Chapter 25: The Prince and His Servant│Read translated stories and daily updates at: Awebstories.com
“Your Highness, I visited the farm that the chef told me about—here’s your nekta.”
“Welcome back. Oh, this is it. So, let’s get started. Huh? Gill, you have a pleasant odor around you.
“Really? What is that odor?”
For a moment, Gil looked away from the prince and blurted out.
“You…Did you stop by and eat while you were at work? I’m going to have to cut your salary.”
“Please don’t! That is not true! I went to that place when they were making lunch…”
“So, you made your lord wait for lunch—that’s it, salary cut.”
“That’s not true!”
Prince Mark laughed and took a bite of the fruit.
(Oh, this tastes exactly like…)
The juice in his mouth is both refreshingly sour and richly sweet. The pulp contains fine fibers but is infinitely soft.
Gil keeps his eyes closed, mumbling to himself (Nekta. From someone who grew up on the most opulent cuisine.) He chuckles.
So? What did you eat?”
“They were making something called “petite”
“Petite? Are they from another country?”
“They didn’t appear foreign. They were freshly fried, hot, and delicious.”
“Hmm. Salary cut”
Mark considered this as he bit into the second nekta.
“Pe” means small in the language of the other side of the sea, and “tite(tyu)” means treasure chest.
(Hot petites. I haven’t had it yet. I can’t wait to try it.)
“The girl said that she had never made it before and had only read about it in books.”
“Yes. They’re just kids in the kitchen. Both of them are going to be stunning in the future. One is wise, while the other is fairy-like. The wise one lives on the farm, and the fairy-like one has recently visited.”
When Mark sees Gil’s face, he makes a teasing expression.
“So, you were eating a beautiful girl’s homemade meal while I, the lord, was sweating through the papers?”
Gil suppressed his laughter and continued speaking.
“The petits were so good that I ate two of them as recommended, and the water I drank afterwards tasted even better. I thought I’d like to live there.”
In response to Mark’s question, Gil’s face became solemn.
“The water tasted just as good as the rainwater from the barrels we drank at the mysterious farm. They used to collect the rainwater from the gutters and store it in barrels, just like at that farm.”
“…Are you going to interrogate them?”
There was a brief pause before Mark responded.
“That area was surveyed a long time ago, and there is no water source. Interrogation is usually unnecessary because they are not concealing the source of the water. There is no reason to question them because it is raining outside the residential areas and around the royal palace. But I’m curious.”
Gil looks restless.
“It’s a well-maintained and prosperous farm. It doesn’t look like a place where bad people gather.”
“That is true. No decent farmer can be a bad person who takes the easy way out to make a profit. It’s a job that requires you to work with crops all day. They’re most likely serious people… Fresh petites. Was it really that good?”
“Gil, go to the kitchen and tell them to make the petites right now. You go explain what a petite is to the chef if he doesn’t know.”
Gil walks away, muttering, and Mark returns to his thoughts.
(I suppose I should go find out what kind of people they are. Hopefully, we will discover the rain’s secret. I’m curious if a wizard is involved. If a wizard is born, the state is supposed to be notified. Don’t people realize that when my grandfather became king, a system of privileging wizards was established?)
The chef was on a rampage in the kitchen.
Gil, whose vocabulary is limited, is forced to explain the petite to the chef, whom he has never tasted before.
“Tonight? His Highness requested that it be served tonight?”
“Yeah. I believe he means he wants it right now.”
“Mmm. So it looks like a potato on the outside? Crispy on the outside? Perhaps bread crumbs. I’m curious about what’s keeping the potatoes together. Chicken and vegetables included? Sweet and savory with a hint of heat?”
“Yes. and it had been fried in oil.”
“You ate it, right?”
“Yeah, It was really good.”
The head chef, Senesch, wrinkled his brow and began to cook.
When Gil got a taste of the petite that was made a little later, Senesch nodded his head and said.
“It’s different, isn’t it? What’s the distinction?”
“The oil had a pleasant aroma.”
“Is this it?”
He took a whiff of the oil in the container.
“Oh, it smells exactly like that.”
“That’s coconut oil! You should have told me earlier.”
“I can’t tell the difference between the oils!”
Gil is much more important than the head chef, but he is used to this kind of reaction since he started working as the prince’s bodyguard.
The prince, whom he looked after like a little brother from a young age, always faced his challenges with sincerity. His studies, swordsmanship, physical training, and demeanor. For him, the work was never-ending, and the challenges were never-ending.
(I’m willing to endure a sigh or two for the sake of the Lord.) It’s worth it if it makes him happy.)
“How about right now?”
(The odor was the same. The crunchiness is the same. But something isn’t right.)
The chef half-cries when he sees Gil brooding.
“Hm…It’s the same but not the same…”
“No, it’s fine. Please give it to me…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll take responsibility.”
That evening, the royal family’s five members had their first taste of petite. Petite was a common food in other countries, but it was the first time the entire royal family had eaten it.
Mark’s parents were overjoyed, and his younger siblings ate their second and third helpings in silence. The lamb main course has not gone down well. This would break the chef’s heart.
Mark remembers Gil’s words as he watches his family eat their petites with relish.
[On the farm, the vegetables and chicken tasted better than they did in the market.]
“I see. I’d like to try it, too.”
(I wonder if they know how to make it rain. But why did they give up on that farm? I guess I should go see these people for myself before I have to conduct a formal investigation and they try to flee.)
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