Chapter 3
A few days had passed since Pierre, the Duilstar County's baker, had departed.
“Hanila, when kneading the dough, use the base of your palm… you know, the heel of your hand. Push it forward like this.”
“Th-the heel of the hand?”
“Yeah, this part here.”
“Hoeek!! The young master touched my hand!!”
“…….”
Hanila's reaction was way over the top, probably because a noble like me was teaching her the finer points up close. Well, it was like the boss's son personally training an intern at the company. Still, she had enthusiasm and wasn't totally clueless, so she was picking things up fast. The bread's reputation had even improved after that baker Pierre left.
But this isn't enough.
To make better bread—tastier bread—we still needed way too much. A superior oven, wheat with higher gluten content, pricey dessert ingredients like sugar or honey. So many essentials that my head throbbed just figuring out where to start. In times like these, the words of ancient sages were the best guide.
-Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated.
Let's assess our family's situation first.
The Duilstar Count family was positioned in the empire's south, centered around the capital. The monster-filled Great Forest lay to the south, bringing heavy monster damage. The silver lining was the Auguste Duchy to the east, which lightened the load somewhat. For reference, our Duilstar Count family was a vassal to the Auguste Duchy—like the emperor's empire at the top, the Auguste Duchy below it, and us at the bottom.
My fiancée Blansien needs some thought too... but table that for now.
The key was the Kandarabe Volcano to the west.
Volcanic ash blankets the area, making it prime farmland.
The Great Forest monsters to the south were a pain, but set that aside and the environment was ideal. If I put my baking department knowledge to full use...
Couldn't I boost wheat production?
While lost in those thoughts, someone approached.
“Taylor, I never imagined you'd do something so praiseworthy.”
“...Mother? What brings you here?”
“I heard my son was hard at work, so I came to see.”
“It's nothing special.”
“Don't be so gruff about it.”
The Countess—Taylor's mother—patted my shoulder. She clearly approved of the improved bread too, her reaction warm. Naturally, word of my showdown with Pierre had reached her ages ago.
In a way, she's part of why Taylor turned out so wild.
My gaze toward her was unavoidably complicated.
Countess Servienne von Duilstar was the classic doting parent who said yes to everything. Raised under that unconditional affirmation, Taylor grew arrogant and untamed. And if there was one more contributor to that personality...
“Your father will be thrilled when he gets back.”
“...When did Father say he'd arrive?”
“Subjugations usually take a week, so any day now.”
“I... see.”
Mid-conversation, my jaw trembled, words stumbling. Not my memories—Taylor's—had tensed my body. The swordmaster from childhood, Count Duilstar. Unlike his indulgent wife, he'd been harsh on his eldest son Taylor. Harsh enough to crush his spirit... verbal abuse was standard fare. Especially with his genius little sister's talent in the mix.
Whatever. Doesn't concern me now.
My body went rigid at the mention of Father, but that was Taylor's baggage. Nothing to do with me.
Then the steward approached from afar.
“The Count has completed the subjugation and is en route.”
“My dear's here! Son, come on, let's go greet him.”
“...Me too? He hates the sight of me.”
“It'll be fine with me there. Hurry up.”
I couldn't resist Mother's nudge and stepped out the mansion's main gate. Far off, horses approached with knights astride. Leading them was a stern-faced middle-aged man in armor. Blonde like Taylor—Count Duilstar himself.
“Dear, you must be exhausted from the subjugation.”
“Ah... took longer than expected. Those monsters were vicious. But why'd you drag that one along?”
Father dismounted, his gaze locking on me. Not a father's look—an archenemy's glare. My body froze, but I forced a grin.
“Can't a son welcome his father after subjugation?”
“Hah, what nonsense. Money run out already?”
“…….”
“As if I wouldn't see through your scheme to sneak off to some shady gathering.”
Thud. He shoved my shoulder and strode past. No clue how deep his grudge ran. Mother gave my shoulder a sympathetic pat, then hurried after him. I watched their retreating figures in silence.
“...Hmm, not gonna be easy.”
I'd hoped to share tips on better, more efficient wheat production. But the vibe screamed it'd end in disaster if I tried.
Pondering, I headed to the kitchen.
Capture the stomach first.
The way to a man's heart—or mood—is through his belly. Good food lifts spirits, and high spirits make favors easier.
A chill silence hung in the Duilstar County office. Count Theodor von Duilstar gripped his quill tighter, eyes fixed on the documents.
“I need a break.”
Alone, he muttered like a sigh.
They'd managed to subjugate the monsters that escaped the Great Forest this time... but hungry beasts had ravaged the serfs' wheat fields. The granary held some reserves, but surviving the year was iffy. Add the subjugation force's costs, and his head pounded.
If only his kids could pitch in... His son wasted time gallivanting, and his sharp daughter was too young for territory duties.
Wishing for wheat or gold to magically appear—
Knock knock.
“It's maid Rina.”
“Enter.”
Rina entered, but he didn't look up. It was the routine periodic report.
“Is Taylor gearing up to head out again?”
Taylor's personal maid Rina reported his every move weekly. So the Count assumed more foolery.
“No, young master showed no signs of leaving. He hasn't asked the Countess for spending money either.”
Rina kept her eyes down, answering curtly. A twisted smile tugged Theodor's lips. The quill scraped harshly across the paper.
“Hilarious. A dog might quit shitting, but Taylor? Recovered and raring to roam. When will he shape up? Tsk tsk...”
Normally, Rina would've nodded silently. To her, Taylor was the brute who'd kidnapped her from her village and forced her into a maid's uniform.
But that kitchen scene days ago lingered. Serious hands with flour, captivating words, changed eyes. And he'd grabbed commoner Hanila, teaching her fervently for days.
Rina swallowed hard.
“......No, sir.”
“Then what'd the wastrel do?”
“The young master is baking bread in the kitchen.”
“What?”
Snap. The quill broke.
Theodor finally looked at Rina. Shock and fury warred in his eyes.
“Bread? Out of nowhere? Learned the cost of ingredients, has he?”
“I wouldn't know, sir.”
“Hah.”
Theodor barked a disbelieving laugh. He jammed the broken quill in the inkwell and leaned back.
“Absurd. What does he know of bread? Thinks eating it means he can bake it?”
“That's not all. He clashed with Pierre the baker from the Auguste Duchy and held a baking contest.”
Bang!
Theodor slammed the desk. The inkwell rattled, splattering ink on the floor.
“Madness! A count's heir dueling a lowly baker? A contest he's bound to lose? Disgracing me!”
His brow creased deeply. He seemed ready to storm the kitchen and thrash his son.
Rina pressed on, voice quavering.
“......Young master won that contest.”
“What?”
Theodor's eyes darted wildly, doubting reality.
“Defeated Pierre packed up and left. Now young master personally teaches an apprentice.”
“......”
“For reference, it was a fair match—no dictating recipes, judged purely on taste.”
Rina's words sliced through his skepticism. Theodor fell silent, long and heavy. He rubbed his face dry and murmured low.
“Crushed him with rank? Forced surrender? Blackmail?”
“No, sir. I tasted it myself... it was delicious.”
Rina recalled the flavor. Resentment lingered for the Taylor who'd enslaved her as maid. Yet that taste eclipsed it instantly. Crispy-not-crunchy crust, chewy-not-tough crumb. Fit for heaven's angels' feast.
Theodor's gaze sharpened at her conviction. Suspicion burned clear.
“Enough. He probably bought your silence too. Sly tongue on that one.”
“Count, no—that's not—”
“I said no.”
He rose, peering out the window. Kitchen smoke curled into view.
“Serve that bread he made at lunch. Summon him to the dining hall too.”
Coldly:
“I'll judge it myself. The bread my wastrel son claims to have baked.”
“...Understood, sir.”
Rina bowed and exited.
What face would the Count make tasting that bread? Even Rina couldn't fathom it.