The freezing chill of the castle corridors contrasted with the turmoil in William's thoughts. After the harsh argument with Arthur, he needed something to anchor his mind. The strategist had cold logic; William had action and human warmth. And, at that moment, there was no better place to dissipate the tension than the heat of the stoves.
He walked to the castle's spacious kitchens. The place was empty at that time of night, lit only by a few oil lamps and the faint glow of the embers in the large stone stoves. On a long rustic oak table rested a wooden platter covered by a clean cloth. The head maid, following his previous instructions from that afternoon, had asked the cooks to leave generous, perfectly cut, and clean pieces of chicken, ready for preparation.
William pulled up a stool, sighed deeply, and summoned his mental interface.
Ever since he acquired the [SHOP] tab of the Dimensional System, he hadn't used his credits except to upgrade his physical attributes, but now he intended to use them for culinary purposes.
He looked at his balance: exactly 70 credits left.
A nostalgic smile curved his lips. He knew exactly what he was going to do. The bland porridge and medieval salted meat were already destroying his palate. He wanted comfort. He wanted the food from his old life on Earth. William's mind traveled back to his university days, specifically to the small apartment he shared with Alon, a Filipino exchange student who had taught him the absolute magic of a well-made Filipino barbecue.
— "Alright, System, let's see if your grocery store is any good." — William muttered.
He started browsing the holographic catalog, selecting ingredients that would never grow in the shitty climate of Border Town. His credits began to plummet.
Three thick stalks of fresh lemongrass... Peeled ginger... Heads of garlic... A bottle of coconut vinegar... Rich soy sauce... A handful of calamansi, those incredibly aromatic little Filipino lemons... Brown sugar... Black peppercorns... and the most important: annatto seeds.
Finally, he grabbed some thick iron skewers and a clean steel grill grate, which he had asked Anna to make.
When he finished his purchases, his balance was at thirty-one, but the rustic table in front of him was magically filled with a banquet of colors and aromas so inviting they were cruel; the kitchen air suddenly smelled of citrus and exotic spices.
It was at that moment that the air near the pantry rippled slightly.
Nightingale undid the spell of the Mist World, materializing just a few steps away.
She wasn't wearing her cloak's hood, letting her blonde hair fall freely over her shoulders. She had been missing since the night before, processing the emotional whirlwind shared by William's confessed words.
Her purple eyes were wide, not at him, but at the table. She looked at the translucent glass bottles containing dark liquids, the unknown green fruits, and the long, fragrant grass resting on the wood.
— "William..." — her voice sounded soft, hesitating a bit before breaking the silence. — "Where are you getting these things? I didn't see you bring in any sacks of food. Is this also part of your magic, or is it from that 'System' you mentioned yesterday?"
William turned to her, his content smile giving way to a genuinely tender expression.
— "Yes! It's from the System's shop." — he replied, picking up the chef's knife. — "It allows me to buy some things if I have enough money, and I decided to spend almost all of what I had left today for a very specific reason."
Nightingale crossed her arms defensively, though curiosity was stamped on her face. — "And what would be the reason to spend all that power on weird plants?"
— "Because I am going to prepare a special dinner for you." — he said, as naturally as if it were nothing. — "I figured that after the arduous day we had on the wall, the most incredible woman in Graycastle deserved something infinitely better than hard bread and dried fish."
The effect of his words was immediate; Nightingale's pale face was taken over by a reddish-pink hue on her cheeks. Ever since she heard his "declaration" and compliments the night before, the fearless assassin seemed to have lost all her armor. She quickly looked away, unable to look him in the eyes without feeling her heart pounding in her throat.
Embarrassed and visibly pleased, she pulled up a wooden chair and sat down silently, watching him work.
And what work it was.
William rolled up his shirt sleeves and began. He took the handle of a heavy knife and violently crushed the lemongrass stalks, garlic, and ginger, releasing an explosion of essential oils that made Nightingale inhale deeply, marveling at the fresh, citrusy fragrance that flooded the kitchen.
In a clay bowl, he mixed the sweet and sour coconut vinegar, the salty soy sauce, the squeezed juice from the calamansi lemons, and the brown sugar, whisking it all together until it became a rich, dark broth. He dunked the chicken pieces into the marinade. Since he didn't have hours to let the meat rest, he used a tiny fraction of his enhanced strength to massage the meat intensely, forcing the flavors deep into the chicken's fibers in minutes.
While the meat absorbed the magic of Alon's spices, William went to the rustic stove, heated some animal fat in an iron pan, and tossed in the red annatto seeds.
Nightingale watched, hypnotized, as the oil's color transformed from a pale yellow to a deep, vibrant, almost glowing orange-red.
He skewered the chicken thighs and breasts onto the thick iron skewers and placed them on the grate he had set over the live, glowing embers.
The moment the meat touched the hot metal, a sharp sizzle echoed, and smoke rose. But it wasn't the bitter smoke Nightingale knew; it was a sweet smoke, laden with citrus notes and caramelized garlic.
William turned the skewers masterfully, using an improvised brush made from the lemongrass leaves themselves to constantly baste the chicken with the annatto oil. The fire licked the meat, creating a deliciously toasted and glossy crust, while the inside remained incredibly juicy.
The aroma was so devastatingly good that Nightingale's stomach growled loudly. She blushed again, but William pretended not to hear.
Half an hour later, he served the food. The Chicken Inasal was perfect.
Pieces of chicken with a golden-red crust, exuding a steam that promised paradise, accompanied by a bowl of fluffy white rice, drizzled with a little of the annatto oil, which was another rarity in many cities of Graycastle.
He pushed the ceramic plate toward her, handing her a silver fork and knife.
— "Try it." — he said excitedly, sitting across from her with his own plate.
Nightingale cut a piece of the chicken. The knife slid through the meat like butter. She brought the piece to her mouth.
In the millisecond the flavor touched her taste buds, the witch's golden eyes widened.
It was an absurd explosion of contrasts. The fragrant citrus of the calamansi and lemongrass, perfectly balanced by the saltiness of the soy sauce and the caramelized sweetness of the brown sugar and garlic. The smoky touch of the embers united with the nutty flavor of the annatto oil. The crispy texture of the skin contrasting with the tender meat that melted in her mouth.
Nightingale closed her eyes and let out an involuntary moan of pure delight. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most wonderful and delicious thing she had ever tasted in all her years of miserable life in the alleys of Silver City under the corrupted nobility.
— "This really..." — she murmured with her mouth half full, forgetting her etiquette. — "William, this is... this is the best food in the Kingdom."
William gave a proud laugh, attacking his own plate.
They had dinner in a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery.
When hunger gave way to absolute satisfaction, William leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a cloth.
— "You can ask me anything you want, Nightingale." — he began, his tone relaxed. — "But, if you don't mind, I also have some curiosities about your world that my friend Arthur in the suit upstairs isn't willing to investigate."
She finished wiping her plate clean with a piece of bread, refusing to waste a single drop of that divine oil. — "No problem, ask whatever you want."
— "The Witch Cooperation Association. Your sisters' organization." — he gestured with his hands. — "After all, how many of you are marching out there in that frozen mountain range?"
Nightingale sighed, her expression turning momentarily melancholic. — "We lost many along the way. And I don't always keep counting the exact numbers so I don't get hurt when one is missing, but there are definitely more than forty-something sisters out there."
William whistled, impressed. — "Wow, that's an army! And tell me, from the perspective of someone who understands combat, whose magic there do you find the most interesting or dangerous?"
The witch leaned back in her chair, assuming her thoughtful and relaxed posture.
— "Cara, our Mentor, possesses a terrifying power." — Nightingale explained. — "She has the ability to summon a wide variety of serpents out of nowhere, and they aren't ordinary snakes; each species she creates has different venom effects, from paralysis to toxins that cause immediate pain. Then there's Catherine; her magic is controlling Fire and Water."
— "Hmm, so it would be like Anna, but with the addition of water magic?" — William interrupted.
— "No, but we do have Red Pepper, who is capable of generating and controlling fire. Catherine, on the other hand, cannot generate fire from her own body like Red Pepper or Anna." — Nightingale corrected. — "But the control she has over the flames around her is incredibly efficient and destructive; as long as she has an external source, she can defeat several knights. And, finally, there's Windseeker. Her ability is to remove the air from a closed environment or from around an enemy's head. Those three are, without a doubt, the best and most fearsome combat witches in the Association."
William listened attentively, processing her mentions. He only knew Cara; he had never heard of the other two, probably because they had died in the Impassable Mountain Range.
When she finished, he rested his arms on the table, looked deep into her purple eyes, and offered a teasing smile.
— "They might be terrifying..." — he said, his voice full of confidence. — "But your ability to turn invisible and phase through matter in close-quarters combat? I guarantee you're better than the three of them combined."
Nightingale blinked. A wave of heat rose up her neck. She wasn't used to being praised for her lethal skills as if it were something honorable; "ordinary" people usually feared her or called her a demon. William's compliments, so casual and sincere, always completely disarmed her.
She hid her mouth behind her hands for a second, and then let out a genuine, crystalline laugh, a melody that rarely echoed through the walls of that castle.
— "You are impossible, William." — she laughed, shaking her head, her eyes shining with amusement and affection.
She leaned over the table, holding his deep gaze. The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted, becoming charged with an intimate electricity.
— "I've answered your questions." — Nightingale murmured, a playful smile tracing her lips. — "But there's one thing that bothers me. You claim to know everything about my past, about my family, about my traumas... But I know absolutely nothing about you, nothing about your family, about how you got your magic, or what you were like before you had it, not even what you used to do."
William smiled, a smile that blended charm and a deep promise. He leaned toward her, so close she could feel the heat of his breath smelling of calamansi and spices.
— "Ah, my queen..." — he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. — "I can't hand you all my mysteries on a silver platter in a kitchen, even after an excellent meal."
— "And when do you intend to tell me?" — she countered, feigning irritation, though she didn't retreat a single millimeter.
William blinked slowly, holding her awestruck gaze.
— "I've told you once, and I'll repeat it." — he whispered, his smile widening. — "I will only reveal the deepest secrets of my past to you... When we get married at the altar."
Nightingale's face exploded into the most perfect and deep shade of crimson.
Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to retort with some curse or sarcasm, but the words simply evaporated from her throat. She had been completely defeated.
William gave a slight, victorious smile, standing up to collect the plates, leaving the most lethal assassin in Graycastle planted in the wooden chair, blushing and with her heart beating fast enough to power a windmill.
The winter outside was cruel and merciless, but inside those stone walls, the ice that surrounded Nightingale had already been completely melted.