In Aura’s opinion, none of it tasted good. And since the ingredients and recipes never changed, she quickly got sick of it.
On the other hand, all this new food whetted Ainz’s curiosity.
What would these things taste like?
Insects were high in protein, and Satoru Suzuki had often eaten them in his previous life—albeit coated in barbecue flavoring. However, he’d never eaten a whole plump roasted caterpillar before.
Once again regretting his body’s inability to eat, he went down a floor and set the tray on a shelf. Then he considered his next move.
They don’t seem to have a concept of lunch, so the kids’ games shouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.
If the children had chores to do, their playtime might be limited, but plenty of people knew Ainz had asked them to play with the twins. In all likelihood, the adults would let the kids play all day today, at least.
That meant Aura and Mare would not be back for a while. Ainz should use this time to pursue whatever interested him.
He’d walked—well, flown—around the village under cover of Perfect Unknowable but hadn’t done so while visible. Maybe he’d discover something new. And he had a destination in mind.
I already laid the groundwork for it, too.
He plucked his notes—unlike the previous note, these were in a proper notebook—out of thin air (his item box) and attempted to memorize what was written there.
Namely, how to create potions and what herbs and minerals went into them.
Unfortunately, Ainz’s brain was incapable of retaining more than two or three brewing recipes. Feeble as his mind might be, that was hardly the sole problem. As expected, the techniques described were rather detailed and quite difficult to memorize for someone without knowledge or interest in the fundamentals of potion making.
He put the notebook away and spent a minute muttering the recipe under his breath. Then he left the elf tree again, making his way across the village.
A number of dark elves spotted Ainz coming and looked his way. They weren’t watching out for him; they were just going about their business and regarding him with interest and curiosity.
If any one of them saw through the illusion, it would be a real headache, but fortunately, it didn’t seem like anyone here was skilled enough. If they were, they would’ve kicked up a fuss the moment he arrived.
Yet, none of the villagers were attempting to speak to him.
Were isolated villages like this just inherently standoffish when dealing with outsiders? No, on second thought, if Ainz—or rather, Satoru Suzuki—had spotted a stranger in the office, he wouldn’t have been inclined to go up and start a conversation. If he had, many people would take it as a sign he thought they didn’t belong there.
Of course, he didn’t personally feel ostracized or anything.
The twins were the stars of the show—Ainz was merely along for the ride. It would never do for him to hog the limelight. More importantly, there would be ample opportunity to make his mark later. Like he’d planned on his arrival, he needed to turn Aura from a hero into a child.
As he had that thought, Ainz noticed a dark elf coming his way.
He’d glanced at Ainz once or twice, but no more than anyone who just happened to cross paths with him.
Good enough. He can help with my cover.
Ainz had spent enough time here with Perfect Unknowable to have a good grasp of how the village was laid out, but “Aura’s uncle” had only just arrived. If he looked like he knew where he was going, someone might start to wonder. Naturally, he had any number of excuses. For example, he could simply say Aura had told him. But it was a good idea to head off any suspicion before those proved necessary.
After all, there wasn’t anything to be gained by making people cautious.
“Uh, pardon me.”
Asking a random dark elf for directions would create the perfect alibi.
“Mm, yes? Can I help with something?”
“Yes, my niece told me your village has a skilled apothecary. Would you mind directing me to the apothecary master’s elf tree?”
The man saw nothing amiss with that question and happily pointed the way.
Ainz gave his thanks and followed the directions he didn’t need.
On the way, he passed a dark elf extending a hand toward the ground below.
Wondering what he was doing, Ainz paused to watch, and the ground began to heave, the mass of soil climbing the trunk like a slime.
It resembled Mare’s Earth Surge, but there were many differences.
Whether it was daily-life magic or a druid’s faith spell, neither existed in Yggdrasil. These were things that the people of this world had developed during the course of their lives here.
The earth obeyed the man’s manipulations, vanishing into the treetops far above.
All that soil would probably go in the dark elves’ vegetable gardens.
Their produce was grown in planters nestled inside or above the trees. The planters themselves were made of packed soil, and Ainz had wondered how they got the dirt up there. Clearly, this was the answer.
Pleased by the fascinating discovery, Ainz resumed his walk.
The elf tree at the end of the path was particularly grand—or at least, thick. Possibly the plumpest in the village. This was the home of the apothecary master, one of the village’s leaders.
It was separated from the other elf trees by a fair distance.
Presumably to mitigate casualties if anything poisonous was accidentally produced.
A high-level apothecary had built up resistances to these toxins, but what they could handle might be unbearable for someone weaker, like children or the sick.
If there was another reason, then…
…it might be to safeguard his knowledge.
Ainz had a great deal of respect for any attempts to monopolize knowledge. Both to protect one’s vested interests and to avoid problems that might arise if secrets became common knowledge.
Everyone knew medicine could be poisonous at the wrong dosage.
But if someone simply stole the knowledge, would they manage to make effective medicine? Probably not. Inferior facsimiles would not only cause fatalities, they’d teach people to distrust the apothecary’s authentic potions.
These concerns more than justified taking protective measures.
“Hello?” Ainz called from outside the elf tree.
No answer.
He knocked on the trunk and called again. Perking up his ears, he could hear a grinding noise.
“Coming in!”
He stepped inside. A pudgier dark elf was seated with his back to the door. Given his status and workload, he was likely well-fed but had little in the way of exercise. Safe to assume he was the man in charge—the apothecary master rather than a disciple.
He was seated at a low table, his arms moving vigorously.
On the table were basic instruments: a mortar and pestle along with some bulkier grinding tools. On the shelves were a number of jars, likely containing medicinal ingredients. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, which lent the space the expected atmosphere of an apothecary.
The acrid scent of dried ingredients mingled with the rich aromas of freshly gathered medicinal plants. When the heady blend reached Ainz’s nostrils, it reminded him of Nfirea’s workroom.
Dark elves had better hearing than humans, but not by much. It was impossible to tell if the master knew Ainz had come in and was simply ignoring him or if he was too focused on his work to have noticed him at all.
Ainz spoke again.
“Pardon me. Do you have a moment?”
For the first time, the apothecary master stopped his grinding. He glared over his shoulder once, then frowned.
“You’re… Oh, I get it. The cloth on your face. The man from the same place as that girl. I heard you were an arcane caster?”
“Indeed I am. I see word has already spread.”
He reached for the cloth to remove it.
“Don’t,” the man said. “Your people’s rules, right? I don’t need to see. Ain’t nothing for me even if I do. Leave it alone. I’ve acknowledged your greeting. If we’re done here, be on your way. I’ve got work to do.”
After that begrudging mutter, the apothecary lost interest and turned back to his desk. It was a curt response that seemed extremely dismissive. But Ainz was actually relieved.
People like this spoke their minds and hid nothing. If he’d merely said, Go away—you’re bothering me, all Ainz’s salesman tricks would most likely have failed to make the man turn back around.
But that wasn’t what he’d said. In other words, Ainz still had a chance.
As the master picked up his pestle, Ainz asked, “What are you making now?”
“Does it matter?”
A bit hostile. He decided to not mince words.
“Perhaps not,” Ainz said. After a brief pause, he said, “If I can ask, what herbs are you using to treat an upset stomach here? Quine rind? Candiane root?”
The master’s hands paused. His head turned once again, looking over his shoulder.
“Gimme a minute?”
“Of course.”
He turned his back to Ainz again and went back to his grinding. But even facing away, it was clear his attitude had changed.