Argh…. I can breathe again.

A full smile appeared on the princess' face.

“This is truly exquisite,” she said smiling right at me. “Such a rich and savory taste. It is spicy, but at the same time it’s a bit sour and even a little sweet. It’s like nothing I have ever tasted.”

“I am glad it is to your liking, Your Highness,” I bow again.

“Sir Renig, you have to taste this.”

“I… It would be my honor to share food with Her Highness.”

He took out a single piece as well and just like the princess, was in no rush to eat it whole.

“Ah.”

“So? What do you think?” she seemed excited.

“It’s as Your Highness said,” Renig admitted. “It really is rather good.”

She took another piece and put it in her mouth, she ate it properly before asking.

“But what is it exactly that I am eating?”

This was the one question I wanted to hear the least. The answer wasn’t particularly difficult or complicated, but I hesitated. The possibilities were endless and my healthy paranoia got the better of me once again.

“What do you think it is, Sir Renig?” she asked before I could come up with an answer.

“I am afraid I do not know, Your Highness. Some of the spices seem familiar, but at the same time different and unusual.”

“Yes, I agree. Sir Cuisinier, you have to tell us what it is!”

Well, since I have to, guess there’s no dodging the issue now.

“This is what we call ‘chips’, Your Highness.”

“Chips, you say. And what are they made of?”

“It’s potatoes, Your Highness,” I said bowing deeply once again.

The moment of truth. The way I see it, there are three possibilities. If this world is anything like the one I come from, the concept of potatoes might still be unfamiliar to them. If my (admittedly limited) history knowledge isn’t wrong, potatoes came into play only around the 15th century. If potatoes don’t exist here yet, explaining it could be rather troublesome.

Another scenario is, potatoes are known to them, but are considered unfit for royalty. Considering the circumstances, I could still get away with it, if potatoes are merely commoner food. However, it would be very bad if potatoes turn out to be something like fodder for the pigs…

Argh, a shiver ran down my spine.

“Potatoes?!” Renig jumped up once again.

“It surely is… Quite outstanding, Sir Cuisinier.”

So it’s fine after all?

I really might get another heart attack if I have to spend more time in this world. Though it seems I lucked out this time.

“But how can this be? I have never tasted potatoes this delicious,” she inquired with a glimmer in her eye.

“It’s really nothing out of the ordinary, Your Highness,” I try to dodge the question. “It really isn’t food befitting a princess, so please forgive my audacious behavior.”

“Nonsense! I have to know!”

She really is quite demanding. Just as to be expected of a royalty, I guess…

“But it really isn’t very extravagant. The potatoes are prepared in oil, after which you season them with spices. It really isn’t anything special.”

“So it true then. You really are...” She cut off in the middle of a sentence.

“Your Highness?”

“Then you really are the Cuisinier?” she asked.

“I am sorry, Your Highness, but I do not understand,” I bow my head once again.

“The princess is asking whether you are the one who made it,” Renig explained.

“Ah...”

Somehow, looking back to it, that was stupid of me. How did I not see this question coming? Surely they would want to know who prepared the dish they were eating.

Can I just say that it wasn’t me who prepared it? That could turn out troublesome… Either way, what’s the worse that could happen?

“I cook a little, though I am certainly not very good at it, Your Highness,” I respond humbly.

“You should not be so modest, the dish really is phenomenal,” she said after eating another piece.

This is probably for the best, since that was my plan in the first place - to gain favor. If she thinks that I’m the one who made the food, not just the one who gave it to her, she would be even more grateful. Having a royalty indebted to you could prove to be invaluable.

“You must cook this for me again some time!” the princess exclaimed suddenly.

“Ah… I would be honored…”

“Truly phenomenal. Wouldn’t you say, Sir Renig?”

“Y, Yes, Your Highness.”

“Such a variety of flavor with a single bite,” she happily eats another bit.

The princess really seems to enjoy it, which works out great for me. Assuming we survive this endeavor, I will be the one who gave food to a royalty when she needed it the most.

No, what am I thinking?

Gaining favors and climbing the ladder shouldn’t be my goal here. For one thing, I am still not quite convinced this isn’t some sort of a prank. For another, even if I was transported to another world, my goal should be to find my way back, not to get close to the princess!

I should leave such things to those who don’t have a life to come back to and actually got an overpowered ability to rely upon… I don't belong here.

“That must be it,” the princess said after eating a fair share of chips. “You must be a cook traveling with your master when your ship crashed. Does that sound right? Do you remember anything like that?”

“These shores are frequented by Lord Danbas’ ships.”

“Lord Danbas, you say. How about it, Sir Cuisinier? Does hearing the name Danbas brings back any memories?”

“My apologies, Your Highness...”

“You do not have to apologise for not being able to remember...”

“Commander!” a voice rang from the entrance.

Three pairs of eyes shifted in that direction to see Jerome breathing unsteadily.

“Report,” Renig demanded immediately.

“Commander, it’s the Germanian forces. They are retreating.”

“Do we know who is pushing them back?”

“It’s hard to say for sure...” Jerome hesitated for a moment.

Being sent out to watch the perimeter for any approaching parties you couldn’t expect Jerome to actually have this kind of information. Being so short on manpower all the princess’ guard could afford was to sit quietly and hope not to get found. What talk could there be of reconnaissance… Renig knew that as well as anyone else.

“It was hard to see from that distance, but if I may speculate,” Jerome said carefully.

“What did you see?”

Speculation isn’t something to rely upon in the military matters, but during situations like these you have to take all that you can get.

“I saw banners with a golden lion’s head on them,” Jerome reported.

“The King’s banner?!”

“It’s the only deep purple banner in the whole Kingdom, I am certain my eyes did not fool me.”

“But why would my father’s knights would be here?” the princess uttered.

“Could it be the His Majesty the King knew this was a trap all along?” Renig thought out loud.

Isn’t that a bit of a bold statement? That almost sounds like he’s implying that the King knew all along his daughter was going into the trap?

“No… It would be just like my father to try and solve everything with force,” her sad voice made everyone turn. “He did not send the knights to rescue me. He did not send the knights to support me, to stand by me either. That is because he never acknowledged the negotiations in the first place.”

“Your Majesty...” Jerome wanted to say something, but it’s like the words never came.

“And the only reason why he waited this long to attack, was because his impudent child kept interfering with her naive talks of peace...”

The cave fell into chilling silence once more. No one dared to move, it seemed even the wind stopped blowing. The silence was almost unbearable.

“Oh, it seems you were right as always, Sir Renig,” the princess smiled, but her eyes looked dead and emotionless. “There will be war after all.”

“Your Highness...” Renig began.

“Your Highness!”

Instead, Albert ran into the cave. His greasy black hair sticking to the sweaty forehead almost blocked his pale face. Before he could say anything else, clatter behind his back intensified and a brigade of knights bursted in. As if storming the den, they took their positions at both sides making a path.

“Princess Frederica Maria de Jarenbourg,” a smug voice rung out from the entry.

A large man, wearing a full body armor, walked towards the princess, pushing slender Albert as if he wasn’t even there. Looking from where I was standing, he must’ve been at least 8 feet tall and he weigh easily over 500 pounds. Jerome who was a whale of a man by almost any standards paled in comparison, looking like an average person standing next to him.

Renig stiffened and grasped the handle of his sword. And for a good reason. Needless to say, I have never been in a sword fight, not even in a regular fist fight for the past 10 years, and even I could feel the overwhelming hostility leaking from the uninvited knights.

And yet shining on their chests, a deep purple banner, with a golden lion’s head - insignia of the King. The symbol of her father's royal knights.

“We have come to bring you back,” the large man said taking his helmet off. Underneath it were long brown hair covering his rough face.

Now it could be just my inferior knowledge of how these things work acting up, but they are being disrespectful, aren’t they? No matter that they are serving under the King himself, at the very least they should know better than to not introduce themselves. Not to mention the way they are addressing the princess…

“You are Sir Kelbert, are you not?” she asked, just as though her royal pride never wavered. “What does my father want with me?”

Standing next to Renig I could almost hear the gears in his head turning. Surely he must be a skilled knight, and call it a suspension bridge effect if you will, but I’m willing to bet that Jerome and Albert are extraordinary fighters as well. But even so, what he was thinking right now was suicidal, they couldn’t beat 12 King’s knights just by themselves…

Not even if that overgrown Kelbert wasn’t around.

“We were ordered to take you back to the capital… Safely.”

“I see. In which case let us not make my father wait any longer,” the princess said and stepped towards him.

“Hmpf,” pleased with himself, Kelbert grinned his teeth.

Renig could only frown in response - the princess had made her choice.

“And who is this?”

Needless to say Kelbert was a terrifying person. His overflowing confidence was something to be feared, not to mention his disproportionate size. Yet the moment he pointed his finger at me I froze in fear. He wasn’t threatening me, in fact he was indifferent towards me, and yet… I was shivering in horror unable to speak.

You don’t get to meet a real life Gregor Clegane every day.

“Ah, that. He is my personal chef!” the princess proclaimed.

…

…

She couldn’t be talking about me, could she?