Chapter 1.19: The Feast Begins Part 3

Her father thought about it for a moment before asking a question. "How exactly do you help shelter abused women?"

"We provide them with a fund to use if they have to escape their environment. If they don't need the money, we offer to pay for their lawyer or doctor." Both of the teenager's parents looked impressed by her actions. Leila herself thought it was admirable, especially in the world this book took place in.

"That's charitable of you. Would you be providing my daughter with money then? Or legal counsel?" The man questioned and the woman shook her head with a serious look on her face.

"Not exactly," She bent down and put a small bag onto the table. The bag was untied allowing its contents to be taken out. "I've brought some papers my mother has written with her offer. I also have proof of what we've done for other noble women."

Leila held her hand out and the woman passed over a pile of papers. She moved her plate out of the way to give them a quick read. The first page was a handwritten letter from who she assumed was the woman's mother. The writing was messy but she could make out most of what it said.

The older woman spent her life seeing how women in her community were mistreated. They were withheld opportunities their brothers and fathers had that could improve their lives. Many low-class women were barred from attending school past a certain age. And when these barriers were finally brought to light, the women were silenced.

The old woman was filled with rage at the injustice she was surrounded by. As a middle-class young lady, she had a better chance than others. She went to college and got a degree to teach impoverished ladies desperate for help. After five years of teaching at a local school, she managed to convince her aunt to lend a hand.

She was given a loan to open her academy for teenage girls. This academy taught them how to manage money, sew clothing, and read complex books. Leila was shown old photos of the school and the students she taught for free. Eventually, the school got noticed by a local church which helped it to grow into a shelter.

"It took your mother five years to profit from her first venture," The teenager commented with interest. The business looked stable in its current state. "I assume my involvement will make that happen quicker, correct?"

The Fontaine representative nodded her head. "Yes, my mother believes your stamp of approval will interest women from your background into seeking help ."

"I see. What is your success rate with getting women of my status to cooperate?" The embarrassed look on the woman's face answered her question. She doubted a woman who had a reputation to uphold would publicly seek help.

"Most noblewomen find my mother's organization humiliating. But with your experience and influence, we believe that can change." The woman's determination endeared the teenager. From what the documents said, her entire household put their livelihoods on the line to make this dream happen.

"I want to look over these documents before making a decision. Is that alright with you, miss…" Leila realized she had never asked the woman's name.

"It's Melissa ma'am and of course, you can," Melissa Fontaine put a hand over her chest and bowed her head. Her shoulders were shaking along with her voice. "I am honored you took the time to hear my offer."

"Your offer is very noble. I'd be honored to learn more about this sometime soon." The teenager could tell other guests were getting impatient. She hurried to end the discussion while remaining respectful. The woman didn't seem bothered by it, smiling at the acknowledgment she had been given.

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She gave the documents to a server to bring to her bedroom. Another guest had started speaking, one of the twins. He described the positive influences her father had on his business and thanked the man. Her father laughed and his tone shifted from authoritative to friendly.

The two men talked with one another like old friends. After a while the teenager found herself drifting off. She wasn't interested in whatever they were talking about. It was a lot of reminiscing on events neither she nor Cleo was around to partake in. There was a lot on her mind and she'd rather eat than engage with them.

The servers had taken their old plates during her discussion and replaced them. Leila was given a meal that was billowing with steam. On her plate was a neat pile of noodles drenched in soy sauce. Some broccoli was buried under the pile of pasta. Her fork twirled around it like a knife going through butter and she took a bite.

The sauce had a salty flavor that worked perfectly with the noodles. Every inch of the pasta was covered in it, masking any oils. The broccoli had the ends cut off so she ate each piece without any hard bits of the plant sticking out. She wished there was more while eating and moved on to what was next. Besides the pasta was a small bowl. The bowl was so hot that the heat masked whatever was in it. As she ate, the bowl cooled down and she took a look.

The bowl contained a thick broth that was the color red. It bubbled as she leaned down, moving her hair out of the way. She smelled the broth and was taken aback. It was incredibly spicy but also sour. She grabbed a spoon and dipped it in. It was a lot wider than any utensil she had used before, scooping up plenty of the soup's contents with ease. When she brought the spoon up she noticed something large and chunky inside the broth.

There were white slices of tofu swimming around along with pepper flakes. She was hesitant to eat it all at once and instead sipped at the spoon's side. Unlike the pasta, the flavor wasn't as balanced. The spiciness of the pepper flakes assaulted her taste buds. The teen couldn't decide if the flavor or the spice was the one overpowering her mouth. Only when she ate the rest did the heat calm down, being masked by the flavor of tofu. The tofu itself was cooked perfectly compared to everything else.

Someone tapped her shoulder after she swallowed her second bite. "Hm?"

It was a guest she hadn’t paid attention to. It was a man who looked like he was in his fifties. He wore a long, aquamarine robe that stopped midway down his arms. The rest of the way down were gold bracelets. There was a permanent smile on his face as he spoke. "Ma'am, did you like the soup? It's sweet and sour."

Leila blinked and realized she had heard of this soup before. Takeout places near her school served it during the winter. "I think so. I've never actually had the chance to have it before. I have to admit the spiciness surprised me."

The old nodded and responded in a voice that reminded her of a lullaby. "You get used to the taste eventually. In my village, we eat it for breakfast often." She noticed he had finished his soup already and hadn't bothered to touch his pasta.

"What village do you come from?" She asked and the man looked delighted at her question.

"I live in a small village by the mountainside. We farm the rare fruits from its landscape and use them to dye our clothing," He gestured to his robe. "And once we are done we sell it in the capital of our neighboring city."

“Wow. Your dyes must be very powerful, that’s a gorgeous robe.” She wondered if she could receive some of that dye herself. It was too beautiful, she could see multiple shades in the fabric. Maybe they could do some sort of trade with Cleo’s skillset.

The old man's face wrinkled as he smiled even wider. The teenager was stumped about how that was even possible. "Thank you, ma'am, it's an honor someone like you found beauty in these old rags."

She was taken aback, moving backward unconsciously at such a comment. "What? You have to give yourself credit, sir. Your village's work is truly one of a kind."

"You're very kind ma'am," The old man moved to hand her something. Curiously she accepted it and saw it was a small vial. The vial itself felt like porcelain between her fingers. "Here. This is one of the dyes we've made."

Leila shook the vial a bit and watched the colors shift inside. The purple dye moved into becoming a mixture of violet and blue. "How much do I owe you?" She knew something like this was worthwhile. It reminded her of watercolors she would play with as an elementary schooler.

The man shook his head and put a hand on his chest. "It's free ma'am. Just knowing someone of your likeness can appreciate our hard work is enough payment."