The following day, I finished the morning catch and moved to have an early lunch to prepare for the Lord’s visit.
The villagers were well aware of the situation and prioritized serving our table so we could finish in time. I accepted the food gratefully, but halfway through the meal, I lost my sense of taste entirely. I was simply too distracted.
The reason was sitting right across from me.
"Munch, gulp... mmm, this is delicious!"
Count Porco Fatma was a Pig-kin, a race known for their robust, heavy frames, and he was quite obese. However, because he wore a traditional kimono and had his hair tied in a neat topknot, he looked more like a sumo wrestler than a typical noble. True to his size, he was vigorously shoveling down a massive bowl of rice and a spread of side dishes that could have easily fed four people.
To organize exactly how we had ended up in this situation...
First, the Lord had arrived at the village early by boat. It seemed the wind had been in his favor, pushing his arrival well ahead of schedule. The Village Chief had been horrified at the thought of making a high-ranking noble wait and had tried to summon us immediately. However, the Count had insisted on waiting, noting that he was the one who had arrived before the appointed time.
Feeling it would be improper to leave such a guest with nothing to do while he waited, the Chief had offered him a meal. As a result, we found ourselves eating lunch with the local ruler, a noble we had never even met until ten minutes ago.
Naturally, a man of his standing didn't travel alone. Two attendants sat on either side of him. One was a young man in samurai robes with mask-like scales covering his right eye. The other was dressed like a sumo wrestler, similar to his master, with scales running from his wrists across the lower palms of his hands. They were clearly Dragonewts. I had heard rumors that the Count was recruiting technicians from a Dragonewt Village, so they likely hailed from there.
"Seconds, if you please," the sumo-style attendant said.
He was eating just as much as his master. I wondered if he was actually a guard, or just a traveling companion. The samurai-style man, on the other hand, hadn't touched a single bite. He sat perfectly still, his eyes and Qi focused entirely on the surroundings. He was likely the true bodyguard.
I decided not to overthink it and focused on finishing my own meal.
Once everyone had finished, the Count let out a satisfied sigh. "Phew... My, that was truly a feast. The women of this village are talented cooks indeed. My thanks to them. And Village Chief, I thank you for your generosity, especially now when you must be stockpiling for the coming winter. I fear I overindulged a bit shamelessly, so I’ll have a shipment of provisions sent over later. It’s a modest gesture, but I hope it helps your stores."
"I am deeply grateful for your kindness, my Lord," the Village Chief replied, bowing low.
I had heard Porco was a good ruler, and it seemed the rumors were true. At the very least, he intended to pay for his meal rather than assuming his status entitled him to free hospitality.
"Now then," the Count said, turning his attention to us. "Am I correct that you are the adventurers responsible for this village’s defense? I am the ruler of the Fatma Territory, Count Porco Fatma. I must start by thanking you for your aid during the recent troubles."
"We are unworthy of such praise, my Lord," Shin, the leader of Shikumu's Pier, replied as the group's representative. It was obvious he was incredibly tense.
The Count let out a jovial laugh. "Do not be so stiff. You may speak to me as you normally would."
The permission seemed to put Shin at ease, and some color returned to his face.
"In recent years, we’ve seen an increase in monster activity, and not just the Mad Salamanders," the Count continued. "Because of that, I’ve had to recruit adventurers from outside the territory. Even so, the numbers this year were staggering. Several other villages had their defense lines broken and lost their entire season's catch."
I hadn't realized things were that bad elsewhere.
"I imagine this village faced the same threat, but you didn't just hold the line—you even sent reinforcements to help your neighbors. It was a great help."
"Lord, regarding that... it wasn't actually us," Shin said, casting a glance my way. The other four members of the party followed suit.
"I’ve heard the reports," the Count said with a smile. "I know a certain young Tamer made an exceptional contribution here. However, that doesn't mean your efforts were for nothing. I thank you for your cooperation—and for your honesty."
The five of them bowed again. Even though they were silent, they seemed genuinely pleased by the recognition.
"And... I take it you are the Tamer in question?" the Count asked, looking at me.
"Yes, my Lord. My name is Ryoma Takebayashi."
"Umu. The Village Chief mentioned that you carry a letter of introduction addressed to me?"
"I do. It's from the current head of the Jamil Ducal House. Re—"
"A letter from Reinhardt?!" the Count barked, his eyes widening in shock.
His sheer volume startled me. I wondered for a moment if there was some sort of political friction I was unaware of.
"Yes. It’s currently in my Item Box. May I retrieve it?"
"Yes, by all means! Use your magic, don't mind me."
I pulled the letter from my spatial storage and offered it to him. Usually, these things go through an attendant first to check for traps or poisons, but the Count reached out and took it directly. He broke the seal and began reading the contents with an intense focus.
"Mmm... Ryoma-kun, was it?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Did Reinhardt say anything to you when he handed this over?"
I thought back to that day. "He said that you were a trustworthy man and that if I ever found myself in trouble, I should seek you out. That was all... though looking back, he did seem a bit hesitant to say more."
"Hesitant? I see. I see... Pfft, hahahaha! Snort!"
The Count burst into a fit of laughter so sudden that he actually made a pig-like snort. I stood there, utterly confused, and the attendants didn't look much better.
"Heh... hehe... whew. My apologies," the Count said, catching his breath. "It seems Reinhardt cherishes you quite a bit."
He straightened his posture. "This letter explains that the Jamil family considers you an exceptionally talented technician—one they’re eager to recruit. It also asks me to lend a hand should you ever find yourself in trouble. And finally, it says that since he was the one who found you, I am strictly forbidden from stealing you for my own territory."
"He wrote that?"
"He did. It is rare enough for Reinhardt to write a letter of introduction at all, but I never expected it to be filled with such territorial posturing. Truly, the world is full of surprises."
The look on the Count's face as he folded the letter was one of genuine affection. Our eyes met as he looked up.
"Hmm? Ah, I see. You weren't told the details, were you? I am a Count, while Reinhardt is a Duke. Does it bother you that I call a man of higher rank by his name without honorifics?"
"No, it wasn't exactly that... but I suppose I am curious about your relationship."
"Honest, too. Simply put, we were senior and junior back at the academy."
"I see. So you’ve been close since your student days."
"I mind my manners in public, but in private, we’re close enough to use our given names. Of course, that means I know all of his old failures and embarrassing memories. He probably didn't tell you much because he didn't want the conversation to turn back to his school days. He can be quite the stickler for maintaining his dignified image."
"Is that right?"
"Indeed. Though given his background, it was almost unavoidable. Reinhardt is the son of the legendary Lord Reinbach—the Flame Dragon Duke himself. You’ve heard of his achievements?"
"The contract with the Divine Beast, yes."
"Exactly. Because Reinhardt had such a famous father, everyone at the academy looked at him as 'that man's son.' He was constantly compared and scrutinized. It was a stifling way to live. As a noble, he felt he could never show even a moment of weakness or unseemliness."
"I had no idea..."
"He had almost no friends he could truly trust. It just so happened that I shared a similar burden—being compared to a formidable father—though mine wasn't nearly as overwhelming as his. We found we had a lot in common and started confiding in one another. Thinking back, those were good days... but oops, look at me go. I'll be here all day if I keep reminiscing."
"Thank you for sharing that with me," I said sincerely.
"We’ll save the rest for another time. But this letter confirms it."
"Confirms what, my Lord?"
"You are a Tamer who uses many slimes, you're a close friend of Reinhardt, and your name is Ryoma Takebayashi. Tell me, do you happen to run a laundry shop in the Town of Gimul?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
The Count leaned over the table, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "I knew it! You’re the Sage of Barley Tea!"
...What?
"The Sage of...?"
"Have you heard of a traveling troupe called the Semroid Troupe?"
"I have. I crossed paths with them earlier this summer."
"Then there's no mistake."
According to the Count, a rumor had been spreading about a bard who told the tale of a sage. This sage had reportedly saved a starving village by teaching them how to make a new drink called barley tea. Intrigued, the Count had found the bard in a nearby town and invited him to perform.
After the show, the bard—Prenance—admitted that while the song was slightly dramatized, the story of the tea and the saved village was entirely true. Prenance had also mentioned that the "sage" was an acquaintance of Duke Reinhardt. The Count had been planning to write to Reinhardt to ask for an introduction, only to find that the very person he was looking for had wandered into his territory on his own.
Apparently, he had come here specifically to meet me and offer his thanks for the tea invention. I was floored. I knew Prenance said he was going to write a song about the barley tea, but I never imagined it would travel this far or earn me a title like "Sage."
"I have two matters I’d like to consult you on," the Count said, his tone becoming more business-like. "But please, don't feel pressured. These are requests, not orders. You are free to refuse. First, I want to develop a dish that will become a signature specialty of this territory."
"A signature dish? Is that related to the barley tea?"
"Precisely. Since the roads were improved during my father's time, more travelers are passing through the territory, and the economy is growing. I want a specialty that isn't just fish. Though, truth be told, my desire for a new dish is mostly because I enjoy eating good food myself."
The Count laughed and patted his stomach.
"I’ve sent out a call to the towns and villages, and I’ve received plenty of recipes, but none of them have that 'spark' I'm looking for. I was hoping someone with a fresh perspective could give me some ideas. The second matter is a request for your laundry business. There’s a mountain past the lake with a secluded hot spring my father loved. He even had a small cabin built there. I’m ashamed to say I’ve neglected the place since his passing, and the grime has hardened to the point where normal cleaning can’t touch it. I was hoping you could take a look."
"Different types of grime require different treatments," I said thoughtfully. "I can't say for sure until I've seen it myself."
Tomorrow was a day off from fishing. "If you like, I can go see the cabin tomorrow. If I can clean it, I'll take care of it then and there."
"You’ll do it? Excellent! I’ll arrange for a guide. If you manage to clean it, I’ll pay you ten small gold coins."
The room stirred at the mention of the reward. Ten small gold coins just for cleaning a bath was an astronomical sum.
"Isn't that a bit high, my Lord?"
"Perhaps. But it’s fine. It’s stubborn grime, and more importantly, that cabin is a memento of my father. It’s worth that much to me."
His gaze softened for a moment, showing a hint of the sentimentality he had mentioned earlier.
"I understand," I said. "If I'm successful, I won't complain about the pay."
The Count gave me a brilliant smile, thanked me again, and finally took his leave.
Looking back, I had been incredibly nervous at the start, but the meeting had been surprisingly smooth. Having a letter of introduction certainly smoothed things over, but the Count himself was far more approachable than I had expected.
I joined the crowd of villagers to see the Lord's boat off, my mind still lingering on a few unanswered questions—mostly about those sumo outfits.