“Fire mages must have their work cut out for them, then.”
When the spectacled mage made eye contact with Dahlia, he walked over to her, then shook his head. “On the contrary, actually. There are only so many situations in which fire mages come into action—with fire magic, there is too great a risk of starting wildfires in forests and grasslands, and it destroys monster parts that could be used.”
“Each expedition location has its difficulties, I see.”
“Indeed. Furthermore, sandy deserts are perfectly safe places for fire, though the monsters there tend to be resistant to heat. Only one environment comes to mind in which fire mages can freely use their powers—the swamplands where we cull titan frogs. As offensive magic, however, fire spells are hard to beat.” The mage was wistful as he explained his craft. “I believe my work has caught up to me.” As the knights lined up a few large metallic buckets on the other side of the cauldron, the mage returned to his station.
“What are those for, Volf?”
“Oh, those are ice buckets. For the crab and alcohol.” It had seemed logical to use ice crystals instead, but today’s expedition was only a day trip, and the mages probably had plenty of magic to spare.
“Ice Crash.” If it weren’t for the mage’s quiet chanting, the way the ice came forth would have seemed like sleight of hand. The shower of ice rattled into the bucket. Not only was this less frightening than the earlier Fire Wall, it was also quite a handy spell.
“I heard it takes a lot of control to do that. Because almost all of the ice mages have a lot of magic, ‘making large chunks is simple, but equal-sized little pieces take a lot of practice,’ so my brother said.”
Randolph joined the conversation too. “Ice magic requires a fair amount of time to activate, yet he does it instantly—the result of diligent training.” It was clear that this was no easy task, and those who traveled with the Order of Beast Hunters probably had very fine control of their magic.
“I wonder how they become so proficient,” Marcella pondered aloud.
“There is some relation with the type of magic; however, I believe the most important factors are how much one has practiced and how good one’s instructor is,” Randolph answered.
Marcella had recently begun practicing earth magic, and his attempts at making bricks were still at the level of mass-producing pickling weights. In fact, he had a painful recollection from just the other day of trying to dial down his output, but that had merely produced large pumiceous stones. He had only taken a few steps on this journey, and the path ahead was sure to be rocky.
“Everyone, come get some crab!” The knights who had been cutting up the crab by the riverside came to announce it was time for lunch.
Dorino returned with two large pailfuls of crabmeat. “This one’s for eating raw, and this one’s steamed by the captain, and someone else will be swinging by with the grilled stuff.” The pail on the left was full of ice water and large chunks of raw meat, and the other had the crab steam-roasted by Grato’s Ash-Hand. According to the bestiary, armored crabs were “difficult to defeat with fire magic,” likely because their shells were heat resistant. But no crab was built to resist a magic sword cooking it from the inside out.
“Let us raise a toast, then proceed with the ‘on-site taste test.’”
Griswald proceeded under his captain’s direction. “Let us not forget that today is a field training day. And though Father Aroldo has graced us with his presence, anyone in a drunken stupor will not be receiving any recovery magic, so exercise moderation!” The knights only got more excited after the captains’ words. They all received their wineskins, which they clashed together.
For the inexperienced Dahlia, though, drinking straight from the wineskin proved to be difficult. Its contents couldn’t be sucked out, and inclining it caused the wine to rush out and drown her. The wine itself was quite delicious—a white with citrus notes—but her concern was being able to taste any of it. When she looked to her side, she found that the problem lay in her lack of suction force—Marcella, Jonas, and the others had their vessels in one hand, and they were drinking just fine. Dahlia ended up folding and squishing hers to get the contents out.
Volf handed her a plate of the blue—the one he’d slain. “Some raw crab, Dahlia?”
The legs were as thick as her fist, and the meat inside blossomed like a white chrysanthemum. There was much more meat to be had here than the crab sashimi she’d had in Japan, and it felt very grand.
“It’s as fresh as it gets, so no problem with it being raw. It’s not poisonous either, and the acid sac and gland have already been removed. To be safe, though, here’s some medicine—with it, you’ll be fine even if you eat too much or start seeing weird bugs crawling in your vision.”
Dahlia received a powder that was purplish-red, a color that looked to be poisonous rather than curative. “Has no one else taken it?”
“Before the trip, we all took a liquid medicine that’s compounded of that powder, an anti-infective, and a slew of other stuff, but it’s... Eugh.”
His furrowed brow told her all that she needed to know. Still, the powder was an antiparasitic and would prevent her from suffering the consequences of overeating—she did as she was told. As for its flavor? Well, she would have much, much preferred it in capsule form. Dahlia cleansed her palate with a swig of wine.
She took her plate of salted raw crab, dug it apart with her fork, and took a bite. “Oh, it’s so sweet.” The crabmeat had a delectable sweetness and toothsome texture, not unlike the raw prawns found in Japanese cuisine. Due to its size, it was slightly fibrous but far from sinewy. The more she savored her bite, the happier she was to have this opportunity.
Volf’s golden eyes grew large. “This is definitely less tender than ordinary armored crab, but it’s also sweeter, like you said.”
“The flavor is fine, but raw? I’m afraid the texture is not for me.” Randolph had stopped eating already, so Dorino traded him for some steamed crab and finished Randolph’s leftovers with an additional sprinkling of salt.
Marcella also looked hesitant as he chewed his food. It seemed like raw crab wasn’t for everyone, maybe because Ordine didn’t have much of a sashimi culture. It was then that Dahlia realized something, and she looked across to Jonas, who had just cleaned off his plate.