• Closed • Tristan learns to cook!

[Tristan Venora]

Zi’da 10, Arc 716

Like a lot of spoiled young nobles Tristan Venora could not cook. For the past couple of seasons that had not been a problem since he had owned a slave that was quite possibly the best cook in Rynmere, but now she was free, and he was frankly getting a little tired of always eating at a tavern or visiting his mean old grandmother so that he didn’t starve. So he had, quite reluctantly, decided that he finally needed to learn how to cook and asked Faith to come visit him and teach him.

Since he had no idea what exactly you needed to prepare a filling and halfway healthy meal – he had been more interested in what Faith made for him than in how she made it – he had just bought a whole lot of stuff at the market, hoping that she would be able to use at least some of it. Maybe, he thought, as he emptied his heavy basket onto the kitchen table, he should hire a servant that helped him carry his things (and occasionally cleaned for him).

Since he didn’t want to make things too complicated for Faith, he put the spices in one corner of the table, the fruit and vegetables in another and the meat in the center. And then he arranged the pots and pans and knives on a separate table that he had bought just for that occasion. He was quite proud with the end result. His kitchen looked really nice and tidy (which was in part due to the fact that he had bought new furniture to go with his new pots and pans).

He was so proud of his work that he rewarded himself with a glass of Venora Rose. When Faith entered the house, she would find him sitting at the table, dressed in a very fashionable olive green silk shirt and occasionally taking a sip. Mistral, the supposed demon cat, was there as well, playing with a red apple that he apparently mistook for a cat toy.

► Show Spoiler

Bought:

Allspice (1 oz) – 2 cn
Mint (1 sprig) – 1 gn
Salt (1 oz) – 1 sn
Peppercorns (1 oz) – 2 gn
Bell Pepper (2) – 12 cn
Onion – 7 cn
Sweet Potato – 4 cn
Ginger – 10 cn
Garlic – 8 cn
Cayenne pepper – 4 cn
Mango – 4 cn
Apple (2) – 6 cn
Wheat flour (1 lb) – 10 sn
Cashew nuts (1 lb) – 8 sn
Sesame oil (pt) – 6 gn
Milk (gl) – 8 sn
Sugar (lb) – 4 sn
Honey (pt) – 8 sn
Butter (lb) – 3 sn
Prime turkey meat (lb) – 4 gn

Green silk shirt – 21 gn 6 sn
Wooden basket – 6 gn
Small table – 25 gn
Small frying pan – 2 gn
Small soup pot – 2 gn
Small cooking pot – 3 gn
Steak knife – 1 sn
Butter knife – 4 cn
Bread knife – 8 sn
Venora Rose – 8 sn

[Faith Augustin]

Faith came in, as she had each trial since she left and had not, as yet, missed one and she looked around in surprise. "Well this has changed since yesterday. You've been busy" She smiled at him, looking at his face and making sure that he didn't look tired or like he was going hungry. She had stopped bringing, or preparing food for him when here, a few trials ago now because she was very aware that if she didn't, he would never learn to cook. It hadn't taken long and Faith had nodded her head with a very serious gaze and told him that it would be her pleasure to teach him.

Unlike Tristan, Faith was not the height of fashion. She wore a pair of thick black tights underneath a dark blue woolen skirt. Her top was black and warm and when she'd come in she removed coat, hat, gloves and scarf. Her boots were soft leather, black and warm. Not a single fashionable thing about it, but she was warm and that was important to her. "Hello there Mistral", she said and it hissed. Gods, what was it with that cat? "Would you explain to your cat, please, that you wanted it bathed? Or rather, you didn't want the fleas. Don't forget to keep up with the treatment for him. Just once every ten trials, a few drops on the back of his neck, that's all it takes."

He was sitting, of course, drinking a glass of red wine. She was surprised he didn't turn into a glass of red wine, all things considered. Her smile when she looked at him was very genuine and, as she joined him at the table, she kissed him on the cheek and then sat down. "What have we got here, then?" She looked and examined the ingredients and then nodded her head. "You did well. Meat, vegetables, spices and fresh staples. We'll make a chef out of you yet. So. First question."

Looking at Tristan with a calm gaze, the young woman who had been, until quite recently, his slave (she still hadn't had the freedom brand put on her face, though) pursed her lips together and then motioned to the produce on the table. "How many of those can you name? Or, if it's most of them, what ones can't you?" And then, as an afterthought, she added "And your shiny new utensils too." Resting her chin on her hand, she waited to see. She suspected that he'd gone to the market, thrown a load of things into a bag and then paid. Or maybe, she considered with a fond smile, he'd paid and then got the woman at the stall to fill it up for him.

[Tristan Venora]

“Well, yes”, Tristan replied and smiled brightly as Faith remarked on his kitchen looking different. “There’s no point in buying new pots and pans if you just keep the same old kitchen.” That most people couldn’t just afford to replace their boring old furniture on a whim did of course not occur to him, although he had gotten better at looking past the very privileged environment that he had grown up in in other regards.

“I wonder if I should have spent more money on furniture though”, he murmured. “The man I bought the cupboard from said it was good quality, but maybe a noble should have something a little more extravagant.” He looked at the cupboard in question thoughtfully, but then he realized that maybe, just maybe, there were more important things than an expensive kitchen (although it was certainly a nice thing to have).

Up until recently he would have offered to buy Faith new clothes upon seeing what she was wearing, but after that conversation with Padraig – no, that terrible, terrible argument with her terrible tutor, he amended – he had begun to realize that occasionally practical clothes were better. Besides, Faith looked very happy and comfortable, and that was what mattered the most.

“I already explained it to him”, Tristan said and looked at the cat that looked back at him accusingly. “Several times, but he just hates being bathed. I still put the flea stuff on him regularly though. While I’m usually all for trying out new things, fleas are something that I’m not too keen on.” He stroke Mistral’s head affectionately. The cat was mean and unpredictable, but it was his mean and unpredictable cat!

And then Faith kissed him on the cheek, and for a moment the urge to just put his arms around her like he had done so many times before was almost overpowering, but then he remembered that she was not his anymore. He had freed her, which he knew deep down had been the right thing to do despite all the things that had happened afterwards, and she had come to the realization that, while she loved him, she was not in love with him.

So he just smiled at her somewhat wistfully, although it was definitely better to have her as a friend than not to have her in his life at all. As she complimented him on the things he had bought, the look on his face instantly brightened again though. Maybe, he thought, they were not lovers anymore (although he hadn't given up hope entirely yet!), but all in all he still had a lot of things to look forward to.

“Maybe I’ll cook for the king as well sometimes”, he remarked and grinned. One of his goals in life was to befriend Cassander, and good food would definitely help with that. As she asked him how many of the things he could name, he rolled his eyes though. Really? He had never cooked anything before, unless you counted a cup of coffee or dumping noodles into a pot of boiling water (and almost burning them in the process), but he knew the names of a lot of things. He was well educated!

“That’s an apple”, he informed her with an almost overly serious look on his face and took the fruit that Mistral had been playing with. The cat hissed at him as he did so. Mistral hated it when somebody took away his toys! “Obviously. And that weird thing is a mango, I think.” He spent the next couple of bits rattling off the names of all the things he had bought before he admitted, “I’m not sure what this here is called though.” He held up the small container with the Allspice. “It’s probably edible though.”

“Do you think we can put it on the meat? Only using salt and pepper would be a bit boring. Maybe we could make meat with mangos?” he mused and looked at her questioningly.

[Faith Augustin]

Faith looked at Tristan and grinned. "I think it all looks fine. And it will be nice to have somewhere to cook in, won't it?" Only Tristan Venora, she considered, would ever consider that the best response to buying new pots and pans was to buy a new kitchen to put them in. Truly, he lived in a different world. "Extravagance in a kitchen is just so common. The best kitchens are functional and good quality." Her eyes showed the mischief in what she was saying. Knowing him, when she came back tomorrow, the kitchen would be decked out in some weirdness. Or maybe not, in fairness. Tristan was changing, as she was. It had been quite a journey for them both and she didn't doubt that they would both emerge from it stronger and better people.

"No, they are horrid things and they make everyone uncomfortable and itchy, especially Mistral. They might even be worse than being put in a bath." That last bit she spoke as much to the cat as to Tristan. It didn't seem impressed.

His gaze wasn't lost on her when she kissed his cheek and she looked up at him with a smile. It was tricky, this whole thing, but they were working it out between them. Did she miss him? Yes, of course she did. But Faith didn't doubt that they would always be friends, and always there for each other. "Next time I cook for him, you can be my underchef, if you like." She grinned at him as she sat and looked at the food. "But be warned. I run a tight kitchen. I've been known to shout, too. Not often, though." When he told her that it was an apple, though, Faith let out a small chuckle. But she didn't say anything until he'd finished and then quirked an eyebrow at him "Are you sure you can't cook? A lot of people wouldn't be able to name them all, you know. Top of the class, clever student." She lifted up the allspice and urged him to sniff it. "It's called allspice. It tastes a bit like cinnamon, but it's spicier, warmer. Like it has a hint of giner and a touch of cloves in there, too. So what you put with it can have an impact on which aspect of it's taste you emphasise"

She nodded her head, yes, they could work with this. "Alright. So, there are fundamentally two things you do as a cook. You open a cupboard and look at what's in there, then decide what goes with what and how you can turn something like this into a pleasant, well balanced meal. The other thing you do is follow recipes. So. I bought you this" She reached down into her bag and pulled out a book, which she handed to him "It's the book of recipes I used when you owned me. I borrowed it from the library and copied it, so I could make notes on the back. It's good, they're straightforward and I think I fed you well enough from it, even in the early trials before I really learnt to cook better."

She sighed, a hundred thoughts running through her mind. But there was no point to going back to places which were in the past. So, she handed him the book and smiled. "I put a bookmark in each of your three favourites." Indeed, in there were three small, delicately embroidered bookmarks. Each one had his initials and the Venora rose on it, which she had made for him. "You're more than capable of following the recipes, so this trial we are going to pretend you opened a cupboard and this is what you saw. The first thing I do is think about the taste of the main ingredient. Here, that's going to be turkey. It goes well with allspice, a nice rub onto the skin and a slow roast. Butter under and over the skin to crisp it and you've got a lovely meat. But it needs something with it. Something lighter, a more subtle flavour too. So. We're going to make turkey with allspice. Think about the flavour of that, the spicy, cinnamon, ginger spice. What might go well with it on the turkey, first of all?" There were, she explained, to her mind, two more of the spices he'd bought which would go together very well with the allspice. That was good as, usually, a combination of three spices allowed for a very nice depth of flavour.

"So, to go with that allspice. Which two would you pick?" She looked at him with a serious expression and just a slight challenge in her gaze. After all, he was a clever man and he knew what he liked. She waited to see if his choice would be the same as hers.

Off Topic

10gn deducted for non fiction book.

[Tristan Venora]

“I’d like to be your underchef”, Tristan replied. “I’ve never been an under-anything. I’m usually either in charge or not there at all. And I don’t mind being shouted at. On the contrary, I look forward to it. You’ve never shouted at me before, so I’m curious as to what you are like when you are loud.” He had a hard time imagining Faith shouting and screaming and possibly using swearwords. She’d always seemed like such a nice and calm person with astonishing amounts of self- control. Why, she had not even batted an eyelid when he had confronted her with his Peake and Zvezbeast-sculptures!

“I’m sure”, he insisted. “Unless I sleepcook while other people just sleepwalk and don’t remember anything in the morning.” He paused for a moment and glanced at the food and then at her. As he spoke again, the tone of his voice was more serious. “I’m a writer. In order to come up with a halfway decent story, I need to know the names of a lot of things, even though I don’t necessarily know what they are good for.” He hesitated a bit before he sniffed the allspice. He had just bought it because he had liked the color and was a little wary of it now. To his relief it smelled rather pleasant.

“Do you know why it’s called allspice?” he wanted to know. “Is it a mixture of different spices or is it a single spice that smells and tastes like a couple of things at once?”

He wasn’t sure if he liked following recipes – he didn’t like doing what somebody else had already done, but preferred to come up with his own way of doing things – but then he remembered how delicious the meals she had cooked for him had been. So his eyes lit up as she handed the book to him. “Thank you. It will get a special place in my kitchen. I don’t think I’ll ever like my meals as much as I liked yours though.”

The bookmarks, he decided, were lovely, and there were even his initials and little roses on them!

“I like playing games of pretend”, he remarked as she spoke of pretending that he had opened a cupboard. “Although this wasn’t quite what I had in mind”, he admitted. As he said that he looked at all the random stuff that he had bought and furrowed his brow. What would go well with the turkey? He felt like he was a schoolboy all over again and his teacher had asked him a question that he didn’t know the answer to.

“This here?” he asked, somewhat doubtfully, and pointed at the cayenne pepper. “And maybe some ginger? You mentioned that allspice has a hint of ginger, so adding even more ginger can’t be wrong. I also thought of adding garlic, but garlic gives you bad breath, and garlic breath makes people not to want to be near you. Although you could probably eat something minty afterwards to get rid of the garlic breath again”, he pondered and looked at her again.

He suddenly remembered that one of the powders that Andráska and he had taken when he had visited his grandmother the season before had tasted minty, but he doubted that she would be interested in him trying out drugs, even if it had only been once. In fact she would probably be mad at him, so he decided to keep that piece of information to himself.

“Was that a good answer?” he asked and decided that he quite liked playing teacher and student with her. “What happens now?”

[Faith Augustin]

"Oh, I couldn't shout at you!" She looked, and felt, genuinely horrified at the thought of such. "It takes all my self control not to call you Master, still. We are a long, long way off shouting, I promise you. In fact", she looked at him with a teasing expression "I am sorry to tell you that we may never make it to shouting, you and I." Too much history there for her to consider it, really. Although? "Unless you suggest a crows nest again. Then I might get stern." She smiled at the memory of that, how very sick he had been and then how much better he got as they got up there. Which was terrifying to her. They'd shared a moment up there, she recalled and she realised that she had started to blush slightly. Flustered by that reaction (which, of course, made it worse) she shook her head as though to clear it of foolishness.

But she looked at him and raised an eyebrow as he asked her why allspice was called that. "I have absolutely no idea. It never occured to me to think of it, to be honest. Why is garlic called garlic or pepper called pepper? I'm not sure that there's ... well, that's a very interesting question which is going to bother me now until I find the answer." She grinned at him and shrugged. Right now, she had no clue, but she'd go on a hunt in the library, no doubt.

"I made the bookmarks. I thought you'd like them. Please, don't feel like you have to use them if you don't want to. And nonsense, soon you'll be a better cook than me, I'm sure. Besides, there's something satisfying about sitting down to eat something you've cooked." She smiled at him and gestured around. "Besides, I'm sure I'll cook for you again. Although probably not until we come back from the campaign now." She looked more than a little pensive at the thought of that, it was a nerve wracking thing that they were about to undertake, but it was necessary, and so she put it from her mind.

"Well, you can pretend to be the king opening the cupboard and seeing what he has to cook if you like", she said, deadpan, "But I think he has people to do his own cooking you know. Maybe you could pretend to be the king who is pretending to be a noble man looking in his cupboard?". Oh by Famula, just look in the cupboard, she thought to herself as she came up with more, and more, convoluted scenarios. But then, he looked at the ingredients and answered her question. She beamed with delight. "Excellent. Those are the two that I would have chosen to go alongside. I wouldn't have garlic, it doesn't mix well with allspice, really. Plus, garlic breath."

Pulling those ingredients together, she nodded "So, we're doing well, now. We have the meat. Now, it's just deciding what's going to go with it. Yes. It was a very good answer. You are, without a doubt, my best student." She grinned at him and nudged him with her elbow. "Come on you, we haven't decided our ingredients yet and your many children are growing hungry and demanding. What would you put with your spiced turkey?"

[Tristan Venora]

“Allspice is different from garlic and pepper”, Tristan insisted. “It’s literally called allspice as if it’s all the spices in Idalos at once or can be used for everything. Although I have to admit that I’m interested in why garlic is called garlic now and if people would use it less if it had an ugly and vaguely embarrassing name. Do the names of things affect how we perceive them? What do you think, Faith?”

He looked at her questioningly. Vague curiosity and fascination soon made way to concern though as she mentioned the campaign. “Please be careful and come back in one piece”, he told her. Even after she had told him that she was in love with Padraig, he still cared about her and didn’t want her to get hurt. He had enjoyed their time together too much and they had been through too much together for him to suddenly become indifferent towards her.

“Personally I’ve decided to stay away from anything combat-related after Ne’haer”, he admitted and shuddered as he remembered the hordes of shadow creatures that had attacked them. Being a hero and killing things, he’d discovered, was always nicer in theory. “Although I should probably learn how to use that cane sword of mine properly sometimes.” He looked towards the bedroom where said cane sword rested in a chest where he would never reach it quickly enough in case somebody broke into his house.

“I like that!” he replied as she suggested that he could pretend to be the king who was pretending to be a noble man looking in his cupboard. It was just like old times, he thought. They had had so many similar conversations before. It would be very easy to pretend that all those things had never happened, but he decided not to and just enjoy what he had now. Sometimes, it occurred to him, it was better to be a realist than lose yourself in a dream.

Besides, there was always Ilaren!

“That’s a great idea. Do you think I can get you to call me 'Your Royal Majesty' as well, Faith?” he wondered and gave her his best, most pleading puppy dog eyes. Most women liked it when he looked at them like that or were at least somewhat amused. Faith wasn’t most women though, so he wasn’t sure what kind of effect it would have on her. He had to at least give it a try though. He really wanted to be treated like a king at least once in a life!

He was just about to tell her what would go well with the meat in his opinion when he realized just what she had said. The somewhat happy and relaxed expression on his face was abruptly replaced by a look of pure and unadulterated horror. “I don’t have children!” he insisted. “And definitely not many children! I’m not even sure if I like children! Can’t we pretend to feed somebody else instead? How about the people that go on the campaign with you? They need to eat as well!”

As he said that he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a bastard of his somewhere. Had he always been careful enough? Maybe he should have become a monk or gay or an Yludih! Or all three things at once just to be on the safe side! The thought that there might be a child of his (or two or three or a hundred, all of them hungry and demanding) out there absolutely terrified him. In order to distract himself from the unpleasant thoughts of little Tristans running around somewhere he focused his attention on what would hopefully become an edible meal again. Food was considerably less scary than children.

“What about onions and sweet potatoes? And maybe we could even add a few cashew nuts so that it doesn’t look quite as boring! And what about this here?” He took the mango and showed it to her, remembering his earlier comment about meat with mangos. “Do you think we’ll be able to use it for something? I had candied mangos the other trial, and they were quite delicious.”

[Faith Augustin]

"What if it was called stinkbreath? Would we use it?" Holding up the garlic she looked at it with a quizzical expression. He made a fair point, though, in terms of allspice. "Yes, you're right. Although, I suppose it could be that. Allspice can be used in savoury or sweet dishes, so it could be for that reason. But then, we don't call pistachios 'allnut', and the same is true for them. I wonder if that's where the word walnut came from, though?" She looked at Tristan and gave a grin. "I really don't think we'd use it if it was called stinkbreath so yes, I guess what we name them changes our perception. How interesting." She genuinely found such things fascinating and she enjoyed such conversations.

When he sounded so serious, though, Faith gave him a reassuring smile and patted his arm. "I'm just there to cook. I really can't imagine how that will in any way get me involved. But I promise you, I'll be careful and I'll come back in one piece. Though I might have lost a toe to frostbite, I suppose. I don't like the cold. I've made myself three pairs of socks and I'm going to wear them all at once." Her face took on a faraway expression as she recalled last Zi'da and where she was. She could never have imagined, not in a million arcs, where she would be now and what she would have done in the meantime. "Because he knew how much I hated it, Jamal used to use cold as a training tool a lot. I should have built up more of a resistence to it, really." It was a weakness, there was not doubting it.

"Yes. It was intense." Ne'haer was, she meant. It had been another one of the many amazing experiences they had shared and Faith watched him as he said that he should learn to use his sword properly. "I'm sorry, Tristan." It was hard, so hard still, not to call him Master and she paused before it, tripping slightly on his name. "I tried to protect you as much as I could, but you saw some awful things. I think it would be good to learn to use the sword and I will pray every night that you never need to use it." He was already in her prayers, of course, but adding that in would be appropriate.

When he looked at her with that expression, though, Faith could not help but smile at him and shake her head. "Your Royal Majesty? I will call you that most happily, but that expression is a blatant attempt to get your own way, you know. Your Royal Majesty should be aware by now that such is not needed with me, if it is in my power, I am happy to do as you wish." But his look of wide eyed (and cute, she had to admit) pleading changed to an expression of absolute horror and Faith watched as he spoke. Her own expression was serious, solemn even and then she could not help it as a burst of laughter escaped her. Faith smiled a lot, always had, but she very rarely laughed. "Alright Your Royal Majesty, calm yourself down, they're only imaginary children. Besides, you'd be an excellent father and I'm sure you will be, one trial." Considering his laxidaisical attitude to the consequences of his actions, he might already be, she considered.

But back to the food and she nodded. "Nice choice. Yes, we can use the mango. It's a trick, actually, to put something a little sweet in with something spicy, they can give beautiful flavour notes. The nuts? Hmm. We can try. Alright. We have our meal planned. Now then, your Royal Majesty." She lifted up the turkey and gave him a grin. "Wash that. Inside and out, please. Nice and clean and make sure that you", pausing she considered the correct expression. "Make sure you get all over it. No missed bits, if it pleases Your Royal Majesty." One trial, she thought, Tristan Venora might grow up and become an adult in all things. But she really, truthfully, hoped not.

[Tristan Venora]

“I can actually think of a few occasions where I might willingly ingest something called stinkbreath”, Tristan realized and smirked. “When my grandmother invites me to another one of those balls for example and insists on introducing a girl that I cannot stand to me.” He shuddered as he remembered an event a few arcs back when he had been chased through the palace by a nightmare in pink silk and finally jumped through a window, bruising his behind and a few other important body parts in the process. If he had eaten stinkbreath, that might never have happened to him. The girl might have run away the moment she smelled him!

“You always seem to get involved without planning to”, he remarked and sighed a little. Faith had already been through more than most women twice her age. She had faced zombies, ridden a dragon, fought shadow beasts and held the hand of the king. “Maybe somebody will decide to attack your people’s food supply so that they starve to death”, he suggested. “If they die of starvation, you don’t have to attack them, but just sit back and watch.”

He was quite proud of the fact that he had had that idea even though starving people were probably a gruesome sight. If he hadn’t become an artist, he thought, he could easily have become some sort of military strategist (that planned the battle from the safety of his home, surrounded by pretty girls and drinking copious amounts of Venora Rose).

“Thanks”, he said as she promised him to be careful. “I know it’s a little boring and conventional, but I greatly prefer people that are whole. And if you lose a toe, I’ll make you a new one. A golden one. I’m the best sculptor in Rynmere, so it will be even better than the real thing!” He’d offered to make Aeon a prosthetic hand. A toe would be easy to make in comparison. A part of him hoped it would never come to it though even though it might be an interesting thing to do. It occurred to him that even though an artificial toe would be more beautiful and a lot harder to destroy, you wouldn’t be able to tickle it!

“I think I’ll contact the Iron Hand this season”, he mused as she agreed that it would be a good idea to learn to use the sword. “and ask them to send me a teacher. They won’t refuse an important noble lord, will they?” It was only after he had asked that question that he wondered if he was indeed an important noble lord.

Since Zvezdana had married Veljorn and thus likely removed herself from the line of succession, he was one step closer to being duke, and he was also responsible for that play. Yes, he decided, he was pretty important, and he was definitely more important than he used to be.

“Oh no”, he disagreed. “His Royal Majesty will most definitely suck as a father and run away screaming the moment somebody asks him to hold a baby!” Seven, he really hoped that none of the women he had been with would show up on his doorstep one trial and hand a child to him. He didn’t know what he would do then. Besides, if he had a bastard, Grandmother Ebony would just try to get rid of them anyway, like she had gotten rid of Hart.

The thought of his half-brother made him strangely melancholic for a moment. It was then that he decided that he would definitely confront his grandmother that month and demand an explanation. He wouldn’t let her get away with what he pretty much considered to be a crime.

Faith had started talking about mangos though, so he stopped thinking somewhat depressing thoughts and concentrated on what she was saying instead. He looked quite proud as she approved of his suggestion. The thought of washing the turkey made him much less happy though. He was fine with eating cooked turkey because it was easy to forget that it had been an animal once, but this here resembled an animal far too much.

Its skin would probably be slimy, and it would be cold and feel dead, and maybe it still had feathers somewhere. He looked at Faith abruptly. His skin had taken on a slightly greenish tinge. He wondered if he could just refuse and order her to wash the turkey instead, but then he remembered that she was not his slave anymore. He couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do!

“Kings have people to wash their turkeys for them”, he informed her nevertheless. “Unless they are pretending not to be the king for whatever reason”, he continued, sighed, took the turkey and started to wash it. That, he decided, was probably one of the bravest things that he had ever done. He even used water to wash it even though a part of him had been really tempted to drown the ugly thing in a pot full of Venora Rose and kill it again.

[Faith Augustin]

"What will your grandmother think of you freeing me?" It occurred to her and so she asked it, looking at him with concern in her eyes. She didn't want him to get into trouble, at all, and it might be that he did. Granny Ebony probably wouldn't approve, she thought, of him freeing slaves and she just hoped that he didn't say anything to said Granny about his feelings for her. The last thing that she wanted was for him to be unhappy and, as much as he said differently, Faith believed that Tristan thought a lot about his family and very much wanted to make them proud.

His notions on food poisoning though, caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Changing career to military strategist? That's very tactical and devious." She smiled and reached out to pat his arm. "I'll be fine. I'm not the waif like scrap you took in and taught to be a person any more, am I? I will have a brush head and broom handle ready for fights and will threaten to pin to walls by entrails, I promise." But sit back and do nothing were they under attack? She couldn't promise him that, so she didn't. But the idea of a sculpted toe? She shook her head with a smile at that and looked at him with undisguised fondness "It is almost worth chopping off a toe to do it. But I will endeavour to keep them all, if that is acceptable." And actually, she thought with a wicked grin at him, even if it wasn't.

No, of course the Iron Hand wouldn't refuse him, she assured him. "Just make sure that you don't change overnight in the time I'm away, please? If I come back and you are a hardened warrior, keen to leap into the fray at a moments notice, I will be rather sad." She looked at him and smiled softly "And very worried. So, please, just stay away from the pointy end of the sword yourself, yes? I worry about you." Oh, and there was a whole realm of meaning there, but Faith being who she was, had to add. "Besides, if you die in some freak accident, I'll feel duty bound to look after the cat."

But his assurances about His Royal Majesty were met with a firm and determined shake of her head. "His Royal Majesty, I am afraid to tell him, is a kind and loving soul and will, undoubtedly, be an excellent father. I'm reliably informed that you just fall into role the moment your child is put into your hands." Not that she was ever going to be finding that out, thank you very much.

As he looked at her, informed her that Kings had people to wash their turkeys for them and then did it anyway, Faith looked at him with waves of emotion flowing over her. When he turned back, with washed turkey in hand, she smiled and clapped, delightedly, but there were tears in her eyes, though she did not shed them. He was going to be just fine, she thought and smiled at him as she dropped a perfectly executed curtsy. "I am very proud of you, Your Royal Majesty. You have done the hardest bit. Now then. Lets get this bird cooked, shall we?" She showed him, then, standing side by side so that they could work in unison, how to blend the herbs and spices together and how to add them in to butter. "Turkey dries out easily, as a meat, so we're going to put this butter under the skin whilst it cooks. I'll show you, look." It took gentle hands to do it without breaking the skin itself, but he was a sculptor and he had the most delicate hands, she knew.

"That's it, careful there, good!" Once he'd done that, it was time to chop and peel the vegetables, side by side again so that she could show him what to do. "Now then, Your Royal Majesty. How long are we going to cook this for? And if you don't know, where might you look to give you the answer?" She glanced, pointedly, at the recipe book she had bought for him which had, conveniently, cooking times for different meats in the front. It was one of the reasons that she had chosen it for him, after all.