”

“Despair makes a man grow.”

Bill turned just his eyes to look at me.

Now that I noticed, there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“It’s an Empire saying. Chin up, Bill.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what he needed to toughen up for.

I regretted saying it a bit. I knew how it felt—being comforted makes you want to cry.

Sure enough, Bill pressed his fist against his eyes.

“…Bihen. The only thing I’m good at is eating.”

I shifted my gaze from the back of his head to the ceiling. Eating as a specialty?

“Funny, right? Eating’s all I’m good at. What’s the use of that?”

…I didn’t laugh. I swear.

“Henry’s smart. He remembers everything he sees or hears. Ayan… well, his face is so fair he’s probably popular with women. Joel, no need to mention. And you, you feel like you’re from a different world than me.”

“….”

“Even Janson’s a proper spearman now. Just the smell of a blade makes my legs shake…”

I listened quietly, checking the cup of apple cider. Was he drunk? It didn’t even taste like alcohol.

“Bihen, you see.”

Bill lifted his head.

“It’s only here, with ‘The Oath of Bastion’, that I feel like I exist.”

I stared at Bill.

Not because I was wondering what to say, but because I thought maybe I was the strange one.

“What’s the problem?”

“…Huh?”

“You know your strength, you’ve got a place to use it, and you’re happy when you eat. Well, except for that spicy stuff. So, what’s the problem?”

“W-Well, obviously… Being good at this doesn’t help much in life.”

Thanks to Bill, I discovered a new world today.

I found another way to enjoy life, so today’s value was unmatched by any other day.

‘Life’s purpose…’

Well, he might feel that way.

Being good at tasting and critiquing food doesn’t exactly pay the bills.

On the other hand, I thought:

Someday… not necessarily far off, but someday, if a world comes where no one has to scramble to survive, a world abundant enough for all.

Maybe then, Bill’s talent would finally shine. A world where a swordsman like me becomes useless.

‘Hah.’

Even I laughed at the absurdity of it. Full stomach, and now I’m daydreaming.

Bang!

“That’s enough, I don’t need to hear more. Get lost!”

“Brother, please, just hear me out…”

“Out!”

“….”

Godin flung the door open irritably, even pointing at the man’s forehead, growling. Looked like they’d been arguing.

“…Fine. If that’s your stance, I’ll try to explain it somehow.”

“Explain or whatever, just don’t come back. I’ll break your legs next time.”

Man, he’s no joke.

His face was already grim, but with anger, the vibe was intense.

“Hey, Bill. Let’s get going.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Bill stood awkwardly. His face still looked bitter.

When we came in, I was the one in a foul mood.

Now, leaving, it’s the complete opposite.

Is this the profound world of cuisine?

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