Chương 82: Fix the Storage Cave, Get Fed

Kichan stared through the split floor for some time. Scratching still came from deeper down, but nothing sounded ready to burst up as the others had. Restoring the upper storage cave came first. That was what the market people wanted too. Kichan did not deliberate for long. He had come this far, and the reward was a sack of grain.

"We save the upper level first." Riphiel asked,"Will you seal it completely?"

"I can't make it perfect. I can stop things from rotting or bursting, though." After hearing Riphiel's translation, the demihuman craftspeople looked at one another with doubtful expressions. Still, Kichan had just removed the monsters. All three pairs of eyes settled on his hands—hands that turned materials over without hesitation and searched broken edges first. Kichan made another circuit of the cave. Cold compartments had been cut deep along the northern wall.

Warm compartments spread shallowly toward the black pools in the south. A row of transparent pillars had once formed the partitions between them, but the monsters had gnawed holes everywhere. The drains were broken too, allowing warm liquid to seep into the cold side.

"It's like someone shoved a refrigerator and a hot box into one room, then broke all the doors." Riphiel did not understand every word, but nodded anyway.

"I understand that it is not good."

"Very bad." Kichan opened the magic bag. He took out shell fragments from the giant monster, the dual-temperature stone exposed in the dungeon, dragon-horn powder, red-herb stems from the valley, and every scrap of cloth they had left. The three craftspeople exchanged strange looks. They could not tell whether this was alchemy, cooking preparation, or repair work. First, Kichan sliced the giant monster's shell into thin plates.

He turned the heat-retaining side inward and fixed it along the edge of the warm compartments. That would catch the heat once instead of letting it flow straight out. Then he split the dual-temperature stone and drove it into the cold boundary. Separate grains occupied the same rock. If he aligned them properly, it should stop the cold from spreading sideways.

"Valkyrie. Seal the gaps." Valkyrie descended near the floor and drew out a thread of water as fine as hair. Kichan sprinkled a fingernail's worth of dragon-horn powder over it. The black powder shone faint water-blue, then pressed itself between shell and stone. It was not a perfect bond, but it looked sufficient to slow the mixing of hot and cold. Dust saw another piece of treasure from its warehouse being ground into powder and thrashed in horror. Kichan caught it with one hand.

"We're doing this so we can eat everything. It's an investment." Dust flailed its legs, entirely unconvinced. Argaon watched from behind and commented,"Few humans use dragon horn to repair a storage facility."

"Materials exist to be used."

"My horn was not made for that purpose."

"That's why I'm only using a little." Riphiel did not involve herself. She already knew it was too late. Kichan repaired the drains next. He scraped a new sloping channel into the floor so warm liquid overflowing from the black pools could not enter the cold compartments. The wake-up rod made rough sounds against the stone, but the recent battle had taught him which points would collapse and which would hold. Instead of smashing anything, he changed the path.

"Hot stuff leaves this way. Cold follows that wall." The mole craftsman could no longer resist. He approached and watched Kichan's gestures, feeling the grain of the floor with his own fingers. The moment he understood, he knocked away a ridge of stone on the other side with several hammer blows. The bear man carried broken shelf wood out of the way. The old fox removed rotten roots and ruined sacks from the cold compartment. At some point, the people who had been watching began to work with him.

Kichan preferred it that way. Long explanations were unnecessary. These were people who understood by watching hands move. It did not matter who was an alchemist and who was a craftsman. Bundles of dried meat and medicine waited at the entrance. They only needed to put them back inside. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Much later, the first partition stood firmly and the second compartment began to stabilize.

The cold side was clearly cool without freezing anyone to the bone. The warm side retained a gentle heat when they held their hands near it. Though the two stood beside each other, their air no longer tangled. With trembling hands, the old fox brought in a piece of dried meat. He placed part of it in the cold compartment and set fermenting black-root paste in the warm one. Everyone watched in silence. Before the repair, their smells would have mixed.

The paste would have cooled, and condensation would have formed on the meat. This time, nothing happened. The meat stayed cool. Only low warmth lingered over the paste. Expressions changed throughout the crowd. Someone clutched a damp bundle of medicine again. Someone else looked back at the empty shelves. Calculations for surviving the winter appeared on every face. Kichan dusted stone powder from his hands.

"Nothing should burst or rot now. Not perfect, but good enough." Once Riphiel translated, the bear man bowed deeply. The mole craftsman reached to take Kichan's hand, then stopped when he noticed the stone dust and black liquid on his own. The old fox began sending small bundles outside one after another. Payment. People were already waiting when they emerged. The promised sack of precious grain came first. It had been tied for carrying over one shoulder, and the grains inside made a distinctive rustle.

Kichan's expression froze at once. When he pressed a hand against the sack, long grains flowed within.

"This really is rice." Riphiel tried to correct him.

"Strictly speaking, it is a local—""If it turns into a meal, it's rice." Argaon stepped closer the instant he saw the sack.

"Are we eating it now?"

"We save it."

"Why?"

"They said it's precious."

"If it is precious, we should taste it first." Kichan ignored him and inspected the other rewards. The dried meat smelled strongly of salt. Northern cheese had a firm white center that crumbled into fine pieces. A pungent root smelled somewhere between onion and garlic. The black bread was heavy as stone, but looked usable if soaked. It was good payment for repairing a dungeon. The sack of grain eclipsed everything else. That night, they camped beside a low stone wall that blocked the wind outside the market.

To celebrate the restored storage cave, the market people even gave them a small brazier. Kichan trusted his piece of heat sac more. He placed it beneath a stone plate, then finely chopped the popping meat left from the giant monster. He soaked the dried meat in a little water to reduce the salt. The moment he opened the sack, the scent of grain rose. It was not exactly the rice smell he knew. Yet when it met hot water, the soft scent of starch quickly appeared.

Kichan set the grain in a pot and measured the water against the joint of one finger. Riphiel watched with fascination.

"Where did you learn that method?"

"At home." The answer was short. Kichan offered nothing more. The smell rising between the lid and pot answered for him. Though the northern grain was unfamiliar, the steam smelled of home. Before he could think about how far he had traveled, all he knew was that proper rice was cooking. While it cooked, he stir-fried the popping meat in another pan. Once the fat rendered, he finely chopped the pungent root and added it. When the pieces turned translucent, he mixed in dried meat and a little crumbled cheese.

Salty and savory scents rose together. At the end, he added the cooked grain and turned everything through the pan. A thin coat of oil covered every grain. The popping meat began releasing tiny bubbles again. Kichan added one pinch of rock salt and a little hot seed. He left the black water untouched, then tossed the pan. Sizzle. Salt, meat fat, spice, and rice spread through the night air. Even people in the market turned their heads. Argaon had already appeared behind Kichan's shoulder.

"Is it ready?"

"Don't touch it."

"One bite is negotiable."

"Your food expenses are separate." Kichan took the first spoonful and paused. The grains were neither too soft nor too dry. The popping meat burst gently between his teeth, backed by salted meat and rich cheese. Strange grain or not, it made excellent fried rice.

"It works as fried rice." Riphiel cautiously tasted one spoonful. Her eyes widened slightly.

"I have never seen this grain used that way."

"Good, right?"

"…It is difficult to deny." Argaon silently emptied one bowl. Before Kichan noticed, he emptied a second. When Kichan stopped his spoon, one side of the sack had already shrunk far more than expected.

"Hey. Save some. They said it was expensive." Argaon kept hold of his spoon.

"Charge it to my food expenses."

"Give a man credit and he'll eat a whole ox." Riphiel had begun with dignified bites but was now eating more quickly. The saber-toothed tiger received dried meat and uncooked popping meat. Valkyrie bounced like a droplet near grains coated in meat fat. Dust kept the dragon horn beside itself and agonized over the fried-rice smell before finally fleeing with a crumb of cheese. That night, the sack of precious grain grew visibly thinner. Kichan pressed the empty part with one hand and sighed from the heart.

"Next time I eat rice, I'm doing it alone in secret." Argaon calmly took his negotiated two and a half skewers as well. He still did not understand the concept of half a skewer, but that did nothing to prevent him from eating it. Near the end of the meal, a market representative came around the stone wall and spoke in a low voice. As Riphiel translated, the scent above the fire cooled slightly. The fighting along the human border was growing. The humans claimed demihumans had taken children.

The demihumans said the human army had blocked the roads and caused the children to disappear. No witness had confirmed either story. Only distrust had reached the market first. Kichan stopped with his spoon resting against the bowl.

"Why do children always come up in things like this?" Riphiel could not answer. She pressed her lips together once. Argaon looked up at the sky. Beyond the stone wall, faint green and blue lights trembled at the edge of night.

"The aurora is close." Kichan raised his head toward it. The troubling rumors remained in his ears, but the wavering light pulled up thoughts of materials first. He set down his empty bowl and tied the sack tightly shut.

"We leave tomorrow."