I shadowed Yarah for a few hours before I was trusted to seat tables on my own. My black dress and eyes, shadowed with black powder, did cause raised eyebrows, but usually nothing more than that. It seemed that people in the city were more enlightened than peasant villagers.
A man and woman walked in, arm in arm, wearing matching purple finery. They were both silver-blonde with blue eyes. I would have thought they were siblings if not for the clear, intimate affection between them.
“Good Eve, My Lord; My Lady. We're pleased to have you today.” I said, curtsying and smiling in a practiced manner.
The woman, whose eyebrows seemed to be manicured, smiled and said to the man, “A northern woman in the Ferosian Style. Darion does have quite the sense of humor.”
‘Ferosian? And why was that humorous? Something to look into later.’
“Indeed, it does make for a dramatic character,” the husband said, nodding at his wife’s assertion.
‘Did he just call me ‘It’?’
Only nobility could sound so pretentious and condescending without any effort. Though that meant: under no circumstances could I show even an ounce of disrespect. Darion was in the kitchens handling the cooking while Beth acted as host and handled the bookkeeping. It was midday and I had only served a few customers. Mostly wealthy merchants and one couple who I was sure were peasants, who likely saved for months to afford a single meal. Why else would they pay entirely in bits?
~
Yarah eyed me worriedly as I escorted them across the room. I seated the couple at one of the four designated booths, reserved specifically for nobility. Before I could inform them of the dishes on offer, the man spoke. “I’ve heard wonderful things about Sir Darion’s Glazed duck.”
I nodded, already having a speech prepared to sell it to him. Every item on the menu had background information that had to be memorized just in case a customer was curious.
“Yes, my Lord, it is one of Ser Darion’s most popular dishes,”
“Tell me about it, my dear,” He said.
I launched into the prepared speech, “Darion starts with a fully grown wild-caught duck. After butchering, the skin is salted to reduce moisture. Then the roasting process begins. Over a Magical flame, it slowly roasted for six hours. Every ten minutes, it is brushed with a special marinade made with Darion’s secret combination of spices and sugar. After hours, the skin becomes crisp and brittle, and the sugar forms a glaze. It's paired with a White Hassian Wine, on a bed of green, with a side of roasted carrots and potatoes.”
I saw the men in the kitchen roasting the duck, and it did look delicious. The entire meal cost four silver eagles. The spices that went into the glaze cost more than the duck itself.
The woman smiled, “Sounds positively wonderful, however, I don't enjoy the southern spirits. What other wines would you recommend as a pairing?”
‘What? I don't know shite about wine pairings.
She looked at me expectantly. I immediately threw my mind back to when Yarah sat me down by the bar, bringing up some of the names I could recall.
‘Might as well try to bluff my way through.’
“We have many fine vintages, Caortell red. Absint, Goldpine; however, I recommend Arbor West for this meal.”
The woman looked at her husband, “Arbor West? Have you ever heard of this vintage?”
“No, if it was wine worth drinking, I would already know it.” He answered, then turned his gaze back to me, almost looking offended. “Why not Goldpine or Caortell?”
‘Ok; that was a mistake, but I can salvage this.’
“Many of the finer wines have rather strong flavors. It could distract from the richness of the duck. Arbor West, however, while not the most prestigious vintage, is mild, but still has enough complexity for even the most refined tongue.” I explained, combining the nonsense I’ve heard from other wine drinkers and Hewit.
He raised his eyebrow curiously, “Truly? Very well then, Arbor it is. We'll have a bottle.”
I curtsied and wrote down their orders on a small pad.
After passing the order to the kitchens, I walked over to Hewit, a bit worried that I had just made a mistake.
“An Arbor West; a full bottle," I said.
“For nobility?” He asked, doubtful.
“The woman doesn't like Southern spirits, whatever that means, and I don't know wine. That was my best guess,” I shrugged.
Hewit rubbed his head, “A Neron or a Carther vintage would be a better suggestion. But at least the Arbor doesn't taste terrible, and they haven't stormed out. So that’s a good sign.”
He handed me a bottle, two glasses, and a shiny metal tray. He grinned pityingly and said, “Good luck,”
After bringing the wine back to the table, I poured it in a practiced manner and stood waiting for the standard 30 seconds. The man sniffed, swirled, and closely examined the red liquid.
“Weak body, notes are flat. And a bit too much oak. Not the worst I’ve had, I suppose.” He said.
The woman smiled at me, “It's a passable vintage, though I expect the duck to be the real star. We'll see if our northern maid has a taste for parings.
With a nod of dismissal, I went on with my other duties. There were three other maidservants, whom I hadn't had an opportunity to converse with. They were all lovely, and by the looks of them, were clearly of greater skill than I was. At the very least, I wasn't tripping over my own feet.
~
The scent coming off the glazed duck I was carrying was maddening. Those two would never consume the entire thing. It was perfectly brown, and the glaze reflected the light beautifully. It was already cut into a dozen pieces for ease of eating and serving. Behind me was another maidservant carrying the side dishes. Julia, I believed her name was. She was a short woman of at least 30 summers, though she wore the years well.
‘What I wouldn't give to gorge myself.’
As practiced with the duck orders earlier, we set the center dish and side dishes in front of the couple. Immediately, Julia left, leaving me with them as they took a small, delicate bite of duck.
For all their pomp and circumstance, they couldn't hide the pleasure of tasting Darion’s cooking.
After 30 seconds, I curtsied and said, “Enjoy your meal. My lord, my lady. If there is anything else, please don't hesitate to call upon me.”
They nodded, wordlessly dismissing me. I sighed in relief and went about my numerous other tasks.
~
The work was not brutal or overwhelmingly tiring. But after hours of standing and smiling, trying to maintain perfect politeness with every customer regardless of their rudeness, I began to feel a bit drained. Still, I kept going, determined to be as perfect as possible. Finally, at a high hour, my break had arrived. It was a different time for each maidservant. Usually, this time would be taken to have a quick meal or to use the privy.
I stood in the backyard eating a bowl of stew, casually examining the magical furnace. There was a strange whistling sound coming from it, and even more odd, the flue was frosted over. Magic made less sense by the day. Why exactly the top of the flue was frosted was beyond my ability to understand.
Darion came outside sweaty, but still mostly immaculate in his leather apron. He saw me and approached.
“Hoy there, Myr, how’s your first day?” he asked.
“Not bad, not bad. Had a little scare with a noble couple, but it worked out. They sent their compliments on the duck.”
Darion nodded, “Aye, nobles can be a prickly lot. They were Lord and Lady Halsin. Minor nobility, though House Halsin has quite a bit of land under their name.”
“That's good, I’d not want to cause you problems.”
“Just keep up the good work, everything will fall into place.”
Noticing my attention focused on the furnace, Darion said, "Quite the wonder, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. I've never seen magic before." Unable to hold back my enthusiasm.
Darion laughed, "You'll get used to it. Cost a damned fortune but was worth it in the end."
"Really? I would mind one for myself."
I knew how much it cost, but I wasn't going to share information that was told to me in confidence.
"15 golden royals, my dear. A fortune by anyone's definition, but the wealthiest."
I didn't even need to pretend that fifteen golden royals was an enormous sum. Still, the question was on my mind. How did he afford it?
"I didn't know you were wealthy," I said, throwing out bait.
Darion laughed, a true belly laugh from deep in his stomach. “I was born in the lower quarter to a butcher. Joined the army, one thing led to another, and I saved the Baron's life. Noble custom demanded he reward me for my effort."
‘So that's how he could afford everything’
I had more questions, but decided not to pry. It was the early days. But this conversation did give me some ideas. Noble gratitude seemed to be a valuable resource.
Darion stretched, and I heard a crack coming from his back. "Well, I should get back to it. Enjoy your break."
Darion walked over to the pile of wood, picked up three arm-length logs, opened the furnace, and tossed them inside.
Inside was a whirlwind of fire. Far more violent than a proper furnace should have been.
‘The heat? Is that it? Is it taking away the heat from the fire and using it for the roasters? But those aren't normal flames.
It almost looks like…’
Darion closed the furnace and went back into the kitchen with a wave. Following my suspicion, I walked over to it and placed my hand over one of the tubes near the bottom. Immediately, I felt it. Suction. There was so much airflow that I feared my hand would become stuck to the tube if I covered it.
Somehow, air was being forced into the furnace rapidly through the holes like a constant bellows.
‘No wonder they have so much wood back here. This thing must burn through logs several times faster than a normal furnace. Even more interesting was that the suction wasn't working yesterday. So, either it happened automatically, or someone turned it on like the teapot. All the burners working at once must consume a lot of heat, so they need a bigger fire. And that’s why there's ice on the flue, it's sucking out all the heat.’
As some understanding blossomed, the mystery of how this all worked remained.
Back to work, no time to be distracted.
~
Hewit, Yarah, and I sat around the bar sipping simple tea after closing. I tried, for some time, to calculate how much coin they were earning. We served probably two to three hundred people. Each meal costs at least a silver. So they were making a hefty profit. However, I didn't know how much it cost to procure the ingredients needed to make the dishes.
Daron had an entire 50lb bag of sugar; even a small handful can cost silver at the market. I didn't even want to ask how much a bag that size costs.
“Good work today, Myr, and brilliant effort with the nobles. Arbor West would never have thought to give them that as a replacement for the Hassian,” Yarah said.
I laughed without humor. “Let's chalk that up to luck rather than skill.”
“Still didn't expect them to buy three bottles,” Hewitt added. Half the maid staff thought I was either a true moron or a genius for offering nobility cheap wine.
Yarah’s eyes were wide with a new thought, “Before I forget,” She said.
She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out a silver, offering it to me.
“Why,” I asked.
“A bit of patronage from the nobility. We don't accept bribery or tips; however, that doesn't apply to nobility. Leaving behind a coin under a handkerchief as a demonstration of their appreciation is common. That also means that they'll want you as a maidservant if they return. They left three silver as a gratuity. We split it three ways, one part goes to Darion and Beth, another goes to the rest of the staff, and the last goes to you.”
Now that explains why there are tables reserved for any nobility. If they were minor nobles, then how much coin would the baron leave?
“I heard that the baron visited once,” I said.
“And you're wondering how much he left as a gratuity.” Hewit read my mind, and then he threw a glance at Yarah.
“Five golden royals and I was the servant,” she said, looking smug.
“You walked away with two hundred silvers?” I said, seething with jealousy.
“Quick on maths are ye. But yes, it paid for all my siblings’ apprenticeships, erased all my debts, and now I own my own home in the middle quarter. You should visit sometime. Any other owners would pocket all the coins for themselves, but Darion and Beth are different. They’re good people.” Yarah said.
“It was a good payday for us all. Darion and Beth won my loyalty forever.” Hewit said.
‘It seems I was luckier than I originally thought.’
Shaking my head, I said, “If only the Baron could visit often.”
They both laughed, clearly agreeing with me, “Not likely, if you think Darion's kitchen is amazing, imagine what someone with a personal Magus and Baron’s level of wealth can enjoy.”
Somehow, the thought didn't occur to me.
I looked at the silver coin in my hand, mildly amused. It took me almost a year to save the equivalent of an Eagle. The only question I had now was: what do I do with the coin I earned?
‘Knowledge. Too many times, people say things casually, and I'm left confused. I needed to make sure that I had as much information as possible.’
I cast my mind back to when I first arrived in the city. There was a bookstore on the main road. Then, at that moment, I knew what to do with my money.