Your Majesty, Dinner Is Ready. - Chapter 125

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 125: B-Rank Dungeon — Tower of Trials (1)
The Tower of Trials is a dungeon that extends across the city where the tower stands, Disolum, and the wasteland surrounding it.
Our Moon Expedition Party’s second team, having entered the dungeon, now stood in the desolate plains distinctive to the North Continent.
《B-Rank Dungeon — Tower of Trials》
《Due to Dungeon Law, explorers assume the status of Cultivators who train both body and spirit. Even without challenging the tower’s trials, one cannot live comfortably here.》
“It seems the first team has already headed toward the tower. Shall we go as well?”
I began walking toward the city together with Abel and Rosalia.
As we walked, I explained the dungeon laws we needed to know in advance.
“In the Tower of Trials, explorers become Cultivators.”
As I spoke, I pointed to the green clover badges that had appeared near all our shoulders.
“These are the marks of Cultivator status.”
《Leaf of Cultivation》
《An item distributed under the direction of the Orc Great Chieftain, the former supreme warrior of the North Continent, and Sovereign Graike, indicating Cultivator status. Aside from its function in distinguishing genuine articles from counterfeits, it is simply an ordinary ornament.》
“Wait, Rosalia — you don’t know what a Cultivator is?”
…….
The taciturn assassin shook her head curtly.
Since she was shy and couldn’t open her heart easily, I decided to speak candidly about the points she would naturally wonder about.
“The temporal setting of this dungeon is shortly after the Valterium Empire’s Three-Continent Unification War ended. At that time, the North Continent had a custom where sixteen-year-olds would begin a wandering life for spiritual cultivation. Those people are what we call Cultivators.”
A fervent wave of cultivation born from the tragic past of the North Continent brutally trampled beneath the Valterium Empire’s military might.
Cultivators wandered from place to place, fighting others, subjugating monsters, entering dungeons, and training both body and spirit.
“I’ve read about that in books.”
Abel, who spoke quietly, squinted slightly.
“Once someone becomes a Cultivator, they must continue their wandering training until they achieve deeds worthy of recognition.”
“You know well.”
I ruffled Abel’s hair, pleased that unlike his sister, he steadily increased his Knowledge stat.
“But from about two hundred years after this dungeon’s time period, Fallen Cultivators began appearing one by one.”
So an angry descendant of Graike organized a grand tournament to crush all the Cultivators.
Later, if we entered the A-Rank Dungeon that existed in the 1st District, we could even participate directly.
“The dungeons of Pletika truly are diverse….”
Abel’s face brightened slightly—he’d dreamed of becoming an explorer even during his years in the slums.
“I’m curious why so many dungeons generate specifically in Pletika.”
“Really?”
It was such a welcome question that I paused for a moment.
“Are you truly curious? Do you want to know the detailed principles?”
At my tentative question, Abel hurriedly shook his head.
“…That would surely require a very lengthy explanation, so I’ll hear it later when we have leisure outside the dungeon.”
“…Is that so?”
Feeling a bit disappointed, I glanced at Rosalia.
“Aren’t you curious, Rosalia?”
…….
The ruthless assassin again firmly shook her head.
“It really is interesting… Well, I understand.”
With no choice but to defer the matter, I continued walking and soon reached the entrance to Disolum, the city where the tower stood.
Though technically classified as a city, it was not particularly bustling—in truth, it was more like a somewhat larger village.
“The North Continent has no dreary inspection procedures before entering a city, so you can simply walk in.”
Upon entering the city, my eyes caught the sight of rough-hewn buildings scattered freely across the landscape.
In the North Continent, a land of savagery and struggle, orderly urban planning was a luxury.
“You mentioned we’d be dealing with lawless men.”
After surveying the city once, Abel tugged at the hem of my robe.
“Where and how are you planning to fight? Will just the three of us be enough?”
Perhaps because he hadn’t yet received instruction related to combat, he looked somewhat anxious.
His tail was swaying uneasily.
“Of course.”
To ease his concerns, I confidently gestured toward Rosalia with both hands.
“Here stands Rosalia, the strongest assassin, the ‘Deep Shadow’ who guards Odillon, the second son of the Brithes Family—what could you possibly worry about?”
…….
Rosalia, who had been staring at me, shook her head with a wry smile.
The meaning was unmistakable: ‘Well now, for our younger brother’s sake, I’d better put on quite the display.’
Abel let out a small laugh and gazed out over the cityscape.
“There’s something you say often, Pendrick. That our patron would never recklessly throw us into danger without proper backing.”
“I understand what you’re trying to say, but your example was off the mark. Our prodigy prosecutor here is the sort who’d trust even those without a shred of credibility—blindly and completely.”
If not for the skeptic Astrímia, I might well have been deceived by these outlaws by now and conscripted into some dungeon-raiding expedition as a human shield.
“…In any case, I’ll trust only you, Patron. As I always have.”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
After ruffling Abel’s hair thoroughly, I headed out into the street.
There was something I had to do before Pierre and the Hyena Guild’s outlaws found us.
“First, let’s visit the market, shall we?”
Before receiving such distinguished guests, one had to make thorough preparations.
***
We arrived at the marketplace of Disolum.
“…Is this the market?”
The moment we stepped into the street where the marketplace stood, Abel’s mouth twisted to one side.
“This looks more like an arena, doesn’t it?”
Crack!
Before Abel could finish speaking, an orc citizen collapsed, spraying blood.
“If you’re frustrated, channel it into improvement.”
A troll vendor dusted off his hands and settled onto his mat.
The orc had foolishly attempted to haggle despite his weakness—and this was the price.
Similar scenes were unfolding in real time throughout the marketplace.
“Those who’ve collapsed are Cultivators.”
“Indeed… they’re all wearing badges like ours.”
Rosalia rolled the sprawled orc to the side and cleared the space.
“What in the world is happening here?”
“During this period, a philosophy was in vogue—that everything a Cultivator experienced was practice, no different from formal training.”
Graike, the Sovereign King who spearheaded this cultivation craze, held the conviction that training divorced from real combat held no meaning.
Thus, Cultivators approached even the most mundane, trivial aspects of daily life as if they were exercises, and the citizens enthusiastically participated alongside them.
Price negotiations were conducted through combat rather than words; meals were naturally procured through self-sufficiency in the wilds; money was earned by beating down anyone who caught the eye.
“During this era on the North Continent, no one was held accountable for thoroughly thrashing a Cultivator. In fact, if you’d helped them with their practice, you’d receive praise and commendation.”
In short, the North Continent itself had become one massive training facility.
“What do you think, Abel?”
I took in the bustling marketplace and straightened my shoulders proudly.
“Daily life itself becomes grueling practice. Isn’t it magnificent?”
An age where every single day was filled with stimulation and dopamine, never a dull moment for the heart.
Truly, this was a paradise descended upon the earth.
“Then… does ‘Fallen Cultivator’ mean…?”
“Of course it refers to those cowards who, despite their status as Cultivators, turned a blind eye to the reality of constant struggle and avoided fighting and hunting.”
“…….”
Abel’s ears drooped slightly.
“…So even without entering the tower, there was no peace of mind in this dungeon.”
“Correct. You’re sharp. Merlin would’ve needed me to give two or three more explanations before he grasped it.”
Dungeons are not kind to explorers.
And that was precisely what made them desirable.
“Well, we’ve completed our history lesson—shall we move on?”
I approached the troll who’d struck down the orc earlier.
“Hmm, an unusual combination. How interesting.”
The troll vendor rose to his feet and looked down at us with an imposing air.
“I, sell all herbs for 5 gold.”
Looking closer, these herbs were worth at most 3 silver.
Price gouging of an absurd degree.
Naturally, it was the kind of murderous markup applied only to Cultivators.
This called for negotiation.
“Sister.”
“…….”
Rosalia’s form vanished for a moment, then reappeared beside the troll.
Thud!
A Spinning Kick struck his ribs dead-center.
The troll vendor collapsed without even a scream.
“…Impressive.”
The troll jumped up at once, grinning widely.
“I give all for 1 silver!”
“Thank you.”
Combat shopping—the kind you could only taste at the Tower of Trials.
I’d grown fond of that feeling and made frequent trips here while raising “Warrior Emir.”
“Abel, pick something decent. I’ll be using it for cooking.”
“…Yes.”
So we made a circuit of the market, acquiring all manner of ingredients at bargain prices.
“……”
During which time, Rosalia stopped before a stall hawking poisonous creatures as pets.
The assassin who adores toxins gazed at me intently.
“That won’t do. The master would scold me terribly if he found out.”
“…Your home.”
“Keep it at my place? Hmm….”
“Ugh, I’d rather not.”
“So you would.”
“…….”
Rosalia’s ears drooped slightly.
“I’ve seen everything here.”
Having indulged thoroughly in aggressive shopping, my subspace brimmed with all manner of ingredients.
《Now I can offer even more varied and delicious tributes! :D》
“We’ll now proceed to a location where we can wait quietly and lure the lawless ones.”
I led my companions onward.
Our destination was a restaurant near the city’s outskirts.
Save for the outer walls and interior flooring, which were made of the raw, untamed earth characteristic of the North Continent, there was nothing remotely remarkable about the place.
“Welcome.”
A sullen-looking human worker approached and swung a club at us without preamble.
Crack!
Rosalia reacted before he could draw close, striking his jaw with an Uppercut Kick.
He tumbled backward, staggering upright with a groan.
“Such a brisk blow! I shall offer you all our dishes at half price, honored guest.”
“…This era of the North Continent is truly difficult to adapt to.”
I patted Abel’s shoulder as he muttered quietly, then placed our order.
“Four whole onions coated in a pungent sauce. Three portions of well-roasted meat of any kind. Five portions of spirit herb salad with added poison, please.”
“…Understood.”
The worker, momentarily flustered, hurried into the kitchen.
Tap.
Rosalia nudged me gently and tilted her head.
“Why was he startled just now? That was a kind of code.”
A Hidden Piece outside the Tower of Trials.
Ordering food in this restaurant according to specific numbers.
“In the order I placed them: 4-3-5. This numerical combination triggers the Hidden Piece.”
“…So the actual dishes I ordered didn’t matter?”
“Correct.”
“Then why the onions with the pungent sauce….”
“Because they’re delicious, naturally.”
I would have preferred them thickly coated in wasabi, but regrettably, the North Continent of this era had virtually no developed culinary culture.
“Guest.”
Shortly after, the worker returned and placed three small accessories on the table.
Inverted Clover markings.
Badges with the Leaf of Cultivation flipped upside down.
“Carry those with you, and you’ll be admitted.”
“Understood.”
“The food will be ready shortly!”
I waited for the worker to depart, then distributed the Inverted Clover Badges to Abel and Rosalia.
“This dungeon is full of mysteries. What is this supposed to be…?”
I marked right next to the Leaf of Cultivation and answered.
“Beneath this city lies a vast underground aqueduct—a remnant of an ancient civilization. This badge allows you entry. It’s a kind of admission token.”
“…An underground aqueduct?”
“Yes. Its official name is….”
The ordered dishes arrived at that moment.
I took a bite of the violet-sauced onion that was my portion, then opened my mouth to speak.
“The Underground Aqueduct of Trials. It’s a C-rank Dungeon.”
A small dungeon accessible only from within a specific dungeon interior.
What they call a Hidden Dungeon.
“While the others ascend toward the heavens, we descend into the depths below.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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