I Picked Up the Fallen Earth

Chapter 8 The Tasty Tuna

It was a rare occasion that the entire family was gathered to eat together. Baron Ark Farrow considered the family meal, which occurred once a day, to be of utmost importance.

To such an extent that in one corner of the dining room hung a plaque stating, “Family meals bring harmony to the household,” showcasing his obsession with the idea.

Although Jeron wasn’t entirely convinced that a forced family meal necessarily resulted in domestic harmony, he acknowledged that the Farrow household, in its own way, did enjoy a harmonious atmosphere that brought about a positive synergy.

Baron Ark had recovered significantly and could now move around on his own. Though he had been inconveniently shot in his right arm, it was a stroke of luck that the baron was ambidextrous.

Even though he wielded a sword with his right hand, it seemed he had no major issues going about his daily life.

“Ha-ha-ha! How grateful I am to the Goddess for allowing us to gather and share a meal as a family,” he exclaimed.

“It’s truly a blessing. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if you weren’t here, father,” responded Jeron.

“I’m not at death’s door yet. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done while I was away. You’ve managed the estate exceptionally well, and your strategies were impeccable. You seem completely ready to inherit the position of lord.”

“…”

Jeron broke out in cold sweat. Shouldn’t recovering mean taking over the management of the estate again? The thought alone was enough to push him to the brink of overworking to death.

Managing a small estate of 30,000 residents was no small feat in the medieval era, where the administrative system and social networks were severely lacking.

Just leading this underdeveloped culture was exhausting, let alone the additional stress of overwork. He feared going bald in his twenties, just like the current Baron Ark Farrow.

“Ah, it won’t do for you to retire just yet, father. I still have much to learn,” he hastily claimed.

“What? I was already managing the estate at your age. Now that I am old, it’s time for me to prepare for the end. Building a small cabin to live in with your mother will be enough for me.”

“But what about our family meals?”

“Hmm? What do you mean? You and your sibling can simply come over to the cabin.”

Baron Ark Farrow, a man truly dedicated to his meals. Yet, for Jeron, these dining moments were nothing short of torture. Here, food was merely a forced means of sustaining life, not something to be enjoyed for its flavor.

It was so bad that the first time Jeron experienced food upon his arrival, he had given up on the idea of enjoying meals altogether.

The menu was almost the same every day. Today, it was an unidentified meat stew, accompanied by a cloudy soup, wine, and bread. The bread, supposedly a staple food, was problematic.

Not finely ground, it had a weird texture, and it was so hard it might as well have been a rock. He hadn’t touched the meat due to its blood smell, yet he already felt bloated.

Having lived on wine since he was five, Jeron, who once visited Earth, found the so-called meals unbearable and prepared his secret weapon. A butler, under Jeron’s orders, brought a special dish. The large plate contained round slices of meat, none other than canned tuna.

Though the estate had a large lake used as a water source and wasn’t without fish dishes, most were made into pies, which hardly appealed to him. When Jeron first tasted the canned tuna he brought from Earth, it was as if his taste buds, long dead, had been revived.

In his previous life on Earth, before its downfall, tuna was a simple ingredient. However, living here, it felt like a most exquisite delicacy.

“What is this?” someone inquired.

“It’s a fish caught by the young master,” replied the butler.

“It looks rather unappetizing,” they commented.

“…”

If we’re judging by visuals, wasn’t the fish pie far worse? Compared to the spectacle of fish heads sticking out of bread, the processed, deboned canned tuna seemed quite appealing.To judge the flavors of this era seems quite presumptuous, doesn’t it?

“Still, considering the effort it took to catch it, please, have a taste.”

“Well, if it’s something you caught, we should try it even if it might not taste great.”

Without a second thought, the family dug into the tuna with their forks and took a bite.

“Gah, GAH!”

“Gasp!”

“Oh, brother, what on earth is this?”

Everyone clutched at their chests as if in pain.

In a word, they were shocked.

Then, as quickly as a crab scuttles into hiding, they buried their noses into their plates and ate with fervor, abandoning all manner of table manners.

Going further, Baron Ark seemed on the verge of licking the tuna juice off his plate.

But having some sense of decorum, he instead furiously scraped his plate with bread as if he might punch a hole through it.

The reaction was unanimous among the family.

A smirk played on Jeron’s lips.

To those who had lived assuming the rot of medieval cuisine was the norm, the taste of canned tuna, the product of Earth’s top corporations’ competitive research and development, was bound to be a revelation.

“What in the world is this? I’ve never in my life tasted fish this delicious.”

“Yes! It’s been a while since our mouths were this blessed.”

“Brother, do you have more?”

There was an outcry for more.

Jeron shook his head, and everyone’s faces fell.

It was clear they would struggle to enjoy their meals for a while.

After tasting canned tuna, all other foods would seem like trash in comparison.

On an Earth now lost to ruin, finding tuna was not a daily possibility. If luck was on one’s side, one might stumble upon it occasionally, and it would be a special treat.

Jeron had been particularly fortunate to discover not only canned tuna but several other canned goods on the second floor of a pharmacy.

Everyone’s eyes demanded an explanation, so Jeron improvised.

“While I was fishing today, I caught what seemed to be a golden carp! I scaled and prepared it right there and then before bringing it home.”

“Ah, it must be a blessing from the guardian dragon.”

“I’ve taken a liking to fishing of late, so if I happen to catch another golden carp, I’ll make sure to bring it home.”

“If only you caught many. Can you imagine how much profit this would bring if sold to the Count’s domain?”

“Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much of it.”

Jeron had indeed considered the notion.

The shock of the taste was still fresh in his mind. The dilemma was the scarcity.

Selling it would certainly have been a goldmine.

Regardless of the price, people would vie for it, possibly even attracting the attention of the king, leading to the dispatch of a specialized fishing corps.

But the quantity was only enough to occasionally spoil his family.

It was a major disappointment.

Though the Farrow household weren’t much for conversation at the dinner table, today was an exception.

Conversations bloomed around the subject of tuna, and Baron Ark Farrow’s plan to build a cabin by the lake became more concrete.

***

“The ripple effect of mere tuna cans is astounding.”

Jeron found himself wanting to offer thanks once more to the family’s guardian dragon.

When he first learned of the restrictions on what could be brought from Earth, he cursed them as nothing more than lizard spawn. But he soon realized that even the smallest items from Earth could have a significant impact.

Earth was, after all, a civilization a thousand years more advanced than here.

And even in ruin, its legacy remained.

Surely, if one looked hard enough, there would be many items capable of causing a societal stir.Today’s tuna incident made it crystal clear to Jeron.

On days when he found a large mart that had miraculously escaped being plundered, it was bound to be a windfall. Although he couldn’t haul away the forge of the Earth or fill a truck with goods to bring over, he realized just how potent this capability was.

Before venturing out for tonight’s exploration of Earth, Jeron opened the Mana Cultivation Technique Manual.

The manual wasn’t particularly thick and looked like it could be fully memorized within a week. However, mastering its contents seemed profoundly challenging. [The beginning is to feel mana. Most detect the presence of mana with the help of a mentor.

If you cannot sense mana in any way, you are not qualified to be a magician. To describe my sensation, mana feels warm yet cold, tingling yet mushy.]

Jeron even doubted the legitimacy of the manual as he went through it. It was full of lofty and cryptic sentences that could make even the sanest person feel dyslexic.

Nevertheless, deciphering the manual brought to light that mana was dispersed in the air, and sensing it was the first step. The following process involved using mental energy to draw in mana.

It got him contemplating whether to give up on the technique altogether. Jeron had no mentor, and magicians were scarce in the kingdom. Even Count Hanes, who had painstakingly copied the manual for him, had only laid the groundwork for magic.

“Still, I can’t just give up.” It was a hard-won manual. Despite being obtuse and filled with analogies needing interpretation, the manual itself wasn’t a forgery.

In an era where magic was in decline, Count Hanes must have known this and gladly offered the manual.

Jeron considered that maybe the golden key could unlock the secrets of mana. To summarize:

1. It’s certain that the golden key gets charged by magical power.

2. Maybe focusing on the golden key while moving on Earth could help sense the flow of mana.

There were no other options but to observe intently. Jeron stepped away from the manual and opened a portal. The forge’s warehouse came into view.

Having tidied up to haul away the forge’s items, he regretted the effort now knowing there was a weight limit.

Gently, like passing through a layer of water, his body exited the portal. The air felt somewhat colder.

With the warehouse deemed safe, Jeron closed his eyes to sense the ambient energy, hoping that Earth might still contain abundant mana, given that most of it was depleted in the Karen Continent.

But of course, if that were the case, the field of magic wouldn’t be facing its downfall. One couldn’t expect to achieve fullness at the first sip.

Even as Jeron concentrated on the golden key, his gaze swept the interior of the warehouse. His dealings with the count confirmed one thing clearly.

Earthlings and the people of the Karen Continent viewed things very differently.

Grandpa’s ornamental dragon rings were treated like heirloom treasures, while general artifacts hardly fetched a high price.

With this in mind, he sought to find something quaint and extravagant. This was, after all, a rural forge serving elderly farmers as clients—there was a chance.

After rummaging through the warehouse, Jeron stumbled upon a space resembling a secret storeroom filled with a jumbled heap of tools.

Broken tools were everywhere, alongside halved sickles, spade blades, and hoes – likely failed projects of the forge’s owner.

Among this rubbish, Jeron’s eyes landed on a dagger so unspeakably tacky that he had to acknowledge its existence.

“Ha, it really was here?”