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墨書 Inktalez
"Are you John? Is your cooking really that good?"
Upon hearing the question, John hurriedly replied, "Yes, but I'm just a cook."
Lyd led him to the kitchen. "I want to see if you're as skilled as my brother says."
"Yes, I understand," John said, as the Knight Attendant who had just brought him in bowed and turned to lead him into a small room.
This was the kitchen. After preparing the dishes, ringing this bell would summon a servant to collect them.
John nodded, "Got it."
With the Knight Attendant gone, he dove into the new kitchen.
"This is so much better than my previous one," he thought.
There was fine salt, honey, sauces, and various spices. As he surveyed the assortment of seasonings and ingredients, his instincts as a chef kicked in, and he envisioned dozens of cooking methods.
He picked up a nearby utensil made of iron. In this world, iron was a scarce resource; in the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps, aside from pots and pans, everything else like ladles and spatulas were made of wood.
After a few practice swings with the ingredients, John felt ready to start cooking. This time, he was determined to give it his all. If he did well, he wouldn't have to be just another Big Head Soldier; with some effort, he might even find himself in a better position. He had come to realize that aligning himself with the right people was far more effective than blind effort.
Ding ding ding!
As the bell at the door rang continuously, dishes were brought into the stone room, filling the air with enticing aromas that wafted throughout the training grounds. The militia members caught a whiff of the delightful scent and eagerly sniffed around.
In contrast, Lai Gen remained calm among the crowd, boasting to those nearby. "You haven't seen anything like this before! This aroma is definitely Little John's handiwork; it’s exquisite! The ingredients must be top-notch—better than what we had when we hosted Captain James."
Inside the stone room, Redman invited his two attendants to join him for a meal. This wasn't considered disrespectful; being chosen as an official Knight Attendant meant being the knight's most loyal subject. Knights were expected to treat them like family, and attendants were sworn to protect their knight with their lives.
Raymond wiped his mouth after finishing his meal and began contemplating John's future with them. "So, what do you think of this cook?"
"My lord," one attendant replied honestly, "this cook's dishes are even better than those of our household chef. They could rival what we had at Count of Monte Cristo's banquet."
"It seems you all enjoy it," Raymond observed. "Lyd, pick two from your militia for John."
Lyd quickly reminded him, "For John—he’ll need someone to assist him. I want breakfast made by John before we set off tomorrow."
Raymond commanded decisively.
"Don't worry, my lord, I'm on it."
Raymond waved his hand dismissively, indicating that there was no rush for the two of them to finish their meal.
In the kitchen, John anxiously awaited, unsure if the dishes he prepared would meet the tastes of this noble young master. At that moment, he felt like he was facing his first job interview after graduating from university.
"John! Where are you?"
Hearing his name called, John hurried out of the kitchen and saw Lyd, the Knight Attendant, leading two Militia members over at a leisurely pace.
"My lord, I'm here! How does my cooking please you?" John quickly plastered a smile on his face.
"Stop grinning like a fool. Lord Cai is very satisfied. Tomorrow morning, my lord will want to eat the breakfast you prepare. Don't delay the time for departure."
"Yes, yes! Rest assured, even if I don't sleep tonight, I won't delay my master's breakfast." John patted his chest in assurance.
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