The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat - Volume 7 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 | The Assassin Becomes a Celebrity

I returned to my room in the House of the Divine after leaving the café, then went out with Dia and Tarte for an evening of fun. As always, someone was assigned to tail us. I wished the church would assign someone more covert.

“I’ve never seen you look so tired, Lugh. You’re always so composed,” Dia said.

“Today was mentally exhausting.”

“I’m not surprised. That’s what I’d expect from a meeting with the cardinals. I hear they expect people to call them ‘Your Holinesses.’”

I hadn’t called them that, and I never would as long as I lived.

“The meeting with the cardinals wasn’t actually that bad. It’s my conversation with Duke Romalung that has me so fatigued… I’ll tell you about it later.”

Duke Romalung discovering the telecommunications network was something I couldn’t keep to myself. Worst case, my intelligence agents would be attacked and stolen. I needed to share this development with the entire team.

“I’ve never met him, but he sounds intimidating. Like father, like daughter, I suppose,” Dia remarked.

“It’s scary just imagining what Nevan will be like when she grows up,” Tarte added.

They both smiled weakly. Neither one of them seemed comfortable around Nevan.

“Let’s forget about that for now. I’ve been waiting for a chance to have fun and explore the city,” I said.

The holy city was considered the most popular place in the world for tourists. Believers traveled from all over, and every company under the sun sought to open a shop here to capitalize on that. The more competitive a city, the higher quality its shops. Adding to the fun, some tourists brought local specialties from their homelands to sell. As a result, storefronts displayed a variety of products from around the world. That gave the holy city an even greater international flavor than Milteu, which had the advantage of a trade harbor. Simple window-shopping was a fun pastime here.

“It’s so lively. You’d never think a demon attacked,” Dia observed.

“That’s because there weren’t many victims. Fortunately, this demon preferred to remain hidden rather than attack openly,” I replied.

Tarte nodded. “That’s a good point. That giant caterpillar would have sunk the entire city.”

“Now, that would’ve been a disaster. Destruction of the holy city would’ve sent the world into a panic,” I said.

The world’s largest religion being wiped off the map could only mean immediate chaos.

“Out of the way!”

A horse-drawn carriage raced up from behind, forcing all three of us to dodge. The carriage only barely fit through the narrow street.

Dia scowled. “Geez, they’re going to hurt somebody at that speed.”

“There are so many carriages in the city today,” Tarte remarked.

Few were driving so recklessly, but there definitely were an inordinate number of buggies, and they were all in a hurry.

“Guess that’s what happens when the church announces a festival with only a week’s warning… Everyone is working furiously to prepare.”

Normally, people would spurn such an abrupt celebration. No one would show up, and companies would pass it over because they lacked preparation time. An Alamite Church event was a different matter, though. It was meant to honor a man being canonized as the eighth saint in history, one named a Holy Knight for killing demons. People were desperate not to miss this.

I felt eyes on me. Actually, I sensed that whenever I walked through this city.

“Hey, have people been watching us?” I asked.

“Yep,” Dia responded.

“They have,” confirmed Tarte.

They sounded very casual.

“Why?”

Dia sniffed. “Because you killed the demon who replaced the hierarch. Duh.”

“Well sure, but how do they know that was me?”

A few people saw my face on the scaffold, but they were only a small fraction of those living in this city. Yet it seemed like everyone knew who I was.

In my previous world, information traveled visually through mediums like television and newspapers, but in this world, it was very rare for a person’s face to become widely known. Cameras were still prohibitively expensive and bulky. Most towns didn’t have a single one. Plus, picture-taking was a service only offered in shops. Hearsay wasn’t enough to be recognized.

“You’ve been getting summoned to one meeting after another for a few days, but Tarte and I have been free to explore the city.”

“What does that have to do it?”

“We know what’s happening. Look at this.” Dia took my hand and led me to a general store. I saw copies of an expensive book on display through the window. The high price was unusual given the spread of the printing press.

“What?”

The cover had me stunned. It depicted the leader of the cardinals, the Alam Karla…and me. A talented artist had glorified our appearances, but the illustration still captured my likeness well.

“Wow, you’re the Holy Knight! Please, come into my store. Would you mind signing one of my prints? I have a large one back here.”

The pushy shopkeeper dragged me inside and brought me to a bigger copy of the picture. It was a woodblock print, lower quality than the book covers, but my visage remained unmistakable.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s a book published by the church called The Truth Behind the Holy City Demon Incident: To Fool Even the Divine. It’s flying off the shelves. I get a bonus from the church for every copy I sell, too. You can bet I’m gonna push out as many as I can,” the shopkeeper explained.

“Can I read a copy?”

“You can if you sign my picture.”

I scribbled my name on the large print and opened a book. It gave me an immediate headache. The church’s invented story had been embellished to be more romantic and heroic. All the cardinals at the meeting today got a moment to shine, while I was portrayed as rather pompous. I even had a love story with the Alam Karla.

Unsurprisingly, the cardinal on the cover came off the best. He got the key line of the book right before the demon perished: “This was all a performance to catch you unawares, you filthy demon. We will fool even the divine if that is what it takes to protect the gods and their people.”

Ah, the title comes from this scene. I remembered this cardinal falling to his knees and wetting himself when the demon made itself known.

“Everyone is reading this, huh?” I mumbled, crestfallen.

Dia put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not all. Plays and puppet shows based on this book are being performed all around the city.”

“The church is scary when it gets serious, my lord,” Tarte commented.

“Y-you’ve got that right.”

I’d explained how the leaders of the Alamite Church were merchants at heart, but I had no idea how far it went. This was an absurd amount of effort. Clearly, playing politics wasn’t the church’s only job; propagating the faith was just as important. It was natural that the cardinals would know better than anyone how to disseminate information throughout society.

Well played, Church.

“This is great, Lugh. You’re a living legend now,” Dia said.

“I feel so proud,” Tarte added.

“…You do understand what this means for my main profession, right?”

Pilgrims from all over would buy this book and return to their homes with multiple copies as souvenirs. I didn’t particularly mind the name Lugh Tuatha Dé becoming widely recognized, but having your face printed on the cover of a book was fatal for an assassin.

Dia laughed. “Ah-ha-ha, whoops. You’ve become the most famous person in the world.”

“You can always disguise yourself while on the job!” Tarte offered.

Perhaps it was best to look at this positively. There were surely numerous ways to take advantage of this sudden fame.

“Anyway, let’s get dinner. At a restaurant with private rooms, preferably,” I suggested.

“Yeah, it’d be difficult to eat with everyone ogling us,” Dia agreed.

Tarte gasped. “Oh-oh, I messed up.”

“What do you mean, Tarte?”

“You said you wanted to eat out, my lord, so I searched for good restaurants… And the one I picked doesn’t have private rooms.”

She looked dejected. I didn’t ask Tarte to find a place for us. She’d taken the initiative as a favor, so I understood why she felt so down about the mistake.

“You made a mistake, but your heart was in the right place. Next time, think a little harder about our needs when you make a decision,” I ordered.

“Yes, my lord. I’ll do better next time!” Tarte exclaimed.

I patted her on the head and started walking. I’d investigated every corner of this city and knew plenty of good restaurants with private rooms, but I elected not to say anything. Tarte put real effort into finding a dinner spot. Entrusting this to her would help her grow, and it sounded like good fun.

The holy city had a great variety of shops, a by-product of the diverse travelers who visited. People of all races, cultures, and customs walked the streets, and the full financial spectrum was on display as well. There were plenty of rich customers, but there were restaurants serving the less wealthy, too. Our chosen restaurant was a slightly pricey option for middle-class patrons.

“Hey, this place is nice,” I said.

Tarte looked pleased. “I am glad you like it.”

“Lugh’s always been a fan of this sort of establishment,” Dia remarked.

“I like good food in a more laid-back atmosphere.”

High-class restaurants with strict dress codes and etiquette made it difficult to relax. However, if a restaurant was too inexpensive, the dishes would suffer from cheap ingredients and poorly compensated employees to keep costs down. Restaurants of this grade used fair ingredients and allowed their employees the time necessary to serve quality food, but it didn’t require the clientele to act formally.

It was my favorite way to dine. Tarte knew my tastes well.

“I like this kind of restaurant, too. Expensive restaurants are too stiff and boring,” Tarte agreed.

“Tarte. I get what you’re saying, and I’m sure you chose this place because of Lugh’s preferences. But Lugh is a noble, and you’re his personal retainer. Both of you need to get used to high-class establishments. You’ll be visiting more of them in the future, whether you like it or not.” Dia was in full-on big sister mode.

House Viekone, Dia’s family, was composed of major nobles from Soigel. Dia was raised to maintain perfect table manners. Even the way she used her silverware was beautiful.

“You have a point. We can’t be too picky. I’m beyond exhausted, though. At times like this, I just want to enjoy myself,” I responded.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a pass today. But next time, you should pick the most expensive and stuffy restaurant you can find. You both need training.”

“You just want to eat at a high-class place.”

“No, not particularly. I’ve had enough of that kind of food. I like your home cooking the most.”

Dia’s favorite food was my gratin, a surprising pick for one of her standing. Gratin was thought of as restaurant food in Japan, but it was a classic home dish. The ingredients were cheap, and it was easy to make. It had a folksy appeal.

“Got it. We’ll go to an expensive place next time. Don’t hold back on my training,” I said.

“Heh-heh, what are big sisters for? I’ll turn you into a pro,” Dia answered.

The first wave of food arrived just as Dia’s surge of big sister behavior settled. I went with the chef’s choice—that was the most fun thing to do when visiting a restaurant for the first time.

“This salad isn’t very fresh,” Dia complained.

“Yeah, it’s mushy,” Tarte agreed.

“There’s nothing they can do about that. The holy city doesn’t grow vegetables, and imported ones lose freshness during transport,” I explained.

“But the royal capital and Milteu had fresh greens.”

“That’s not the norm for large cities. The capital and Milteu are trying to improve their food self-sufficiency in preparation for potential sieges.”

Being able to eat fresh vegetables was a luxury. It was possible in the royal capital and Milteu because they were large cities with plans for demon and monster attacks or invasions by foreign nations. The capital and Milteu had fields to grow crops inside the city walls.

It was nonsensical from a business perspective to grow crops on such expensive land. Many believed the cities should get rid of the fields to make room for shops and homes, and buy vegetables from elsewhere. I opposed that mindset, however. I believed that large cities should secure food without relying on external help.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how much thought went into stuff like that,” Dia said.

“I’m sure the Viekone domain was self-sufficient, too,” I replied.

“Yeah, it was. The Viekone domain was large, wealthy, and rich with tradition, but we were far from the capital, and our trade wasn’t very developed. We actually exported leftover food, now that I think about it.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Viekone produced the most food in Soigel. Our wheat fields stretched as far as the eye could see in autumn. It was beautiful… We’ll have to visit Viekone when it’s restored. I’ll show you around.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“It’s a promise.”

House Viekone fell to ruin after siding with the royal faction and losing during Soigel’s civil war. Dia’s father was hiding, building strength to hopefully restore his domain one day.

“I might be able to lead an army and recover the Viekone domain, now that I’m a saint,” I remarked.

My new title carried a lot of power. I could change public opinion in an instant by claiming that the Soigelian royal family was just. The noble faction only won the civil war because of Setanta Macness’s abnormal strength, and he was no longer around. I could reclaim Viekone for Dia with some effort.

“I’d be furious if you did that. I want my domain back, but I’d worry over the repercussions of relying on corrupt external aid… Dad said he’ll restore our home, and I know he’ll succeed. All I can do now is wait for him to ask for help. That, and better myself so I can meet his expectations.”

“You’re really strong, Dia.”

“I’m a Viekone, after all. Will you support us when the time comes?”

There was no reason for an assassin of the Alvanian Kingdom to help a Soigelian noble. However…

“What husband could refuse aiding his wife’s family?”

“D-don’t just spring words like ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ on me. That’s embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? We’re engaged.”

“That’s true, but… Geez, little brothers aren’t supposed to be so cheeky.”

Dia sipped her soup to hide her embarrassment. I couldn’t help but chuckle—she managed to look beautiful even with gestures like that.

“I’m not impressed by the salad and soup, but maybe the entrée will be better. If it disappoints, I’m blaming Tarte for choosing this place,” Dia stated, forcibly changing the conversation.

“Huh? I-I’m sure it will be delicious!” Tarte insisted, flustered.

“Relax. See how many customers there are? A bad restaurant wouldn’t pack the seats,” I assured her.

The food arrived as if in answer—roast lamb seasoned with rock salt. It smelled wonderful, likely because it was wrapped in herbs while being cooked. This technique prevented meat from drying out and enhanced its aroma. I often used it myself.

We followed the waiter’s instructions and picked up the meat by the bones to eat.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Dia praised.

“It really is. Such a rich flavor,” Tarte agreed.

I nodded. “…This meat was aged.”

Meat didn’t necessarily taste its best when fresh. Protein required time to gain flavor. Thus, allowing meat to sit before cooking it was typical. This restaurant took it further by aging the meat. This went beyond letting it sit. Employees adjusted the humidity and ventilation of the storage room to create the desired environment. That was the only way to achieve this taste.

“This more than makes up for that salad,” Dia said.

“I agree. It’s so good I want a second helping,” Tarte declared.

“…I wonder if the restaurant or the butcher is responsible for aging the meat. If it’s the latter, I’ll have to buy some for myself,” I mumbled.

Dia frowned. “Lugh, no talking about work while we’re eating!”

A few more dishes followed the entrée. Mutton was the primary local meat. The holy city was landlocked, which meant no fishing. Nearby villages that raised livestock came to favor lamb over time because the cold climate of this region created a high demand for wool.

“The meat dishes were all really good,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m more than satisfied,” Dia agreed.

“Was that the last course?” Tarte asked.

“No, there’s still dessert… Here it comes.”

Our final dish was cheesecake with sheep cheese.

“Ugh, this stinks,” Dia complained.

“You really think so? I don’t mind,” Tarte said.

Sheep’s milk had a peculiar scent that intensified when made into cheese. Many struggled to eat it, even in Europe, where people consumed ten times more cheese than in Japan. I didn’t like it much, either, but I pushed myself to give it a try.

“…The smell is a hurdle, but it’s good. It has a stronger flavor than cow cheese.”

Tarte bobbed her head. “I like it a lot.”

Following our example, Dia reluctantly used her fork to cut herself a small piece of cake and eat it. “…It’s not terrible, but man, I don’t think I can handle any more. That stench is inescapable.” She washed down the rest of the cheese in her mouth with alcohol.

“I am so sorry. I should have performed a more careful investigation. I know Lord Lugh would have been able to find a restaurant you would like, Lady Dia,” Tarte apologized.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Tarte. This was a great meal. I didn’t love the salad or dessert, but the meat was delicious. I’m satisfied,” Dia said.

“Um, so you really liked this place?”

“Totally. I want you to keep taking me to new restaurants. I’ll never encounter new tastes if you only choose restaurants that serve my favorites. I don’t like this dessert, but it was a fun new experience.”

That way of thinking was very like Dia. She was a curious and adventurous soul, my total opposite. That was probably what attracted me to her.

Dia put a finger to her lips. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be picky about food, Tarte. Do you like everything? You’re not just pretending to like it for Lugh’s sake, are you?”

Tarte tilted her head as she chewed on a bite of cheesecake. “No, I have never thought that way about food. I was always hungry before Lord Lugh found me, and I’d eat anything I could, regardless of taste. I truly mean it when I say ‘anything.’ Rotten food was far from the worst of what I ate… I often consumed things only used for ingredients. I’ve never thought anything was too gross to eat.”

Dia looked awkward. She’d lived an impossibly luxurious life in comparison to Tarte, who spent her early years starving.

“I, uh… I’m sorry, Tarte. That was insensitive of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. We were just raised with different values. Also, House Viekone took good care of its hardworking citizens, right?”

“Yeah, we did. I’m proud that no one died for lack of food in Viekone after Dad took over. He took measures to prevent that from happening, like storing food to distribute whenever there was a bad harvest.”

I’d researched the Viekone domain a lot in preparation to help Dia reclaim the region someday. I’d feigned ignorance for the sake of conversation when we were talking about vegetables earlier.

“That is wonderful… There is nothing I hate more than evil nobles who exploit their people to the point of starvation so they can live in luxury,” Tarte said.

Tarte’s home domain bordered Tuatha Dé. It was blessed with good weather and soil, and the people would have been able to live in comfort if not for the awful ruler. He took everything from his citizens and wasted money on his own luxury. When the citizens’ productivity worsened because of their suffering, he responded by raising taxes. That further lowered the quality of life and productivity, creating a hellish place to live.

People had no choice but to sell themselves into slavery or abandon their elderly and children. Tarte was one of those cast out. It’s why she hated nobles who lived in excess, especially those who mistreated their subjects.

“Hey, what would you have done if House Viekone was a wicked noble family?” Dia asked.

“Nothing. I’d keep my hatred for you to myself,” Tarte responded.

Dia’s face stiffened. It was almost better to have someone hate you openly than to hold a silent grudge.

“Good thing you managed your domain well,” I said.

Dia sighed. “You’ve got that right. I need to thank Dad and my ancestors.”

Tarte ate the rest of the cake unbothered by the awkward atmosphere. She looked happy as could be. Dia and I were both taken aback.

I truly was glad I found Tarte in the mountains that winter. I wouldn’t have been able to save her otherwise, nor would I have obtained such a lovely and diligent servant.