Chapter 432: Noble In The Kitchen.

Chapter 432: Chapter 432: Noble In The Kitchen.

Rogard is not used to being down in the kitchens. It’s a little embarrassing, but he actually had to ask Binny where they even were.

The servants don’t seem to know exactly what he’s doing there, but the flow of people leads him right to an empty stool the moment he steps in. Not long after, a mug of ale appears at his elbow when he takes a seat so Rogard can only assume it’s okay that he is.

It’s not difficult to to discern that not everyone is thrilled about it though. At the end of the day he’s lived most of his life as a nobleman, and most of his life as his father’s son, and it’s really only recently that he’s been even noticing how tirelessly the servants scurry about through the castle, so he really can’t blame them.

​It’s a good thing he’s so effortlessly charming.

He forgets sometimes, because the company he keeps is full of ruffians who would rather die than let him get a big head about it, but he has quite the dashing smile.

It’s refreshing to know that it still works, although he feels a little bad for the couple of servant girls who promptly trip over themselves the moment he flashes one their way.

​For the most part though, he leaves them to their work.

And they working hard . Gods, how was it possible he’d lived in the castle his whole life and never realised just how much work the kitchens put in? His father loved lavish affairs, with all sorts of food and wine, and Rogard had always enjoyed such things without for a second wondering where they came from or just who was preparing them.

He knew , obviously he knew that the servants had a hand in it, but he’d never imagined that it was so involved.

There can’t be, but it feels like there’s thousands of them at work down here, and every single one of them is busy.

The hearths are all burning –the only one unoccupied the one he’s sitting closest to –each one and each stove laden with a different type of food.

And there’s so much of it –the cooks moving like they’re under siege and the walls are about to fall.

​Not to mentioned the plates .

​There are plates everywhere –clean ones, dirty ones, ones carrying scraps and ones carrying ingredients –gods, there’s a young girl carrying a pot that’s almost as big as her. It’s a little fascinating, actually, watching them work.

​How do they not drop them all? How do they not crash into each other? Rogard keeps waiting for it to happen, because surely with so many of them and with so much going on there’s no way they won’t, but it never does, like they’re all moving on individual currents; all moving, but separate and distinct.

​It’s quite impressive, actually. And a little intimidating.

​It’s funny. Hard work and effort is not something that Rogard used to place much importance on; most of what he did and accomplished came to him effortlessly.

But things are a little different now.

Eventually, Khobi appears in the doorway, and from how sheepish he looks Rogard can only assume that he knows he’s late and that it’s probably Loac’s fault.

​"Good afternoon, Khobi," Rogard greets airily even though it’s still morning, and only feels a teeny, tiny bit of guilt for teasing him when Khobi gives him an apologetic look from the across the room.

He’s really not that late, and Rogard’s actually kind of enjoyed his time here. He’s been honing his potato peeling skills.

Obviously, he’s a natural, although the servant child who he’d been sharing a bucket with seemed to be the only one who was impressed.

​Rogard thinks it’s a little rude. He only very recently learned how to peel potatoes, and he got the hang of it on his first try. Drogger hadn’t been impressed, either.

​"...Uh, sorry," Khobi fumbles awkwardly, the crowd inexplicably parting to make space for him as he ambles over; head and shoulders above the servants, "...I uh, overslept."

​Rogard considers the distinct possibility that Khobi still hasn’t realised that he’s a terrible liar. And because he’s a Good Friend, he decides not to make mention that Khobi has a shiny, new hickey darkening up nicely just beneath his jaw.

He thinks it’s quite generous of him, too, seeing as part of being a Good Friend also involves never passing up the opportunity to mock your closest friends mercilessly .

​It poses quite the conundrum, really.

​But Khobi did promise to help him, and he is here and he’s not really that late, so Rogard decides to hold his tongue just this once.

He still gives him a nice try consolation smile so that he knows that he’s been seen through though. Rogard’s generous, but he’s not that generous.

​"...So," Khobi coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly as he turns towards the bench and starts shuffling some of the bowls around to have something to do with his hands.

Rogard’s smile widens, knowing the message has gotten through. "...What’re we making?"

​Somewhat unsurprisingly, Khobi’s upcoming wedding is a nightmare for everyone , and working out the finer details of the numerous security measures required has left Drogger particularly stressed.

And because Rogard is a (self-professed) amazing boyfriend, he thought a home-cooked meal would be a nice gesture.

Except that Rogard’s never cooked anything by himself before and he didn’t want to risk burning their house down.

​Their house .

He still feels a little giddy thinking about it.

​It’s a good thing he’s helped Drogger make it enough times now that he knows almost all the ingredients –and the ones he doesn’t Khobi seems able to figure out with a vague physical description and what they smell like.

Rogard knows that he spends a lot of time here in the kitchens –and has even gotten to taste some of his food (which is why he even asked him for help in the first place) but this is this first time actually seeing him at work.