"And here are the kitchens . You will be working from here."

After what felt like minutes of walking we finally reached our destination, in a form of a poorly lit, damp room. The only source of light (and slight warmth) was a furnace in the other end of the room. There were several large tables set up, for the preparation of the food, presumably. The kitchen was disproportionately large considering the small keep we were staying in. I was yet to see it, but it wouldn't surprise me if the kitchen was at least as large as the megaron. At least thirty people could work in the kitchen at once, without stepping on each others toes.

And now it was completely empty. Empty, dark and cold. The only thing that suggested the kitchen was still being used was the lack of a layer of dust on the tables.

"Don't just stand there, come in!"

Being led by Clem left me completely out of breath. She was hastily moving from one hallway to another and after the day that I had, trying to keep up with her proved to be a challenge. The whole thing seemed even weirder considering that at some point I was sure we climbed the stairs to the second floor, but now we were on the ground floor again. Odd.

"Did you bring your knives?" the girl asked me in a business like manner.

"Which knives?"

"The knives. Cuisiner's knives. Your knives. Aren't you supposed to have your own knives?"

"No, I don't have my knives with me..."

"You can use the ones in the kitchen, then. But you can't complain about them!"

"Why would I--"

"You shan't complain about them!" Clem said, pouty.

"Okay, I won't, I won't," I had to give in.

In exchange she handed me a set of well-worn knives. I took one out of its holster and held in against dim firelight, mostly for show. An actual chef would be able to tell at a glance whether the knife was worth his time. As for me, I would be happy to escape this kitchen with all my fingers intact.

Meanwhile Clem was staring me down, as if daring me to complain about the knife, still a bit pouty in the cheeks.

"They'll do," I said, mostly for show and adding a loud sigh. I can't just accept a knife happily, can I? No self respecting chef would. "So, you had a chef here before me?" I changed the topic before she could say anything.

"Chef?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"A cuisiner."

"Of course, plenty."

"Let me guess, they complained about the knives?"

"Plenty," she said, pressing her lips together. I couldn't help but lough out loud at that.

"And you were assisting them?"

"I had to," the girl answered staring blankly. I laughed again.

"So, what will we be cooking?" suddenly, I felt relieved as if this whole thing could somehow work out. Just knowing that Clem had worked in a kitchen before, that she knew what she was doing made me relax a bit. Just enough to smile again, I guess.

"Waaaait," she suddenly said, dragging the word out. "Shouldn't you be the one telling me?"

"How am I supposed to decide for the princess?"

"No, wait," she put her finger on the chin again, thinking hard. "I got the wrong person, didn't I? I was told to bring the cuisiner, but I brought a fool instead."

"No, you... You got both."

Can't argue with the truth.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"I am."

"I can't be wrong again. If the Queen finds out..."

"You called her the queen again."

"Nooooo!" the tears streamed down her cheeks again.

"I'm willing to forget what I just heard..." I said, teasingly.

"I know what you want," she said as innocently as she probably could. "But a real lady won't do that kind of thing before marriage..."

"T-that's not what I want..." I said dropping my head. There's just no winning against this child. "Where did you hear something like that in the first place?"

"Women talk," she said simply, raising her shoulders.

"So will you help me?"

"Only if I must..."

"That's good enough for me," I happily clapped my hands together. It's a small victory, but at this point I take what I can get. "Any idea what the princess likes?"

"Hmm," she supported her chin with a finger again. "Chicken."

Chicken? That's a bit broad. But it's better than nothing or, even worse, some French named dish I don't understand. This is good. I can work with this. My only fault is that I didn't actually try cooking one myself. Ever.

"Should we make chicken, then?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Potatoes."

"Wh?.. What's with you people and potatoes?"

"Ever since the princess returned, she could only talk about your potatoes."

That was certainly worse. Not only did I have absolutely zero idea on how to make potato chips, nothing I could ever make would be as good as Let's chips.

"Chicken it is then."

"I was right about you being a fool after all. I've just said chicken is no good."

"No, chicken is exactly what we need."

Chicken is notoriously easy to make. Surely even a fool like me would be able to cook one. And more importantly, the plan was already forming in my mind.

I may just live another day.

"Clem, bring us the chicken."

She gave a dramatically audible sigh before turning to leave. I guess she was excited to taste the infamous potatoes herself.

"Um, make it two chickens."

"Two? What are we going to do with two chickens?"

"Oh, we'll throw the first one away, of course."