Being served so attentively by such an elderly person made Jasmine slightly uncomfortable, but she did not refuse, complying by sitting in the host's chair. The old Butler bowed slightly to Jasmine, then William turned and walked slowly back toward the kitchen.
Not long after, the Butler returned carrying a large wooden tray full of food; the aroma of the meal wafted into Jasmine's nose. Breakfast looked quite abundant considering the current circumstances: there was a long loaf of bread emitting a strong barley scent, smelling as if it had just been freshly baked, the crust still warm. Beside it was a bowl of thick green vegetable soup that did not look very appealing, a few slices of unnamed animal meat fried until they were charred and dry, a small plate of red berries of unknown variety that had been roasted with salt until they were mushy, and a glass full of deep red wine.
This was much better than the rock-hard, choking dry rations she had eaten on the road. At least these items were steaming hot. Jasmine thought touchingly as she picked up the fork.
Jasmine did not touch the glass of wine; she knew people here used wine instead of water to meet their daily fluid intake because water sources were often unreliable, but she was truly obsessed with this thing. Jasmine still remembered previously passing through a bustling small town; although they did not stop to rest, they always had to restock supplies in the town. That time, the place where they bought wine was right next to a small manual wine production workshop.
At that time, Jasmine had been shaken by the carriage until dizzy, but she had managed to adapt somewhat, not to the point of sleeping lethargically all day like at the beginning. She pulled the carriage curtain aside wanting to breathe fresh air; before she could even smell the sweet aroma of fermented grapes in the air, what caught her eye was a thin man wearing linen standing in a large wooden tub, using his dirty black bare feet to tread on the grapes inside.
Only Jasmine's eyesight was to blame for being too good; she could see the dirt stuck in the unwashed toenails on the man, as well as the sweat pouring from his forehead, dripping into the wooden tub and mixing with the grape juice. From then on, she never drank the wine the knights gave her again; she would rather filter the water she found using charcoal while supporting her tired body during the evening rest, then boil it to drink.
Jasmine pushed the glass of wine far from her sight, picking up the spoon to taste the vegetable soup first. This vegetable soup was made from old cabbage; perhaps it had been cooked for too long because the vegetable leaves inside were about to dissolve completely, becoming a thick mixture. Shredded cheese seemed to have been added to the soup, as a strong milky smell could be detected, and a few small black specks of ground spices floated on the surface.
Jasmine tasted a spoonful and immediately frowned, almost grimacing. She did not know if the cheese had been kept for too long and expired, or if the method of fermenting cheese here was special, but a sour smell rushed up her nose; even those spices could not hide that strange taste.
Before Jasmine could spit out the vegetable soup in her mouth, the sound of a chair scraping against the ground echoed beside her. Jasmine turned her head to look and happened to see the old Butler placing a round Dragon Egg on the chair next to her, even William thoughtfully lining the chair with a clean soft cushion so the egg would not roll.
Jasmine: "..." She hastily swallowed the mouthful of soup, feeling a lump in her throat.
The castle's cook seemed to really like adding spices to the food to mask the smell; the fried meat was completely covered by a thick layer of spices, and not a bit of the original meat smell could be tasted anymore. Furthermore, the fire was too high, causing the meat to shrivel up and become very tough. Jasmine chewed for a long time; her jaw muscles were exhausted, yet she could not tear apart this tiny piece of fried meat. It felt like chewing on a shoe sole.
Perhaps Jasmine's eating ritual was too crude—chewing with bulging cheeks and wide eyes—which caused the old Butler to steal a glance. Jasmine coughed lightly to hide her embarrassment, with difficulty swallowing the spice-filled piece of meat into her stomach, drinking a sip of soup to wash it down, then silently pushed the remaining untouched piece of fried meat a bit further away.
Jasmine also tasted the other dishes one by one; the roasted berries were soft and mushy, carrying the sweet and sour taste of the berries themselves, but the seeds inside were bitter and astringent. If one did not like this bitterness, the seeds had to be picked out one by one, which was time-consuming and a bit annoying. Added to that was the salty salt; the cook's cooking technique did not combine these flavors well, creating a chaotic taste.
It could not be said to be so disgusting as to vomit, but compared to the rubbery fried meat and sour vegetable soup, it could be considered barely swallowable to gain strength. The only thing that made Jasmine relatively satisfied was the bread; perhaps because it was fresh from the oven, the bread was not as hard as stone as imagined. Moreover, the roasted surface was very dry with a beautiful golden-brown color; it was slightly crispy when eaten, and the crumb was dense. It was just that eating it plain was a bit dry for the throat and hard to swallow; it would be much better if it could be eaten with water.
"William, is there any boiled water that has cooled down in the kitchen?" Jasmine was obsessed with the dirty wine, but she still needed to intake water for her parched body.
"Boiled water that has cooled down?" The old Butler repeated in confusion, his silver-white eyebrows furrowing; William obviously did not understand Jasmine's meaning, because here, this concept was very foreign.
"Forget it, take me to the kitchen to have a look." Jasmine sighed, standing up and brushing bread crumbs off her dress.
"As you command, Lord." Hearing this, the old Butler did not ask much, hurriedly putting down the napkin and bowing slightly to lead Jasmine toward the back door.
The kitchen was located in a separate small house behind the main building to avoid fires; this house seemed to have been built later using miscellaneous wood, with a thatched roof that had turned grey. The space inside was not large, filled with black smoke and spiderwebs. There was only a brick bread oven and a stove with a glowing fire.
The female cook, wearing old, stained burlap clothes with disheveled hair, was busy kneading dough in front of the stove; because the new Lord had arrived, the cook needed to finish baking a large quantity of bread to stock up for the following days.