Master and Slaves

"This was made by Master? It looks so delicious."

"Well, it’s a patient’s diet, so it’s light on flavor, though."

I sat on the chair beside Muriel’s bed and peered at her.

Muriel slowly opened her eyes a little.

"How is your body feeling?"

"It’s a little better."

"Well, you were sleeping, so it’s fine. Can you eat? It’s patient food."

"I don’t feel like eating, but I’ll try."

"I see. Cathy, is there any cloth I can drape over her shoulders?"

"Use this, please."

I lifted Muriel and draped the cloth Cathy handed me over her shoulders.

Then I scooped porridge from the pot on the table next to her with the wooden spoon, blew on it to cool it, and fed Muriel.

"How is it? Can you eat?"

"Ah, it seems okay."

"I see. Since it’s gentle on the stomach, eat as much as you want."

Cathy and Tiria were watching with fingers in their mouths, so I left them for now and scooped more with the spoon, cooling it and feeding her again.

In between, I fed her pickles to freshen her mouth.

Then I put a few spoonfuls of porridge in her mouth.

"I’m sorry, I’m already full."

Muriel spoke apologetically after several mouthfuls.

She probably felt bad for me, even though she had no reason to.

Really, the patient shouldn’t be worrying.

"I see. I’ll make something for dinner tomorrow too. Ah, and drink this."

I gave Muriel the medicine Freit had given me.

It was a thick green liquid that looked quite bitter.

When Muriel grimaced, I immediately gave her water too.

"Thank you. I feel like sleeping a little."

"Yeah, sleep slowly."

I laid Muriel down and covered her with the blanket.

How’s the fever?

I pressed my hand to her forehead.

It’s still hot.

I put the ice pack that had been on the bed beside her under her arm, soaked the cloth in water, and placed it on her forehead.

Muriel kept looking pained but closed her eyes.

"Good night."

I called to Muriel, stood up, and left the room with the cool pot.

Cathy held the tray with the pickles plate and the porridge bowl.

"Tiria, please follow."

I told the reluctant Cathy, stroked her head, and left the room with Helene.

On the way, the maid who had guided us earlier took us to the kitchen area.

It was quite wide.

In the center was a large table with various ingredients, probably for dinner.

Several ovens lined the walls, with pots on them and fire lit underneath.

Several people were busily moving around the kitchen.

The maid who had guided us spoke to one of them, a man in his fifties cooking in the back.

This man was the head chef and responsible for the kitchen of this house.

"Ah, excuse me, but I was told by a guest that I can use this...."

"Eh? No way! Absolutely not!"

"However...."

"You’re in the middle of preparation for dinner! Later!"

"Just a little."

I cut into the maid’s and the head chef’s conversation.

"That guest of yours is Freit-sama. It’s full of preparation for dinner right now. Later, please."

"I just want to cook a little. I beg you."

I bowed my head as I said that.

"Hey hey, don’t bow to me. You’ll anger Freit-sama.... Haa, fine, fine. Raise your face. But don’t get in my way."

"I understand, thank you. Thank you too."

I thanked the head chef and the maid, rolled up my sleeves, and entered the kitchen.

"Then, I’ll return."

"Ah, thank you, Helene. I’ll return as soon as it’s done."

"Yes. Then."

Helene bowed and left.

I followed the head chef deeper into the kitchen.

We went all the way to the back, where there was a table.

"If you have any business, ask the one over there."

When the head chef pointed at the boy around 10 years old washing dishes at the sink next to the table, he was the one.

The head chef approached the boy and called out.

"Hey, Mirco. This customer wants to cook here. Teach him a lot."

"Understood, boss."

Mirco, called by that name, stopped washing and turned back, answering the head chef.

"Are there any ingredients you need?"

"A pot, and rice...."

"There’s a pot on the shelf there. The rice is in the barrel over there, so use as much as you like. They said they’re done using it. But rice, what are you using it for?"

"To cook. Um, the pot... ah, there’s a clay pot. Let’s use that. And...."

While I was answering Mirco and searching the shelf, I found what looked like a clay pot.

It wasn’t flat, but it was ceramic-like, so it would probably make better rice.

"’Tak’... what is that?"

"Ah, um... to simmer...?"

"I can’t ask you about that...."

I didn’t know what to answer, and Mirco also tilted his head in confusion.

"Well, watch."

I told Mirco that, transferred the rice into the clay pot, and rinsed it with the water in the water jar.

When I touched it with my hand, I realized the grains were long and thin.

These were long-grain rice.

After rinsing it about seven times, I flattened the rice, added quite a lot of water, and left it without heating.

"...What are you doing?"

"I’m letting the rice absorb water."

"...And that makes it delicious?"

"It should...."

I really wanted to leave it longer, but since I was in a hurry, I heated it after a little while.

"You have a good hand."

"I’ve been doing this for a while."

"Did you eat rice?"

"Yeah."

I covered the pot, placed a stone on top.

"Now, wait a while."

"Hm, but you make it so easily, is it delicious?"

Mirco kept staring at the pot and asked.