That Kimchi Was Seasoned and Prepared by Sir Lucas
That Kimchi Was Seasoned and Prepared by Sir Lucas
Croselia, the imperial capital, was the most prosperous and magnificent city on the continent.
It was the political, economic, and magical heart of the empire—the most powerful nation on the continent.
All roads on the continent passed through Croselia, and so did all culture.
A city that never slept.
At night the capital blazed as bright as day, making it impossible to guess just how much power the empire truly held.
Legend said that the land, once nothing but mountains and desert, had been transformed into fertile green by the first emperor and the mages who served him, and that legend drew in those who had nothing to their names.
Everyone who dreamed of success made their way to Croselia, and the talents who gathered there made the empire stronger still.
Even nations that held no love for the empire conceded the scale of Croselia.
The wealthiest nation.
The richest city.
Those were the words that defined the empire and Croselia.
And at its heart stood Crosel, the grandest palace of all.
Within it, the Rose Palace—a place of understated elegance—was the residence of the imperial princess.
Princess Diana sat in that palace, reviewing the documents that had been sent up to her.
Her hair was bound neatly, and splendid ornaments adorned her head.
The brightest of them all was a thin golden crown studded with jade-green gems.
The crown marking her as imperial princess gleamed, but what drew the eye even more was her silver hair.
Among connoisseurs it was likened to a silver lake dancing under moonlight—her beautiful silver hair shone all the more vividly against her crimson eyes.
Those crimson eyes, half-lidded with boredom, moved down the documents.
- Report on the commercial viability of the Glendon region.
- Investigative report on regional disparities following the Eastern War.
- Efficiency assessment of military weapons and magical artillery.
- Report on recent magical fluctuations at the Mage Tower.
- Shifts in culinary trends spreading among the nobility.
The empire's economy, military, cultural fashions, even magic—reports of every kind reached her.
It was not unusual for her to receive such a volume of imperial business before she had even become empress.
The empire's direct imperial heirs were often given copies of the documents the emperor received in order to test how well they could handle the practical affairs of state before ascending the throne.
The entire system was designed so that how they resolved matters—and what they said while doing so—would be reported back to the current emperor.
The other direct heirs, including the First Prince, received the same copies, reviewed them, and made their own decisions.
Being an imperial princess did not exempt her from this.
The empire held that ability alone determined who was fit to become emperor.
"Haah, how tedious."
Princess Diana let out a sigh.
It was all so predictable.
Reading the analyses of experts in each field and deciding whether they were correct was not a particularly difficult task.
Whether proper investigation had been conducted, whether the reports contained any flaws—
that was easy enough for her.
"Approve this one. Reject this. This plan seems reasonable. And this... I'll have it held in abeyance."
Diana stamped the documents before her.
Reports that seemed fit to proceed received her personal seal, marking the imperial princess's approval.
Plans that were not without merit but carried uncertain feasibility she marked with a V, indicating they were to be held.
Reports that were baseless or spun outrageous falsehoods received an X and were rejected outright.
"Chancellor, how did His Majesty say he would handle this matter?"
Diana addressed Chancellor Bonpleo, who had brought her the documents.
After stamping the papers, it was customary to question the official who had delivered them.
It was a kind of grading session—a check to see how closely her own decisions aligned with those of the reigning emperor.
"His Majesty said he would leave it to Your Highness's judgment."
"His Majesty did?"
"I believe His Majesty thinks highly of Your Highness's situational judgment."
"I wonder. He is such an inscrutable man. He likely said much the same to my brothers."
"I would not presume to know."
Having finished her review, Diana handed the documents to Andy, who stood beside her.
"Chancellor, convey this to His Majesty. Tell him these are the decisions I have made."
"Understood, Your Highness."
Chancellor Bonpleo received the documents through Andy, bowed his head, and withdrew.
She watched his retreating back.
A man of wealthy merchant stock who had risen to the chancellorship on the strength of his administrative competence alone, surpassing many powerful houses.
'I like his eyes.'
Even when their gazes had met, his eyes had not wavered in the slightest. She liked that.
A man of fortitude and principle.
She liked that he had the nerve to probe her, too.
'He'll be checking to see whether I'm aiming for the throne.'
Not everyone could muster that kind of boldness.
Whether he was acting on His Majesty's orders or on his own volition.
The man who stood at the center of the new faction and led the palace officials.
He was someone she absolutely had to recruit if she was to become empress.
Most of the nobility supported her older brother, the First Prince Zenon.
She had her own backers, but they were pitifully few compared to those who followed Zenon.
'A man I must make my own, but that also makes him dangerous.'
For someone like her, who lacked power, her options were limited.
'There was one other person with eyes like that.'
Princess Diana thought of the knight who had left the knight order a few months ago—Lucas.
The first knight she had ever invested after coming of age.
A man who, rather than pursuing knighthood, had volunteered to serve as a cook knight on the grounds that cooking suited his hands better.
A man who had said he was going back home, and had returned to his homeland.
'There's no need to forcibly hold onto someone who's already gone.'
A single knight was hardly of great importance to her in her current position.
Growl.
Her biological clock sounded.
It was already lunchtime.
"Andy, I'm hungry."
"I have been informed that the chef has prepared the meal. Lunch will be served shortly."
"How is the chef, come to think of it? Any complaints?"
"No, Your Highness. He says he is personally experiencing the honor of serving you."
"I heard he was a man of some skill."
"Yes, Your Highness. He is the winner of the cooking competition hosted by His Majesty the Emperor."
"... Tch. They're all much of a muchness."
Princess Diana sighed.
"Still, he's worse than Lucas. Can't handle three hundred servings on his own."
She remembered the man she had hired as her personal chef after he won the competition.
- Five hundred servings, by myself? Th-that's an absurd quantity. You'd have to assign me at least ten more people...
They had provided him with more staff, but he still grumbled.
She had even generously indulged his little complaints.
So long as it did not harm her authority, one had to know how to look after others with magnanimity.
Was magnanimity not the most important virtue of a ruler?
But lately, he'd been getting arrogant.
'Keeps overstepping.'
Something about him getting on her nerves rankled.
She had shown him reasonable consideration—the cooking ought to have been worthy of it.
"I will issue a warning."
Andy, reading Diana's expression, bowed her head.
"Leave him be. A wise ruler must know how to accept the grievances of those beneath her. That is what the late emperor taught, is it not?"
Diana rose from her seat.
"Let us go to the dining hall. I have no wish to eat at my desk."
"I will escort you, Your Highness."
"Good."
As she walked with Andy toward the Rose Palace dining hall, Diana mused.
'Andy has been treading carefully around me a great deal lately.'
Her stress had been mounting for some time now.
The smallest irritations stirred unwarranted anger and set her nerves on edge.
The moments when her head felt clogged and sluggish had grown more frequent.
Her thoughts no longer turned quickly; sometimes they caught, tangled.
It felt as if the blood in her skull had congealed—a hard, unyielding blockage—and the sensation was deeply unpleasant.
It was not due to the monthly magical cycle.
This had been happening more and more often of late.
Today was no exception.
Going over the documents, she had felt anger surge up through the tedium.
The urge to throw everything aside and simply quit slithered insidiously in.
She had never felt that way before. How to put it—
A compulsion to act impulsively, perhaps.
The desire to tear the documents to shreds and hurl them at the chancellor crept and coiled inside her.
'Could it be from lack of sleep...?'
She could not identify the cause, but one thing was certain.
At mealtimes—and only at mealtimes—those impulses subsided, quiet and still.
That was why she looked forward to every meal.
"Today's meal is once again Your Highness's favorite, Kimchi stew."
It was the same Kimchi stew she had eaten for lunch every day.
Lucas had departed months ago, but her routine had not changed.
The satisfaction she felt in the moment of eating that spicy Kimchi stew was one of the few diversions that soothed her through the tedium of palace life.
Ordinarily, the aroma of Kimchi stew would have brought a smile to her lips the moment she entered the dining hall. Today, it did not.
'What is this?'
She gazed down at the Kimchi stew bubbling away in an imperial-style pot.
Something was different today.
It was unmistakably the same Kimchi stew.
The same Kimchi stew with its striking medley of red broth, Pog meat, and kimchi made from thoroughly softened cabbage.
In appearance it was no different from usual—but the scent was not the same.
Diana lifted her spoon and tasted the broth.
That was when she understood.
The source of the dissonance she had felt.
"This is flavorless."
Clink.
"P-pardon? Th-that cannot be... I selected the finest ingredients and prepared it with the utmost care..."
At the sight of the chef making excuses, fury flared in her in an instant.
This hour was one of the few times she could relieve her stress.
The single hour that washed away the unbearable stress of the daily drudgery, the inexplicable headaches, and the suffocating pressure that felt as if her head were crammed full and sealed shut.
This incompetent chef had stolen it from her.
"What is your name?"
"Kaleng, Your Highness."
"Kaleng. Are you suggesting my palate is at fault?"
"Th-that is not what I meant..."
Diana, watching Kaleng stammer and avoid her eyes, released another sigh.
"The flavor of the broth has changed. The taste I loved is absent. Did something change during the cooking process?"
"D-during the cooking process, Your Highness?"
"Yes."
"That is..."
"Speak quickly. My patience is not wide."
The flustered chef Kaleng forced himself to speak.
"The cook knight who left behind the recipe—the kimchi that he personally made has run out. So I prepared the kimchi myself according to the recipe and used it to make this Kimchi stew."
"Sir Lucas left kimchi behind?"
"Yes, th-that is correct. What Your Highness has been eating up until now was jjigae made using the kimchi he left..."
Diana felt a throb in her temples.
She had thought it was a shame that Lucas—so skilled and memorable—had left, but she had believed the newly appointed chef and his staff were filling his absence well enough.
And it had not been true?
Diana's mind worked rapidly.
She realized that the reason she had been able to relieve her stress through her meals all this time was not simply because she liked Kimchi stew.
It had been because it was Lucas's Kimchi stew.
'Is there something special about Sir Lucas's cooking?'
But she had no way to know anything about cooking.
"Kaleng."
"Y-yes! Your Highness."
"What do you believe is the difference between Sir Lucas's kimchi and yours?"
"Th-that is... I am not entirely..."
"Incompetent."
"P-please put me to death! Your Highness!"
Diana, watching Kaleng prostrate himself and tremble, sighed and turned to Andy.
"Andy."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Where did you say Lucas's homeland is?"
"The Lorant region in the northwest of the empire, I was told. He comes from a fallen house, so I understand he holds no territory."
"Send word. Tell him I am looking for him."
"Understood."
Andy bowed her head.
"And Kaleng."
"Yes, Y-Your Highness!"
"From now on, serve the dishes you yourself specialize in—not Sir Lucas's cuisine. Half-hearted imitations will only ruin my palate."
"I-I will bear that in mind."
Princess Diana rose from her seat as she finished speaking.
"Consider today's lunch already eaten."
"Th-thank you, Your Highness."
Diana sighed and strode out of the dining hall.
Growl.
Her stomach was empty, but it could not be helped.
She had no intention of filling herself with a clumsy counterfeit.
***
"Achoo!"
Brrr. What was that?
Felt a sudden chill run through me.
"Are you all right, boss?"
"It's been days since we started work. When are you gonna get used to speaking casually?"
"I'll handle it on my own."
I was bickering with Andrea and getting things ready before opening—
Jingle.
The door swung open with the chime of the bell.
"E-excuse me."
A blue-haired young lady in a splendid dress stepped carefully inside.
A regular customer who always comes looking for fish dishes.
"... Huh? Who is this...?"
She pointed at Andrea and asked.