Once again, Matthew was drinking wine with Garda at the restaurant “Rocinante.”
Today, it wasn’t Roland’s son, but his daughter Tina who was helping with the service.
“Here’s your meal!”
“Thank you. You’re doing great.”
Tina shyly smiled and retreated to the kitchen.
Matthew felt a slight improvement in his gloomy mood.
“Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it. Let’s get some food.”
“Yeah.”
The two had tried various approaches to stamp a horse armor with a branding iron. But none worked. Matthew was told “impossible” by all the blacksmiths he knew, and Garda also failed when he tried to make a mold himself.
To soothe that sense of exhaustion, they needed food and drink.
“Let’s not get too wasted today.”
“Shut up… Oh, this is delicious.”
The dish was sautéed chicken thighs with asparagus on the side. The skin was crisply cooked while the meat remained tender and juicy. It was perfectly balanced.
“Food has gotten better. Meat is cheaper, and the vegetables taste better.”
“Only in Shelland. Other places haven’t changed much. But, the variety of alcohol and tea was richer in the capital.”
In the town of Shelland, wizards don’t have as high an attitude as in other regions. If there’s money involved, they happily help with agriculture or livestock farming. In the capital, engaging in such work would be considered lowly.
They also don’t mind making magical tools. These tools activate magic when infused with magical power, but they only produce about one-tenth the power of directly cast spells. Regular wizards would be outraged by such weak tools being treated as substitutes for wizards. However, the wizards in this town just thought, “But it’s fun to make them, and they’re handy to have, right?”
“Wizards are really something.”
“It’s also thanks to the cooks.”
“True.”
With that, Garda downed his wine in one gulp.
“Sometimes, I envy Roland. There are times I wish I’d become a chef.”
“Why are you suddenly saying that?”
“I became a master craftsman, but in the end, I’m just a customer pleaser. I feel like I’m losing sight of what I want to make.”
“Garda…”
Leathercraft is an apprentice-based trade. A master takes on apprentices and teaches them the craft. Once you become someone’s apprentice, it’s hard to switch masters or go independent without a good reason.
But Garda wasn’t working under anyone now. A few years ago, his master died of a plague. An apprentice who loses their master either finds a new one or takes over the sign and goes independent. Garda chose independence. He already had the skills needed to be independent.
Matthew highly evaluated Garda’s skills without any bias as a friend. He loved his work and was diligent. Many people other than Matthew appreciated Garda’s work, making his path as an independent craftsman ideal.
Yet Garda had a flaw for someone walking the path of independence. He couldn’t handle loneliness.
“Even customer pleasers have their pride. At least I do.”
“I’m not belittling you. If anything, no one would belittle a customer pleaser as skilled as you. It’s about me.”
“Still, people with nothing can’t even become customer pleasers.”
“But I want to be like my master! Turning tanned leather into art, like magic, no, even better than magic. Roland’s cooking is magic. He’s trying to imitate ‘that person’s’ cooking, but there’s definitely something only Roland can create in it. But my hands just follow orders, and it doesn’t turn into free, magic-like creation.”
“Garda…”
There wasn’t much Matthew, as a merchant, could say about this.
Matthew’s job was to determine whether something would sell from the customer’s perspective.
Even if he delved into the technical talk between craftsmen, his evaluation would be that of an outsider.
“My master is gone. He didn’t always give clear answers when I asked, but he showed his skills and pointed the way. I tried my best to live up to his expectations. When I was hungry, he made pepe for me. I also made pepe for him, trying to imitate him… Why did he have to die, my master?”
Matthew sensed that Garda was deeply troubled.
When drunk and exhausted, Garda often reminisced about his late master.
He was a kind of sentimental drunk.
But it was the first time Matthew had heard him complain this much.
Just as they were talking, the restaurant owner, Roland, suddenly interrupted.
“I’m not particularly obsessed with making dishes that only I can make. It’s just that I can’t get the ingredients that ‘that person’ used. I’m just making do with what I can get and being creative; it’s no big deal.”
Saying this, he poured some wine from the table into his glass.
There were no other customers, and it seemed Roland had no intention of doing any more work.
“Roland, that’s not true. You’re an amazing guy.”
“If you think so, then you are too. Stop drinking so much.”
“Even so…”
Garda replied in a pitiful voice.
Roland, apparently fed up, turned to Matthew.
“Hey, Matthew. I don’t know anything about leathercraft, but why don’t you go ask for advice?”
“Advice? Where?”
“Don’t play dumb. You have it, don’t you… the ‘invitation’.”
“…How did you know?”
Matthew asked in surprise.
“I didn’t know. But I mentioned that restaurant, and you didn’t talk about it, right? You’re the type who can’t help but be curious about secrets.”
“Well… I’m sorry. I was unsure how to bring it up.”
Matthew recalled the words of Lord Scott, who had warned him not to harbor ill will towards the forest.
“I get it. I understand you can’t say it out loud. Still pisses me off, though.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll explain properly once Garda’s issue is resolved.”
“Why not now?”
“First, I want Garda to see that person without any prejudice.”
“Interesting.”
“So, Garda.”
“Huh? What?”
Garda was drinking quickly today, too.
Feeling sympathy for his tired friend, Matthew spoke in a stern tone to the drunken Garda.
“Tomorrow at noon, we’re going to the mansion in the forest. Prepare your tools and any leftover leather scraps you have. Make sure you don’t oversleep.”
