Chapter 760: These Girls Can’t Cook [Bonus - ]

Chapter 760: These Girls Can’t Cook [Bonus Chapter]

Silas turned his head, looking over at Aki with an easy relaxed smile while Ther’Abella continued to squirm and grumble against his shoulder blades.

"Tell you what," Silas said, stepping toward the kitchen corridor. "Since your girls in the barracks have already eaten their rations, and I’m already over here delivering your building supplies, how about I help you out and cook something for your household tonight?"

Aki’s azure eyes widened in pure sparkling wonder with her jaw dropping open. "You... you can cook, Silas? Real food?"

"I picked up a thing or two back in the Human World," Silas replied with a chuckle. "I’m not on Kaelia or Martha’s level, obviously but I know my way around a pantry, and I can definitely whip up something better than gray oat bricks and burned mystery lumps..."

"Oh, please!" Aki gasped, practically floating across the floorboards as she led the way toward the back. "Please do! We have plenty of raw provisions in the cold bins, we just didn’t know what to do with them!"

Silas carried his fuming passenger down the short hallway and stepped through the swinging pine doors into Aki’s kitchen.

The room was spacious and clean, clearly designed with the same pastel elegance as the rest of the Keep.

Pale cream-colored cabinets lined the walls, fitted with polished brass handles, and a wide central prep island carved from smooth white river-stone dominated the center of the floor.

’Rich... Even in the Sovereign Realm, huh?’

However, the air in the room was still thick with the acrid haze of Elowynn’s culinary attempt.

In the corner near the heavy iron cast stove sat a cast-iron skillet, still smoking on a low burner.

Resting in the center of the iron pan was the shriveled, blackened remains of what appeared to have once been a thick cut of prime beef, now reduced to something resembling a lump of volcanic basalt.

Silas walked over to the prep island, stopped beside a tall wooden stool, and reached behind his back.

He caught Ther’Abella by her belt, lifted her off his shoulder, and set her down firmly onto the cushioned stool.

PLOP!

"Sit there and behave, potato," Silas teased, tapping the wooden edge of the seat. "Watch a master at work, and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about survival... Over centuries old and you can’t boil an egg, heh."

Ther’Abella crossed her arms, turning her face sharply away from him with an indignant haughty sniff, though she stayed seated on the stool, rubbing the slight soreness in her hips with a quiet irritated scowl.

Silas rolled up the sleeves of his dark jacket past his forearms, stepping over to the deep pantry bins built beneath the prep counter.

He pulled open the heavy wooden doors and peered inside, whistling softly through his teeth as he examined the stored goods.

"You actually have some fantastic ingredients in here, Aki," Silas noted, picking up a large, unblemished yellow onion and inspecting its papery skin. "Fresh root tubers, mountain garlic, crisp sweet greens, and a whole crate of cold-stored poultry cuts in the ice cellar..."

Elowynn scurried over to the edge of the island, leaning over the stone with her chin propped in her hands, fluttering her eyelashes with desperate exaggerated reverence.

"I had great ambitions for those provisions, Lord Silas," Elowynn purred, her voice dripping with sweet flattery. "I envisioned a symphony of fire and spice that would awaken the primal passions of your soul... Alas, the stove possessed a treacherous, volatile spirit that refused to bow to my artistic vision."

Silas walked over to the stove, picked up a metal spatula, and poked the charred, rock-hard briquette in her skillet.

CLINK!

The burned meat made a sharp metallic ring against the iron... it was hard enough that it didn’t even crumble.

"You didn’t cook this, Elowynn," Silas laughed, tossing the spatula back onto the counter with a grin. "You forged a cannon projectile... If we load this into Solenne’s artillery tubes, we could probably punch through a fortress gate."

Aki covered her mouth, giggling softly into her sleeve, while Elowynn let out a tiny embarrassed whine, hiding her burning face behind her fingers.

"I’m discarding the evidence," Silas said, using a thick rag to lift the hot skillet off the burner and sliding the charred lump directly into the scrap waste chute set into the floor.

THUMP!

Silas wiped down the cutting board, grabbed a wide heavy butcher knife from the magnetic rack above the island, and began moving through the kitchen with smooth practiced efficiency.

He pulled three plump cloves of mountain garlic, peeled away the dry husks with a quick press of his thumb, and set them beneath the flat side of the heavy steel blade.

SMACK!

The garlic crushed cleanly, releasing a sharp, rich savory aroma that instantly began to overpower the bitter scent of burned charcoal.

Silas chopped the garlic into fine uniform mince with rapid strokes of the knife as his wrist rocked with a relaxed feeling.

CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!

Next came the yellow onions, Silas sliced down the center, peeling away the outer layers before the blade carved through the crisp flesh in tight clean lines, dropping translucent white crescents across the board.

He pulled two thick cuts of chilled poultry from the cold bin, washed them under clean running water, and began trimming the excess fat with smooth clean slices, cutting the meat into bite-sized tender cubes.

Ther’Abella watched him from the corner of her eye with her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

She tried to maintain her cold aloof sneer, but as the rhythmic metallic tempo of the knife echoed through the kitchen and the rich clean scent of crushed alliums and fresh poultry filled the air, her nostrils twitched against her will.

’He moves with the same casual precision he uses in combat,’ Ther’Abella observed silently, her sharp elven gaze tracking the fluid unhurried motion of his hands. ’There’s no wasted energy and no clumsy hesitation... For a human brute who carries himself like a vagrant warlord, his hands are remarkably gentle... Not that I like them, hmph.’

Silas set the knife down, wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, and reached for a heavy copper pot hanging from the rack.

He set it over the middle burner, adjusting the mana valve beneath the iron grate until a steady warm blue flame licked the bottom of the metal.

’Okay looking nice...’

Silas dropped a generous dollop of clean cooking butter into the pot, letting it melt into a frothy golden pool that hissed softly against the copper.

SIZZLE!

Silas scooped up the minced garlic and onions, sliding them off the cutting board directly into the bubbling butter.

A sudden intoxicating explosion of savory buttery fragrance erupted into the kitchen... The rich sweet warmth of caramelizing onions and sizzling garlic billowed upward, curling around the ceiling beams and filling every corner of the room with an irresistible comforting aroma that made Aki’s eyes widen in sheer delight.

"Oh, heavens," Aki breathed, taking a deep appreciative sniff of the steam, her stomach letting out a quiet traitorous rumble that made her blush. "That smells incredible already, Silas... It doesn’t smell like rations at all."

"That’s just the base aromatics," Silas smiled, stirring the pot with a long wooden spoon, letting the onions turn a soft translucent gold. "You have to build the foundation first, otherwise the meat just tastes flat. Good food takes a little patience you see."

While he worked, stirring the fragrant mixture and reaching for the bowl of cubed poultry on the counter, Silas glanced around the spacious kitchen.

Something suddenly struck him about the quiet atmosphere of the Keep.

He tossed the seasoned poultry into the bubbling copper pot, watching the golden edges brown in the butter.

SIZZLE!

Silas gave the wooden spoon an easy turn through the sizzling pan, then looked over his shoulder at Aki, leaning one elbow against the edge of the stone island.

"Speaking of the household," Silas said, looking around the remarkably quiet kitchen, "where’s Thor gotten off to?"

Aki leaned her hip against the side of the prep island, resting both of her elbows on the cool white stone as she watched the butter foam around the chicken cubes.

"She left yesterday afternoon," Aki said, her voice lilting with a sigh. "She went straight back to Asgard."

Silas paused, the wooden spoon slowing in his grip as the fragrant steam washed over his face.

He blinked down at the simmering copper pot, his dark blue eyes widening in mild surprise.

"Asgard?" Silas echoed, tilting his head. "She headed back home already?"

"She had to," Aki nodded, blowing a stray strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Someone came with an official golden writ, and apparently her presence was mandatory..."

Silas turned the poultry pieces over in the pan, watching the edges brown into a rich caramelized crust.

...Asgard.

Just hearing the name made a restless hum stir in the back of his mind. Knowing that the golden spires, the rainbow bridge and the mead halls actually existed out there was something else entirely.

He wondered what it actually looked like up close. Were the streets really paved with polished sunstone? Did the mead rivers flow right past the banquet tables like Thor always bragged when she was three pints deep?

’I really need to visit that place sometime...’ Silas thought, a faint gold ring flickering briefly around his pupils as he pictured the endless horizon of the upper planes. ’Seeing a divine realm like that with my own eyes would be incredible... Maybe I should just ask Thor directly once she’s back.’

"Did she say why she was in such a rush?" Silas asked, tossing a handful of crushed dried herbs into the bubbling butter.

CRACKLE!

The dried sage and wild thyme hit the hot fat, releasing a sharp earthy perfume that mingled wonderfully with the garlic and onions.

Aki chuckled softly, reaching out to pluck a small pinch of chopped parsley from the cutting board and tossing it into the pot with him.

"It’s some sort of massive traditional celebration," Aki explained, a teasing little smile playing at the corners of her lips. "From what I could gather through all her grumbling, it’s a big celebration up there, and she has to bring a husband candidate or something..."

Silas almost dropped the wooden spoon directly into the hot grease.

He turned around completely, staring at Aki with his eyebrows pushed high up onto his forehead, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"A husband candidate?" Silas repeated, his voice cracking with pure disbelief. "Thor? The woman who threatens to cave in a mountain whenever someone interrupts her arm-wrestling matches? Who in the world did she even take with her?"

Aki gave an exaggerated helpless shrug with her wide lavender sleeves fluttering around her wrists.

"I have no idea," Aki laughed, shaking her head. "She didn’t tell any of us... When the herald handed her the scroll, she just turned bright red, cursed for five minutes straight, grabbed her hammer, and stormed off into the sky."

Silas let out a rich booming laugh that bounced off the kitchen tiles.

"Yeah, that sounds like her," Silas grinned, turning back to the pot to add a splash of clear chicken stock from the pantry jars. "God help whatever poor candidate gets shoved in front of that golden hammer... He’s going to spend his wedding night in a healing vat."

Silas would also come to regret these words as well.

Beside the prep counter, Elowynn had pulled up another wooden stool.

Her fiery red curls tumbled over her bare shoulders, and her amethyst eyes were fixed on Silas with an open, undisguised adoration that she wasn’t bothering to hide in the slightest.

"A woman of true passion should never be forced to present a suitor by royal decree," Elowynn declared, her voice dropping into that smoky tone she loved to use. "A true union should be forged in the fires of mutual destiny, like two corsairs crossing cutlasses beneath a blood-red moon..."

Silas chuckled, reaching for a small wooden shaker of cracked black pepper.

"You talk a lot about pirates for someone living in a pastel castle in the middle of a flower valley, Elowynn."

Elowynn’s eyes sparkled with her smile turning wide and wicked.

"That is because the salt spray still runs through my veins, Lord Silas," she purred, tapping the small dark mole beneath her eye with a manicured fingernail. "Before I came to Lady Aki’s gentle shores, I spent years on the open sea... In fact, that was where I first crossed paths with that stormy-eyed terror you keep in your Keep... Morwenna."

Silas’s hand paused above the pot, the wooden shaker hovering mid-air as he looked over at her with genuine interest.

"You knew Morwenna back then?" Silas asked. "Well stupid question, of course you did... We already talked about this, how was she...? Gentle?"

"Knew her? Gentle?" Elowynn let out a dramatic breathy gasp, tossing her head back so her crimson hair swirled through the air. "Everyone on the sea knew her! She was a savage!"

Silas shook his head with an amused grin, tapping the shaker over the meat.

SHAKE!

"Yeah, that sounds exactly like her," Silas murmured fondly. "She hasn’t changed a bit."

"She was always utterly ruthless," Elowynn sighed, leaning closer over the counter until her low-cut bodice was practically resting against the edge of the stone. "Though I hear rumors that she’s become quite protective of Blessed Land’s Keep lately from... They say she spends her evenings lingering near the inner gardens, looking uncharacteristically soft whenever a certain dark-haired Lord walks by."

Where was she hearing these rumors from?