Hydrangea had several nature parks.
There was nature all around, but the danger from monsters, bandits, and thieves remained.
The eastern forest in particular went deep, and a witch lived within it.
So the nature parks were popular.
There were hero memorial statues and hero fountain statues. The Grand Heroes Lineup statue was the real showstopper.
Among those nature parks, there was a Leisure Plaza.
Despite the quaint name, it was vast and often used as a festival venue.
Countless triangular tents and round cottages had been set up across the plaza.
There were large canopies too. It was a full-on campsite.
Men and women in matching armor practiced drills or checked supply inventories, hard at work.
They were the most heretical of the heretical delver groups. The "Delver Knights."
Their bearing and conduct were completely that of a proper knightly order.
Quite a few were former knights or came from knightly families.
Among the knights, there was exactly one man dressed like a cook.
A muscular fellow wearing a thick black bandana.
Outdoors, in conditions that could generously be called less than ideal, he was cooking something while humming to himself.
"Hmm hmm~ Hmm hmm-hmm~"
He peeled the skin off very thick, squirming black tentacles, split them open, and chopped them into chunks.
Then he tossed them into a boiling pot.
Next I carefully trimmed the mysterious lump of meat, extracting only the fatty parts and tossing them into the pot.
A large amount of scum immediately boiled up from the pot. I skimmed it off, and off, and off, and off.
Once the scum stopped rising, I turned off the heat.
"Hmm hmm~ Hmm hmm-hmm~"
Next I put a generous amount of egg yolks, flour, and several seasonings into a bowl and stirred quickly.
I mixed it in a folding motion, then added the viscous liquid and stirred again.
"Lord Jef. What have you been doing since a while ago…?"
The cook asked timidly.
I kept stirring, then kneaded the dough, flattened it with a rolling pin, and began cutting it evenly.
Midway through, I answered.
"Ever eaten kraken?"
"K-Kraken?"
"It's delicious. Just wait. I'll have you taste it in a moment."
I stretched the dough into noodles, rolled them into bundles, and dropped them into another pot of boiling water. Meanwhile I prepared a serving dish.
Once the noodles were done, I poured the contents of the first pot into the dish, placed the noodles on top, and stirred everything together.
"There. Done."
I handed the dish to the cook.
It was a noodle dish with something black clinging thickly to every strand…
Something black was heavily tangled in the thick noodles, and no other ingredients were visible.
"…Th-This is…"
"Kraken noodles."
"..."
The one in charge of cooking was at a loss. Visually, it just didn't look like food.
But the other person was that Jeff. The cook picked up a fork and timidly took a bite.
His world took flight.
"Whaaaaaaaat!?"
His head took flight too. His hand wouldn't stop. His mouth wouldn't stop. Before he knew it, it was gone.
After finishing it, the cook shuddered.
What had he been eating all this time?
This cook was a former professional chef. He had worked at numerous famous and high-end restaurants.
He was confident in his cooking skills, and he had made dishes that backed up that confidence.
For the first time, he felt fear towards food.
He hadn't understood a thing about cooking.
Had he not even been standing at the entrance?
He could see it. A deep, bottomless darkness.
That was the abyss of culinary deliciousness from which one could never return once they set foot in.
But the man himself seemed to think he'd just made something tasty.
"Huh, it's good, right?"
He laughed.
The "Strange Chef," Jeff.
In the end, several people succumbed to the deliciousness of the kraken noodles.
I'd get scolded later for overdoing it.
In that massive tent at the campsite.
A woman stood there, holding a piece of paper and letting out a deep sigh.
"What in the world is this?"
She murmured, looking troubled.
Long hair the color of mixed gold and silver. Eyes like burning gold.
Her features were noble, beautiful yet bold, possessing an intense beauty that naturally overwhelmed onlookers.
She was certainly gorgeous, but there was also the sharp, cutting gleam of a blade's edge.
She wore armor that was slightly more ornate and differently designed than the others.
And for good reason—she was the Delver Knights incarnate.
Knight Commander of the Delver Knights—Peony Monkshood.
What she had been looking at this whole time...
Attendant Knight
...was the preference list for Attendant Knights.
She herself had...
Attendant Knight
...made the attendant girl Hal Bindweed her Attendant Knight.
Normally, one would have someone of the same gender or a family member...
Attendant Knight
make it her Attendant Knight.
"What on earth are these people thinking?"
By "these people," she meant the women who had chosen Wof.
In particular, she was talking about half of those known alongside Pianni as "the Impregnable."
She knew that eight female First-Rank delvers, herself included, bore the title of "the Impregnable."
It wasn't exactly a compliment, but as the commander of the Delver Knights, she had long since set aside matters of romance.
"Wof. I knew he was the Witch's apprentice, but..."
When Pianni first heard that the Witch had taken an apprentice, she had laughed it off as some kind of joke.
But it turned out to be true, and when she learned the apprentice was a member of the opposite sex, she could hardly believe her ears.
Pianni and the Witch had a business relationship — that is, one based on delver commissions.
The Witch was a regular client of the Delver Knights and one of their most prominent employers.
Honestly, she couldn't deny that they were being treated like pawns, but their relationship with the Witch was still cordial.
For the past few months, they had been off on a long-range expedition to stamp out a bandit gang in the dark, and hadn't taken any commissions from the Witch.
"But that wasn't the issue."
She murmured. What worried Pianni was what followed from that.
A fellow First-Rank delver, Arveld, had attacked the Witch's apprentice.
The Witch retaliated, destroying half of Arveld's clan headquarters.
That alone was enough to give her a headache.
The Great Obrawns was drawing near, and yet First-Rank delvers were fighting among themselves.
Hals returned to the tent.
"Captain. What have you been so focused on?"
"Subordinate..."
"...preference..."
"list."
"May I take a look?"
"Sure."
Peony handed the preference list to Hals.
She was a girl with black cat ears, half-lidded eyes still carrying a hint of youth, and that was just her standard appearance.
She stretched her slender jet-black tail straight out. Her half-lidded eyes sharpened even further.
"Pakira...?"
"What's wrong?"
"No. It's just—I feel like I've never seen a preference list quite like this one?"
"I know, right?"
"Mr. Abramirin is choosing Wof too, isn't he?"
"I deliberately ignored that."
"I can understand the feeling. But what about the Second Coming of the Generous choosing them as well?"
"I ignored that too. I don't want anything to do with Edda."
"That, I can totally understand."
Hals set the paper down on the desk.
"Dahahahahahahahahahaha!! Out of my way!"
A huge, half-naked man burst in with a booming laugh.
Golden hair flipped upside down. A square, chiseled face with a cleft chin and a dazzling grin.
His muscles bulged, his abs split into a perfect six-pack. And below the waist — narrow and small.
"Vauban. Vauban Fortress."
"DWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Yo. Peony. Hals. You doing good? I'm doing great. My muscles are burning today too. DWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Vauban laughed heartily. Hals narrowed his eyes even deeper.
"Hello. Vauban. What brings you here?"
"Nothing in particular!"
Vauban declared flatly.
Peony and Hals exchanged indescribable looks.
Vauban didn't seem to mind and kept laughing.
He was the "Human Fortress" — Vauban Fortress.
Cider Hall.
"D-dammit..."
The booze hit him and Agaro slumped face-first onto the table.
In that instant, the winner was decided. The surroundings erupted.
"You're as weak as ever, kid."
The flashy, rough-looking red-haired woman across from him grabbed the cider bottle.
Red — vividly, unmistakably red — thick, wiry curls that covered her entire back.
That coarse hair didn't budge even when the wind blew.
She looked to be in her thirties.
Her face was just as wild and feral as her hairstyle — yet strikingly beautiful, gleaming sharp amid all that roughness.
And what immediately stood out was that her eyes were different colors.
Her left eye was pure red, with vertical slits like a reptile's. A monster's eye.
The other was a black pupil. A perfectly ordinary eye.
Her outfit was light, and her chest — far too large — was constantly on bold display.
Tattered pants wrapped in chains that ran up and connected to the pommel of a curved blade slung across her back.
On her right arm she wore a black gauntlet. A suit-like thing that covered her from fingertip to shoulder.
Small black horns of a similar texture sprouted from her head.
"D-Don't call me a kid...!!!"
"A kid's a kid. Well, I guess you've gotten a little better, but you're still way weaker than Arifa. Even the Flametongue I took down would be in tears."
"Tch... Dammit..."
Agaro drank himself into a stupor, face twisted with frustration.
Seeing that expression, she downed the rest of her cider.
The dragon-eyed amazon — Doraf Flametongue.