Marlene de Trastamara opened the window early in the morning to let the sunlight in and listened to the cheerful song of kingfishers. After making her bed, she walked with light steps toward the kitchen to supervise the manor's breakfast preparations.
For the past half month, Marlene had felt fulfilled and happy in both body and mind, because the owners of the manor, Victor and Angoulême, had returned and never stopped praising the food she shared with them. In particular, bacon fried in olive oil until crisp and fragrant, along with creamy corn soup seasoned with pumpkin, had become indispensable parts of breakfast every morning.
...
"The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle!"
"Straighten up, all of you! Looking that limp and pathetic, can you even call yourselves men?"
"Spineless weakling! Put some strength into that chop! Even a toothless old grandmother hits harder than you!"
As I walked along the covered gallery, I could already hear the manor guards beginning their morning training in the courtyard, accompanied by Lady Angoulême's imposing reprimands.
Normally, she was friendly, lively, and cheerful with everyone. Only at times like this did the girl transform into a demon, beating every guard into complete submission.
...
When I passed the manor entrance, the butler, Alfred Futi, that sturdy young fellow, was opening the gates and arranging for the guests who had departed in the middle of the night and arrived at dawn to wait in the lounge with some tea.
These distinguished people in top hats and immaculate clothing had all come seeking treatment or wishing to make purchases. The two alchemical potions Victor produced had been proven effective at treating baldness and improving symptoms of impotence, with even better results when individually tailored.
Amusingly, "Alfie" seemed particularly fond of being bald. He refused Sir Corion's offer to prepare a secret hair-growth formula for him and instead hoped to obtain a No-Growth Potion, so he would never again have to deal with stubble every day before rubbing and polishing his scalp until it shone.
...
Entering the familiar kitchen, I began supervising the work. As usual, "Sasha" had already arrived before me.
Her real name was Carthia van Canten, though she could also be called Cantarella.
I'd heard Sasha's circumstances were somewhat similar to mine. She too had once been the wealthy daughter of an ancient family. Unlike me, however, she had never suffered from a curse. She had simply fallen in love with Leo and run away from home, so she was now considered a guest at Corion Manor.
She wanted something to occupy herself with, so Alfie allowed her to assist with management and help in the kitchen.
I must admit, she's very good at baking pies. She's already picked up quite a bit of my own skill. I like the girl very much. It's simply unfortunate that her beloved is a witcher. Of course, I'm not prejudiced against Leo. It's just that I've heard the two of them won't be able to have children...
...
After having the servants carry the dishes outside, Sasha and I exchanged smiles. Today's scrambled eggs had mozzarella added to them, making them especially rich and fragrant. Together, we left the kitchen and sat down in the dining room to wait.
We hadn't chatted for long when the first person entered, Viscount Corion, the master of the manor. He wore a loose black robe, and the healthy flush and sheen on his cheeks showed that he had just finished his morning run.
That strong, charming young man might not look particularly handsome at first glance, and the scars left by several blades detracted slightly from his appearance, but the noble, composed air about him seemed entirely innate.
After warmly wishing us good morning, the viscount sat down and opened today's Beauclair Morning Post. He truly was a fine young man who cared about society.
During the half month since his return, he had read the newspaper every single day and chatted with the patients who came to see him about the latest events in the city. I suspected he was still worried about the Beast.
Witchers truly are admirable people.
Still, I rather wished he would pay more attention to today's cheese scrambled eggs and fried bacon.
Fortunately, Angoulême finished training before the bacon could grow cold. She came bounding into the room and took her seat. Victor personally picked up the milk jug and filled her cup, then raised his own cup to announce that breakfast could begin.
...
For Lady Marlene de Trastamara, the curse had meant spending several centuries without anyone to share a meal with, unable to eat a single thing herself. It had unquestionably been a terrible torment.
So now, buttered bread topped with cheese scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and a sprinkling of pepper made for a truly perfect morning.
It would have been even better if Alfred hadn't hurried into the room and whispered something into Victor's ear.
The viscount's relaxed expression turned solemn.
He stood up and placed a hand on Angoulême's shoulder, signaling for her to keep eating. Then he picked up his milk and took a large gulp before grabbing a sandwich and his cashmere scarf.
"Honored ladies, please forgive me, but something has come up and I must leave early. Breakfast was delicious today. Thank you both for putting so much care into preparing it. The scrambled eggs in particular, you must have chosen the cream especially carefully. They were exceptionally rich and fragrant. Very memorable."
Victor placed a hand over his chest in farewell, then left the dining room with Alfred.
See!
That is exactly the kind of well-mannered gentleman Viscount Corion is. He never allows anyone's efforts to go unacknowledged.
It is an extraordinary honor to serve him.
...
While Marlene and Sasha exchanged smiles and began discussing how best to store cheese and sausages, Victor arrived in the reception room to meet a guest whose position made him somewhat special, Horace de Funés, deputy commander of the Toussaint Ducal Guard.
Today, Horace had come fully armed. His black steel armor harmonized neatly with his tight riding breeches, while a lapelled coat worn over the ensemble made him look particularly dashing.
When he saw Victor approaching while biting into bacon toast, that ordinary air of peaceful domestic life inexplicably reassured Horace. The faint restlessness that had been troubling him immediately receded, leaving him relaxed enough to open with a joke.
"Oh, my dear Lord Victor, it's been half a month, and you look exceptionally well! I can smell the bacon and scrambled eggs from where I'm sitting. Especially the eggs. That cream was definitely something special."
"You have excellent taste. Finish telling me whatever you came here to say, and I'll ask Lady Marlene to make another serving especially for you."
Victor sat down on the sofa with a smile and gestured for Alfred to pour tea for them.
Toussaint might be famous throughout the world for its red wine, but Ceylon black tea cultivated at the foot of the Amell Mountains was also widely appreciated.
"With so many people waiting outside, I appreciate you agreeing to see me first. But it's really nothing serious. I've simply felt strangely uneasy these past two days, so I thought I'd come over and talk with you."
When he reported his arrival to the butler at the manor gates, the deputy commander had indeed mentioned no urgent official business.
However, Horace was one of the important individuals Victor had specifically instructed Alfie to report immediately whenever he visited.
"You're the deputy commander of the Ducal Guard. If something is enough to make you uneasy, I don't consider it trivial. Are you attacking the castle today?"
"Ah, no! That's already been settled."
A hint of pride appeared on the young knight's face.
"Three nights ago, Captain Damien personally led the assault. We successfully breached Dun Tynne Castle and completely crushed those scoundrels."
Victor's hand froze halfway through lifting his teacup.
"Dun Tynne Castle!?"
"That's right, between Fox Hollow and Pomerol Vineyard. Sir Roderick, who manages the place, was deceived into sheltering a large number of outlaws. Guillaume discovered the situation during reconnaissance five days ago, so we immediately began preparing an assault plan. We suffered considerable casualties, but we accomplished the mission perfectly."
Sir Corion slowly lowered his teacup, his expression growing grave, and took a deep breath.
"...When you say you accomplished the mission, you mean?"
"Exactly what you think I mean. We successfully rescued the elder princess, Lady Sylvia Anna."
Horace drained his tea in one gulp.
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