Your Honorable Chef (11)
After the long, drawn-out ceremony speech finally wrapped up, it was time for the groom and bride to exchange vows. But the wedding hall's atmosphere had already gone completely off the rails well before that. The count's son, unable to wait for the officiant to finish, had reached down and started groping Francois's ass like mad.
"Heh heh heh... Wife's ass... wanna bury my face in it..."
Yet no one dared intervene—no one had the guts to tell the count's son to knock it off or they'd chop off his filthy hands. Even if he was a total idiot fuckwit, he was still the son of Count Einert, who ruled these lands. In this era, bloodline mattered more than talent or character.
Francois kept slapping his wrists away, but eventually gave up and squeezed her eyes shut. The heat was unbearable, and the count's son's stench was so foul it felt like it could snap her nose right off. She wouldn't have been surprised if she just collapsed on the spot, so all she could do was pray this farce of a wedding ended quickly.
"Do you, the groom, take this bride in sickness and in health..."
"Yeah, yeah, just wrap it up already... Gonna fuck my wife, heh heh hehng..."
The officiant faltered at the shameless remark, mouth flapping open and shut like a fish. The baron shot him a glare like laser beams, and the man hurriedly turned to Francois.
"Th-the bride... do you take the groom..."
Francois wasn't even listening anymore. Sweat dripping from her brows kept her from opening her eyes properly, so she just counted numbers in her head to endure. Her head throbbed so badly she felt like she might pass out right there.
"...and swear to love eternally?"
Under normal circumstances, Francois was supposed to blush shyly and say "I do." But she said nothing.
The officiant was sweating bullets now, not from the heat but sheer embarrassment. A deranged groom and now a bride refusing vows—what a disaster.
"Uh... does the bride swear...?"
"Answer him already!"
The baron couldn't hold back anymore, leaping from his chair with a bellow. But his shout was swallowed by a far louder boom.
Everyone jolted to their feet at the deafening crash, whipping around. The massive double wooden gates of the castle exploded outward in a tail of dust, spinning high into the sky.
The stunned crowd gawked as the gates vanished briefly into the sun before arcing back down.
"Everyone, take cover!!"
Screams erupted as people scattered. Chairs toppled amid the chaos of shoving bodies. The gates slammed down onto the crowd below, cutting off the screams in an instant.
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!!
The alarm bells from the castle's watchtower finally rang out—bells that only tolled for enemy attacks.
As gravel and debris rained down like hail, every soldier in the castle rushed toward the gates.
"Eeeek!"
The count's son lost all reason, cowering behind Francois and grabbing her arms like a shield.
The baron and his wife were crawling on all fours toward the castle.
Seeing that snapped Francois out of her daze. The count's domain has fallen too...!
She stomped down hard on the count's son's instep with her high heel.
"Ow heh heh eek! It hurts! Hurts!"
Even wailing in pain, he wouldn't let go of her dress.
"Let go, you pig bastard!"
Francois kicked off one heel and swung it like a pickaxe at his head. Blood streamed from his scalp as he toppled backward on his ass—but still clutched her dress, ripping the hem up her thigh.
She tore off the trailing fabric, ditched both heels, and stomped his grasping face barefooted. The disgusting creep seized her ankle and sniffed it, licking her sole.
"Wife's foot smell..."
"Eek!"
She wrenched free with a kick. Blood gushed from his nose after repeated stomps.
She spun around just as another explosion rocked the gates, hurling dozens of soldiers back into the castle. They sailed in high arcs before smashing into the ground or walls, vomiting blood.
Dust clouds billowed from the blast, engulfing the wedding hall in choking fog. Visibility zeroed out; people stumbled blindly, crashing into each other or crawling on the ground.
"Where are my retainers?! Get me out of here!"
The baron's voice echoed from somewhere unseen.
Francois crouched low, waiting for the dust to settle. No clue what was attacking or where anything was—moving rashly was suicide.
"Stay back! Help!"
"My arm!"
"Run! Drop your weapons and run!"
Horrific cries kept coming from beyond the haze.
For self-defense, Francois snatched a long candlestick from the podium with trembling hands.
"Francois!"
"Kyaaak!"
Something burst from the dust. Without looking, she screamed and swung the candlestick down.
The dust-caked baron took it square on the head, groaning as he doubled over.
"Urk...! What the hell?!"
"Oh my! Have you lost your mind?! Drop that now!"
The baroness, right behind him, glared venomously.
The baron clutched his bleeding head and roared.
"Where's the count's son?! If anything happens to him, we're done for! Find him now!"
"Get a grip! An attack reaching here means the count's domain has fallen!"
"You think a noble like the count goes down easy?! Count Einert's surely fine! We have to protect his son!"
A lowlife who'd stolen his title through dirty tricks, forever preening beyond his station and exploiting everyone around him—Francois wanted nothing to do with the baron's ravings.
He spotted the count's son huddled behind her and rushed over.
"Are you alright, young master? Your head... but rest easy."
"Heh erk... wanna suck wife's tits... so thirsty..."
The baroness shoved Francois's back roughly.
"What are you waiting for?"
Francois finally snapped. "Fuck off!"
"Goddamn, did some bitch shove a quarrel up your asses?!"
The baron and baroness gaped at her, dumbfounded. Even Francois froze at her own words.
Sure, she was in a torn dress clutching a bloody candlestick now, but she was noble-born. Her refined features and poise screamed aristocracy to anyone. For her to spout gutter trash like some worn-out market laborer...
"Apologies for the rudeness on this joyous day."
A man's cool voice shattered the silence. Everyone whipped toward it.
A tall, black-haired man brushed dust from his hand, eyeing them. A gorgeously ornate sword hung at his waist—fit for any great noble house's heirloom.
"W-whoever you are, help us! I'll reward you properly!"
The baron demanded aid without even checking who he was.
The man glanced at him. "Baron Audrion, by any chance?"
"Yes! That's me, Baron Audrion!"
The man scanned the baron, the baroness, the bloated count's son sprawled in his bursting finery, and Francois in her rags of a dress.
"One question first."
"This isn't the time for chit-chat!"
"Did you really think your plan to strangle Rosens would work?"
The baron's retort died in his throat. His face drained white, lips quivering.
"You... who the hell are you..."
"The owner of the Rosens inn you assholes nearly ruined my business."
His sword flashed out at invisible speed.
"Gasp..."
The baron inhaled sharply, standing frozen. Then his torso slowly slid diagonally downward. His upper and lower halves separated along the clean slash from collarbone to waist.
The baroness shrieked as she saw it, her scream cut short as her head sailed off and rolled away.
Francois's legs gave out at the sight of two corpses in seconds; she collapsed.
The man glanced at her, then approached the count's son.
"Spare me... spare me..."
"Blame your parents."
The sword gleamed. The count's son's head tumbled toward Francois's knees.
"Hiiik...!"
The man sighed at the lone survivor. "What a mess right after your wedding. I'm about to wreck this castle, so if you don't wanna get crushed, run."
He'd mistaken the count's son for the baron's and Francois for the bride joining their house—makes sense, since weddings were usually at the groom's family estate.
"Gotta rescue the head chef too, tons of shit to do, and here I am dealing with this crap. Tch."
He grumbled as he vanished into the thick dust.
His words jolted Francois alert. "W-wait... hold on... just a second!"