Chapter 1897 - 521: The Third Level Conference Even More Confounding Than the Colin Family

Ryan Kingdom, the Summer Palace far from Roland City.

Dressed in lavish attire, the guests were leaving the side hall with great enthusiasm, excited about the collaborations just achieved at the banquet.

Some moved to the lounge to continue unfinished discussions.

Although it was still far from the height of summer, the grand hall already had an air of quiet amid the hubbub.

This was the Devalu family's summer retreat and also the venue for the Ryan Kingdom's Third Level Conference. The banquet that just concluded marked the end of the first day's agenda.

It must be said, even though the royal vault was running low, none of the grandeur was spared.

However, not everyone was satisfied with the banquet.

Newcastle loosened his collar that was choking him slightly, sneaking to the kitchen door like a guilty rat.

As a third-level councilor, he was like a transparent glass bottle at the showy feast.

The nobles were indulging in lofty discussions, the priests feigned seriousness, no one paid attention to this merchant reeking of copper, nor did anyone care if his plate was empty.

Alright then.

Newcastle had to admit, it wasn't entirely the fault of His Majesty's servants; it was mainly because he had never attended such banquets, much less trespassed into His Majesty's estate.

Unexpectedly, he got lost in the opulent Summer Palace and was only escorted to the dining hall by a servant as the banquet was ending.

Now the banquet was over, and his stomach began to grumble in protest. His eyes fell on a trolley parked at the kitchen door.

There rested a golden, crispy roasted pigeon, its skin glazed with hardened honey, seemingly untouched save for a polite cut with a carving knife.

As he stared at the pigeon, swallowing his saliva, a plump figure abruptly blocked the light.

It was an elderly man in a white apron, hair graying at the temples, sporting a kindly smile with a well-groomed beard.

As Theoden's main chef, his family had lived here for over three centuries.

Seeing the old man looking at him, Newcastle couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, coughing lightly to explain.

"I'm just looking around."

"No need to be polite, sir."

The old man saw that he hadn't eaten his fill, deftly carved the most succulent meat off the pigeon with a silver carving knife.

His movements were skillful, arranging it on a white porcelain plate, which he handed to Newcastle.

"Although the meat at this moment isn't as tender as when straight out of the oven, it bears a special fragrance… if you don't mind, please enjoy."

Nobles have their pride, and so do the servants; he would never allow a guest to leave here on an empty stomach.

"Thank you!"

Newcastle was momentarily stunned, then gratefully accepted the plate, not even bothering to look for utensils, directly grabbing the pigeon leg with his hand.

The old man watched Mr. Newcastle devour the food with a smile, showing no disdain despite his messy eating.

As Baron Wickton had said, His Majesty's royal chef's skill was truly exceptional. Especially this roasted pigeon, Newcastle could swear to Saint Sis, it was the most delicious he had ever tasted.

Newcastle spoke while gobbling down.

"... You're really a good person, Chef. I thought you'd kick me out as a thief."

"How could that be?" The chef quickly prepared another plate, wiped his hands, and said with an elegant smile, "You must be newly knighted, Sir?"

Newcastle still had meat in his mouth, mumbling.

"Why do you say that?"

"Experience, sir."

The chef glanced towards the banquet hall, continuing in a conversational tone.

"Hereditary nobles are busy exchanging interests, food is merely decoration to them. Those pious priests treat waste as a foe, to demonstrate their devotion, they wouldn't touch a fork in public. Only a knight like you, who truly appreciates life's flavors, would care about how tonight's pigeon is cooked."

The royal chef was worthy of his title, possessing not only cooking skills but scholarly wit, even composing a spontaneous rhyming ditty.

Newcastle couldn't help but laugh at this, nearly choking.

The chef handed him a cup of water, followed by a napkin.

"Please, take it slow, sir, no one is competing with you."

"Cough! Thank, thank you..."

Swallowing the food, Newcastle wiped his mouth and cleaned his greasy fingers, not wanting to appear too disgraceful.

Looking at the smiling chef, he cleared his throat to unveil the truth.

"... You got it wrong, Chef. I'm just a plain commoner, just like you, here only thanks to His Majesty's grace."

At this point, his self-deprecating tone carried a hint of teasing pride.

"But you weren't completely wrong; maybe in a few days, I might actually cinch a knighthood."

The chef raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.

"Oh? Congratulations, that's quite an honor."

"Thank you."

Newcastle's lips curved into a slight smile, graciously accepting the chef's compliment, yet not taking this "great honor" too seriously.

Baron Wickton did mention this, but clearly, it was just bait on a hook, toying with him... he wasn't oblivious to it.