This was a treasurefish. To Dahlia, it looked like a chum salmon but golden. In the warmer months, it was nearly black in color, but it turned gold as the weather got colder. Hence, it was called “riverblack” from spring to autumn but “treasurefish” from autumn to winter. Its gleaming shade indicated that it was packed with lots of fat; according to conventional wisdom, the fish was most delicious when it was at its fattiest. “Treasurefish are only found upstream, so they’re hard to catch”— so she had heard before when she and her father had visited a diner one time.
Randolph moved to another part of the river, tossing treasurefish out of the water from time to time, whereupon Volf would catch what rained down upon him and Dorino would kill the fish on the cutting board—a well-oiled machine. Yet Dahlia couldn’t suppress the thought that came into her mind.
“A bear...?” asked Marcella, as though speaking for her.
“Indeed,” said Jonas.
“Marcella, Master Jonas...” She was fighting the urge to agree with every fiber of her being.
“Yes, that is exactly what we call Randolph: the Bronze Bear.”
“I apologize! I mean no offense.” At the sudden appearance of the vice-captain, Marcella panicked, Jonas dipped his head in apology, and Dahlia shrank. She felt bad for even thinking it, but there was no more accurate nickname for Randolph.
“In Ehrlichia, it is a great compliment to describe a fisher at a river as a bear, and that is according to Randolph himself.”
The vice-captain’s words jogged Dahlia’s memory—Randolph had said that he’d studied abroad for a long time. Ordine’s neighbor was famed for their livestock and livestock breeding, and perhaps their schooling included lessons in fishing.
“Randolph is also very proficient in finding fruit and honey in the woods, thus Forest Bruin is another one of his nicknames. This is just within our circle, so I pray that you all will keep this matter a secret?” Griswald mischievously put a finger to his lips, and the rest of the group chuckled in unison.
The Bronze Bear had flung seven treasurefish to the shore before he finally exited the water. Afterward, it was simply a matter of continuing the feast, with some putting miso and tomalley into their crab soup, some cooking the treasurefish in the soup, and some still gorging on crab both raw and grilled, all with drinks in hand.
Volf brought back thinly sliced treasurefish, likely as sashimi for Jonas, as he was completely avoiding the grilled crab and crab soup. Just like the raw crab, sashimi was not the sort of thing everyone appreciated, though it was fortunate that Jonas absolutely loved the raw stuff. However, he was swallowing the sliced fish without chewing it at all, like some sort of lizard. Dahlia wanted to say something about it, but he was simply doing what a lizard or snake (dragon?) would. Wait, no. Whatever monster was possessing him, Jonas was still a human being. He must’ve read her mind, or at least the trouble on her face—they made eye contact, and Jonas began to politely chew his food.
As an aside, apart from looking like salmon, treasurefish also tasted like it. It was fatty, but being a freshwater fish, it was also quite light. Some soy sauce and wasabi would have been delightful right about now.
The river breeze was getting chillier, but the portable circulator was spreading warm air across Dahlia’s back. Nothing was quite as special as dining alfresco under the clear blue sky. Grato, Aroldo, and the guest with a full head of white looked to be having a jovial time too.
The slices of treasurefish were simmered in miso soup made with the rich armored crab stock, their flavors pairing perfectly. The veteran knight who always stayed with Dahlia’s group had a great smile as he brought more estervino, and everyone there ate with relish and chatted with glee.
“Six or seven years ago, no one in Ordine would eat the innards of a crab. Ever since cooks came from Esterland and taught us their ways, half of us love the stuff, while the other half have given up on trying to learn to love it.” The veteran mixed some crab meat into grilled tomalley.
“People in different parts of the world have different tastes, after all.”
“On the other hand, others abroad find us bizarre for eating things they wouldn’t because Ordine welcomes any and all foreign cuisine. I see it as a blessing that I am able to sample all manner of delicious foods.”
“I wholly agree.” The opportunity for variety in food was pure joy for Dahlia, though it didn’t seem to be the same for people in other nations. She sipped on her miso soup as gratitude for having been reborn in Ordine welled up in her heart.
“Some tomalley for you, Kirk?”
“No, thank you. I’ve given it many attempts, but the bitterness does not agree with me.”
“That’s the good part.”
“Tomalley is food reserved for the natural enemies of crabs.”
“Well, that’s us, isn’t it?” If Volf was joking, it didn’t sound like it. It wouldn’t have sounded like a joke if anyone consuming crab today had said it either.
“I guess tomalley is a flavor that only a mature adult would enjoy.”
“In that case, I’ll stay a kid forever!”
The veteran chuckled at Kirk’s pout. “You’ll grow into it, I’m sure. But I have to wonder if there isn’t a more approachable way to have it.” He began working together a simple dough of wheat flour and water, kneaded it into little balls, then fried them up in a shallow pot over his camp stove. When they crackled, he flipped them over and lightly brushed them with a mixture of tomalley, miso, and estervino. They remained on the heat until they were slightly toasted. “It’s not much more than flour, but it should taste pretty good. Give it a taste, Kirk.”
“Um, thank you.” Kirk gave the crab fat cracker a glare filled with suspicion.
“Chairwoman Rossetti and bodyguard, would you like to try some as well? It is something akin to the rice crackers found in Esterland.”
“I would love to, thank you.” The lightly charred cracker was dyed a deep green from the miso glaze, which contrasted against the delicate sprinkling of chili flakes, giving it quite the unique look. But Dahlia enjoyed both tomalley and miso, so she unhesitatingly crunched down into the freshly prepared cracker, as did Marcella beside her.
Both grilled tomalley and miso erupted in her mouth, very salty but also very savory. Chewing it some more brought out the simple flavor of wheat, delightfully accented by the chili. Miso remained on her palate after the bite had gone down. She followed it with a sip of medium-dry estervino, and its flavor was fantastically refreshing. It was a perfect combination.
“You look to be enjoying it very much, Chairwoman Rossetti.”
“It is delicious; it truly is.”
Her words must’ve finally given Kirk the courage to try it too. He took a tiny nibble and chased it with a little swig of the estervino. “Oh? That is good...” He took a bigger bite this time and then downed the rest of the ladle. “If it’s this way, then I can do it!”
At that exclamation, Volf burst out laughing. “I guess you’re on our side now, eh?”
“Seems like little Kirk’s finally become an adult.”
“Sir Dorino, surely you mean I’ve finally learned to drink!”
Dorino clapped Kirk on the shoulder a few times before turning to the veteran. “Hit me with one, sir!”
“If I may have one as well, please.”
“All right, all right. I’ll make you the dough, but you’ve got to grill it yourselves—I have some drinking to catch up on!” The veteran began whipping up a new batch of the crackers, and, despite his supposed unwillingness to toil for his juniors, he showed everyone how to form the dough. It was very versatile too—it could be turned into crackers or gyoza wrappers or even filled with jam—and making it could be an important skill out on the field. After all, food was at the center of life. Or perhaps humans, by nature, were gluttonous.
The knights’ chatter and laughter drowned out the rushing of the river. Grato had been chowing down on grilled crab dripping with butter and quenching his thirst with the citrusy white wine. The one he had steamed himself was great and all, but crab was best grilled to go with wine—that was what he had thought, at least, until one of the knights brought him the crab soup flavored with the Esterland seasoning known as miso. Now, he wasn’t so sure.