Story Reader / Affection / Noctis: Indomitus / Story
You know what? I heard that they caught some again during the curfew last night.
I know! I think it was about some underground trading stuff. Can you believe those addicts? They're out of their minds, messing around even in the Clean Zone.
No wonder the guards say that anyone roaming the streets late at night is probably up to something shady.
That's not necessarily true. What do you think, Gray Raven Commandant?
Commandant.
Abruptly, Noctis' head emerges from the wooden window, his hands resting on the sill.
The curfew report from last night—em!
You hurriedly shove his head back into the kitchen and shut the window close.
Some beer sounds nice. A big one, please.
Same here.
Well, I guess there's no true peace anywhere.
C'mon, you can't ask for too much. We've seen way worse in the Great Evacuation...
As the words "Great Evacuation" reach his ears, the owner suddenly rises to his feet, his body colliding with your hand that holds the beer mug. The impact causes the beer to spill out, cascading onto the floor.
You quickly put down the mug and look for the rag, only to find it already in the owner's hand.
You having one foot in the grave or what? Cut it out with all this talk about the old days.
You're still alive and kickin'. No need to dwell on the past just yet, alright?
There's a subtle hint of blame in his joking tone, causing the two customers to rub their heads in embarrassment, as if trying to remember some newly enforced rule.
Despite any commotion at the counter, the stream of dishes emerging from the kitchen window remains steady.
And fortunately, the comforting sounds of clanking cutlery and tableware, accompanied by the tantalizing aroma of food, have a remarkable ability to alleviate any awkwardness in the atmosphere.
Just think of it as a vacation. Help around in the conservation area with Noctis.
Celica will send you the details later. This is also part of the planning.
Things can get very complicated in the conservation area. I hope you can keep yourself restrained if there's really an emergency.
...
Commandant.
You're spacing out... Here, this is your dinner.
Hm? Wait, that looks amazing. Can I order it too?
Nope, this is private customization—not a service we offer here, unfortunately.
If I say please?
You heard me. Also, don't let me catch you bothering Commandant for it. It's been a busy day, and Commandant hasn't had anything yet.
Oh, by the way, your dinner will take a bit longer.
Talking about bias... Alright, go take a break, [player name]. I'll handle everything here.
Tsk, why are you here? For the sake of my appetite, can you bring back Gray Raven Commandant ASAP, like right now?
Oh, shut up. Don't you go picking another fight with Noctis again...
...
With the food in hand, you settle in the corner where the owner stayed yesterday and pour yourself some water before tasting this meal customized by Noctis.
The succulent meat on your plate is undeniably real, not a synthetic substitute, and the freshness of the vegetables is equally discernible.
This is all thanks to the advent of the Inver-Hetero Tower and the accompanying Clean Zone, which has played a pivotal role in revitalizing productivity on the surface.
Before you can have your sentimental moment, some strange figures appear at the door.
See? That one over there is the Gray Raven Commandant.
The commandant is having a break right now. I don't want to be a killjoy.
Eyes on the prize. This is exactly why we came all the way here, isn't it?
It seems that this is another day for you as the Gray Raven Commandant, some sort of symbol in people's eyes, to draw customers from different regions toward "Vegetable Stew".
However, just as you put on your friendly smile, an imposing figure takes a seat across from you.
Seemingly intentionally, he smacks a tray on the table to create a resounding noise, displaying a menacing demeanor.
Meanwhile, you hear someone yelling in the kitchen...
Where's my venison? It's the meat that I asked Old Joe to bring me. Noctis, did you see it?
Oh, that. I used it to make dinner for Commandant.
!!
Didn't you say I could use whatever ingredients I wanted? Plus, that tiny amount of meat is just sad. It's barely enough for one serving. Make sure to order more from Old Joe next time, alright?
You ************!!!
From the kitchen, the owner's frustrated cursing resonates, triggering a wave of laughter among the customers.
Paying no attention to the commotion, Noctis remains seated to keep you company.
What a revenge! What did you do this time?
Wearing a sullen expression, the owner locates a bowl of potatoes and starts gulping them down by the counter. While doing so, he waves at the laughing regulars as if to drive this topic away.
Despite his effort, a few persistent regulars continue to find amusement in poking fun at him.
Meanwhile, Noctis, the root cause of the entire scene, remains unaffected by the ongoing banter. With his plate in hand, he calmly turns toward the counter, observing the commotion with the demeanor of a casual bystander.
This is "Vegetable Stew", a place where genuine connections between people matter more than formalities, and everyone can come together and bond over drinks.
Certainly, in any harmonious melody, it is inevitable that a few notes may occasionally fall out of place...
Can I meet the chef? I want them to take a look at this.
Judging from the appearance, is the dish cooked properly?
As the nonchalantly spoken sentence hangs in the air, a sudden hush descends upon the small tavern.
The regulars who had persistently teased the owner now all turn around, looking for the speaker.
What? I'm not allowed to have an opinion?
Dude, are you completely wasted or what? That thing is shaped by a machine. You can't expect a machine to come out and apologize to you, can you?
Shaped by a machine? Are you saying I paid Black Cards to this tavern just to get some machine-made food?
Sensing the weight of the moment, the customer finds himself at a loss for words, his gaze turning toward the owner.
Commandant, is this the person you mentioned who would come to pick on us?
Well then, lemme see what he's got up his sleeve.
Before you have more time to read the situation, Noctis has already walked over.
What's up, sir? Anything I can help you with?
You are?
I'm the one who heated 'em up.
Noctis points at the plate, but the customer's gaze remains fixed on him.
You're a Construct?
Is something wrong?
It's just I wasn't expecting that metal chunks like you actually needed to eat.
Just a personal hobby. Also, you better watch your tone. I'm on a mission here, but...
That reminds me... The Gray Raven Commandant is right here.
So you've been colluding with Babylonia this whole time, Ed?
Just get it straight to the point, Sykes.
The sudden rise in their tones immediately fills the air with tension.
Some customers instinctively retreat, backing into corners with plates in hand. Others quietly slip away toward the exit after leaving Black Cards on their tables.
Hey, hold on. Don't run away just yet. You've still got bills to pay!
The confrontation between the owner and the man called Sykes persists.
Although the position of the fuse is unknown, taking proactive action can likely help prevent this explosive barrel from detonation.
You're the Gray Raven Commandant?
You are familiar with that surveying gaze cast by Sykes—the one you saw many times when you first arrived.
I'm not in the mood to deal with you today.
But this is nothing like the "Wanderer's Biscuits" you claim on the menu.
As my request? Alright, just to be clear, I'm not trying to give you a hard time here. I just want you to serve me some "Wanderer's Biscuits" exactly how they're described on the menu.
But who knows if there's still anyone who can make the real "Wanderer's Biscuits" here.
While Sykes talks to you, his eyes cast a glimpse at the owner.
Before the owner gives his answer, some customers can no longer contain their temper.
Not trying to give them a hard time, huh? There were so many wanderer groups out there. Who the hell knows what kind of "Wanderer's Biscuits" you had?
However, as he walks up to Sykes, the man's companions rise to their feet, positioning themselves in between.
Some flaws? Hey, don't get me wrong—this is not a matter of flaws or anything like that.
It's about someone messing with their customers, crossing boundaries they shouldn't even be touching.
Sykes points at the "Vegetable Stew" logo on the apron, his tone growing aggressive.
Just as the confrontation teeters on the edge, a robust hand appears in time, gripping Sykes' wrist hard like a pincer.
I told you, you better watch your tone. I'm only on a mission here...
Oh? This seems like the perfect opportunity for you to show off your grip strength as a Construct, huh?
Sykes signals his companions with a look, prompting all of his men to stand up. You suddenly find Noctis surrounded by a larger number of people than expected.
Tsk... You won't be lucky next time.
Noctis releases his grip on Sykes' wrist, but rather than retreating, he stands his ground, facing Sykes with his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.
This leaves you no choice but to lean to the side and peek out to show your face, temporarily revealing an expression of sincerity.
I already said I'm not in the mood to deal with you today, Gray Raven Commandant.
Sykes casts his first at the owner and then shifts it onto Noctis.
With a wave of his hand, the group of quiet customers leaves the tavern alongside him.
...
Sigh, just leave Sykes to me. You don't need to get yourself into trouble...
As the owner flips through the pages of his ledger, a grim expression settles upon his face, hinting at the less-than-ideal state of today's income.
Those guys are really persistent, aren't they?
With a guilty look on his face, the owner rubs his head and turns around to retrieve a notebook from a locked drawer and hand it to you.
With its tattered outline and yellowed pages, the weathered and worn notebook bears the marks of time. It appears to be a cherished treasure, holding immense value in the eyes of the owner.
I'm sorry that I dragged you into this mess. This is the note I took back when I handled rations for the wanderers' group I rolled with. It might come in handy.
Don't push yourself too hard, eh? If you feel like that guy's crossing the line, just brush him off. I'll see if I can find us some extra hands in the meantime.
Commandant, that shape is so weird. I just can't get it right. Is this really the mold's problem?
From the kitchen, Noctis' frustrated wail echoes through the air, accompanied by the clatter of objects being angrily discarded into the recycler.
It's okay. We only have a week of time. I'm ready for what to be paid here.
In a desperate and unnatural demeanor, the owner leaves the key to you as he forces himself not to look at the gradually filling recycler.
Summoning every ounce of strength, the owner steadies his body and takes resolute steps toward the door. The determination in his demeanor reminds you of the historic moment when humanity first set foot on the Moon.
The potatoes are out... Huh? Where's the owner?
I just can't get the right shape. Now, I'm even thinking about modifying the mold myself.
My hands?
You follow Noctis into the kitchen.
An assortment of tools are lying scattered on the table. With a quick sweep of your hand, you clear a space amidst the clutter and take a small dough with a similar texture to the modeling clay that kids use to play with.
You make a rough shape based on the design sketch handed to you by Noctis.
That's more like it.
Noctis stretches his wrists before placing his palm on the dough, mirroring your actions. With a confident grip, he takes a substantial amount of the dough into his hands.
Easy, Commandant. I'm just... grabbing more to use later.
Then, he divides the dough into two equal parts and keeps a half in his hand.
...Ha.
...
...Tsk.
With all the dough gone, Noctis still can't get a single biscuit that he is satisfied with.
Noctis rubs the failed attempts together, his disappointment palpable. Just as he prepares to discard them into the recycler, his eyes catch sight of the biscuit you just made...
Hold on, I can just ask the Engineering Force to make a mold based on the biscuit you made, right?
Oh, c'mon, it's just a biscuit... Speaking of the devil, why do you even care, Commandant?
If Sykes and his men dare to mess around here, I'll just kick their sorry asses out.
They still have a multitude of options available to cause trouble for Ed. If things really go south, no one can guarantee that "Vegetable Stew" will be able to withstand the challenges unscathed.
Tch, what a pain in the ass.
This is precisely the pain point of the surface reconstruction project, Noctis... Not everyone is as friendly as Ed, and people from the conservation areas can exhibit hostility far beyond what Sykes has shown so far.
Alright, alright, I'll give it another try.
Noctis picks up another dough...
C-Commandant?
I can spread 'em myself. This is a piece of combat equipment. You're not strong enough to pry...
Fine, you win. No need to give me that look, alright? See, I've got my fingers spread.
Control the size of each biscuit dough...
Shape them into balls...
...
One more time, just one more time...
Outside the window, the lights of the buildings within the conservation area fade one by one. Only the street lamps lining both sides of the road remain, casting a gentle glow that permeates the night.
Suddenly, a raindrop descends from the sky, dissolving into the darkness of the night. A symphony of pitter-patters swiftly follows its arrival, as raindrops rhythmically tap against the windowpane.
Gotcha! I'll handle the front... Wait a sec, this is way worse than I thought. Commandant, go close the windows on the second floor!
Rain came unexpectedly upon "Vegetable Stew" tonight, causing a bit of trouble.
But you know you and Noctis can handle it.
If there is anything to worry about, you only hope the owner won't faint upon seeing the list of ingredients consumed.
All in all, it was another peaceful day, kind of.
