“So gently do you yield support, so tender your embrace. From me to never part again, beg I for you to grace.”
“Volf, how about you get away from my cushion right this moment?” Dahlia knew her brand-new bead cushion was comfortable, but there was something off about the way he’d phrased that.
The weather was a little chilly that evening after the group experiment, and knowing Volf would be traveling by horse, she’d preheated the heated low table in the living room and laid out her long cushion filled with dunasphera; he had marveled at how the fine beads clung to his touch. Dahlia had told him to warm up as she finished her preparations in the kitchen, and he had really taken her words to heart—Volf had really let his hair down, so to speak, as he snuggled shoulder-deep into the heated low table, cuddled the cushion, and squeezed his eyes shut. People joked that locking eyes with the capital’s handsomest man was enough to enthrall anyone, though tonight, the reality seemed to be the other way around—the boy splayed out across the floor was himself enthralled by the heated low table and dunasphera cushion. Dahlia had always found that Volf reminded her of her pet dog from her previous life, yet today, he was nothing but a little house cat.
Those golden eyes still hidden, he made an appeal. “Sorry, Dahlia. Just a bit more.”
“Okay. It’ll take a little bit longer before the hot pot is ready anyway. You must be exhausted, Volf.” She found herself worrying for the balled-up boy; he had only returned from his expedition this morning, so he must’ve pushed himself to come visit.
“Maybe just a little.”
“Next time you’re so worn out from an expedition, please don’t force yourself to come. You can always send someone to deliver the things and come another day yourself, you know?”
“Hey, I’m resting right now. Hope I’m not bothering you and getting in the way of your work, though.”
“You’re never a bother, Volf. And I’ve already finished today’s tasks anyway.” She’d had a feeling Volf might show up today, so she had woken up early to draft the documents and finish other work—that wasn’t something he needed to know, though.
“This cushion is, like, really, really nice. It goes perfectly with the Table of De—the heated low table.”
“The fill is a new material we’ve come up with called dunasphera; Mr. Forto came up with the wonderful name.”
“Dunasphera, eh? Did you have another name in mind, Dahlia?”
She paused. “Pumice bits.”
He paused. “Yeah, that’s pretty good too.”
There was something ever so slightly painful about the way Volf covered his face with the cushion to avoid eye contact. I’d rather you laugh at me. “What would you have named it, Volf?”
Another pause. “The Sands of Sloth.”
Yet another pause. “I can see the connection, yes.” That was more or less what she’d expected from him. Neither of them could really come up with marketable names.
“I’d heard from Master Jonas before coming, but it really is true you can relax with this thing.”
“You heard from Master Jonas?”
“Yeah, I dropped by before coming here. I’m presuming this is the same thing, but he said he really likes the new big, long cushion he’s put in his room.”
Dahlia had heard that Jonas had installed a large heated low table in his room to get through winter; he must’ve been basking in its warmth right now, just as Volf was doing. She stifled a giggle as she remembered that Guido had said Jonas looked like a colossal turtle. “I’m so glad he does. Lord Guido didn’t seem to enjoy it very much...” Guido had looked a little uncomfortable sitting on the cushion yesterday; maybe it wasn’t to his liking.
“It’s the texture that my brother doesn’t like. ‘You know how your feet get stuck in the sand at the beach? I get this terribly uneasy feeling down my back,’ he said. They had company, so Master Jonas had to hold back his laughter.”
She had to do the same just now. Everyone had their own preferences, and she didn’t want to be rude.
“This is from the squad, and this is from the giant hog farmer—all for you, Dahlia.” Volf pointed to the giant boar and giant hog meat that he’d brought with him today.
The targets of this expedition had been giant boars, of which the Beast Hunters had slain the male leader of the sounder and two of the three females with him. They had then brought the carcasses to the farm to turn them into bacon. As the meat needed to be smoked and cured, the farmer had instead given away some fresh hog meat to everyone who was interested.
Dahlia had visited that farm some time ago, accompanying the Beast Hunters on their picnic under the guise of the “rookies’ equestrian training,” and giant boars had attacked during that time too. The boars knocked down the farm’s fences every two years, and a few years back, one boar had even stolen fifteen female hogs. To prevent that from happening again, Dahlia and the Beast Hunters had devised a new device called the nebelfalle, an automated atomizer loaded with black chili concentrate. Any animal that approached the hog farm too closely would be pepper sprayed and disabled by pain and odor.
“Are you sure, Volf? This is quite a lot of meat.”
“Definitely. The whole squad got theirs already, and the farm said the nebelfalle is helping them out lots—they haven’t had a single giant boar or raider trespass since, they said.”
Fermo was manufacturing an improved version of the nebelfalle, and more black chili concentrate had been produced so that any intruders would be completely covered. Dahlia was afraid that might affect other wildlife, but at least the farm was okay.
“Since I always have you cook for me, why don’t you let me do the grilling today?”
“Just stay put for me, Volf. I’m getting the wild boar hot pot ready, and all that’s left to do is to bring everything to a boil.” Botan nabe is what she would have liked to call it, but that was a name from a lifetime ago. She was in the middle of prepping Welsh onion, napa cabbage, thinly sliced carrot and burdock, and mushrooms, and she would also add miso for flavor. Under the pretext of developing menus for future expeditions, Grato had passed the miso along to Volf, who had brought it with him today. During the field training day, Dahlia had asked where she could buy some; however, as the miso wasn’t from a regular store but a trading company that imported from Esterland, the Beast Hunters’ captain had also written her a letter of introduction—a very exciting development indeed.
Only when she set the heated low table did Volf finally crawl out from underneath. It was not without grim resolve and second thinking, but he helped fetch the rest of the tableware and carried the pot to the compact magical stove. As the thinly sliced boar and the vegetables gently simmered, Dahlia mixed in the miso. Unfortunately, there was no kombu to be had, but on the upside, giant boar was fattier than regular nonmonster boar, and it made a great stock.
Dahlia filled the pair of glasses with a pale yellow alcohol, then cut them with a bit of branch; it was equally good neat, but she felt soda water was most appropriate with botan nabe.
“Oh, this has a wonderful aroma. Is it yuzu?”
“That’s right. It’s been steeping since the summer.” Quite a while back, she and Volf had talked about yuzu liqueur. He’d mentioned that he liked it, so she’d macerated some summer yuzu with neutral spirits and rock sugar. The latter was rather pricey here in Ordine, but she’d splurged on enough for three big bottles and produced a beautiful yellow drink.
“Does yuzu dissolve in alcohol?”
“No, I took them out after a bit more than a month.” They clinked glasses as she explained the process. The liqueur had the sweetness of the fruit, and just a touch of the bitterness too. Its initial notes were fragrant, it was supple in its development in the mouth, and the finish had a refreshing quality that was characteristic of citruses. The ethanol and astringency lingered on the tongue, beckoning the drinker to take another sip of that sweet liqueur, so busy on the nose and palate.