Chapter 646: Hotpot
Ashes stopped at the doorway.
Tilly had already stepped into the corridor. Ashes lingered a moment, then turned back to face Roland — and in that moment her entire bearing shifted. The guarded flatness she’d worn since the palace fell away.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “I owe you an apology.”
The first time she’d ever used courtesy with him. He started to respond — some deflection about the palace, the confusion, the circumstances — but she cut through it with a small shake of her head.
“We all understand that he wasn’t you. He couldn’t have led us to defeat the church. He couldn’t have given witches the freedom and trust you have. I knew this — I simply refused to believe it until you actually did it.” A pause. “Every witch here will remember what you’ve done. You’re more qualified to be Lady Tilly’s brother than he ever was.”
If Ashes says it, Tilly believes it.
Roland didn’t know whether to laugh at that or feel moved by it. Both, probably. Some part of him hadn’t realized until just now how much it had cost — to be looked at with suspicion by people he wanted to protect, and to have to earn his way past that suspicion through deeds alone, with no shortcut. No declaration would have worked. Only the campaign against the church. Only the victory at Coldwind Ridge.
He looked past Ashes at his sister standing just behind her, the slight curve at the corner of her mouth.
Ashes pressed her right hand to her chest and inclined her head — a clean, spare gesture. Her black ponytail fell forward over one shoulder. Her golden eyes, caught in the evening light, were steady and bright.
“Envoy Ashes salutes you, Your Majesty.”
Three days later, the farewell dinner arrived.
What Andrea had been anticipating was not the farewell. It was the food.
She’d been patient through an entire military campaign, which she felt was a reasonable level of sacrifice. His Majesty had promised, at some earlier occasion she could recite with precision, that there was more to taste than ice cream. She had filed this information and waited. Now the time had come.
The dinner was held not in the castle but in the expanded backyard. A long corridor of olive trees opened into an open-air space where, even before the food was visible, Andrea’s nose arrived first.
Nothing she had encountered — not the crystal fish of Everwinter’s glaciers, not the flavored eggs from Wolfheart’s cliffs, not the rainbow trout of the Fjords — produced anything like this smell. Rich and deep and layered. She couldn’t name it because she’d never smelled it before. That, itself, was remarkable.
“I’m hungry,” Shavi announced. Unnecessary, but accurate.
“Have you all been living like this in the western region?” Molly pressed her lips together. “I envy all of you.”
Breeze was already embracing Lotus and Evelyn at once. “I haven’t had that many chances to enjoy it either. Envy them, not me.”
“The dessert comes every three days,” Candle mentioned, by way of context.
“Only every three days?” Molly held her forehead. “Why does that sound like bragging?”
“It isn’t.”
Ashes glanced at Andrea. “Don’t drool,” she said, mildly.
At any other time Andrea would have answered with appropriate sharpness. Now she was occupied with the stumps at the far side of the yard.
They appeared to have grown there — massive, the trunks broad enough that seven or eight people linking hands would barely encircle one. Hot air rose from the hollowed centers. Closer, she could see: the trunks had been shaped and lined, and a great iron pot sat at the top of each, soup heaving in the heat, releasing the smell that had reached her from the olive corridor.
Around the stumps stood low tables — covered not with formal linens or silver but with raw ingredients. Vegetables, meats, seafoods, condiments. All uncooked.
“This is a hotpot dinner,” Roland announced once all the witches had gathered. He clapped once, settling the noise. “Very simple: put what you like into the pot. Take it out when it’s cooked. That’s it.”
That was it.
No attendants. No white cloths, no music, no formal service. They sat in a circle around the hollowed stumps. Each person was responsible for her own bowl.
Leaf had made the tables — Roland had asked her to call on the Heart of Forest, and she’d done what she did: coaxed the living wood into the shapes he described, shaping hollows for the iron pots, coating the inner walls with something that held heat steady. A hand pressed to the tabletop found warmth radiating evenly from within. The spirit lamps below the iron pots did their work without risk of fire.
The soup stock was the real art. Roland had directed the kitchen to combine whole chickens, porcine bones, bird beak mushrooms, seafood, and spice into a base that had been simmering since morning — drawing complexity from every ingredient, building layers that no single material could produce alone. Every cooking method in this age tended toward simplicity: one ingredient, one preparation, one taste. The hotpot worked in the opposite direction. Everything contributed; everything was changed by everything else.
Andrea put a piece of cooked meat in her mouth.
She made a sound. She didn’t intend to make a sound.
The heat and the richness struck her together — dozens of flavors, none of them separable, all of them insisting on being tasted at once. Then the warmth spreading down her throat. She reached for the pot again before she’d finished chewing.
The table had gone entirely informal. Noble table manners required finishing what was on the plate before taking more; that convention was quietly impossible when things vanished from the pot before you’d looked away. Even Tilly had accumulated several plates of food in front of her. Even Ashes was reaching across without ceremony.
“‘The essence of food lies in its original flavor,’” Ashes intoned, adopting Andrea’s own voice with disturbing accuracy. “‘Without seasoning, the boiled soup can be closer to the original taste.’ I believe I’ve heard someone say that real nobles never use salt or spice — that it’s a barbaric habit. And yet here we are.”
Under normal circumstances, Andrea would have defended herself at length. She had principles. She had a consistent philosophy of cuisine.
She pushed Ashes’ spoon out of the way and scooped the floating piece of meat into her own bowl.
There were priorities.
Chapter 646: Hotpot
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
…
When the two were about to leave, Ashes, who walked behind Princess Tilly, suddenly stopped and turned around to say, “Your Majesty, I owe you an apology.”
This was the first time that Ashes had used polite words when talking to Roland. “Well. As for those episodes happening in the palace, I’m very…” Roland explained to Ashes.
Ashes shook her head and said, “We all know that he isn’t you. He can neither lead us to defeat the church nor offer enough freedom and trust to us witches. I didn’t believe this until you defeated the church and I’m very sorry for that.” She paused and continued, “Each witch will remember what you’ve done, and you’re more qualified to be Lady Tilly’s brother than him.”
If Ashes said such words, these would also be Tilly’s thoughts. They did not believe that he was Prince Roland. Roland did not know whether to laugh or cry. Was this some kind of recognition?
Staring at his smiling sister behind Ashes, he abruptly realized something.
The Extraordinary covered her chest with the right hand and slightly bent. Her black ponytail hung down upon her shoulders and her golden eyes were like the shining stars in the evening.
“Envoy Ashes salutes you, Your Majesty.”
Three days later, the farewell dinner which Andrea had long waited for finally arrived.
What she had awaited was not the farewell but the new delicious food His Majesty promised.
Since the last farewell, she had always remembered that there had been more delicious food than just ice cream. So Andrea had expected to taste it this time. But the battle against the church was of great significance and so she was reluctant to suggest it. But now, she could have a taste.
The dinner was not held in the castle but in the expanded castle backyard.
Through a long corridor formed by olives and entering the center of the backyard, Andrea smelled a thick scent before seeing any food. “Was it crystal fish from the Everwinter’s glacier? Or was it flavored egg from the Wolfheart’s cliff? Or was it the rainbow trout from the Fjords that’s known for its delicious taste. No, no, no! I haven’t smelled anything that bears a scent so tempting before. No matter how rare the material is, it can’t make such delicious food.”
“I’m suddenly hungry.” Shavi shouted.
“Have you always led such a life in the western region?” Molly licked her lips and said, “What an enviable life!”
Breeze embraced Lotus and Evelyn together and then explained to Molly. “I haven’t had many chances to enjoy it. It’s them you should envy.”
Candle explained. “This kind of dinner isn’t held every day and the dessert is only served every three days.”
“Only served every three days…” Molly held her forehead and said, “Why do I feel like you’re showing off.”
“No, I’m not.”
Ashes took a glimpse of Andrea, though she could not control her saliva either, she said, “Hey, don’t drool out.”
If it was at an ordinary time, Andrea would have sneered back, but now her attention was completely drawn to round stumps at the side of the backyard.
They appeared to grow out of the ground at the first sight. The tree trunk was so thick and sturdy that as many as seven or eight people could encircle it. The hot air coming out its inside made it look like something was burning.
When she walked closer, she found that the tree trunk had been hollowed out. A huge iron pot was erected on top of the stumps and the thick scent was coming out from it was soup.
In addition, there were various different foods on the short table beside the trunk. They were various but common at the dining table. What made her more confused was that the food was raw.
This was the first time that Andrea had seen such a kind of dinner. There were no attendants, no white cloth, no music and no crowds of people. Each one sat around the stumps in a circle. It looked like that they had to do it by themselves.
What Andrea thought was true. After all of the witches arrived, Roland clapped his hands to indicate that the dinner had begun. He explained to all of the witches, “This is a hotpot dinner. It’s very easy to eat, simply put all the food you like into the pot and enjoy it when it’s cooked.”
Fall was the best season to enjoy hotpots. As a very popular cooking method, it was quite easy to make a hotpot. Even the simplest vegetables could take delicious. The most important thing was that hotpots were very down-toearth. Eaters would gather together to enjoy fine food from the same pot. Therefore, they were much easier to promote relationships among people than traditional banquets. As a farewell dinner, hotpots could reduce people’s sadness and depression.
A hotpot’s essence lay in its soup stock. In this age, cooking methods were largely monotonous. Usually, one ingredient had only one taste and people had to pay more attention to the quality of materials themselves. Roland had ordered chefs to mix various ingredients that had distinguished flavors and put them in a pot before to cook them. They included whole chickens, porcine
bones, bird beak Mushrooms, seafood, spice and so on. So the soup stock was very rich in taste, a taste that could not be made by only cooking one or two raw materials.
It was Leaf who made the hotpot table that had a style of nature. She had cast the power of Heart of Forest to make the plants grow quickly. At her will, they had become what Roland had asked for without any extra transformations. They were covered inside with a thermal insulation coating. Even if the spirit lamps were lit, they would not set the tables on fire. Instead, the temperature of the inner walls would spread gradually over to the entire stumps. If they put their hands on a tabletop, they would feel a lukewarm heat.
As Andrea put some cooked meat into her mouth, she could not help but hum because of the strong and rich flavor.
As tens of delicious food materials assailed her tongue and the hot soup flowed down her throat into her stomach, Andrea could not stop eating, though this feeling was totally different from ice cream bread.
According to the table manner of the nobles, they should not take new food until they had finished the food upon their plates. However, they could not keep that manner with the hotpots created by His Majesty, otherwise, they would have nothing left after finishing their food.
The other witches on the table were no longer elegant. In other words, a hotpot had nothing to do with elegance. There were even several plates of delicious food in front of Lady Tilly. Even Ashes had picked up food several times from the plates in front of her.
Ashes imitated Andrea’s tone and said, “‘The essence of food lies in its original flavor. Without seasoning, the boiled soup can be closer to the original flavor.’ Who has said these words? In my memories, someone considered salt and spices a barbaric way of cooking and said that real nobles will never use them to cook, but today, what I’ve seen is different from what she said.”
If it was before, Andrea might argue with her. But now, she had realized what was the most important thing.
It was more important to enjoy the hotpot than play words with Ashes.
She lightly glimpsed at Ashes. Without hesitation, she pushed Ashes’ spoon away and scooped a piece of floating meat into her bowl.
This time, Andrea ate contently.