Sword Art Online – Progressive - Volume 8 - Chapter 18

18

NIRRNIR SAID SHE WOULD WAIT IN HER ROOM FOR the Korloys to make contact, so Asuna, Kizmel, Argo, and I left the hotel room on the third floor of the casino. We walked down the extravagant staircase to the ground floor and crossed directly toward the entrance, where Argo theatrically clutched her stomach and wailed, “Oh, I’m so hungry! We gotta get somethin’ to eat!”

“Agreed,” said Asuna.

“That’s a good idea,” added Kizmel.

Nirrnir had instructed us to return before the end of the daytime arena matches, but we probably had time to eat, I supposed.

Argo, however, lowered her head to gaze up at me and asked, “What’s up, Kii-boy, aren’tcha hungry?”

I took a step back and replied, “N-no, I am hungry…but I had a sandwich at the casino after we split up this morning…”

“You traitor!”

“L-look, you guys were enjoying the bath!” I protested, glancing at Asuna. “Didn’t you eat anything after you got out?”

“Not a bite. In fact, we were just taking a breather after getting out of the bath when you sent your message, so we didn’t have time to eat, even if we wanted to.”

“Oh, sorry about that…Well, let’s go and grab a bite, then,” I urged, until I remembered that our party had an extra member now. Asuna and Argo and I would enjoy just about anything, of course, but I still didn’t know much about a dark elf’s typical diet. During our time at Yofel and Galey Castles, the food they served us was healthy, with plenty of vegetables, and the only animal protein I got was grilled white fish and poultry. Surely she would eat other things than that, though?

“Uh, Kizmel, is there anything you’d rather avoid…? Or actually, what do you like?” I asked.

The knight inclined her head as she considered. “Hmm. I do not consider myself a picky eater…but if I had to give you an answer, I’d say I do not much like rare meat dripping with blood and fat—or dishes with strong spices.”

“Or narsos fruit, huh?” I teased with a grin.

She shot me a smug look and quipped back, “No, but that is medicinal. You do not eat it for the taste.”

“No kidding. Okay, so we’re avoiding steaks and kebabs…Any recommendations outside of those, Argo?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Argo murmured, her whisker-painted cheeks puckering briefly. She snapped her fingers. “That’s it! I know where we’ll go.”

“Where is that?”

“You’ll have to look forward to the surprise.”

Argo’s “surprises” could be total bull’s-eyes, or they could be too avant-garde for their own good, so I wasn’t sure how to feel about this development. Ultimately, I just had to hope it would be the former.

“Well, lead the way.”

“That’s the spirit! Follow me,” she said, marching off. Asuna, Kizmel, and I followed her in order.

It was like a good old-school 2D pixel RPG, the four of us walking in a line down a side street that headed into the southwest block of Volupta. Normally, the streets in this town were supposed to be aligned in the four cardinal directions—if not quite as precisely as in Stachion—but because of the chaotic ways the buildings themselves bulged and leaned, the alley actually twisted left and right as it went.

Decaying barrels and boxes and such were strewn about the alley, and the paving stones were cracked here and there, which pushed this area over the line of working class into slums. If you weren’t careful, it looked like you could get held up at gunpoint at any moment. It almost made me paranoid that Argo knew our elite NPC party member would help us clear up a few stray quests for her…but then she came to a stop.

“Here we are,” Argo said.

On the left side of the alley was a building that smelled of food, with an aged iron sign hanging on the door. The design of it was a pointed leaf, almost like the one on the Canadian flag. At a glance, it looked more like an herb seller than a restaurant.

Since our guest of honor was not familiar with human cooking, I figured (ungratefully) that if we were going to stretch her boundaries, we could just go back to Pots ’n’ Pots again. But Argo was already pushing the faded wooden door open.

A deep voice greeted us as soon as the tinkling doorbell announced our entrance. Asuna and Kizmel followed Argo right through the entrance, so I brought up the rear.

On the inside, the place was cramped and built to look like a grotto. But it went back much further than Pots ’n’ Pots, which just had a counter. At the very end, there was a four-seat table. On the left side was a counter that could seat about five people, behind which stood a figure like a small mountain.

This would be the man who welcomed us in, and he was both taller and wider than Agil. My first thought was that he could be an ogre trying to pass himself off as human. But the women headed straight for the table without any sign of intimidation, so I had to hurry after them.

Asuna and Kizmel took the far seats, leaving Argo and me to sit next to each other. There were two ancient-looking menus resting on the shining black table surface. The reddish-brown front cover had the name written in a simple style: Menon’s. That would presumably be the owner’s name, but I was having trouble associating the cute writing with the muscular, towering man behind the counter.

“Uh…who’s Menon?” I whispered. Argo jabbed a thumb at the counter to her left.

My instincts to peek were too strong for me to ignore the voice in my head saying, Don’t look! Perhaps the lamp hanging from the ceiling over the counter was too low, because he just looked like a massive shadow. But there was no one else back there, so that man had to be Menon. I decided I had to get over the stubborn idea that a menacing man must have a menacing name—to me, Menon sounded rather cute—and turned back to the table and the menu.

There were only two pages. On the left, it said simply Dolma 20c and Moussaka 30c, and on the right, Ouzo 10c and Coffee 5c in rough script. I checked the back cover, just in case, but it was blank. After the hundred-plus varieties of bread bowl stews in Pots ’n’ Pots, the limited options here were stifling. But more importantly…

“Um, Argo…? I have no idea what any of these are, aside from the coffee…What are dolma and mow-saka and oh-zo?” I asked, doing my best to pronounce the unfamiliar words.

The information agent stifled a chuckle. “That’s exactly the reaction I was countin’ on, Kii-boy.”

“What? I’m sure Asuna’s thinking the same thing…” I argued, but on the other side of the table, my temporary partner was also grinning widely at my ignorance.

“I’m sorry, Kirito, I know what these are. You got dolma right, but the other ones are mu-saka and oo-zo.”

“So I’m guessing that means you know what these dishes are?”

“Of course. It’s the perfect menu for this town in particular. Good choice, Argo.”

“You bet it is. And my tip about this place is on the house, my friends.”

Their smug superiority was making me feel a bit sulky. I looked at Asuna’s seating partner and asked, “Do you know what dolma and moussaka are, too, Kizmel?”

“No, I have never heard of them,” said the knight, shaking her head. “But since I am here in this human town, I would enjoy the chance to eat a new kind of dish. I am looking forward to these delicacies.”

“Oh…okay.”

Kizmel’s beaming smile was so brilliant I had to shield my eyes from her radiance. Argo stifled another chuckle in her throat and snapped the menu shut.

“Well, since there ain’t much room to choose, I’ll just do the ordering. Hey, boss! We’ll have four dolmas, four moussakas, and four ouzos!”

“You got it,” said the deep voice from the counter. After ten seconds of clanking tools and knives, I started to smell a delectable scent. Hmmm, maybe this will be tasty, after all, I thought.

Then a voice said, “Hey, buddy.”

“Y-yes?!” I answered automatically. I was the only person at the table who could possibly be referred to as buddy.

Thankfully, the huge cook had not read my mind. He said apologetically, “Would you mind carrying this stuff to the table? I run this place all on my own, so I don’t have anyone to serve ya.”

“O-of course, I’d be happy to,” I said, getting to my feet. When I approached, his enormous hands set down a ceramic bottle, a pitcher of water, and four wineglasses.

After careful consideration, I cradled the bottle in my left arm, the pitcher in my right, and gingerly held two glasses in each hand, then carried them over to the table. The moment everything was safely to the tabletop, and I’d let go, Asuna clucked, “You could have just brought them over in two or three trips! What if you got tripped up and dropped them?”

“W-well, I didn’t.”

“Yes, but you could have!”

“Well, if you’re going to blame me for things that didn’t happen, then…uh…”

I tried and failed to think of what the antonym for “All’s well that ends well” would be, and a burst of laughter erupted from behind the counter.

“You got style, buddy, carrying all that over in one go. Try this next, then.”

“What? Again?” I complained, thinking this was a rather abusive restaurant toward its customers. Back at the counter, there were four steaming dishes and one basket of cutlery.

The plates each contained a mysterious dark green object covered in a milky white sauce, which I found very intriguing, but I had my pride to live up to. I ran a mental simulation, then made full use of my left fingers to hold two plates. I carefully placed another one on my forearm, so I had three on one arm.

The rest was easy. Three fingers on my right hand held the last plate, and I hooked the cutlery basket with my pinky. Then I turned back to the table and put them all down in reverse order.

“There, see?”

“See what? I’m telling you, that’s not going to end well…”

“Then you could get up and help me, Asuna.”

“Then you could ask me for help.”

Once again, the cook interrupted our argument.

“Hey, buddy, here’s the last one.”

“All right!”

I turned back, excited to see what was next. On the counter were four sizzling gratin dishes.

“Urgh…” I swallowed and considered this development gravely.

Even ignoring the sizzling heat of the gratin dishes, they were lipped in a way that rose vertically around the edge, which made it impossible to hold two in one hand with different fingers. I could hold one with my left hand and place another on my arm, but then I couldn’t do the same on the other side with only one open hand.

I’ve just got to lift it with sheer willpower! I told myself, honing my mind, but I could not psychically lift the dish. Swearing to myself that I’d learn the Psychokinesis skill one day, I turned back to Asuna and said, “I’m sorry; please help me…”

“You should have just started with that,” she said, rolling her eyes. Asuna stood up and promptly pushed down Kizmel, who tried to rise with her—Argo did not budge from her seat—before coming to the counter.

We each took two dishes and carried them to the table. Now we had the mystery dolmas, moussaka, and ouzo for each person. The only thing I’d learned so far was that ouzo was the beverage.

“Well, shall we share a toast?”

Argo picked up the ceramic bottle and poured two fingers of liquid into each of the wineglasses. Then she added the same amount of water from the pitcher, instantly turning the clear liquid cloudy and white. It reminded me of the dye being washed out of the lykaon’s fur, so I asked her quietly, “Uh, this is safe to drink, right?”

“Yeah, no worries,” she said, which was not all that reassuring. She passed out the glasses, and I lifted mine with trepidation.

“To meeting Kizmel!” Argo announced. We clinked glasses, and I took a little sip of the cloudy liquid.

Immediately, a powerfully herbal scent stung my nose, and the alcohol burned my throat. If it was this harsh when cut with water, how strong was the liquid straight from the bottle? I grimaced and looked across the table, where Asuna’s brows were slightly knit. Kizmel looked totally unaffected. She drank it down in one go and placed her glass on the table.

“Ah, this drink is good. It uses a good variety of herbs and plants.”

“I figured an elf would like it,” Argo replied. I wanted to ask, Really? You did? But if Kizmel was happy, that was all that mattered.

I promptly poured another drink of ouzo in the knight’s glass. I was about to pour in the water, but she requested “a little less,” so I gave her half as much water as alcohol.

Somehow, I managed to finish my own ouzo, then placed my glass at the edge of the table to make it clear I didn’t need more. Instead, I picked up my knife and fork to try out the food.

The small round plate featured two elliptical dark green objects slathered in a milky white sauce. Whatever they were, they seemed to be steamed inside of large leaves. The exterior reminded me of kashiwa mochi, rice cakes wrapped in an oak leaf. Based on that, I assumed you were supposed to peel the leaf off without eating it, but the whole thing was wrapped so tightly that I couldn’t tell where I was supposed to start removing it.

At this point, I decided to copy Asuna or Argo and snuck a quick glance at them, but both were sipping their ouzo and watching my hands very carefully. Not because they were ignorant of how to eat this, but because they wanted to watch my attempt.

Fine. You want to laugh at me? Go ahead.

I stabbed my fork into one of the elliptical things. Then I lifted it to my mouth and bit down. The leaf split with a nice crisp texture, and as I chewed, the texture turned much thicker. The inside was probably…rice and meat? It was kind of like a Western-style sticky rice dumpling but with a lemony cream sauce that matched the flavor and a fun, crispy leaf texture on the outside.

I popped the other half on my fork into my mouth and said, “It’s good.”

“Of course,” replied Argo, stabbing one of her Western dumplings with her fork and taking a bite. Asuna and Kizmel politely cut theirs into pieces with a knife first.

I finished off the other dumpling quickly, then pulled my glass back toward me and poured a bit of ouzo. I added extra water and gave it a taste. At a more diluted level like this, the eccentric flavor and scent didn’t bother me so much; in fact, it was kind of refreshing.

At this point, I wanted to get right into the gratin, but it seemed politer to wait for the others. For whatever reason, Asuna started to unroll the leaf of her second dumpling. Using her fork and knife, she carefully peeled off the leaf and laid it out atop the plate.

“Look.”

“Look at what…? Oh!”

The leaf, which was a bit larger than my palm, had jagged edges and two large clefts—much like the Canadian flag—the same shape as what was on the iron sign on the door.

“So the sign outside was this leaf? Maple leaf…?”

“Bzzt! It looks like it, though. No, this is a grape leaf.”

“Ohhh,” I murmured as Kizmel said, “Ahhh. There are vineyards on the ninth floor, but I did not know the leaves could be used for cooking. Which is this, the dolma or moussaka?”

“Dolma,” said Asuna at once. Then she added, less decisively, “I’m pretty sure it means stuffed.”

Based on the way she said it, I had to assume that these dolmas, and probably the moussaka and ouzo, too, were real-world dishes, just like the khao man gai from Lectio. But I couldn’t begin to guess which country they were from.

“Hmm, interesting. Seems more ‘wrapped’ to me…but anyway, it’s good. I’m looking forward to the moussaka, then,” said Kizmel, pulling the rectangular gratin dish toward her. I followed her lead. The material must have been very good at insulation, because the outside surface was only warm, but the contents were still bubbling and steaming. It wasn’t exactly cool inside the restaurant, so it was the kind of dish I’d prefer to eat on a winter floor. Still, the way the heaping white sauce browned up was boosting my appetite.

It might be the first gratin I’d had so far in Aincrad, I thought. Argo passed over the cutlery basket, so I pulled out a spoon with a flat end and scooped up a bite from the very bottom of the dish.

Beneath the sauce, it was neither rice nor macaroni but layers of ground meat, mashed potatoes, and sliced eggplant. After blowing on the spoonful, I stuffed it into my mouth.

“Hwuf, hffh…It’fh good!”

It was like a scene from a comic book. But of course it was good. Tomato-flavored ground meat, steaming potatoes, and soft eggplant mixed with rice white sauce? It was a perfect mixture, and the flavor was so satisfying it was hard to believe this was virtual food in a virtual world.

Asuna and Kizmel moved their spoons in silence, as did Argo, who had presumably tried this dish before. In just two or three minutes, we had all emptied our servings.

A little swig of ouzo cooled down my overheated mouth and tongue, and I rapped the glass down on the table. We’d eaten delicious food all over on the seventh floor, and the dolmas and moussaka together might be the most satisfying yet. The gruff excuse for customer service here was a small price to pay for flavor like this.

Kizmel was just as satisfied as I was. She finished off her glass of ouzo, which had barely any water in it, and exhaled. “Ahhh…Both food and drink were very good. Asuna, what does moussaka mean?”

“Um…from what I remember, it’s like something juicy or something chilled…”

“Huh?” “Wha—?”

Argo and I craned our necks in the same direction. It was served in an oven-baked dish so hot it could burn your tongue. That name couldn’t be any less accurate. Asuna looked our way and pursed her lips with frustration.

“Look, it’s not like I have an entire dictionary in my brain. But I’m pretty sure that in the place where moussaka was first developed, it was a chilled appetizer. Then in Gree…in a different area, it turned into a hot dish.”

“Ah yes. Such things do happen,” Kizmel agreed. “In Lyusula, we have a dish called ponnecorkle that came over from Kales’Oh. It is like a lightly cooked pancake. While the forest elves eat theirs with only a sprinkle of sugar and cinnamon, we dark elves prefer a healthy serving of jam and cream on top. I hardly think I need point out which is tastier.”

The sight of her culinary pride made me smile. I promptly commented, “That sounds very good, indeed. I’d like to eat it someday.”

“Of course. When you come to the city on the ninth floor, you can eat all that you like,” Kizmel replied generously, but her smile did not last long, presumably remembering her personal situation.

After escaping from the cells at Harin Tree Palace, Kizmel could not return to the castle on the ninth floor, or any of the other strongholds, unless she brought back the four sacred keys with her. At the moment, my proposal to track the Fallen Elves was our only hope, but we didn’t even know that all four keys would be kept at the Fallen’s base, should we succeed. And if Kysarah the Ransacker happened to be there, we would be wiped out at our current strength.

On top of that, we didn’t even know how the Fallen were traveling from floor to floor, given that they couldn’t use the spirit trees. Until we solved that mystery, another attack from Kysarah would always be possible, even if we took the keys back.

I sighed, thinking about the challenges ahead of us. Asuna put a hand on Kizmel’s back and said, “It’s all right. My premonitions always come true. We’re going to get the sacred keys back.”

“Yes…of course we are,” she replied, smiling again. She poured back the last of the ouzo in her glass and turned to the other person at the table. “Thank you for bringing me to this wonderful place, Argo.”

“Glad ya like it. But you oughtta thank Kii-boy instead.”

“Huh? Why me?”

It didn’t seem like carrying the dishes to the table was worthy of such a display of gratitude, but before I could say as much, Argo flashed a smirk at me.

“Because Kii-boy’s payin’ for the meal, obviously.”

It wasn’t until recently that I’d learned that the timing for payment at NPC restaurants depended on the establishment.

Most places would bring up a small payment window upon each individual order, which would subtract the requisite col when you hit the OK button. If you didn’t pay, the food would not appear, no matter how many hours you waited. In other words, you paid separately and up front.

But in fancy restaurants that weren’t my style, and in some tiny locations, an individual person could pay the entire bill after the meal. In the case of the former, it was to avoid ruining the atmosphere with a cheap demand for payment, and in the latter, I suspected it was to tempt the player with an eat-and-run challenge. From what I’d heard, there were bold players who ate all they could, then sprinted out of the building and succeeded in escaping both the cook and guards, thus enjoying a free meal without suffering the cost of a prison stay in Blackiron Palace.

Of course, I did not run out on the bill. I thanked Menon for the meal, then paid the cost of 420 col for the four of us. For excellent food and alcohol to boot, the price was quite reasonable. But if Argo chose this place specifically because she knew she could force the bill onto me, I had to give her a piece of my mind.

I headed out the door, resolute, only to be met by the three women outside, smiling and saying, “Thanks for the meal!” I made a face like I’d been sucking on a lemon for ten years.

“Um, you’re quite welcome.”

“Well, shall we get goin’?” said Argo, back in her usual mode, and she turned and strolled north down the street before I could give her any lip. Kizmel followed after her, and I lined up next to Asuna in the back.

“…So which country are dolmas and moussaka from?” I whispered after we’d gotten to the end of the building.

Just as quietly, she replied, “Greece.”

“Ah…just like how Volupta reminded you of Sa…Santorini?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. So that’s why you said it was the perfect meal to have in a town like this,” I remarked, watching Argo’s back as she took the lead.

It seemed that the Rat hadn’t chosen that restaurant to make me pay for it but because she understood that the style of Volupta was reminiscent of the island of Santorini—and that the dolmas and moussaka were Greek food. Asuna was quite the source of real-world information and customs, but Argo seemed to have all of that on top of a vast knowledge of Aincrad and the systems of SAO.

I couldn’t really tell what her age was—she seemed to be our age, but she also called herself Big Sis a lot, so she could be older. Where had she gotten this encyclopedia of knowledge and experience? And why did she pursue the job of selling information in this deadly game—an act that was in some ways more dangerous than being a player trying to beat the game?

Of course, if you’re that curious about something, it’s best to just ask directly—but that wouldn’t work with Argo. I could just see her smirking and saying something like, “That’ll be ten thousand col, bub.” If I ever owned ten million col, I told myself that I’d buy up every last personal fact that Argo sold about herself. I was pretty sure I’d made that decision before.

The side street took us back to the open space in front of the casino. It was about ten minutes after four o’clock in the afternoon. The final battle of the daytime monster arena was scheduled for four thirty, so we still had time to get back to Nirrnir’s room. But I was also worried about the possibility that the ALS and DKB might be attempting to double their chips with each battle to get to a hundred thousand.

Argo must have been thinking the same thing, because she leaned in and said under her breath, “I’m gonna go check on the monster coliseum. You go back to Lady Nirr first. It’s not like I’ll have any role in the inspection of the stables.”

“Sure, if you say so…But you’re the one who accepted the quest from her, right? Sure you shouldn’t be with us?”

Since forming my temporary partnership with Asuna, we had almost never worked separately, so my knowledge of how quests and parties interacted wasn’t all that solid.

Argo just tilted her head, though, and said, “No worries. If we’re in a party, we share quest status. Just make sure ya don’t accidentally kick me out.”

“Got it.”

“Just shoot me a message when yer done with the inspection.”

Argo headed off, so I rejoined Asuna and Kizmel, who were chatting and looking around the plaza. After a few words, we walked toward the casino.

The pure white building was glowing golden in the slanted sunlight. Since coming to Volupta, Asuna and I had spent about twenty-four hours in and around the city. It was on the southern edge of the floor, so in terms of simple distance, we had crossed half the floor so far, but the Tailwind Road that connected the main town to Volupta was a long, plain road with no dungeon or bosses along the route. But the route to Pramio northwest of here—and the route from Pramio to the labyrinth tower—was full of challenges. In terms of the actual work to conquer the floor, we were 30 percent of the way through at best.

Of course, if either the ALS or DKB gained the completely game-breaking Sword of Volupta, the pace of our advancement might speed up significantly. However, they were relying on cheat sheets to win that were certainly a trap created by the Korloys to sucker high rollers into losing big money.

Still, if Kibaou and Lind were sharp enough to detect the trap and bet on the opposite card in the final match of the night…But maybe the Korloys had a plan in place for that, too. In the end, they were just an individual facet of the massive SAO game system, and unlike the real world with its immutable laws of physics, Aincrad was a virtual place where the system could do anything it wanted, if it had reason to. Much like the pattern with the color of the roulette dealer’s bow tie and the odds of landing on that color.

Maybe the seventh floor is going to take a lot longer than I’m thinking, I wondered.

Suddenly, Asuna was at my side and prodding my elbow. “Come on, let’s go back to Lady Nirrnir.”

“R-right. Are you full now, Kizmel?” I asked, without thinking much.

The knight narrowed her eyes with part exasperation, part outrage. “I am fine. Kirito, how much of a glutton do you take me for?”

“I—I was just checking…Shall we go back?”

I did a ninety-degree turn to the left and quickly marched off toward the entrance of the Grand Casino. Behind my back, I heard the women quietly giggling.