Chapter 198: Gajurdo Is Enraged

Chapter 198:
Gajurdo Is Enraged

 

I PAID THE Bornardt firm a pretty penny to force out that Trade Guild master.

In return, we would buy all commodities exclusively from traders belonging to the Bornardt firm. We would buy it all, and they would not sell a single thing to the territories Gran managed. It was a splendid success, so much so that Gran’s territories had no commodities while sales in my territory skyrocketed. At this rate, it was just a matter of time until this whole town would be mine.

 

I received an invitation from Gran.

Ha! Looked like he wasn’t giving up, even now. Not only did I have the Trade Guild in the palm of my hands, I had several influential people in town under my thumb. It was too late for Gran’s little party at this point...but then again, one can never be too careful.

I heard an unpleasant rumor that he’d hired the associate head chef at a famous restaurant at the capital. But…let’s say that chef wasn’t able to cook. I could just imagine Gran panicking. A party without any food? It brought a smile to my face.

I immediately called for Brad, my bodyguard, and instructed him to prevent the Fahrengrams from serving food at the celebration.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to snuff him, sir?”

“Snuff him? Of course not. Why, they’d use that as an excuse to cancel the party. All you need to do is bang up his arm a little, so he can’t cook. And time it carefully; attack him as close to the time of the party as possible. They won’t be able to find a new chef.”

“As you wish.” Brad withdrew.

He was a C-Rank adventurer. He caught my eye when he was having a brawl with another adventurer at the capital. He kept hitting the adventurer even as they were pleading for him to stop, begging for forgiveness. I looked into him and found he was a rather problematic fellow. He was ordinarily a mild-mannered man, but all sense of reason flew out the window when he caught sight of his own blood. He became a brute with no control. Because of that, despite his capabilities, he couldn’t join any party. I wanted him on hand, so I beckoned him to join me. He was ready to do so.

The man had grown tired of adventuring, so I told him that he could join me until he grew bored.

Brad was most useful. He followed my instructions to the letter. Though there was something off about the man, he was a great adventurer in his own right and had reached C-Rank without a party. Lately, I was using him to attack the merchants who refused to do my bidding. Things were going swimmingly, and no one suspected a thing. Surely the fates were smiling on me, to gift me with such a perfect pawn. And once he was no longer useful, I could dispose of him. No matter how formidable he was, I had several methods of killing him.

A few days before the party, I received a report from Brad. He had injured the chef’s arms and rendered the man unable to cook. Gran wouldn’t be able to use the chef on his service. I couldn’t stop smiling. Ah, imagining Gran scrambling to fix this had me positively beaming.

However, there were still a few days before the party. He would likely try to hire another chef into his service, but he wouldn’t have enough time to seek one from out of town. If he were to find someone, he would need to hire someone nearby.

Before Gran could begin his search, I threatened or arranged bribes for the prominent chefs. I didn’t need to do that for all of them, either; if he called in the second-rate and third-rate chefs, that would be all the better for me. I had all manners of methods of driving Gran into a corner.

Just as I anticipated, reports came in of Gran attempting to bring in other chefs. Of course, all of them turned him down. Now all he could do was rely on the second- and third-rate ones.

But Fochrosé of Crimonia’s entrance might mean trouble. I placed people on Gran’s residence and ordered them to attack anyone heading for Crimonia.

My predictions were perfectly right: someone sent a horse heading for Crimonia. Fortunately, the horse was shot with an arrow, and it was no longer capable of travel. That was good enough. If we mistakenly killed the envoy, it would become a whole affair. All I needed to do was prevent them from making food for the party.

 

On the day of the party, I headed to Gran’s residence. It was, infuriatingly, just about the size of mine. The old thought crossed my mind once more: this town only has room for one lord’s estate. On his deathbed, my father told me to get along with the Fahrengrams, but why would I? No other lords or nobles were insulted by the prospect of having to rule jointly over one town with another household. I would run him out as quickly as I could.

I would make this my town.

When I reached the venue, people had gathered. The merchants scurried over to me at once—those little nobodies who threw themselves at me, my valuable pawns who obeyed me as readily as my very hands. I dealt with them as they came and headed to Gran. This would be his last party in this house, so I supposed that I might as well give him his final goodbyes. When I saw his placid face, I almost broke out into a smile.

So dumb, so soft—far too soft. Like my father in that way. Trusting everyone.

Easy marks.

 

After I finished with the pleasantries, I left Gran. I needed to watch who would talk to him. The one that spelled the most trouble was likely Crimonia’s lord, from the Fochrosé household. He’d recently built up a relationship with Mileela and was gathering influence. I ordered the Merchant Guild to have any merchants heading to Crimonia obtain information on that, but…none of their reports made sense. They’d spout nonsense about a bear statue in front of a tunnel, gigantic bear statues in Mileela’s seaport, a bear shop, a bear adventurer. Most of all, they told me not to “defy the bear.”

Whatever that nonsense meant. I could launch a proper investigation into Crimonia after I took it for myself. Power flowed from wealth; I needed to keep my eyes on the merchants coming in from Crimonia, not some weirdo in a bear suit. All was falling into place. I couldn’t let anyone get in the way.

Once I finished speaking with Gran, the food was brought in. I was trying to imagine what cruddy food they’d serve, but it looked and smelled delicious. Was there even a chef in this town who could cook like this? How? And why weren’t they mine?

The chef couldn’t have recovered, could he?

No, never. I had my underlings look into it and the chef was still injured without a doubt. I got a report that he wouldn’t be able to cook. But either the report had been false, or he had healed to the point he could cook again. Which one?

The food tasted as delicious as it smelled. Where had they brought in a chef talented enough to make food as good as this? I’d need to punish the lookout I assigned to this place.

I thought that the food wouldn’t be all that great, so I’d be able to insult it. This was much better than I anticipated.

It seemed that I’d need to observe for a while.

Soon enough, I had my fill of the food as I greeted people. More people streamed in to greet me.

After all, any half-witted dope knew which side would be most advantageous. The only ones siding with Gran were the idiots. I decided to leave the details for tomorrow and dispensed with the pleasantries. When I happened to look at the door, I saw a man peering into the party. He had a bandage around his arm.

This was the red-headed man from the reports—Gran’s chef. He was clearly still injured. Who was the chef, then? I had no idea, but they had to be extraordinary.

I wasn’t happy to learn that such a chef was helping Gran. Perhaps I would hire him later for myself. For now, I would make him rue the day he decided to help Gran.

Since I confirmed he had a different cook, it was about time to ruin this party. I signaled to those around me.

“I can’t bear it anymore. What is this food?!” I yelled. Silence fell. The aforementioned merchants began to agree with me, admonishing the food just as I had. The complaints steadily spread.

Gran attempted to approach me, the fool. I simply needed to ruin the party to end things for him.

Once I insulted the food and told them that the chef was clearly a different person, Gran straightforwardly confirmed it with me. Anyone else would’ve either lied or kept quiet about that. When I pressed him to bring the chef out, he didn’t even try to bargain—it was as though he didn’t even know how! What a dreary man.

I was unilaterally levying my complaints at him when a man wearing a chef’s uniform entered.

Hm? Where had I seen him before? I couldn’t recall. Perhaps at some restaurant…

“Pardon me. I am Zelef and I have had the opportunity to cook the meals for this party. Was the food not to your liking?”

So this was the man, then. What a waste to crush a chef like him. Still, plans are machines that must move without hesitation.

I thought he’d apologize when I complained, but he didn’t. Instead, he had the gall to ask what about the food was terrible. Normally, if a noble declared it to be so, even a delicious meal would become as good as hovel.

Did he not know his place? Did he not understand the difference between the aristocracy and line cooks? “All of it was terrible. Seems your employer doesn’t know much. I can’t believe he’d be happy with this cooking. It seems the Fahrengram family has fallen quite far to leave things to a chef like you.”

“I see. Then I shall inform my employer—that is, I shall inform His Majesty.”

“His…Majesty?” Wait, what? Had he just said His Majesty?

The place stirred slightly. Then someone said, “Yes, right. I thought I’d seen him somewhere before.”

“That’s the head chef of the palace, Master Zelef...”

“You’re the head chef of the palace...” I whispered.

Promptly, the man reintroduced himself. “Yes. I am Zelef, and I am employed as the head chef of the palace. Would you be kind enough to inform me what about my meal was not to your liking? I cannot serve meals that are not up to snuff for His Majesty, who always enjoys my cooking so very much.”

What was the head chef of the palace doing here? It was preposterous. Unbelievable.

While I floundered for a response, the head chef began to question the people who had joined me in insulting him. He didn’t appear angry, but he made it clear he would not take any ambiguous answers.

“No, please! Weren’t you just making a fuss about how terrible the food tasted? Just tell me what you meant, won’t you? I simply cannot serve His Majesty food that is not up to snuff.”

One of the little toadies who had been supporting me looked at me with an inquiring look, as if asking me what to do.

Why look to me? I hadn’t the faintest idea.

I turned away, then the man started to cough. Suddenly the man was claiming he had a cold, which supposedly changed his palate, and he ran off. To make matters worse, he ran to Gran, of all people. What treachery! Not that I could say anything about it right then.

The others began to flee too, like rats from a sinking ship. Lying and coughing and running to Gran—damn it all, why had things turned out like this?!

“Wh-what would you, the head chef of the palace, be doing in a place like this, Master Zelef? Does His Majesty know you are here?”

If His Majesty knew, it could be a problem. How much did His Majesty know?

“Why, of course His Majesty knows that I’m here. But you see, I came for personal reasons. The lord’s chef here is a dear old friend.”

Friends? So he hadn’t come on His Majesty’s orders. That was a small relief, but it didn’t change the fact that I had denounced the palace chef’s food. When I pressed him for more details, it seemed that this had happened at Ellelaura of the Fochrosé family’s suggestion. Of course it was the Fochrosés.

But there was something peculiar about it all. This place was nowhere near the capital. They shouldn’t have made it in time, no matter how quickly they rushed after learning of the other chef’s injury.

“You came running here just because the chef got himself injured? That’s impossible...you… couldn’t have had the time to...!”

“Pardon my asking, but were you already aware that Chef Botts was injured, Lord Gajurdo?”

He heard me muttering to myself. “No, I was not. I only found out because Master Gran brought it up earlier.”

Damn it all, this would be tricky. I must have raised his suspicions.

“I see. If you did know he was injured, and knew of any witnesses, I would’ve hoped you’d inform us.”

“I’m terribly sorry that I could be of no help.”

“No need to apologize. It seems that he was assaulted in a place with few people around.”

When Zelef said the word “assaulted,” the place stirred. If anyone had heard what I just said, they would likely begin to suspect me. Damn it all. The palace chef was going to undo all my hard work…

It was all his fault, this Zelef before me. Vitriol bubbled inside of me. One single chef had crushed all my grand goals.

“Master Zelef, please don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t that the food wasn’t actually good. It was very good.”

“But I heard you say that it was terrible, Lord Gajurdo. And several in attendance said the same. I am not complaining about you in particular. However, as a chef, if someone complains about my cooking, then I must apologize to them, for I am the person primarily responsible for the food. In order to do that, I would need to know what about the food was so terrible.”

Damn it. Even if I had to try, I knew it was no use praising his food at this juncture. Earlier, I spoke loudly so the others in my vicinity could hear my complaints. But now I couldn’t claim the food was terrible; that would be the same as insulting the king’s own palate, or even the taste of the whole royal family.

I should have done more research. How in the world had he made it all the way from the capital? It was unbelievable, given the time they had. All I could do was make an excuse, just like the man who fled to Gran.

“Master Zelef, I apologize. It seems that I was also not feeling well.”

I pained me, but I had to withdraw. I apologized to Gran and took my son to leave. No one followed. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.

“Father.” My son was looking at me, but I couldn’t deal with him now.

“We’re going home.”

“Father!”

“Shut up!” If that fussy boy didn’t shut his trap, I’d make him.

 

Once we returned to the residence and I retired to my room, I screamed. “Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish! The head chef of the palace?! How? And those damned merchants…they were buttering me up moments before, and then they ran off to Gran!”

Just recalling it made my blood boil. Ungrateful slime!

Yes, it seemed as though the plan really was the Fochrosé family’s doing—Cliff and Ellelaura both. They got in my way. If only they hadn’t been there, my plans would’ve been a success. The mere thought of that blond man’s face drew my ire. Once I dealt with Gran, he was next.

“Father!”

“Oh, Randle. Are you still here?”

“What are you saying? Why did we leave? He was just a chef, wasn’t he?”

“He’s the head chef of the palace. He is no ordinary chef. Whatever he feeds to His Majesty’s ears could ruin the Salbard family’s image.”

“That’s no reason to let him trample over you. It’s not like you, Father.”

“Randle, please pay more attention to our position.”

My son seemed to believe that everything would go as he wished—he had little discipline. I had indeed taught the boy that the aristocracy stood at the top, but I never expected him to mistake the head chef of the palace for a mere cook. It seemed as though he didn’t know who not to cross—him, fourteen and ignorant of such a vital role? Oh, for God’s sake…

“Father, are you just going to leave things be?”

“We’ll observe for a while. Our course has changed because of tonight. Many people might have joined Gran.”

“In that case, you should threaten them again or let our money do the talking.”

“I can’t make any moves until Zelef, that palace chef, leaves.”

I couldn’t cause an uproar. If the king heard of it, we would be in trouble. Now was not the time to make a move. I would have a chance soon.

I told my son not to cause any trouble and shooed him from my room.