Chapter 271 - Cooks and Crooks III
Claire blinked seven times in quick succession as she stared at the dinner table. The polished oak counter was covered from end to end, with appetizers crowding the left side and desserts dominating the right. Three large platters served as the centerpiece, each crowned with a beautifully plated main course. There was a baked noodle dish buried in a mountain of perfectly browned cheese, a fancy beef stew enhanced with spices aplenty, and a large, spatchcocked pig sapling, taken straight from Kal’syr’s garden and roasted to perfection.
“Why is there so much food?”
“Why, it is our breakfast, of course,” said Arciel.
“I thought you said you were making one dish.”
“I was making one dish to your standard.” A confident, intrepid smile appeared on the squid’s face. “I never once stated that it was the only thing that I would prepare. Did you not see all the ingredients laid out?”
“I didn’t think you would use it all. There was enough to feed a family for a week.”
“Yeah, I was really surprised too!” said Sylvia, as she danced through the air. It was almost elegant, so long as one was to ignore the drool slowly escaping her mouth. “I can hardly believe she learned to do all this in a week.”
“I was subjected to a gruelling training regimen that consumed most if not all of my time,” said the squid, with a nod.
The boast, of course, was met with a chop. “Stupid squid. You were supposed to be managing your country. Not wasting your time.”
“A-and I was. Every waking moment that I did not spend cooking was invested in the duties that I now bear as queen.”
Another chop.
Fortunately for the squid, a series of footsteps broke the chain of violence before it could be perpetuated any further. Natalya stifled a yawn as she wandered down the stairs, her glasses lopsided and her duckling-themed sleepwear still covering her body. Her eyes were still half closed, and each step was more tenuous than the last.
“Morning.” The tired cat spoke to no one in particular before pausing for a moment to sniff at the air. “Something smells really good.” Fighting back another yawn, she collapsed at the bottom of the stairs and lazily shut her eyes.
“Morning!” said Sylvia.
“Good morning,” said Claire.
“Good morning, Lia,” said Arciel.
Even with everyone speaking to her, the cat remained largely unresponsive. She started dozing off where she was, her butt slightly raised and her cheeks rubbing against the polished wooden floor.
It was only when the fourth and final resident greeted her that she transformed from a slovenly mess to a feline missile. There was a loud “Eek!” when the lizard pressed his forehead into hers, followed by an equally loud thunk when she rammed her skull into the ten-foot ceiling.
“That was mean, Boris.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she slowly returned to ground level. Finally wide awake.
The four-legged sword met the cat’s accusing stare with a tilt of the head and an awfully slow blink.
“You’re too cold,” complained Natalya. “You need to warn me before you do that.”
Perhaps because of his metallic composition, or perhaps of the moose magic cycling through his circuits, Boris was hardly affected by the ambient temperature. His body was always just a few degrees above the freezing point, warm enough to avoid giving anyone frostbite, but cold enough to catch an unsuspecting victim off guard.
“We did warn you!” said Sylvia. “Everyone else said hi first!”
“Right.” The cat coughed into her hand. “So what’s this about?” she asked, as she looked over the spread.
“I personally prepared it for the purposes of celebrating the shop’s grand opening.”
“You made it yourself?” Lia’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I could not. But I have recently put in the effort and not only earned the requisite skill, but raised it to a lofty level twenty-three in preparation for this event.” She puffed up her chest with pride and placed a hand on top of it. “I have become so proficient, in fact, that I have unlocked the option to become a chef.”
“You did all that for me?” The cat lowered her face, but while she could certainly hide her leaking glasses, she couldn’t quite fight back the accompanying sniffle. Silently, she approached the squid, squeezed her tight, and buried her face in her shoulders. “Thanks Ciel, you’re the best.”
“Y-you are very welcome,” stuttered the queen. She kept raising and dropping her hands, unsure of how she was meant to respond. Eventually, she settled on lightly wrapping her arms around the cat and patting her on the back. A few awkward moments later, she tapped her on the shoulders and lightly pushed her away. “Now that we have all gathered, I suggest we begin before it cools. I am particularly proud of the roast pig, and I believe it should satisfy even the pickiest of palates.” She gave the lyrkress a knowing smile, while presenting each of the party’s attendants with a set of silverware in turn. Boris was the only exception. He was given a lump of steel outright, something to keep him busy before it was time for the dishes to be done.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I’m not picky.”
“You complain about nearly everything we eat,” laughed Natalya, as she wiped her eyes. “If that’s not picky, I’m not really sure what is.”
“Picky people don’t eat things they don’t like.” Claire cut herself a piece of the pig as she spoke. Its deep orange skin, dyed by whatever sauce it was cooked with, broke apart with a hearty crunch when she pressed the knife against it. A similar noise was made when she bit past it and dug her teeth into the juicy, fatty flesh. “I’ll eat anything. Even if I hate it,” she said, as she took another bite.
“I would rather you not make such a statement while you are in the midst of consuming my masterpiece.”
“Well that’s too bad,” said the horse. Arciel tried to read her expression, but it was a lost cause. Her face was just as blank as usual.
The moose was the only party member being uncooperative. The other two were both over the moon, munching away without restraint. A whole fifth of the two hundred pound pig was already gone, vanished into their stomachs.
“What the heck! This is super tasty!” said Sylvia. “I didn’t know pigs could be this good!”
“It’s so delicious that it feels like I should be savouring it, but I can’t stop myself from stuffing my face,” said Lia.
“I am glad to hear that my efforts have been rewarded.” Seeing that Claire had still not offered her impressions, even after the others were finished, the squid reluctantly turned around and cut a serving for herself.
“It’s frustratingly delicious.”
It was only then, as she finally gave up, that she received her answer. She spun back around immediately, her lips already twisted into a boastful smile, and a haughty laugh halfway up her throat.
“Naturally. I exhausted every resource to ensure its success.”
She was thrilled, fulfilled even, but the same could not be said for her conversation partner.
“Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?” mumbled the lyrkress. She continued to nibble at a piece of pork, even with her eyes distant and her tongue flicking aggressively. “My cooking skill was absorbed by envenom, and I haven’t been able to get it back no matter how much I practiced. Meanwhile, some stupid squid with half a brain manages to level it to twenty-three in less than a fortnight. Everything’s been going this way lately. Is there something wrong with me? Maybe I should’ve taken that stupid elephant’s advice in the morning. Or beaten it out of her. She might’ve told me if I strangled her for long enough.”
“I-I do apologize, I was not aware I had struck such a nerve,” said the queen. She blinked a few times before coughing again and returning to the table. “Now, ladies, I am aware that the pork is exceptional, but I suggest that you sample the other dishes as well. They may not be as perfect, but I am proud to have crafted them nonetheless.”
“Bai wahwehy vam!” said Sylvia. The tiny fairy had a fried sea creature hanging out of her mouth. It was a bit of a ridiculous sight. Even with half of it already consumed, the battered belt fish was more than twice her width and three times her length.
There were another dozen laid out on the table; the vixen’s sinful appetite had been a key factor in determining the size of the meal.
Even with everyone—including a freshly recovered Claire—chipping away at the buffet, it took nearly an hour for it to vanish. The whole experience had Natalya feeling lethargic. She ended up collapsed in her chair with her hands on her bulging stomach. Though she technically had room for more, Sylvia was behaving similarly. She sat in the cat's lap and perfectly emulated her behaviour.
The two equally stuffed noble ladies took a little more care in maintaining appearances. Even in front of their friends, they sat normally and maintained their composure, in spite of the discomfort in their waists. Boris was the only one still eating. He was happily working on the cutlery, perhaps because it was made of silver.
“That was so good.” Natalya spoke from her collapsed position, her face a blissful smile. “I'm so full I just want to nap.”
“You can't,” mumbled an equally sleepy Sylvia. “We’re supposed to be opening today.”
“Oh yeah...” The cat continued lounging around for a few seconds before suddenly opening her eyes wide and springing to her feet. “What time is it!?”
“Hey! What the heck!?” cried the displaced fairy. The sudden motion had flung her into one of the open windows on the other side of the room.
“Sorry!”
“Around noon,” said Claire. Her eyes were on the clock hanging above the stove. It was a fancier timepiece, gifted by a business partner that produced portable versions for the store.
“We need to get to the shop! We're supposed to be opening in an hour!” Natalya frantically dashed around the house, grabbing various objects and bags—products for the most part—and throwing them all in a pile. Her clothes changed at some point or other as well. The semi-translucent nightgown was replaced with the store’s supposed uniform. It consisted of three main pieces, a white blouse, a black skirt, and a navy blue vest, all three of which were woven of fine silk.
“There is hardly a need to panic,” said Arciel, as she watched the blademaster run about. “We've quite some time yet.”
“It might’ve been okay if we wrapped everything up last night, but half the shelves are still empty,” said Lia, as she threw another knife into the pile, “and I’m pretty sure I left almost all the flint we stocked in the warehouse.”
“Mmmnnn, that seems kinda far,” said Sylvia. “Do you think we’re gonna make it?”
“We should still be fine if we hurry,” said Lia. “But I might have to ask you for a few favours if it looks like we’re running too late.”
She grabbed an outfit out of the closet and threw it across the room. It was almost identical to her own, with the size as the only key difference. It was a fair bit larger. Everything was longer to accommodate the fox’s height, and there was significantly more room cut into the space around the chest in particular.
“I’ll change later,” said Sylvia. “And I don’t really feel like turning big right now anyway, so I probably won’t even need it.” Despite her objections, the fox caught the uniform out of the air and stored it in her tail.
“Ok. Is everyone ready?” Natalya stuffed everything she had thrown onto the floor into an already over-capacity bag, and after failing to fasten its belt, tied it shut with a piece of rope instead.
“I am,” said Arciel. “And I might add that there is little reason to worry about the cleanup. I shall have one of the servants pay a visit during the afternoon.”
“Thanks Ciel,” said the cat, with a tired smile. “What about you two?”
“Mhm! Totally ready!” said Sylvia.
“I am,” said Claire. She glanced at the oversized bag before breathing a sigh. “Do you want to fly?”
“I’d really rather not,” said Lia, her face half obscured by the giant leather sack.
“Well too bad.” The serpent grumbled under her breath about nothing in particular as she walked out the front door and assumed her true form in the yard. “Hop on.” Having skipped her morning flight, she happened to be in the mood to stretch her wings.