Am I the Prize?

Two Months Later

Ilse and Gritt watched from across the street of Mitsuha's General Store for the past week, having arrived in town three weeks ago. Normally they would have checked in with the Mercenary guild but in this case, they were told to exercise discretion, so they instead found an inn in the lower part of town and checked in under assumed names. Donning disguises, they made their way around town, listening to the local gossip.

They were surprised however that there was little discussion about the Lightning ArchPriestess; surely if she had gone missing, there would be city-wide tales about the savior of the city suddenly vanishing. But there were no talks about manhunts, or panic that the most prominent noble in the city was no longer among the people. Their next stop was Mitsuha's General Store; they had fully expected it to be shut down, but much to their amazement, it was up and running.

"Welcome to the store!" came the greeting as Ilse and Gritt entered. Who was this, they wondered as they looked over the store's cashier. She looked vaguely like Mitsuha; if one wasn't paying attention, a commoner might even mistake her for Mitsuha. However, a trained eye could tell she looked about a few years older and stood a few inches taller, with a slightly different body proportion. The dead giveaway though was her voice and clear lack of language proficiency; she spoke the local tongue as if she were still learning it as a second language, while Mitsuha spoke like a native.

Gritt walked up to the counter and leaned slightly forward. "Where is Lady Mitsuha?" she asked politely but firmly.

Who are these two... they don't look like the standard rich customers that normally come in here... in fact, they look like warriors... Michiko thought, with a slight twinge of concern. "Ah... she's... going to come back...?" she managed.

Gritt's jaw clenched slightly, and her eyes narrowed; Ilse knew that her companion did not like that answer in the slightest. Nonetheless, their orders were to stay discreet. Sending a shop keeper to the local doctor probably wouldn't help get them the answers they were looking for, so she put her hand on Gritt's shoulder as a silent reminder, which seemed to calm her partner down. They left the store and went to a nearby alley.

"Just who is that girl?" Gritt almost snarled. "Why is she running Lady Mitsuha's store?"

"I don't know," Ilse pondered. "But the store being open and running may explain, at least in part, why people haven't been talking about her disappearance."

"For that matter, how is that girl running Lady Mitsuha's store? Wasn't there some kind of... protections on her store? Something about being... struck by lightning... if you entered without permission*? And the way she pretended to act like she didn't know anything about Lady Mitsuha's being missing?"

*see Manga Chp36 /LN Epi16

"Or maybe... she really doesn't know," Ilse offered.

Gritt gave that idea some thought. One way or another though, this girl must have some kind of tie to what was going on with Lady Mitsuha's disappearance. That much was obvious; either being involved in the disappearance, or as a possible solution. "I'm convinced that she's the key to whatever's going on with Lady Mitsuha's disappearance. She's either involved, or she's the key to finding out who is."

Ilse nodded. "It's strange she looks just like Lady Mitsuha, like she's from her home country. There's no one else in the city who looks like that. That can't be a coincidence. We'll follow her, until we find out which."

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Baron Marcus Turck sat at his desk as his full assemblage of servants stood before him. While his house had planned many such parties in the past, this upcoming noble party was of particular importance. On the invitation lists, several higher-ranked noble families were to be invited; some who had strong ties to the existing monarchy, others whose loyalties were quietly wavering for a variety of reasons. Because of this, he wanted to make a strong impression of strength and wealth this night. He was still unsure which direction he was going to take his house, but he was determined that his house would be on the winning side.

"This party must go off without any mishaps," Marcus declared. "I expect the best food, service and presentation for tonight. Nothing must go wrong."

The head chef stood forward. "I will be certain to bring the very best I have to this party," he assured. As head chef of the Baron's house, he held the purse strings that controlled the food budget of the Baron's capital mansion and was the highest authority figure of all the kitchen staff from all the sous chefs down to the scullery maids. That also meant the success or failure of the dinner fell on his head.

Like any ambitious man, he enjoyed the fact that he was the king of his little pond; nothing was going to take that away from him. The previous morning-shift chef; a flinty-face man who kept nipping at his heels was also ambitious, but really didn't have the talent to be a serious threat, so he allowed him to play his little games, much to his amusement. His recent replacement however was another matter; he was hearing rumblings from the morning servants he didn't like. Previously, the servants grumbled about the food, but quietly accepted that it was their place in life. Those complaints had lately stopped; he was now hearing the servants were looking forward to every meal like it was a special event. The few times he visited the kitchen in the morning shift to supervise filled him with dread watching this new young chef. His only solace was that this girl had shown no interest in participating in the usual activities one had to do to advance on the social career ladder; she pretty much did her job, albeit with extraordinary skill, then went home. The servants had fallen in love with her, but no one of importance cared what they thought. What mattered to him was that she didn't steal his thunder when it came to tonight's important banquet. He wanted to make use of her skills in creating an amazing dinner, but also to ensure that he would get the credit when the people were enjoying the feast. As head chef, it was his responsibility to dole out assignments, so he was in a position to make that happen, including leaving instructions that Michiko was not to leave the kitchen during the party, nor to mingle with the guests under any circumstances.

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Jerome Lafette flinched as the musket fired against his shoulder. So that's what these... lightning wands felt like to wield, he thought. He knew these weren't the ones he faced at the capital battle; those were so much more powerful than these primitive ones captured from Vanel. Nonetheless, they still carried the same kind of fearsome aura; that ability to deal death from a distance was something that would strike fear once their plans began.

Jerome and his group of rebellious nobles were on Count Lansen's estate out in the countryside, testing the weapons to see what they could do. For starters, Jerome hadn't realized just how loud they were when fired; he would have to get used to that, along with all the other members of his cadre. How did the Vanel troops handle it, he wondered. They must have had substantial training. He was also disappointed how long it took to reload after each shot. The ones he faced at the capital battle had no such limitation; so much the pity . Fear would have to be our weapons, as much as the weapons themselves, he thought, as a plan began to form in his mind in terms of strategy. That would alleviate the need to fire them quite as often if our enemies would cower at the mere sight of them.

"How goes the training, Lafette?"

Jerome turned to face his benefactor, Count Lansen, who ruled this province and nodded respectfully. He was a key figure in this conspiracy, having funded much of the expenses and making connections to the various disgruntled nobles who felt left out, ever since the ArchPriestess' ascension to their country's politics. "It goes well, mi' lord. The weapons seem to function as the Vanel prisoners explained in their interrogations. Some malfunctions have occurred, but that's to be expected with such unconventional weapon systems. We will need many more of them, however, to make our rebellion a reality."

"Of course," Lansen agreed. "That's being handled from another Barony. We've been acquiring the necessary substances for the black powder that drives these weapons, the raw materials to make more of the muskets themselves, and we've been quietly seeking out vassals and men who have suffered since the last war, who are amendable to a change in the Kingdom's leadership."

And this time... Lafette smiled to himself, there will be no ArchPriestess to save the Kingdom. He almost wished she were still alive, perhaps watching helplessly from some purgatory of the damned as her precious Kingdom would soon burn, all the while unable to do anything to stop it. That way, you'd know how I felt... buried alive beneath my bloodied brethren as I watched you destroy my dreams... How I wish I could have you watch as I destroy yours...!

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Baron Turck stood in front of the great hall of his mansion before his assembled guests as the first group began to arrive. Of course, some of the more prestigious ones would arrive later, but for now, as the head of the household, it fell to him to create the favorable first impression. "Welcome to my humble household, noble lords. Tonight marks a special time in our Kingdom, as we celebrate the recent victory against an invading enemy once again." He paused as polite applause swept the room. He quietly noticed the discrepancy in enthusiasm. It was widely known who actually had defeated the Vanel navy. The noble families who were known to have close ties to the ArchPriestess were the sincerest in their applause; the ones who were on the outside were tepid at best. This gave Turck a clear indication on who he should be approaching first as the night began.

Inside the kitchen, Michiko was leading the chefs at the expeditor position for the evening. Even though she was ostensibly a sous chef for the morning shift, normally she worked either alone or with a couple of kitchen boys for help. Tonight, however would be special; while they were serving her recipes, she couldn't possibly cook every portion herself for this party, so while she did do some prep, along with the sauces, most of the actual cookery was being handled by the rest of the line chefs, which she arranged in a standard brigade system that most modern restaurants used. As the cooked components were brought up, she would check them for quality, assemble the plates and send them out. The head chef looked on with some curiosity as this wasn't how he would have tasked the job*, but decided to let things go. If she succeeded, he'd take the credit; if she failed, he knew who to blame.

*The modern chef brigade system wasn't invented until the late 19th century by Georges Auguste Escoffier

Up by the entrance, Count Claus Bozes and Iris Boses arrived and were greeted by the various nobles. As the recent beneficiaries of the naval boon monies, many of the lesser nobles were interested in ponying up to the Bozes faction and getting their piece of the pie. Bozes county in particular was in the middle of a construction boom, building a new harbor and naval port, along with a newly-widened highway connecting his county to Yamano County. Deals would be negotiated and promises made, some of them empty, of course, both sides knew; that was part of the game.

Later, at the appointed hour, Baron Turck proudly announced that dinner was being prepared. His head chef then stood before the crowd, announcing that he had put his all into tonight's effort, and asked everyone to please enjoy this evening's meal. Count Claus Von Boses and Iris looked at their plates in amazement as the smells wafted up. There was a presentation of expertly seasoned seared venison with blackberries and roasted vegetables, with a sublime plate sauce that tied the entree together. Each table's dinners had been well-paired with a bottle of Earth's Pino Gris wines, that matched perfectly with the dish's heavier elements. This dinner wasn't typical of most noble parties the Bozes had attended. Most of the time, they were forgettable affairs, but this one had been put together with care and craft. Claus took one bite and paused... only one person I know cooks like this... and she's not been seen for months.

"Dear, is this what I think it is?" Iris asked.

Claus nodded. Either Baron Turck was holding Mitsuha hostage in his kitchen, which was so ludicrous it barely merited mention, or someone else in Turck's staff had the exact same skill and training, and that bore investigation. He motioned for one of the serving staff's attentions, and asked to speak with the head chef. After a few moments, the head chef came up to Claus Bozes' table.

"I've been told you wished to speak with me, Count Bozes?" the head chef asked.

"Oh, it's nothing serious," Claus assured him, with his customary charm. "I just wanted to personally pay you my compliments on what an outstanding dinner you've prepared tonight."

The chef bowed graciously. "You do me too much honor, sir."

"In particular, this sauce," Claus pointed out. "Could you tell me what's in it? It's amazing... I'd love to have my own chef try to make it."

The chef paused and smiled. "I'm sorry sir... you have to understand, it's a long-time family secret that I've been sworn to keep private."

"Forgive me," Claus assured. "Of course, I understand. Something this precious should be protected," he smiled, then excused the man. After he left, he turned to Iris, who silently agreed with him. He has no idea what's in it. Someone else made this dish... He silently nodded to Iris; this was her specialty.

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Countess Iris Bozes had always maintained a clandestine gossip network of maids between various noble houses, which allowed her an amazing amount of under-the-table intelligence of what was going on inside the various houses. For the small pittance of the costs of trips to the candy stores and cosmetic shops, their own maids "made friends" with maids from various other houses, where they would spill their secrets far too easily. From the Turck household, Iris was already made aware that the servants had been gushing lately about the quality of food being served to the staff in the past month. Iris knew Turck hadn't replaced his head chef in years, so it was highly unlikely that the old tiger suddenly changed his stripes, though she was told he finally let his morning chef go not long ago. Well, good riddance to that old bastard, she thought. He was the same old curmudgeon who was giving Mitsuha grief last year, trying to buy fresh fish at her store*, so it seemed that Karma had finally caught up to him... or perhaps it was the person who was currently dazzling the servant staff in the Turck household, and the Baron actually made the correct decision on replacing that old goat, she realized. If I had a cooking prodigy in my household, I'd certainly use them for an important event such as this. And if I were an old head chef stuck in my ways, I'd probably do everything I could to steal credit too...

*see Manga Chp17 /LN Chp8 / Anime Epi6

She had excused herself from the dinner table, allowing Claus to act as a distraction by making deals with the other nobles. All attention would be on him anyway, since he was head of his house; no one would really be paying attention to what the wife of a household was doing, especially if she was simply "refreshing herself in the powder room", and no mere servant would dare question a Countess, were she to poke her head into... say... a kitchen to see what was going on.

Inside the kitchen, Iris noticed that, with most of the dinners complete, the staff were preparing to send out desserts. Immediately, she noticed the young girl up front at the expeditor position, who visually stuck out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else. She bore a striking resemblance to Mitsuha, except for being slightly taller and perhaps a little older. It took a moment more for Iris' memory to click; she had met this girl a few months ago, when Mitsuha had introduced her as a childhood friend from her home country*. And now the pieces were beginning to come into place. I just need to confirm one thing...

*see The Ones We Leave Behind Epilogue

"Excuse me... young lady, it was... Michiko, wasn't it?" Iris asked.

Michiko turned around from the bourbon peach pie she was preparing, then looked startled at the unexpected noble in the kitchen, then curtsied awkwardly, as it had been an exhausting night. "L-lady Iris-sama, how unexpected to see you," she said, nearly dropping her pastry spatula.

Iris smiled, with her trademark look that seemed so innocent and gentle. She used it so often to get people to lower their guard, at least for the initial negotiation. "Oh please... and I certainly didn't expect to see you of all people working here. And last I recall, Mitsuha said you couldn't even speak our language."

"Well... practice makes perfect... as Sabine-hime-sama said... and I'm only working here until Mitsuha comes back..."

So, she is still missing... Iris realized, with alarm inside her head. She and Claus had been approached months ago with that question, but had kept it quiet, hoping that it would resolve itself but evidently the problem had grown. But she just wanted to confirm one last thing. "So, if you were preparing the meal tonight, could you tell me... what was the sauce used for the venison?"

"Oh sure, it was a beef stock pan gravy, with shallots, garlic, thyme, deglazed with a blackberry merlot wine, then thickened with butter, salt and black pepper. I added a little flour to create a roux then reduced it down until I got the right texture."

And that's where the sweetness and tart accents came from, Iris thought, quite clever. Not many chefs in this town would have thought of that, certainly none as young as her. "I need you to come with me," Iris commanded.

"B-but my senior... he's ordered that I not leave the kitchen until the ball is completed and all the nobles have left," Michiko said meekly.

Iris' eyes narrowed, and her gentle demeaner instantly vanished as she gave Michiko a stern, steely-eyed look, which caused her to freeze with fear. 怖い ...* Mitsuha said she was the scary one... now I believe her... "C-can we at least finish dessert service first? I-I've prepared delicious bourbon peach pies with cinnamon glaze...?"

* Kowai/scary

Iris grabbed Michiko by the rear of her collar and began to drag her backwards away from the kitchen in a manner Mitsuha would have instantly remembered and thought "and that's what it feels like"*, and out the servant's exit. "I'm sure your staff can serve your wonderful peach pies. We have more important things to discuss."

*see Manga Chps16, 17, 52 /LN Chp8 x2, 21 / Anime Epis5, 6

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In the outside courtyard, there were several carriages and horses, along with their coachmen and a few guards from the various noble houses. Each of the carriages bore the markings or coat of arms representing their house. I wonder if any of them are going to turn back into pumpkins after midnight , Michiko idly wondered, then dismissed the thought. Things had gotten far too serious to be toying around with children's fantasies now.

"Ah, I remember you," Claus Bozes said, with a pleasant manner. "You're... Michiko, right?"

"Ah-ah... yes..." She once again tried curtsying, "Count Claus Bozes-sama, I am happy to see you once again."

And even better, she's speaking our language without a translator. Her accent's still clumsy, but she's getting there. Another few months, and she'll be almost fluent , he thought, which was remarkably fast assimilation. That gave him a clear sign of Michiko's overall mental acuity, something he may be calling upon in the coming months. "Iris says you were the one responsible for tonight's dinner."

Michiko almost panicked. "Y-you also had a problem with the sauce...!?"

"What...? No... in fact, the dinner was sublime," Claus assured Michiko with a smile. "But in light of the fact that you were the one who actually did cook the meal, along with how quickly you've managed to learn our language, I did have my own question for you..." He paused as he reached into his coach and retrieved several pages of paper and handed them to Michiko. "Could you tell me what these say?"

Michiko looked over the sheets. "They're part of a construction blueprint for an 1861 Springfield Minié rifle, and a ballistics chart for a .58 caliber Minié ball bullet. These pages are the instructions for how to use a carbide hook to generate the rifling inside the barrel, along with the metallurgical details needed between the barrel and the bit," before handing the pages back to Claus. The fact that the sheets were all in Japanese never even registered as significant to Michiko, but they were monumental to the Count.

Count Claus Bozes' face almost visibly relaxed, perhaps for the first time in months. A solution to the Kingdom's naval dilemma had literally just been dropped into his lap; Marquis Eibinger would definitely need to be notified at once. "I can see that it's been a long night, and you've clearly put in a great deal of work. You must stay in our guest room at our mansion tonight. There's something of great importance we need to discuss in the morning," Claus declared.

"Eh? I have to come back here tomorrow at dawn to make the staff meals," Michiko exclaimed. Upon seeing Claus' surprised face, Michiko explained, "I don't have loyalty to Baron Turck, but he's paying me so I can survive until Mitsuha returns."

"Ah, OK, I see..." Claus said. "How much is he paying you?"

"Five silver a month, plus meals," Michiko said proudly, holding up five fingers. "And I made a deal with one the maids to have my laundry done in exchange for hand-made sweets."

Both Claus and Iris looked stunned; did no one tell this poor girl just how little money* that really was in this city, especially for someone with her skills? After taking a moment to recover, Claus smiled. "Very well, I'll pay you five gold for the same position. I'll even include the meals and laundry," he added with a chuckle, then added. "But there will be some additional duties."

*gold=Y100,000, small gold=Y10,000, silver=Y1,000, small silver=Y100

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At the Bozes capital mansion, the head butler Rufus led Michiko to one of the guest rooms. She stole a quick glance at their kitchen as they went from the central hallway to the stairway up to the residential rooms and resisted the urge to gasp. It was even bigger than Baron Turck's kitchen. It could probably feed a royal banquet, she thought; before she realized it probably has. Entering the guest room, she was floored by the level of luxury that was apparent from the decor. It didn't have some of the 21st century amenities that Mitsuha's place had of course, but silk sheets, a king-sized feather bed, and an entire staff of maids, whether she wanted them or not, made up for a lot of deficiencies. Michiko kept trying to explain she wasn't a noble but a common girl. More to the point, she had just spent the whole evening working over hot stoves and ovens and she was physically a mess, but they didn't seem to make that distinction in how they treated her. She was treated to a luxurious bath and cleaned up before being prepared for bed. They had their instructions from Count Bozes that she was to be taken care of, and they didn't treat her any less because of her station.

Downstairs, Count Bozes summoned Rufus for a late-night meeting. A long-time butler to the family, Rufus was always perceptive to his master's needs and like any skilled servant had developed a sixth sense of what to do next.

"So... how long will the young lady be staying with us," Rufus asked. Depending on the Count's answer, it fell on him to coordinate the house's logistics to handle any needed amenities.

"It could be quite a bit of time, actually," Claus Boses said. "As it turns out, she could be the key for a much bigger issue that's been building for the past few months. For now, I need you to send an immediate message to Marquis Eibinger."

"Immediate?" Rufus asked. Messages between noble houses were normal. Night messages were highly unusual; these normally would portent matters of either great tidings or drastic calamities. But Claus Bozes was fairly certain that the Marquis would welcome the news that his translation woes had finally been solved and would want to meet his solution first thing in the morning to begin his construction efforts anew. Baron Turck's servants' breakfasts would just have to suffer for the good of the Kingdom.