Fin awoke the next morning feeling better rested than he had since he had since beginning his position as Royal Cook. He had wondered if he would have trouble sleeping on a bed stuffed with goose feathers instead of the floor, but found that it was an unnecessary worry in the end.

After he finished dressing and had planted a kiss against Annika’s temple, he had quietly retreated from the room, acknowledging that she would not be awake for several hours yet. The sun had not yet risen, and Fin knew he could get a lot done in the day before his Lady awoke.

‘Perhaps I can find some useful information in Austice and get back in time to have lunch with her.’

The thought made a spring appear in his step as he walked purposefully back down the winding corridor towards the stairs he had first climbed upon arriving. The morning was pleasantly cool, but there was a taste in the air that hinted towards the heat that was awaiting the citizens of Austice once the sun rose.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the grand staircase that Fin crossed paths with another person. An elderly maid carrying an armful of fluffy white towels was mounting the steps with her tired eyes cast downwards as she walked.

“Good morning,” Fin greeted.

The poor woman let out a yelp and nearly fell down the stairs in shock.

“Oh my- Good morning Mr. Wit! Forgive me, I didn’t hear you!” She took several calming breaths while placing a pale wrinkled hand over her chest. “I am terribly sorry I didn’t anticipate you or Lady Jenoure to be awake for many more hours, it will be a bit of time before breakfast is prepared in the dining hall-”

“Oh, please don’t fuss. Sorry for startling you, I actually just need to know where the kitchens are. I am more than happy to prepare-er-grab my own breakfast.” Fin felt his cheeks deepen in color. He didn’t need them to know just how far beneath their beloved mistress he was…

"Of course not Mr. Wit! You are a guest here! I will escort you to the dining hall this instant- oh. The towels.” Turning around on the step to peer down at a young maid that was crossing by the foot of the stairs, the elder called out. “Delores, please show Mr. Wit to the dining hall, and tell the cook to get his meal ready immediately.”

Fin cringed internally. While the soft mattress may have agreed with him, the excessive servitude most certainly did not. However, he could tell that the older maid would be far harder to goad into having his way, and preferred his chances with the younger woman.

After retreating the rest of the steps and standing in front of the young woman, Fin observed that Delores was perhaps only a few years younger than himself, and was incredibly pale for the time of year.

“Come with me, Mr. Wit.” She curtsied politely and Fin had to stop himself from bowing in response.

The morning was getting out of hand.

“Delores, was it?” Fin asked as she straightened.

“Yes, sir.”

“Right. Please call me Fin, and-I promise that I sincerely mean this; don’t take me to the dining hall. The kitchen is where I actually requested to go.” He gave her an apologetic smile that instead of endearing her to his request, had the reverse effect of making her take a step back with a frown.

“Sir, I am more than capable of relaying any messages to our cook about what you would like to eat.”

Fin wanted to rub his eyes in frustration, but could tell that wouldn’t convey the right tone.

“Delores, I wasn’t making the request because I doubt your capability. I just am more comfortable having my food in the kitchen when I am the only one eating.” He held up his hands in defeat, his weariness over the situation climbing rapidly.

Was there something truly grotesque in the kitchen that made it such a strange request?

The young maid peered at him as though he were a few eggs short of a dozen, but tentatively nodded.

As they began to move across the grand entrance of the estate in the same direction she had been heading, Fin decided to try and break the awkward silence that had stretched on between them.

“Have you been working for Lady Jenoure a long time?” he asked conversationally.

Delores slowly turned and stared at him. Her expression indicative that her opinion of him was rapidly plummeting.

‘What in the world is wrong with these people?’ Fin began to grow increasingly worried for the staff in Annika’s estate… was she a complete monster to her own servants when she wasn’t at the castle? Were they terrified of anyone ‘friendly’ with their mistress? What in the world could it be?

After a couple minutes of prolonged silence, the maid reached the end of a short hallway that was just off of the dining room. Placing her hand on the kitchen door, Delores shot him one last questioning look, and it was all Fin could do to remain calm and not break the door down in exasperation.

Opening the door for him, the maid hastily leapt away from its entrance, and scurried off before whoever- or whatever was inside could see her.

“Who is it?!” A voice boomed out menacingly.

Fin jolted at the bellow, and immediately felt himself internally reach for his magic, only to find it wasn’t there. This paired with the maid’s behavior set him more ill at ease than he had been since leaving the castle.

Stepping forward cautiously, the redhead revealed himself in the doorway. The man staring back at Fin matched the voice that had first exploded from within the room.

A massive burly man with a thick black beard, and massive muscular arms stood behind a cooking table. A Troivackian. His dark eyes glaring at the intruder for a moment before easing itself back into a pained look of respectfulness.

“You must be Lady Jenoure’s guest.”

Fin was relatively certain he could detect a note of disdain in the man’s voice.

“That I am, and you are...?”

“Raymond.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Raymond.”

He grunted.

Fin entered the kitchen and cast an appraising eye about him,while trying not to be obvious about doing so. It was well stocked, if a little cluttered and messy on a few of the shelves that stood around the room. Though, he was pleased to see that despite there being the occasional spilled potato, or dusting of flour, the place wasn’t dirty.

It was perhap half the size of his kitchen in the castle, but the one feature that had Fin stop in his casual perusal of the room, was the open stained glass doors that looked out over the sea and let in a refreshing morning breeze.

Taking a deep breath of salty air, Fin turned with a smile on his face, unaware that he had been examining the kitchen with his hands behind his back as though he were a teacher examining his student’s work. Even though Raymond, who was glowering at him, was a few years older.

“What a lucky man you are.” Fin grinned.

Raymond’s hostile expression shifted to open bewilderment.

“You get this fantastic breeze to cool you down so that this room isn’t stifling. Not to mention the view is spectacular.” As he spoke, the redhead kept his gaze fixed on the horizon where the soft touches of a pink dawn began cresting over the sea in promise of another brilliant sunrise.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wit?” The terse reply succeeded in making Fin turn around, his eyes cutting to the Troivackian with interest.

“I was hoping to eat my breakfast here and watch you work.” The witch walked over to the kitchen table, and folded his arms over his chest.

“You’ll be more comfortable in the dining room, sir.” Raymond’s physical response to his visitor joining him at the table was a curling of his lip.

“I like to watch people cook, I won’t be a bother.” The redhead looked around the room and spotted a stool that was the perfect height for the table- no doubt the same one the cook himself used for his meals.

Bringing it over to the table, Fin made himself comfortable, and stared up at the man who looked ready to punt him over the balcony edge.

“What is it you’ll be having?” Raymond ground out, his teeth gnashing.

“Hmm, I think I wouldn’t mind scrambled eggs and a bit of bread. If there is any herb butter or bread that would be welcome. If not, some jam will do.” Fin smiled and waited. His face lit as though he were about to receive a gift.

Instead what he got was a curt response of:

“You must be used to that hoity toity new cook at the castle.” Raymond turned around with a grumble, which had him missing the stricken expression his guest made.

“What’s this about the new cook? I hear he’s… he’s decent.” Fin cleared his throat awkwardly.

“More than decent apparently- or so everyone keeps telling me since they’ve tried his food.” He muttered more to himself than to the redhead. “ He’s making people fussy. Puts it in their head that they should have whatever they want.”

Fin was at a loss for words then. He didn’t know how to take the… insult? Compliment?

Instead, he contented himself with watching Raymond crack a few eggs into a bowl. It always interested him how other cooks prepared their food, and sometimes he became inspired with new recipes or methods. Settling down, he dismissed his earlier unease over the comments Raymond gave, and instead waited earnestly to watch his breakfast be made.

Sadly, however, what Fin witnessed next made him wince and quashed any former levity.

He watched the cook give a few halfhearted turns of the eggs in his bowl, and sloshed the barely mixed liquid into the pan over the fire. Raymond then turned his back on the rapidly burning eggs, and snatched up a loaf of white bread. Fin watched him cut the bread much in the same manner as a butcher would cleave a chicken’s head.

By the time his food was sitting in front of him, the redhead barely felt hungry at all. He stared at the plate for several moments without moving, his expression that of a broken soldier.

“What’s wrong with it?” The cook snapped after several moments.

Fin slowly raised his face to the man, his eye twitching.

“Raymond, do you hate me?”

The massive man scowled down at the redhead.

“I don’t know you well enough to hate you, but you aren’t a favorite of mine,” he managed to break out. “Why’re you asking me that?”

Fin stood slowly, still staring at his plate as his hand went to his mouth. He said nothing, even as the glow of dawn grew behind him.

After several moments of watching his sorrowful expression, Raymond had had enough.

“What in the Gods' name is the matter?!”

Fin jumped and began shaking his head.

‘I can’t go causing a ruckus in Annika’s home. It wouldn’t be right…’ His hands were on his hips, as he still continued staring at the food. He was struggling to find the right words.

“Raymond… I… I can understand if you dislike me, and perhaps prepared breakfast in such a way to communicate that, but-”

“In what way?” the cook barked.

“Like… like it was a job. A job you cared nothing about. Food is… food is life. It can start the day right, it can make a day better. It can heal, or harm. It brings people together, and is there when people are alone. Food is to be respected. It is a gift, and the best kind of gift. The kind where the Gods and mankind work together to create something whole. Something for the better.” Fin turned towards the rising sun over the water and walked towards the balcony doors. His gait that of a man on his way to the gallows.

“There is no home without food. A place of rest and recovery should be sacred, and the offering of food should be treated and prepared with great appreciation and care.”

Fin turned around and found that Raymond was looking at him as though he had two heads that spoke in foreign languages. He also noted that the cook wasn’t the only member of the audience anymore. The elderly maid from earlier, and Delores stood in the doorway with matching blank expressions.

“I’ll show you.” Fin stepped forward briskly. Rounding the table and nudging the catatonic Raymond out of the way, he picked up the eggs and bowl that had been discarded, and began to cook.

The staff wanted to stop him, but also to ask how a crazy man wound up coming home with their brilliant mistress. That is until Fin cracked four eggs faster than they could blink, and had them beaten to golden smoothness in a moment.

He carefully poured the mixture into the pan, then lifted the pan it in and out of the flames, turning the solidifying meal over gently. Without even looking, he reached over into a clay pot that held salt, and seasoned the mixture sparingly, before adding another dusting of pepper. The briefest thought of how Fin knew where the ingredients were without asking did cross Raymond’s mind, but was quickly dismissed as mouth watering aromas began floating around the room.

“Aren’t those just eggs he’s cooking?” Delores whispered, confused, to the elderly maid at her side.

The senior didn’t have time to answer before Fin had the eggs divided onto three plates. At one point he held out his hand, as though expecting something to fly into it… but that was ridiculous. Giving his head a shake, the redhead walked over to a bag of apples- once again showing that he somehow knew where everything was as though it were his kitchen.

He sliced the apples up with such skill that no one thought about stopping him anymore. Everyone watched entranced as their guest worked, unable to move or speak. Somehow, even though he didn’t do anything supernatural, it was as though when he cooked, it was… magic.

*

Annika slowly sat up in her bed while giving a long breathy yawn. She hadn’t slept so deeply in a year. Smiling to herself, she glanced over to the side of the bed where Fin had lain the night before only to find him gone.

Frowning, Annika wondered how he had been able to leave the room without waking her.

She had just swung her legs over the edge of her bed, intending to ask him all about his stealthiness, when her chamber door burst open and in rushed Clara.

“Up! Get up! You need to see this!”

“What in the- Clara! You forget your place, you-”

“Mr. Ashowan is in the kitchen with Raymond.”

Annika’s eyes widened. “Oh, Gods.”

Slipping a robe over her nightdress without another hesitation, she bolted from the room with Clara on her heels.

She darted past maids and footmen who all bowed and curtsied, but that she barely acknowledged in her rush to save Fin.

Raymond was a former squadron leader for the Troivackian army. If Fin annoyed him, there was no small chance that he’d be thrown off the nearest balcony without a second thought.

Throwing the kitchen door open, Annika found herself staring at the backs of several members of her serving staff. Momentarily slowed by the perplexing obstacle, she finally managed to push through their shoulders, and found her jaw dropping open on its own accord when she beheld the sight before her.

Fin stood behind Raymond, his arms wrapped around the ex-Troivackian soldier, as he gently guided his meaty hands into slicing a peach.

“-Thinner slices, yes, you don’t want to give out quarters, it's unnecessary and- oh, good morning!” Fin greeted Annika with a knee wobbling smile.

After a few beats of silence, Annika’s brain began to work again, albeit somewhat brokenly. All she could think over and over:

‘Man of my dreams… Man that I love…’

Turning around to head back to the dining hall, she wondered if Fin had brought any coffee with him on his ‘vacation’.