Chapter 17: THE DEMON KING’S COOKING

The cooking quest returned with vengeance.

[MAIN QUEST: Cook a complete meal for someone important to you.]

[Reward: Biological Age -2 Years]

Vael chose stew.

This was his first mistake.

His second was allowing Morrigan to help purchase ingredients.

In his reign, Vael had planned meals for armies.

His instincts had not adjusted to four people.

Lyria entered the rented kitchen and stopped.

Thirty kilograms of potatoes occupied one corner.

Two sacks of onions leaned against the wall.

A butcher was unloading half a cow through the rear door.

Lyria stared.

"How many people are coming?"

"Four."

She pointed at the potatoes.

Vael looked at them.

"...I may have miscalculated."

Seraphina arrived carrying a notebook titled DOMESTIC HABITS OF POSSIBLE DEMONIC SOVEREIGNS.

Vael confiscated it.

Morrigan appeared wearing an apron over full black armor.

On the apron were pink rabbits.

Vael stared.

"Where did you get that?"

"The market."

"Why?"

"The merchant said it was terrifying."

"He lied."

Morrigan looked down at the rabbits.

"They are prey animals. I assumed it symbolized conquest."

Vael decided not to explain.

Cooking became warfare.

Vael chopped vegetables with supernatural precision.

Morrigan treated onions as hostile targets.

Seraphina recorded measurements instead of helping.

Lyria repeatedly removed dangerous quantities of salt from Vael’s hand.

At one point, Vael stirred the cauldron and said, "This needs heat."

Black fire erupted beneath it.

The pot melted.

Everyone stared at the molten iron.

Vael looked at the ladle still in his hand.

"Too much."

"No," Lyria said. "Really?"

They started again.

The second attempt was smaller.

Vael forced himself to follow Lyria’s instructions.

"Half an onion."

He cut exactly half.

"One pinch of salt."

Vael pinched four grains.

"That is not a pinch."

"It is precise."

"Food is not artillery."

"Everything benefits from measurement."

"Your first pot became lava."

Vael accepted the point under protest.

Two hours later, a much smaller pot sat on the table.

Vael served four bowls.

The room became quiet.

He suddenly realized he cared whether they liked it.

This was unpleasant.

Lyria tasted first.

Then Seraphina.

Then Morrigan.

Morrigan began crying.

Vael stiffened.

"Is it that bad?"

She shook her head violently.

"My King cooked for me."

"I have fed troops before."

"You approved troop rations. You never cooked."

Seraphina tasted another spoonful.

"This is actually good."

Lyria smiled.

"Very good."

Vael looked down at his own bowl.

He felt absurdly relieved.

DING.

[MAIN QUEST COMPLETE.]

[Reward: Biological Age -2 Years]

Warmth moved through him.

Forty-two became forty.

Seraphina’s spoon froze.

She stared at his face.

"I just watched you become younger."

Vael continued eating.

"No, you didn’t."

"I absolutely did."

"Soup steam."

"That is not how steam works."

Morrigan nodded solemnly.

"His Majesty has always had excellent soup steam."

Lyria put her face in her hands.

Their lies were getting worse.

After dinner, Vael found Seraphina alone outside.

She was not taking notes.

That alone was suspicious.

"You know," she said.

"Yes."

"I know enough."

Vael leaned against the wall.

"Then why haven’t you reported me?"

"I sent a report."

His expression hardened.

Seraphina held up one finger.

"It said: ’Demonic activity confirmed. Immediate military action not recommended. Subject behavior inconsistent with historical threat profile. Continue observation.’"

Vael stared.

"You called me a subject."

"You are one."

"That is insulting."

"You ordered cities burned."

He had no answer to that.

Seraphina looked toward the kitchen, where Lyria and Morrigan were arguing about who had to wash the dishes.

"I don’t know what you are now," she said. "But I know what the records say you were."

Vael’s gaze drifted toward the road east.

A name on an old milestone returned to him.

Ashfen.

He said nothing.