Chapter 20

"Impossible."

"It didn't work, did it..."

Once again, Matthew was drinking wine with Gald at the restaurant 'Rocinante.' Today, it wasn't Roland's son but his daughter Tina who was helping serve.

"Here, I've brought the dish!"

"Thank you. You're doing a great job."

Tina blushed and smiled, then retreated to the kitchen. Matthew felt a bit of the gloom lift from his mood.

"Well, there's no point in dwelling on it. Let's have a good meal."

"Right."

The two had tried various approaches to find a way to brand the horse armor, but none of them worked. Matthew had been turned down by all the blacksmiths he knew, and Gald had tried to make a mold himself, but that didn't work either.

To heal such a sense of frustration, food and drink were the answer.

"Let's try not to get too drunk today."

"Shut up... Oh, this is delicious."

The dish was a grilled chicken thigh with asparagus as a side. The skin was well-browned, giving it a crispy texture, while the meat remained tender and not overcooked. The seasoning was perfect.

"The food has really improved. The meat is cheaper, and the vegetables are better."

"Probably just in Shelland. Not much has changed elsewhere. But the variety of alcohol and tea was richer in the capital."

The town of Shelland is not as pretentious as other regions when it comes to mages. If money is to be made, they are happy to help with farming or livestock. In the capital, such jobs are considered menial.

Moreover, they do not shy away from making magical tools. These tools, which can activate magic with a mere infusion of mana, are only about one-tenth as powerful as when cast directly by a human. Most mages would be indignant at being replaced by such weak tools, but the mages in this town simply found them interesting and convenient.

"Mages are a varied bunch."

"Thanks to the chefs, too."

"Right."

With that, Gald drained his wine in one gulp.

"Sometimes I envy Roland. I think I should have pursued the culinary path."

"What's with this sudden talk?"

"I've become a master, but in the end, I'm just fulfilling orders. I might lose sight of what I want to create."

"Gald..."

Leatherworkers operate under a master-apprentice system. Masters take on apprentices and teach them the craft. Once an apprentice has attached themselves to a master, it is difficult to switch to another school or become independent without a good reason.

But Gald was not working under anyone now. A few years ago, his master died of an epidemic. An apprentice who loses their master must either find a new master or take over the business and become independent. Gald chose the latter, as he already had the skills to do so.

Matthew, as a friend, highly values Gald's skills. He is passionate about his work and is serious. More and more people are recognizing his talent, making his path as an independent craftsman ideal.

Still, Gald had a flaw that made it difficult for him to walk alone. He was uncomfortable with solitude.

"Order takers have their own pride. At least I do."

"...I'm not insulting you. In fact, if you're as good as you are, no one would dare insult you. I'm talking about myself."

"Still, a man with nothing can't even be an order taker."

"But I want to be like my master! Like magic, or even better than magic, tanned leather becomes a work of art. Roland's cooking is magic too. I try to imitate 'that person's' cooking, but there's something only Roland can create. My hands just follow what others say, and they can't perform the magic freely."

"Gald..."

There was little Matthew, a merchant, could say about this.

His job was to judge whether something would sell from the customer's perspective.

Stepping into the technical details of a craftsman's work would only result in an outsider's evaluation.

"My master is gone. Even when I asked him questions, he didn't give me proper answers, but he showed me his skills and guided me. I tried my best to meet his expectations. When I was hungry, he made me pepé. I also made pepé for him, imitating him... Why did he have to die, master?"

Matthew felt that Gald was deeply troubled.

When drunk and exhausted, Gald would often recall memories of his deceased master.

He was a kind of emotional drunk.

But this level of complaint was new to Matthew.

Just as they were talking, the owner, Roland, suddenly interrupted.

"I'm not obsessed with dishes only I can make. It's simply that I can't get the ingredients 'that person' used. I just make do with what I have, and it's not much of a job."

Saying this, he poured the wine from the table into his glass.

There were no other customers, and Roland seemed to have no intention of working further.

"Roland, that's not true. You're a great guy."

"If you think so, you are too. Stop getting drunk."

"Well..."

Gald let out a pitiful voice.

Roland, as if he couldn't be bothered with him, turned to Matthew.

"Hey, Matthew. I don't know anything about leatherwork, but why don't you go for advice?"

"Advice? Where?"

"Don't play dumb. You have it... the 'invitation,' right?"

"...How did you know?"

Matthew asked, surprised.

"I don't know. But when I mentioned that restaurant, you didn't say anything. You're the type who can't help but be curious about secrets."

"Well... I'm sorry. I was unsure how to bring it up."

Matthew recalled the words of the lord Scott.

He was warned not to harbor ill intentions toward the forest.

"I understand. I know it's hard to talk openly, but it still makes me angry."

"I'm sorry. Once Gald's issue is resolved, I'll explain everything."

"Can't you do it now?"

"First, I want Gald to see 'that person' without any bias."

"Interesting."

"So, Gald."

"Huh? What is it?"

Gald was drinking at a fast pace today.

Feeling sympathetic for his fatigue, Matthew scolded the drunk Gald.

"Tomorrow at noon, we're going to the mansion in the forest. Prepare your tools and any leftover leather—scraps will do. Don't oversleep."

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