Outside the room, the evening was settling in.
Richard stepped into the courtyard. The sky was a deepening gray, the sun dipping low toward the horizon. A few of his guards lingered nearby, including Turku, who was chewing on a half-eaten pastry. Seeing Richard appear, Turku's eyes lit up.
"Master, how is it?" he asked between bites, voice muffled by the pastry.
"Nothing to worry about," Richard replied calmly, waving a hand. "Once you finish eating, go inside and take care of the body."
"Ah," Turku nodded, chewing thoughtfully, before blurting out, "Master… may I cut off her head? She dared to try to kill you, after all!"
"Do as you wish," Richard replied lightly, shrugging. "If her corpse interests you, feel free." Without lingering on the topic, he turned and walked toward the village outskirts.
From the kitchen, Lucy, his young maid, appeared, holding a small plate. Her golden hair bounced as she called out, "Master, Sister Alice made a lot of treats! Would you like to try some?"
"Later," Richard said, waving her off, continuing his steps toward the gate.
Lucy's curiosity pushed her further. "Where are you going now, Master?"
"Nothing important," Richard replied casually. "Just a walk. A bit of air will do me good." He had thought the incident with the assassin would leave him unsettled, and a brief walk seemed the simplest remedy.
The guards immediately moved to follow, instinctively protective.
Richard raised a hand to stop them. "No need. I'm only wandering near the village. There's nothing dangerous. I'll return shortly. Stay here."
The guards hesitated, disappointed, but obeyed. Lucy, however, would not be left behind. "Master, I want to come too! I'll come!" she insisted, grabbing his hand before he could refuse. Richard gave a wry smile and allowed her to join him.
Together, they walked along the village road, eventually reaching the river that bordered the settlement. The last rays of sunlight flickered across the water, shimmering like molten gold, reflecting the fiery hue of the evening sky.
Richard seated himself on a large stone by the riverbank. He glanced at Lucy, then asked quietly, "Lucy, today I killed someone. Do you think I did wrong?"
Lucy blinked, startled, then shook her head vehemently. "No, Master. How could it be wrong?"
"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Because…" Lucy's face was serious, her small brows knitted in thought. "…because that person wanted to kill you. Killing is wrong, but since he meant to harm you, your actions are justified."
Richard tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "So… by that logic, am I not also a killer?"
Lucy's brow furrowed further. She pondered for a moment before speaking, her tone firm. "It is different, Master. Even if it is also killing, it's not the same!"
"How so?"
"Because you are Master!" she said with absolute certainty. "When you kill, it is right. When others try to kill you, it is wrong!"
Richard chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Very well. I concede. That is reasonable enough."
Lucy smiled back, encouraged by his acknowledgment. She felt that, even if he did not need her comfort, she had at least fulfilled a small part of her duty as a maid.
Then, she held out a small plate toward him. "Master, try this."
Richard frowned slightly, inspecting the offering. A blackened, overcooked ring of onions sat on the plate. "And what exactly is this?" he asked.
"It's Sister Alice's onion rings! Crispy, flavorful, and absolutely delicious!" Lucy said eagerly, pressing it into his hands. "Please, Master, try it! You must taste it!"
Unable to refuse, Richard lifted the ring to his mouth. He bit down, chewed, and swallowed.
His reaction was subtle, a slight shake of the head betraying his thoughts.
So much for crispy and flavorful. The exterior was merely coated in a thin layer of flour, charred over the fire. Salt was absent, and the onion itself had lost all texture and sweetness, reduced to a limp, bitter mass. If this was considered delicious, then the world had little hope of true cuisine.
Lucy's eyes searched his face for approval. "Master, is it… not good?" she asked hesitantly.
"Not good at all," he said evenly. "Not just bad—it's done entirely wrong."
Lucy's brow furrowed, puzzled. "Wrong? But… what is the correct way, then?"
Richard leaned back, regarding the sunset over the river. "First, peel the onions, slice them into perfect rings, and remove the inner membrane. Sprinkle them lightly with salt and black pepper, and allow them to marinate for ten minutes. Once marinated, dust each ring evenly with fine flour. Then, coat them in egg white, followed by a thick layer of breadcrumbs. Finally, fry them in hot oil until golden brown. Only then do you have properly cooked onion rings."
Lucy's mouth fell open slightly. Black pepper? Flour? Egg? Bread crumbs? The attention to detail was staggering. In this world, black pepper was nearly as valuable as gold, often used as currency in distant cities. Ordinary villagers would never taste such a spice. Even nobles rarely indulged in it, reserving it for the wealthiest and most extravagant.
Richard's tone turned matter-of-fact. "If one wishes to cook with black pepper, even a single ring of onions requires attention to precision. Do it poorly, and the result is inedible. This is not indulgence—it is mastery."
Lucy could hardly imagine such extravagance in preparing something as simple as an onion ring. She looked at Richard, her golden hair catching the fading sunlight, and thought: no wonder the Master finds even small details worthy of inspection.
Richard, seemingly oblivious to her thoughts, took another bite, grimaced slightly, and shook his head. "No, this will not do. Even a treat requires care and respect for ingredients, else the effort is wasted."
The river shimmered in silence beside them, reflecting the fading fire of the sunset. Around them, the village was quiet. The aftermath of the assassin, the tense lessons of fear and pain, seemed worlds away here. Yet Richard's mind remained as analytical and sharp as ever, even in this seemingly mundane moment.
Beside him, Lucy chewed her own piece of onion ring cautiously, hoping to match her Master's expectations. In the fading light, the two sat silently, a boy of noble lineage and his devoted maid, pondering matters of life, death, and culinary precision in equal measure.