Menu No.15 - Raiza von Hartmann

The Guild Hall felt strangely quiet that morning, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. Everyone crowded near the windows, peeking through the fogged-up glass toward the courtyard. No one was allowed inside—except Mr. Hugo and the armored knights who had arrived last night.

Even from here, their armor gleamed like polished silver flames.

“Them again . . . ” Arumi whispered beside me, hugging her tray close to her chest. “The Hartmann Order.”

I blinked. “Asuna said they’re . . . royalty?”

“Not royalty.” Arumi corrected, tapping her pen nervously. “A branch of the royal bloodline. Knights with authority over military command. They answer only to the king and the High Council.”

And leading them was Raiza van Hartmann—the Dragonblade Knight. A warrior rumored to have slain a dungeon dragon alone. A noble who commanded armies. A woman whose very presence could silence an entire guild.

Arumi swallowed. “She’s been assigned to Drachenfell to stop the Demon King’s reincarnation. That’s what I heard from Hugo-sama before we returned to our posts.”

I tried to joke. “That sounds . . . casual.”

“It’s not casual!” Arumi hissed, slapping my arm lightly.

Before I could reply, I caught a glimpse of Raiza through the window—helmet off, silver hair falling in a cascade down her shoulders—as she spoke calmly with Mr. Hugo. Her eyes were sharp, almost glowing in the morning light.

A chill ran up my spine.

This woman . . . was terrifying.

But she also drank my coffee yesterday.

.

.

The next morning—too early for anyone sane to be awake—I entered the hall only to find Raiza already there. She sat at a corner table, armor off, dressed in a simple white shirt, maps and marked papers scattered before her like pages of an unfinished war.

She was writing notes, swift and precise, as though preparing for battle even in her sleep.

As soon as she saw me, she lifted her chin.

“Good morning, Daiki.”
“Ah—G-good morning!”

“I would like the same coffee as yesterday,” she said. “The what is it called again? Ah, . . . V60.”

I stiffened. “R-right away!”

I practically sprinted to the kitchen.

Of all customers in the world, why did the scariest one have to be a morning person?

Within ten minutes, I finished brewing the V60 and brought it to her table. The warm aroma curled through the air, mixing with the faint scent of iron and leather from her equipment.

Raiza thanked me with a nod, lifting the ceramic cup with elegant precision. Her gaze softened as the steam rose between us.

“Your technique is consistent,” she said. “The aroma today is slightly sweeter.”

“Ah—thank you…?”

She took a sip, eyes widening just a fraction.

Then she smiled. A real smile.

. . . Which honestly scared me more than her serious face.

.

.

.

“Daiki,” Raiza began, still staring at the cup, “where did you learn this craft? And from which land do you hail?”

I took a breath.

“I learned coffee-making on my own. And I come from a country far from here—Japan.”

“Jah-pan,” she repeated slowly, as though tasting the word like a new flavor. “I have never heard of it. But it sounds peaceful.”

“Most of the time . . . yes.”

Raiza chuckled softly. “Peace must be comforting.”

I noticed a small book at the corner of her table. A recipe book. Something about it didn’t match her intimidating aura.

“Raiza . . . do you also cook?”

She blinked, surprised I even asked.

“Yes. When we are stationed in the field, sometimes cooks fall or supplies run thin. A knight must be able to survive with what they have.”

She tapped the recipe book. “I attempt pastries in my spare time.”

“Pastries?” I leaned forward. “What kind?”

“Croissants.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “But they always fail. They never rise. Only collapse.”

Ah. I see.

“ . . . I can make croissants.”

Her eyes snapped to mine.

“You can?”

“Yes. It’ll take time to laminate the dough, but if you want, I can make some for tomorrow’s breakfast. It pairs really well with coffee.”

The Dragonblade Knight . . . sparkled.

“Then I request it,” she said. “Croissants for breakfast.”

“Y-yes ma’am— I mean, Raiza!”

She laughed. “Good. I look forward to it.”

Good grief… I really thought the Dragonblade Raiza would be terrifying, I muttered to myself.

But she’s actually pretty friendly. Her face is just… permanently serious.

As I relaxed a little, my eyes drifted toward the large parchment roll she had been marking with her ink pen since earlier—its sheer size and the dense maze of lines immediately catching my attention.

My eyes drifted toward the dungeon map she’d been working on. Large strokes of ink marked tunnels, floors, danger zones, symbols I didn’t recognize.

I tilted my head. “Is that the Drachenfell map?”

“Yes,” she replied. “This was obtained through official channels. Joan retrieved it from the Guild Registry.”

“Oh.”

Her expression sharpened. “Oh?”

“Well . . . ” I scratched my cheek awkwardly. “Kazuha—the scout who often visits here—has a map that’s far more detailed.”

Raiza looked at me with the kind of stare that made lesser men confess to crimes they didn’t commit.

“More detailed how?”

“Uh . . . he keeps getting lost,” I said. “He and his team accidentally open new routes every time. So his map is constantly updated.”

Raiza slowly set her cup down.

“You are telling me that a self-proclaimed chaotic adventurer has a better map than the official Guild archives.”

I nodded.

She inhaled deeply. “ . . . Bring this ‘Kazuha’ to me.”

“Eh? R-right now?”

“Preferably today.”

She pointed to her map. “If there are unknown paths, my expedition must be prepared. A single error may cost lives. And you said this Kazuha frequently discovers alternate routes?”

“More like she stumbles into them…”

“That is even more concerning.”