It had been a couple of weeks since Father Leofwin expined the process for joining the Church to Enric. Until now, his days had been filled with repetitive lessons and more 'rebellions', but this morning was different. After waking up and preparing for the day ahead, Enric was greeted by his butler entering the room.

  "Good morning, young master," the butler said. He had grown accustomed to Enric’s independence; the duties of attending to the boy’s morning routine had long since disappeared. Nevertheless, the loyal servant remained eager to outline the day’s lessons—and to share unexpected good news.

  "It seems that your father will be absent for a few days," the butler began. "There is a meeting of his noble faction to debate and finalize some kind of trade deal."

  Upon hearing this, Enric felt a celebration was in order. Whenever Alfred was away on business, life at the family vil became far less tense. Of course, Alfred’s looming shadow still lingered, but his absence meant Enric would have much more freedom to do as he pleased.

  "Aside from that, you have no lessons for most of the day—just religion in the afternoon. Your day begins with breakfast. Your brother Edmund is already waiting for you in the dining room."

  "Excellent news!" Enric replied to the butler with a wide smile. "And what about... you know what...?"

  "Ah, yes." the butler said. "I’ve already spoken to the kitchen staff. You may make your way there after breakfast. Additionally, I visited the library and retrieved the books you requested. I’ll deliver them this afternoon."

  Ever since the butler had sworn loyalty to the boy—following Enric’s cleaning stunt—pnning and executing schemes had become much smoother for the young noble. Today’s first scheme was simple: to help the kitchen staff prepare lunch for his noble brother Edmund, as well as for the rest of the servants. Afterward, he would help deliver those meals to the Officials’ Estate.

  But that was a pn for ter. For now, he gave a short bow to the butler and made his way to breakfast.

  Enric made his way downstairs to the dining room. Edmund was already seated at the table.

  "Hello, Enric," he began. "As you can see, Father is preparing to leave on business, so he won’t be joining us. I’ve also heard that Victor will be back this morning, so tomorrow he’ll join us for breakfast."

  "That’s great news, brother!" Enric excimed, taking his seat. "Now tell me... how is your work?"

  And so, breakfast began. The two brothers ate without the usual tension that Alfred emanated. For many, this was how breakfast should be, but for the Goldfields, it was a rare pleasure.

  After a while of eating in silence, Enric broke the ice. "Hey, Edmund, I wanted to ask..." he began shyly. "Father is usually so strict with you, filling your days with endless tasks. I’m worried about your health. Are you alright?"

  "It’s my duty to fulfill," Edmund began. "I do feel tired sometimes, but that’s the reward for a job well done—and a good night’s sleep. And what about you? Are you having any trouble with your studies?"

  "I must say, it’s been harder and harder with each passing year... I just wish I could understand Father’s strictness."

  "Father has always been duty-focused," Edmund replied. Suddenly, his face grew visibly sadder. "But things were more rexed when Mother was around..."

  Enric had never known his mother. Even though his brothers and the staff remembered her somewhat well, on Alfred’s orders, they avoided the subject when Enric was present.

  "Please, brother, can you tell me more?"

  Edmund remained silent for a moment, as if judging what was safe to share and recollecting his memories.

  "When Father was strict, Mother was calm and forgiving. She tempered his ambitions for our sake on many occasions." Edmund paused to take a breath before continuing. "They loved each other, but sometimes they would argue. After one particurly... vocal... disagreement, Mother took her things and disappeared into the night."

  Enric struggled to find the right words for what he was feeling in that moment.

  "So you’re saying... Father drove her away?"

  "No," Edmund replied quickly. "He would never do that. Mother left of her own free will. But after she was gone, Victor took it hard—just like you at this moment. In his anger, he challenged Father to a duel and was utterly defeated. A month ter, Victor was enrolled in the military academy."

  After hearing those words, Enric felt a headache so intense he thought his head might explode. But that wasn’t the end. After a moment, Edmund spoke again.

  "In the days that followed, Father became far harsher. Eventually, he banned us from ever speaking her name."

  Enric looked at his brother with wide eyes, his breathing heavy. Gathering his courage, he asked, "Edmund, brother... please tell me... what was our... what was my mother’s name?"

  "Lenore..." Edmund said, as though he had been carrying the name like a chain tied to his ankle. "Her name was Lenore. Lenore Goldfield."

  Enric suddenly felt weak, and as he looked at his brother, he realized that Edmund was just as emotionally drained as he was.

  "Well, I apologize, brother, but that’s enough revetions for today. Perhaps once you’ve been evaluated by Father and given a formal role, we can delve into this further."

  With that, Edmund rose from his seat. "See you ter, brother." he said, and made his exit.

  Enric was left alone in the dining room, staring bnkly at his half-finished breakfast, with only one word echoing in his mind.

  "Lenore..."

  He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. "I’ll leave as well..."

  His moment of contemption was cut short by Marta, the vil’s chef, who entered the dining room with the intention of cleaning up.

  "Ah, young master Enric!" she began with a smile. "I’ve been told by the butler that you’ve taken an interest in cooking. Feel free to finish your meal and join us in the kitchen afterward."

  "No need. I’ll head to the kitchen right now," Enric said with a serious expression, rising from his seat...

  Enric’s arrival in the kitchen was met with a mix of surprise and amusement from the staff. Whispers and gossip seemed endless. Eventually, Marta stepped in and expined the day’s task.

  "Today, we’ll make a pottage and herb sad. It will take some time, but don’t worry—I’ll guide you every step of the way," Marta said with a warm, motherly smile.

  First, they prepared the ingredients for the pottage: barley, carrots, turnips, onions, garlic, thyme, sage, pork, beef, and finally, salt and pepper.

  Enric’s first task was to cut the vegetables and meat. At first, he struggled, as he had never cooked for himself, let alone held a knife. He cut the vegetables unevenly, but Marta was there to guide him. Afterward, he and another cook chopped the meat into bite-sized chunks.

  “Not bad for your first time, young master. A bit uneven, but you’ll get the hang of it. Now, let’s toast the barley. Watch closely—this is where the magic happens.”

  Enric stepped back as Marta took the lead, pouring the barley into a rge, heavy pot over the fire. She stirred the grains with a wooden spoon, her movements smooth and practiced. The barley began to turn a warm golden brown, filling the kitchen with a nutty aroma.

  “It smells amazing! I didn’t know barley could smell like that.”

  “That’s the secret—toasting brings out the fvor. Here, take the spoon and give it a stir. Just don’t let it burn, or we’ll have to start over.”

  Enric took the spoon hesitantly, his grip awkward at first. He stirred the barley carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. Marta watched him with a critical eye but nodded in approval as he found his rhythm.

  “Not bad. You’ve got a steady hand when you focus. Now, let’s move on to the vegetables and meat.”

  She handed him a smaller pot and a chunk of butter. Enric dropped the butter into the pot, wincing as it sizzled and spat.

  “Why does it do that?” the young boy asked.

  “Because it’s hot, young master. Now, in go the onions and garlic. Be careful—don’t let them burn.”

  Enric added the onions and garlic, stirring them nervously as they softened and released their aroma. Marta leaned over his shoulder, guiding his hand.

  “See how they’re turning translucent? That’s when you know they’re ready. Now, add the meat.”

  Enric dumped the chunks of pork and beef into the pot, jumping back as the fat crackled and popped.

  “It’s attacking me!” the boy shouted, confused.

  “It’s just the fat rendering. Don’t be so dramatic. Here, use this spoon to brown the meat.” Marta said, barely holding back her ughter.

  Enric obeyed, poking at the meat cautiously. Marta chuckled and took the spoon from him, demonstrating how to sear the meat evenly.

  “Like this. You want a nice crust on the outside. It adds fvor.”

  “I didn’t realize cooking was so... violent.” After hearing his commment, Marta ughed slightly

  “Violent? Young master, this is just the beginning. Wait until you see what happens when we add the barley and stock.”

  Once the meat was browned, Marta instructed Enric to add the toasted barley back into the pot. “Now, the stock. Pour it in slowly—don’t spsh.”

  Enric lifted the heavy pot of stock, his arms trembling slightly. He poured it in carefully, watching as the liquid bubbled and merged with the barley and meat.

  “It’s starting to look like actual food!”“Of course it is. What did you think we were making, mud pies? Now, add the vegetables and herbs.”

  Enric dumped the chopped carrots, turnips, thyme, and sage into the pot, stirring everything together. The kitchen filled with the rich, savory scent of the simmering pottage.

  “Now, we let it simmer. Stir it every now and then, and make sure it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Can you handle that?”“I think so. But what if I mess it up?”“Then we’ll start over. But you won’t mess it up. Just pay attention.”

  As Enric took over the stirring, Marta turned her attention to the herb sad. She handed him a basket of fresh greens and herbs.

  "While the pottage simmers, let’s work on the sad. Wash these greens carefully—we don’t want any dirt in the noble family’s lunch.”

  And so, they kept cooking for a while longer. It turned out that cooking was something young Goldfield would come to enjoy dearly. Making the sad went quickly compared to the pottage. After all was done and all was said, it was time to deliver the food to the Official’s Estate.

  Marta and the kitchen staff packed the food onto carts, preparing it for delivery. Young Master Enric, of course, had a say in this.

  “I want to help with the delivery!” he decred proudly.

  “You really are serious about helping us servants... Well, I won’t turn away a willing pair of hands, but you’ve worked very hard today. Are you sure it’s worth the bother—and the risk—for you?” Marta asked, concern evident in her voice.

  “I want to do this properly. Besides, I still have some time before my first and only lesson for today. I can do this!”

  Marta gave the boy a warm smile before sending him off. And so, Enric, accompanied by a few servants, made his way to the Official’s Estate.

  On their way, some servants and officials gave them strange looks—some amused, some concerned. None of it bothered Enric, who was completely focused on the task at hand. The delivery finally reached the Official’s Estate, bustling with life and work as always.

  The group entered the dining area and began serving the food to the already-seated officials. Some were beyond surprised—and not in the usual gossipy way.

  "The young master serving pottage?" A gray-haired official snorted. "What’s next? Dancing bears?" one official asked, confused.

  “Yes, I wanted to make sure everything is done as it should be.” Enric replied, taking no offence to the previous comment.

  “Well, it is looking delicious... I know a piece of good work when I see one!” the official excimed, digging in eagerly.

  After they finished serving the food, Enric took a deep breath and surveyed the scene. Everyone was enjoying the meal he had helped prepare, and it made the young noble reflect. The servants and officials were employed to assist the nobility, but the duty of nobles was to govern and ensure their subjects were well-fed. Yet, some seemed to forget this. Alfred often spoke of serving their family and fulfilling their duty as Goldfields, but without the people of the Goldfield province, their family would never have existed.

  In the end he decided to stop daydreaming and left the estate heading for the chapel...

  Gbro