If It’s for My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord (WN)

Place the cow cheese shards in your mouth to make sure.

The salt air is so strong that it is not comparable to what I normally used in Kreutz. Latina, who had heard from her teacher (Kennis) that some of the canned items were like that in order to increase their preservativeness, was not surprised.

"I knew the flavor would go down better than fresh cow cheese..."

Still, for the first time in a long time, my heart danced.

"This is all I have, so I wonder if sweets are difficult... and honey is all I have"

Whimpering, I find myself in the kitchen.

Latina, who had decided in her heart not to abuse Frisos' authority, but only at this time, authority, but tiger authority, was willing to use everything that could be used.

The result is a bewildering, overly whispering embezzlement of the ingredients in the kitchen.

"It's cereal... and I don't really taste like it... let's bake it"

Add water appropriately to the grain powder that makes the staple food and stir to see how it goes. I wanted at least the kind of milk, or I couldn't find anything that looked like it.

I could only see that the grain powder, which became a stickier dough than the flour, was not evenly ground.

"... if I sieve it, I'll figure it out a little bit more"

Thoughts can be about what to cook and what to cook.

I dropped a little precious cow butter in a heated metal pan and flushed the dough where it melted and had a good aroma up. Juicy, high noise. Usually once the pan is grated out of the fire to lower the temperature, but the sticky fabric flows thick as expected. It would be good to have this degree of firepower.

The powder was melted in water and cooked, and it was creamed.

The conclusion was that sometimes the extra flavor was not original, and that freshly baked made it look more like food than eaten under Vasuglio policy.

Apply the freshly baked cheese thinly and let the honey drip just a little.

Strong salt air is just better for flavorless fabrics. The sweetness of the honey crept across the latina, which was hungry for sweetness.

"... Ugh"

I could cry a little.

When the remaining dough was baked, Latina ran to Dale before it cooled down.

"Dale...... I tried to make it, do you want some?

"I thought you said you didn't need Latina's hand cooking... but you said you made it..."

Dale guessed the situation, even as he smiled back at Latina, who offered her a plate and smiled.

"I walked into the kitchen..."

"It's just a little bit. Just a little bit."

To Dale's strangely vivid gaze, Latina was desperate and appealed to the margin of circumstantial discretion.

"If it gets cold, it's probably not tasty, so try it while it's warm"

"Ooh."

The moist fabric was folded in half in small shakes.

When Dale carries it to his mouth as recommended, it gives rise to a fluffy and sweet scent.

The gentle sweetness of the salt air and honey of the cow butter spread in his mouth.

"Because it's made by Latina, I'd like to tell you that everything tastes good..."

"Yeah."

Latina in front of Dale, holding the same thing with both hands, was cheeky with her mochi.

"Wow, that doesn't taste good."

"Yeah. Kind of not good"

A conscious latina made of the right ingredients, which were about the same, had made a precise decision about what she had made.

"But... he said he's eating... it's been a long time..."

"Yeah......"

Nodding Latina was moisturizing her eyes a bit.

"Rice is important..."

Dale also felt something was spectacularly wrong with Latina's appearance of smudging, but he had nothing to point out.

Shortly after that, Latina began to line up something in the corner of the outhouse.

When Dale takes a peek, in several containers, fruit-like things sink into the water.

"What...?

"I'm just going to experiment. Don't move."

"Ooh... ooh"

It is rare for Latina to come up with a word of rejection so clearly so far. Dale nodded one, pulling in the hand he was about to stretch.

" "

""

Latina was then pressing her precautions with a slightly tough voice against the samurai who was at the entrance to the room.

You're probably telling me, like myself, not to touch the container.

""

Latina, whose eyes stood still, was obviously letting her voice contain threats.

It is rare for a moderate quality latina to command in a strong tone so far.

……

Dale nodded, convinced silently.

(I guess it's food related...)

The reason I could guess was too much of a nature.

After a tight lid, Latina seemed to observe it while also using magic on the temperatures.

Even from Dale's point of view, it is unusual to see containers lined up in a sloppy corner of the jaunted outhouse.

It would be more incomprehensible behavior for the Samurais, the Demons, than for Dale. There are times when I have difficulty coping with it and I'm staring at this one.

Latina didn't mind the gaze at all, and she seemed to enjoy observing the container every day.

" ……"

"……"

That's where the samurai and I are exchanging words.

(I don't know if it's a human habit... just a weird misconception...)

Even Dale, who only uninterruptedly solves the demonic language, found that the samurai had such suspicions.

But Dale couldn't 'talk' to them until he could deny it.

(Me too... Demon language, I should remember...)

That's how Dale sets goals for the future.

Latina's "experiment" makes occasional noises, with tightly stringed and sealed lids strapped to the bread.

(I wonder if it's rotten...)

From Dale's point of view, it was creating a different atmosphere every day. I don't think it's anything to do with 'food' very much.

In front of such a dail, Latina took one container with her occasional face and opened the lid.

"Huh."

"Wow."

It was rotten.

Latina hastily re-closes the lid, shakes the hem of her clothes flat, and tries to get the odor out.

(Well, you're right)

It was something I was somewhat prepared for, so I didn't even care about Dale, so I gave Latina a hand in her actions.

"I wonder if the temperature was high..."

That's what Latina says and tilts her neck.

"The others are still fine because I managed them at a slightly lower temperature"

So groaning, rethinking and opening the second, Latina dropped her shoulder disappointingly after a while.

"Mold......"

From the whining, it seemed like mold had grown.

Still, she got even more of the next container without giving up.

After opening the lid, he is still observing the contents and smelling cum and odor. I let go and thought about it once and smelled the smell again.

"I got it!

Eventually up from Latina was a voice of joy.

"I did it, Dale! I got it!

"Ooh... ooh"

"Yay!

If you try Dale, you have no idea why Latina is happy. Latina also checked the rest of the containers, and as she turned around, she caught one of the maids donning to Latina's unusual tension.

""

It was the face of those who command, which leads to Frisos. Only at a time like this, I wonder what it would be like to show a single scale of a figure standing on top of his birth.

Kokukoku and the samurai show their willingness to give their consent and obey orders. To Latina's momentum, he was on the run.

Hey, Dale sympathized with the samurai.

Let the samurai hold a portion of the container that she could not hold herself, and Latina ran to the kitchen with the utmost speed.

"Thank you Marcel...... thank you"

Thinking of her young friend in Kreutz, Latina seeps in tears.

The grain powder I was eyeing is pre-sifted to align the chimes. There was no sieve either, so I had to start by looking for something I could substitute, but there was plenty of time.

"Start by mixing this with powder... from making seeds... if it works..."

It was a short period of time, but it was a sure fruit of Latina that she received solid foundation guidance from her main office.

"I can eat bread......"

As Dale expected, it was still directly connected to his appetite.

She had previously worked in the home of a young friend, a bakery, even though she was short-term.

At that time, he taught not only the easy to see matters of molding and baking, but also the yeast, which is the backbone of making bread, and the bread species that he makes from it. From fruit and water, which is relatively easy, to yeast, I was actually allowed to make it and gained experience.

I haven't had a chance to make bread since, and I'm not as confident.

Still, following my memory, I managed to make something that looked like it.

Whatever you say, reproduction of staple foods.

That was where Latina's grief was today.