Author Notes:
You know, I think my OCD is making the current RM mini-arc much longer than it should... More world building, I guess?
Kehum! Anyway, shoutout to my most recent supporter, and perhaps one of the most active newcomer, Private TheNae, otherwise known as ImTheNae! That lad is speedrunning this gigantic fanfic, kek. So give him a warm applause!
Additionally, Monthly Recruitment Drive is up! Get 15% off of your first Month or Year now! Become an integral part of the Belkan Reich and the Imperium! Become a P-atreon Supporter!
P.S: Don't forget the pictures below!
https://www.patre-on.com/Heartbreak117
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Actual Monthly Income Goal 705/880 USD (UmU)
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For my fics:
https://www.scribblehub.com/series/55793/reich-marshal-of-the-belkan-reich/
https://www.webnovel.com/book/reich-marshal-of-the-belkan-reich_23809095505377305
https://photos.app.goo.gl/waZgkRa3UQhqKQBi9
https://www.scribblehub.com/series/1375924/in-the-grimdark-sector-with-a-system/
Lu: https://postimg.cc/GHC0DX9b
Hel: https://postimg.cc/kBcHb9kh
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Even with all the Time in the world, a shopping trip to Chioriya Boutique somehow makes me feel like I have lost an entire year of my lifespan. Unironically, going to the tailor with Mama and Mom is actually more exhausting than letting Elysia and Eden play dress up, with me as the doll. Don't get me wrong, I would gladly go through that Hell once again if it means Mama and Mom can keep their smiles, but it still has to be said that it was astounding how often I had to change my attire over the past couple of hours.
It was insane that I wore enough clothes to last me more than a year. And where the hell did Chiori even store all of them, anyway?
Funnily enough, I am the only one to leave completely empty-handed when Mama and Mom, and even Erika and Lola, have their own shopping bags to take care of. Chiori, the seamstress, wasn't kidding when she said that everything I needed would have to be custom-tailored, and Mama's incentive only seemed to fuel the woman's creative passion. That said, with the window shopping out of the way, even I, the Reich Marshal, am getting famished. Being the host for this date, Mama Lu eagerly takes Mommy Hel and me out for an exploratory walk on the streets of Asia Town. Sandwiched between my two well-endowed mothers, I attracted a variety of gazes, with even an envious few mixed in. However, most recognize who we are and deferentially cede the path for us with respectful bows. Those who don't recognize us also make way, deterred by the professionalism and aura of our escorts in suits. It is an interesting experience to see Asian immigrants in Berlin catering to the presence of European monarchs. There's something oddly ironic about that, yes, but when you know that we're the reason for the fruitful lives the immigrants are having, then it all makes sense why the Asians are so accommodating.
This doesn't mean that we are strolling around like we own the place, although that is technically true. Our little group, led by Mama, takes to the streets casually with none of the pomp that is usually expected for most nobility. We carry the air of tourists, very important tourists, yes, but tourists nonetheless. So, we interact with shop owners and meandering citizens as any curious travellers would do. From shocked and surprised, the Asian immigrants around us change their expressions to hospitality and sincerity as we browse their wares or make casual inquiries. On our way to the diner that Mama is taking us to, I use the opportunity to procure some cute wooden trinkets for my little sisters. Supposedly, these handcrafted souvenirs bring about inspiration and good luck, very fitting as gifts for my hardworking younglings.
It's only when we have walked for around fifteen minutes that Mama gestures to a half-packed restaurant with an open-air dining area. From the open windows, we can see the owner of the establishment swiftly handling the leg of roasted pork on a big cutting board, cleanly cutting pieces of succulent meat, and putting them on a large plate. Behind him, a young lady hops over before transferring the plate to a cooking station further in the restaurant. Outside, a helper of the restaurant moves between polished wooden tables, some of which are occupied by hearty diners. A tray of food on one hand and a teapot on the other, the female server swiftly presents freshly cooked food to one table before moving to refill another table's Gaiwan, a type of tea set of the Chinese people. Overall, it's a bustling enough establishment, and its cozy atmosphere and warm aroma are sure to attract even the most stubborn eaters. Most important of all, despite being a street-side restaurant, a collective effort by both the diners and the restaurant itself ensures the place is as clean as it could be.
"You know, Lu, I can see why you would want us to visit this fine establishment." Mom comments with a soft smile. "Whoever runs this restaurant knows what they're doing, and their craft."
Mama nods, smiling in agreement. "I know, right? It had come to my knowledge that the foodie in Berlin love visiting this place for a slice of Asia, or Chinese, to be more specific. Picky eaters we are not, this place is a nice spot for a small family outing. Good ventilation all around, warm lighting with all of those cute lanterns hanging above, and the aroma is to die for, by the smell of it."
"Indeed," Mom replies before turning to me. "What say you, Ein? Do you want to enjoy a simple dinner with just the two of us?"
I smile warmly, squeezing the hands of my mothers a bit tighter as I answer. "I would never decline such an invitation, Mom."
Mama giggles at that as she gestures ahead. "Then let's not waste any more time! A hot meal awaits!"
The three of us walk forward, with Erika and Lola in tow. When the middle-aged owner looks up from the bone that used to be pork's leg, he sees and recognizes us immediately. Almost on instinct, the owner reaches for a clean towel that is hanging by the window frame, cleaning his hands. The surprise and haste on his face make it obvious that the man is just about to step out of the restaurant to properly receive us. And while it's indeed flattering, none of us wants a hard-working man to abandon everything else to cater to our whim. So, on behalf of Mama and Mom, I raise a hand in a universal stopping gesture. With a polite tone, I say.
"Chef, I implore you to be at ease. Like many others, we are just here to enjoy a comfortable culinary experience."
While my words assuaged the man's need to step out of his cooking kiosk, the middle-aged chef still cups his hands together, respectfully bowing at us. With an apologetic smile, the chef says. "My apologies, Your Majesties, I have let you all see my unsightly acts."
I chuckle, adding. "Actually, it's always mystifying to see someone preparing their ingredients so confidently and swiftly. As a part-time cook myself, I know how hard it is to debone that pork leg, Chef...?"
"I am, fortunately, given the name of Mao by my parents, Your Majesty." The Chef, Mr. Mao, bows deferentially once more as he gives us his name.
I nod, continuing with an easy smile. "Well then, Chef Mao, you only need to treat us as you would any customer. There's no need for any special treatment at all. A Chef only needs to focus on making good food, and that will be the highest respect one can give to not just the customers and the ingredients, but also themselves."
With a voice full of seriousness, Chef Mao says. "I understand, Your Majesty. Please, what will you be having for dinner tonight at Wanmin Restaurant?"
I then turn to Mama Lu. "Mama, will you do the honor?"
Mommy Hel adds as well with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Just don't give us something that we'll be allergic to, my dear."
Mama playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, as if I don't know your eating habits." She then gives us a little wink. "But rest assured, I know just the things to fill our bellies with."
Our family's Devil then turns to Chef Mao. "Chef, hit us with Wanmin's signature dishes."
"I understand, Your Grace. Please, take a seat anywhere. The food will be coming shortly." Chef Mao replies with all the confidence of a good Chef before turning inside the restaurant. "Xiangling, we need to cook!"
We then leave the Chef and who seem to be his daughter to their business. Before we head off to an empty table on the open lot next to the restaurant, however, I turn to Erika and Lola. "Perhaps you and the rest can join us as well?"
"Thank you for the offer, Marshal. However, a family outing like this is rare enough that we shouldn't intrude." Erika declines, a bit happy that I try to include them as well, but duty comes first. "If you need us, we will take the table next to you, Yuki."
I smile, respecting their decision. "Alright, don't forget that we all appreciate what you and your unit are doing for us."
After that brief prelude, we settle down on a spotless dining table, the mahogany wood well-polished and clean after many careful wipes. The moment we sit down, the female server from before arrives with a tray carrying a neatly arranged ceramic teaset. Perhaps having received Chef Mao's instruction, the server carefully arranges the refreshment for us before smoothly curtsying and immediately departing, keeping her intrusion on our personal space minimal.
"Quite polite of them." Mom comments appreciatively before proceeding to pour each of us a steaming cup of tea.
Mama and I both thank her for the loving gesture before we decide to collectively enjoy the warm refreshment.
"The tea is surprisingly good for such an establishment." Mama comments, prompting me to say.
"Indeed, Mama, it is brewed just right despite using a common tea leaf." I add, easily identify the prime ingredient.
Mom also interjects. "I already have a guess, but how affordable is Wanmin Restaurant, Lu?"
Mama sighs in contentment as she puts down her teacup.
"Easily so, in fact. Wanmin is a diner that prioritizes both accessibility and quality. From what I know of Wanmin, it is primarily frequented by the working class, which consists mostly of the Asian immigrants in Berlin. Although some high-end customers, let's say businessmen and other Divines, are also attracted to this restaurant due to its diverse and colorful menu. A great many people give this place a stellar review, and we're lucky to come across it only half-full. I would have thought Wanmin would be packed with customers now that your sermon ended, Hel."
"Ah," Mom nods. "I guess this is a lucky break for us then?"
Mom stops for a bit before turning over to me with a curious gaze. "Say, my dear, by chance, do you have any hand in this?"
Mama also turns to look at me, her interest in my answer obvious. I giggle, shrugging. "Trust me, Mom, Mama, I only knew where we're going at the last minute. This really is a lucky break, and I have no hand in ensuring Wanmin Restaurant is available for dining."
"So the curious onlookers around us are not some undercover ONI agents?" Mama teasingly asks, gesturing to the other tables.
I roll my eyes playfully. "Mama, they're just innocent bystanders being caught up in your mysterious date with us. Can you blame them for stealing glances at the rulers of the land they're stepping on?"
"Heh." Mama smirks, turning around to confidently wave at the other diners.
Mama scores some points with her action, prompting the other diners, some Chinese, some from Indochina, to raise their tea cups in our direction for a toast. If anything, Mama is securing public sentiment just by that small, harmless act. Not that our standing isn't already rock solid in the eyes of the people, European or not. It's what we earn for leading Belka on a steady climb to prosperity and victory.
In the brief moment we wait for our food, we continue chatting harmoniously with one another, with me taking the opportunity to refill my mothers' tea cups whenever needed. Somewhere down the line, a Chinese mother, one of the diners around us, meekly comes to our table with her baby in her arms. Very politely and respectfully, and only after a careful vetting of an alerted Erika and Lola, does she kneel and ask Mom to bless her child. It's a bit of a superstitious act from the Chinese mother, but one that is answered generously by Mommy Hel. As the Spiritual Empress and the leading figure of a religion, Mom has publicly blessed people more than she can remember. This is but one more instance of such, with the only notable difference being that the child is oddly weakened. An inborn ailment plagued the child, it would seem. Yet, it is not something a good healer can't cure, much less Mom, whose Divinity is Life. With her hand glowing softly in a soft green light, Mom cures the child of his sickness and even uses a minuscule part of her power to bolster his health, preventing further health ailments down the line. When the mother of the child knows of this, she would have kowtowed then and there in public, but I am swift enough to signal Erika and Lola to step in, not wanting a great mother like that to debase herself like that.
As the mother is supported by our bodyguards, Mama and I watch on with warm gazes as Mom shows her kindness by further advising the Chinese woman on her child's circumstance. By the time everything is said and done, the mother is given a missive by Mom, asking her to come to a nearby chapel to work there from here on out. It turns out that the woman is a newly arrived immigrant with little to nothing to her name. Bearing a young, sickly child and with her last living relative, who unfortunately passed away due to old age in Berlin, she had little experience in navigating European life. She was lucky enough to come across us and banked everything on a chance to at least give her child a more hopeful future. Now, she has more than succeeded in that goal, but secretly, I would have ONI taken a look at her background just in case. A woman being so down on her luck to suddenly come across us like that? Yeah, it triggers my paranoia, but one can't deny that everything may very well be all true and then some. I then watch the mother walking away with a surer step with a pensive look.
I just don't want anyone to take advantage of Mom's kindness, that's all.
But then again, Mom is someone with enough wisdom to lead a flock of billions, and we have Mama, who is a living lie and evil detector; I may very well be worrying about nothing if neither of them even frowns earlier. My pondering is put to a stop when Chef Mao and the girl in the kitchen come to our table carrying steam plates and bowls.
It would seem dinner has arrived at last, and after what just happened, I think I worked up enough of an appetite already.