One of the girls went out and borrowed a spare set of heavy gloves and an apron from a local blacksmith, just in time for the second batch of chicken.

Athena took it upon herself to blame me for trying to burn the keep down (rightfully so, probably) and if she wasn't so busy herself, she probably would have pestered me until I left in tears, but since that wasn't possible - not for the lack of effort on her part - she had to make do with keeping an eye on me from the sidelines. Interestingly enough, the head maid didn't take the incident too seriously and once the panic died out she just laughed and teased other maids about their giddy screams.

To avoid any unnecessary repeat of out problems, we've prepared accordingly, based on our previous experience. Almost burning down the kitchen really turned out to be for the better. We made mistakes and we learned from them.

I even got to do a quick (second) practice run on leftover chicken from the first batch. Even with all that fire, the chicken somehow managed to remain raw. Guess the the whole catastrophe fire really lasted just a minute.

The rest of the maids returned to their responsibilities, keeping a safe distance from me and my pots from hell.

Cooking a second chicken went really smoothly. I remained close, controlling the oil temperature the best I could and about ten to fifteen minutes later I took the chicken out of the pot with a pair of makeshift chopsticks. Easy as pie.

After that I proceeded to prepare for the worst. The thing with chicken is, even though it's inherently easy to make, it's still relatively hard for a buffoon. You don't cook it long enough the meat will be bloody and chewy, if you overcook it, it will become dry. It was rather easy to mess up. So I needed something that wasn't.

Through all this chaos I almost forgot that I had prepared for that as well. A stack of potatoes, peeled and washed, was right in front of me, prepared for my use. I ponder for a while on how to cook them. My main concern remained the surprise factor, I wanted them to be unique from anything in this world. The obvious choice right now was to fry them in oil and considering my time constraints, that was the only thing I could do.

The question was, what size do I want them in. Bigger pieces would be harder to mess up, but smaller ones, if done well, would be much tastier. I guess that's what they mean when they say 'damned if you do, damned if you don't'... I had a problem that desperately needed solving, but had no right solutions.

Except for doing this and that and seeing what sticks. That seems about as good of a plan as I had all day.

"So, you ready?"

About 20 minutes into my standoff with the potatoes I was about done. The chicken was being kept warm over the furnace, the fried potatoes were fresh out of the oil. As far as my responsibilities went I was all done, the last thing left to do was facing the outcome of my labor. Although the challenging voice directed at me had something else in mind.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said matter-of-factly. "How did your sauce turn out?"

Instead of an answer, she let out a sound, something between a 'Hmpf' and a 'Tsk' and put a small bowl of sauce on the table in front of me.

"That's all of it?"

"Of course not. The rest will be served to the princess after I have won," she said confidently.

"Smart thinking."

I took a closer look at her sauce. It seemed to be olive oil based, with some spices added. I've seen something similar to it in Italian restaurants, served with pizza. Not the cheap, franchised places where they give you an endless supply of ketchup. A bit on the higher end of the scale, instead, they would offer you oil based, more traditional flavoring. They can be a bit of an acquired taste, but once you get used to it, it's quite delicious. These restaurants would usually serve a few kinds of these sauces. As well as ketchup (due to popular demand, I assume).

"Well, we might as well taste it."

I put a plate with some second edition chicken near the saucer. First edition, second attempt chicken, to be precise. Visually it turned out really quite well, just like the ones you'd get in a fast food joint. The meat itself turned out a bit dry, so I made sure not to overcook the second batch - the one that mattered. The coating was the best part of the chicken, in my own humble opinion. I got unbelievably lucky with the flour mix and the flavor turned out just right amounts of spicy and rich.

However this challenge wasn't about the chicken, but the sauce. Whatever the chicken's faults were it would fulfill its basic purpose.

I offered Athena a piece and took one myself, while a flock of maids surrounded us. Anticipation in their eyes was nothing compared to mine. I was positively enthused.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to sample the sauce," I offered stupidly.

"Did no one teach you proper etiquette?"

Oh, so that's what it was. Put the chicken on the plate, sauce on the side, use a number three fork and knife, eat in small bites and lay your utensils on the right side once you're done. That etiquette. The funny thing was, I'm pretty sure I had never seen an actual fork in a fried chicken joint. Nor anyone who would wash their hands before eating, for that matter.

"That's how you eat deep fried chicken," I explained. "You hold it with your hands, you dip it into the sauce and try to enjoy yourself."

"This kind of thing isn't suitable for the princess!"

"Oh. Definitely. The only thing less suiting a princess would be tacos."

"Tacos?" Clem tilted her head to the side, childish curiosity in her eye.

"You can't be serious about serving this!"

"I am. And it's fine, the princess knows what she's getting into."

Or so I've hoped. She ate the chips, didn't she? Athena seemed still reluctant, but she also had to realize arguing wouldn't get her anywhere.

"What is this anyway? What did you do to this chicken?"

"You know exactly what I did. Now stop delaying and eat."

She didn't exactly get on my nerves, but this whole day I was under pressure and had accumulated a lot of stress. I did not exactly had the patience right now to explain everything I had known for a fact she had seen herself. More than that, I just wanted to taste that sauce.

I led with example and dipped a piece of chicken into the sauce. Its texture wasn't as creamy as you'd probably like a dipping sauce to be but it wasn't my biggest concern. The taste was.

"W-what is this?.." The moment she tasted the chicken, without even properly chewing it, Athena had asked no one in particular.

"Did no one teach you proper etiquette? Don't speak with your mouth full!" I rebuked. Quite cleverly, if I may say so myself.

I re-dipped my chicken and took another bite. I didn't pay much attention to my surroundings, too concerned with getting my taste pallets to perform their duty. However I couldn't ignore reality for long.

"Don't drool on the chicken," I told Clem.

"All right," she said, but without much success.

"Do you want a piece?"

"N-no, I'm fine," she said, still drooling.

"Just take it," I offered. "In fact, everyone should have a taste. You all worked really hard today. For all your help you deserve better than these leftovers, but that's all I have right now, so it will have to do. Please, try and enjoy yourselves."

Clem was the first to react, without any hesitation she extended her arm and went after the biggest piece of chicken she could get her hands on. The rest of the maids hesitated for a while, a few of them exchanged looks, but at the end curiosity got the better of them - there was no way they would miss out on tasting something as crazy as this.

"Wait!"

Before I completely forgot about our deal, Athena interfered. She took it upon herself to remind me about it, but there was also something else reflected on her face and in her voice right now, although I couldn't exactly comprehend what it was.

"We made an oath. Your sauce, let's taste it."

She was determined, she wanted to make sure then and there. Sure of what, however, I did not know. What kind of outcome was she chasing?

"So here's the thing," I began before thinking better of it. "No. You win, your sauce is better."

"N-no, what? You can't just decide that!"

"It's true, you are a superior cook. I graciously admit defeat..."

"Graciously my ass!" she proclaimed angrily. "Didn't you say I would be the one to decide?"

"Decide then, your sauce or no sauce, which one is better?"

The way she looked at me, my blood almost froze. A look so chilling, my heart stopped from beating. She wasn't cranky from a long day at work, she wasn't annoyed, not even angry.

She was furious. Furious with me. There was no one, nothing she hated more than me at that moment. Seeing that, I've felt like I missed something. Like I somehow disappointed her. Even worse, I felt bad for it. Like I disappointed myself.

"What do you want me to say? I didn't bother making sauce because I knew you could make anything as good as I ever could, even better. I didn't make a sauce, because I trusted you and your ability. That is the truth. Will it suffice? Or do you want me to tell you how incapable of a chef I really am?"

"You are a bastard."

Was all she said in a voice filled with wrath, before she turned and hurried away and from the kitchen. I really was a Fool. And a bastard. I used her with no concern for her. There was no way for me to anticipate she would take this deceptive cook-off so seriously, granted, but I still acted like the biggest jerk in this world. Both worlds, even.

A real bastard.

"Guess that means she's a better cuisiner, huh?"

Clem was licking her fingers clean. The rest of the girls were a bit hesitant to taste the chicken and had concerned facial expressions, but Clem, either because she was a child or just an unreasonably positive person, did not let something so insignificant faze her.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think you are a pretty horrible human being."

"About the chicken!"

"It was quite sublime," Clem said seriously. "You really are full of surprises, Fool."

Maids exchanged hurried looks and anxiety on their faces became curiosity. One by one they dipped their chicken in sauce and tasted it. One by one, their expressions changed. Amazement. Shock. Awe. Astonishment.

"It's wonderful!"

"This is so delicious..."

"It's so crunchy on the outside, but soft in the middle..."

Any other time I would have taken it as a boost of confidence. Right now, I found it hard to care. I lied and manipulated from the moment I came to this world without even thinking twice about it. Trying to justify it, I told myself that my life depended on it.

Thing is, I don't really mind it. I don't mind lying, I don't feel any emotional repercussions over it, not usually. Especially not now. Not like I could come out and tell them I came from some other world... Not until Inquisition was a thing - ending up on a stake wasn't on my wishlist.

However something about the look Athena gave me made me feel absolutely horrible about myself. I would really have to make it up to her somehow. Even though I did not know what had upset her, I couldn't help but feel it was my fault.

But what made me feel the worst was what I did not get to say...

The thing was, her sauce really was out of this world.