Chapter 134. Preparation (4)
The next day.
It was lunchtime, with the savory aroma of grilled steak wafting.
Sirocco, rubbing sleepy eyes, sat sparkling with anticipation.
“Looks tasty, so—”
Slathering honey on the steak and grabbing it with her hands, Sirocco was cut off by my reminder.
“You haven’t forgotten the training, right?”
“Ugh…”
She glanced at me sharply, then reluctantly set down the meat. Pouting, she grumbled.
“I heard you don’t mess with food time.”
“You haven’t eaten yet.”
“True, but…”
“Stop eating with your hands.”
“Hmph, fine.”
Glancing at me, she lowered her ears, picking up a fork reluctantly.
“You said there’s time before the banquet. Why practice now?”
“No harm in learning early.”
I replied calmly to her tail-swishing complaints.
The training for Sirocco before the banquet: table manners.
“This is so weird.”
Watching her clumsily grip the fork, I tilted my head. Her obedience was a relief.
Living in the fortress showed Sirocco was wildly free-spirited.
‘She never cared about others’ gazes.’
Without missions, she’d hog my bed, sleeping late, then roam the fortress freely.
Her compliance made things smoother than expected.
“Here’s how to use a fork and knife.”
I demonstrated, cutting the steak. Sirocco, chin on the table, watched with sulky eyes.
It wasn’t complex.
Even a fool could mimic fork use. Simple enough to copy.
“That’s it?”
“There’s more to banquet etiquette, but knowing basic utensils is enough for you.”
I speared a piece of meat, offering it.
“Eat.”
Since she wasn’t used to utensils, hands-on practice might help.
She took it, eyes sparkling, looking at me.
“Delicious. This training’s kinda cool.”
“You just stuffed it in.”
“Feed me more!”
Pointing at her face, she grinned.
“It might help me learn faster.”
Her tail wagged, and I sighed inwardly. Was this training or feeding?
“Knife use is simple, like this…”
It wasn’t hard, so I explained concisely, feeding her as requested with fork, knife, and spoon basics.
Her usual eating habits didn’t matter, but a formal banquet was different.
Etiquette, like dining order, often sparked gossip in high society.
‘That’s the target.’
I concluded, watching her.
I had no intention of teaching her complex etiquette, courtly manners, or dress codes, especially since she resisted.
Nor would I restrain her if she acted rudely.
The reason was clear.
‘The more Sirocco misbehaves, the more my reputation dips!’
The banquet was a chance to curb my overly inflated reputation.
But going too far could cause trouble, so Sirocco needed to ‘moderately’ tarnish my image.
The balance: basic table manners would suffice.
Eating everything barehanded at a banquet would be… excessively wild.
“Try it. I’ll grab water.”
“Kay, come back.”
Sirocco gripped the fork. Stepping away, I passed Lien, who’d watched silently.
She glanced at me.
“Your earlier words meant this.”
“Yep.”
She’d caught on.
When I recruited Sirocco, I’d told Lien her personality would be useful someday. Not an empty promise.
“Some family combat mages ignore etiquette, but showing it publicly is another matter.”
Lien turned, agreeing silently.
Sirocco’s casual, non-formal behavior was enough to dent my reputation at a formal event.
Utensil use wasn’t hard with practice. I returned, watching her with the fork.
“Good. You’re learning well.”
“Right?”
I’d underestimated her—she was picking up utensil use quickly. At this rate, she’d master it soon.
She grinned, excited.
“Then if you keep feeding me…”
“Nope. That’s it.”
Her ears perked, disappointed.
“Huh? No more feeding?”
“You know how to use it now. Formal training starts soon.”
Her tail bristled.
“What’s that? Formal training?”
“A fortress servant’s assigned for banquet prep. You’ll train in the public dining hall, learning food types and etiquette.”
I showed the letter’s details. Sirocco barely glanced, pouting.
“Hmph, not you, someone else?”
“Exactly.”
Her grumbling tone felt off, but no further thought was needed.
She’d handle it. I had work left.
***
Half a day later, I stopped swinging my sword in the training room.
Breathing deeply after focusing, my reflection’s ambiguous expression caught my eye.
“Hm…”
Training the linkage yielded results, but efficiency was waning.
‘A plateau’s coming.’
Instinctively, I knew as a swordsman.
To grow further, I needed self-understanding, as they’d said. I looked at my hands gripping the two-handed sword.
“…”
How, then?
The original Enoch’s mana insight wasn’t enough through sword training alone.
I gripped the blade sharply.
‘Persona said mana is a record.’
If true, breaking this impasse might require more than sword swings—another clue.
I’d swung my sword plenty, growing through combat. Yet, inheriting Enoch’s mana and memories showed little progress.
I sheathed the sword, stowing it.
No answers from pondering now. Exploration would yield results, but it’d take time.
Returning to my room, I realized training wasn’t the only thing needing time.
A fortress servant, assigned to Sirocco’s etiquette training, came to me in a panic. Her training was done, but something was off.
“No, it’s… a disaster…”
The sweating servant didn’t bode well.
Rushing to the public dining hall, I saw the table and lost words.
It was a spectacle.
Bent forks, pie fragments torn to bits, and, as a crowning touch, a juicy chicken leg stabbed into a chocolate cake like modern art.
Sirocco, crumbs on her face, gripped a fork like a legendary hero, glaring at the food.
“What happened…?”
“She said her hand slipped.”
The servant, baffled, added.
“She learned banquet basics and essentials quickly. But no matter how we train, her utensil use is… off.”
I nearly clutched my head.
This was unexpected.
***
“Here, take it.”
I approached a bench, handing Sirocco a pack of street food from a vendor with a fork. She nodded, pleased to be out.
“Kay, thanks.”
On a holiday, noon’s dazzling sunlight poured down, with a breeze rustling greenery.
The fortress’s outer garden had an artificial waterfall, its mist brushing my face. Nearby, citizens roamed freely.
I sat beside her.
“Let’s cool off and retrain utensil use.”
She stared at the pack’s golden fried shrimp balls.
“You’re fine with other things.”
Everything else aside, her struggle with a simple fork baffled me.
“Forks are tricky.”
Her nonchalant, wide-eyed look sparked curiosity.
“Is etiquette that hard?”
“No, not that.”
“…”
“I don’t get it. Stabbing food with a fork—it keeps slipping.”
She shakily speared a shrimp ball, bringing it to her mouth. Watching anxiously, her hand slipped.
“…”
Plop.
The ball fell back into the pack.
She drooped, looking at me.
“Guess I need more practice.”
Frustrated, I watched her aim the fork earnestly at the ball.
“It’s new, so it feels like it’s escaping my mouth. Like the shrimp’s still alive—”
“No way. Give it here.”
I snatched the fork, speared a piece, and shoved it into her mouth.
Startled, she chewed, then smiled happily.
Watching, I asked bluntly.
“Got it now?”
“Kinda. Maybe~”
She glanced slyly, smirking playfully.
“A bit more, and I’ll get it.”
Chest puffed, she demanded.
“Feed me more.”
Pointing at me, she leaned forward.
It felt less like learning and more like begging, but maybe I was wrong.
Her joyful smiles as she ate each piece were fun. Before I knew it, I’d fed her all but one shrimp ball.
“That’s enough. Hold still.”
As I reached with a napkin to wipe her sauce-smeared cheeks, she closed her eyes, trusting me.
Her tail wagged, and she opened her eyes slowly.
“Hmph, this is way better.”
“What?”
“You teaching me. I learn faster.”
I hadn’t taught much—just fed her out of frustration.
Something felt off.
Sirocco wasn’t dumb. Even without utensil experience, struggling this much with a fork was odd.
Then, satisfied, she speared a shrimp ball and offered it.
“Here. You worked hard teaching me.”
Eating it absently, I realized something.
In that short time, her fork use had become adept. As I noticed, she smiled.
“Tasty, right?”
“…”
“Since we’re out, show me around! I’ve never explored here.”
I didn’t mention I hadn’t either, looking at the sky.
The banquet would likely be fine.