“Before coming to the palace, I used to work at a restaurant in the capital,” I said. “People from several countries work there. They were caught up in the war and haven’t been able to go home ever since.”
“Hmm?”
“Among them were veteran chefs and genius artisans with years of experience. I was deeply moved after tasting their cuisine. The world is vast, and there were techniques and charm in their cooking that Fralia does not yet possess. So why, then, Your Majesty?” I paused to glare at the king, then I stood as straight as I could and all but shouted, “Why are these amazing talents not even allowed to take the examination to become chefs of the palace?! Do you believe a person cannot make delicious food if Fralian blood does not run in their veins? Or is the reason merely discrimination?”
“H-huh? W-well, that’s…um…”
“Meaningless considerations such as origin or rank should have no place in the pursuit of taste!” I continued. “Please, Your Majesty, give an equal chance to all cooks! We must learn about foreign ingredients and preparation techniques from those who know them best and incorporate them into Fralian cuisine. That is the only way this country will become a true nation of gourmets! I became a chef of the palace and entered this competition for this singular purpose—I wished to petition you, Your Majesty!”
“I can’t believe this! You’ve come so far in this tournament just for the sake of other chefs…and for the pursuit of taste?!” The king slapped his lap joyfully and stood up. “Ha ha ha! Not only are you an excellent chef, but you aim for such wonderful, lofty goals! I like you even more, Bartolomeo!”
“Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I understand your plight. And I want you as my son-in-law even more! Alas, you can forget about the engagement for now.”
“Father?!” the princess screeched. The king gestured for her to quiet down and nodded magnanimously.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I was about to disgrace a sacred competition out of love for my daughter. I’m sorry about that. She always says she’ll bite her tongue off if I force her into a marriage of convenience, and you’re the first man she agreed to marry… But still, we were being too selfish and shouldn’t have tried to force your hand. I hope you’ll forgive us,” the king said, his tone truly apologetic.
I was so relieved. I didn’t particularly hate the princess, but I had my heart set on being a chef, nothing more. I had no interest in marrying a princess or becoming the next king of Fralia, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to balance such important duties with cooking. If the king agreed to grant me my wish, I would be satisfied.
“I promise you, Bartolomeo, that if you win, the palace will hire chefs based on their talents, with no distinction made based on origin. Work alongside them and continue your quest for the ultimate taste.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I wish for nothing more.”
Though the king roared with laughter, the princess bit her lips anxiously.
The finals were held three days later, with the king presiding as the judge. Naturally, I’d investigated his tastes as well. He liked chicken the best, especially chicken seasoned with fragrant spices from the East, so I let a bone-in chicken simmer in lemon cream and served it with rice and a curry sauce I’d made using an original spice blend. The rich, exotic aroma wafted through the air, making the king’s nose twitch and flare. Incidentally, the dish my rival presented was a veal steak.
First of all, a portion of the dishes we’d made were served to the food taster to test for poison. My dish would be first, and the king already had his knife and fork in hand, eagerly awaiting the taster’s approval. He did not spare one look for my rival’s steak.
I’ve practically won this already!
However…
“Urgh!” the food taster groaned before reaching for his throat frantically. He collapsed onto the table.
“Wh-what?!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I-it…hurts…” he managed to choke out between coughs. The coughing intensified, and red droplets fell onto the table. Chaos took over the hall.
“Poison?! Bartolomeo! You tried to kill my father, didn’t you?!” the princess screamed. “You must be a foreign spy! You were never a true Fralian! That’s why you didn’t want for the throne or my hand! I knew it! You murderer!”
The king’s expression shifted in an instant, and he looked down at me coldly. “You planned this from the start…”
“No! I have no idea what she’s talking about! I haven’t poisoned the food!” I protested, desperately pleading my innocence.
“Silence! Who else could have?!”
The king was right. I’d picked the ingredients myself and prepared them alone. I was even the one who’d brought the plate to the taster. And yet, I hadn’t done it. None of the ingredients I’d used were naturally toxic either, so I didn’t understand how or when the poison could have been added.
I took a better look at the taster collapsed on the table and realized that something was strange. For someone who’d coughed up blood, his face hadn’t paled one bit. His breathing was stable, and he wasn’t sweating either. When I tried to approach to take his pulse, the princess blocked my path.
“Guards! Guards!” she cried out, pointing at me. “Arrest this murderer right this instant! Throw him in jail and execute him!”
The heinous contortion of her face told me everything I needed to know. The king, meanwhile, appeared both genuinely sad and angry.
“I’m so disappointed, Bartolomeo. The lofty aspirations you spoke of were only a trap to get me to lower my guard, weren’t they? What a shame…”
Two soldiers approached me, swords in hand. I lowered my head, and stopped moving, pretending to have given up on resisting. Then, when they least expected it, I kicked them, sending the fully armored men flying into the wall and knocking them unconscious on the spot. Another soldier was watching in confusion and, before he could make sense of the situation, I hit his sword arm and stole his blade. Now that he’d served his purpose for me, I swept his leg and raised his weapon to deter others from approaching.
“Bartolomeo!” the king roared. “You dare resist?!”
“If I don’t resist, you’ll kill me, won’t you? I’d rather fight, then.”
“You fool! Do you think a mere cook can best trained soldiers?!”
“We’ll see.”
The soldier whose sword I’d stolen got back up and tried to strike me with his bare hands. I stood my ground and dodged the flurry of hits by swaying my upper body left and right. Then, I sent him crashing into the ground with a single slash.
As I fought back against the next set of knights who attacked me, I started planning my escape route. Once I figured out what to do, I jumped and grabbed a windowsill before immediately pulling myself up.
“How can a cook fight so well?!” one of the knights cried out in shock.
“Wrong question. How could a cook not know his way around cutlery?” And with that, I jumped through the window.
I’d lost everything.
With nowhere to go, I wandered about alone. I passed through several countries, meeting and leaving countless people until I ended up in Dilts. I found work at an inn on the side of the highway and served food to travelers every day. It wasn’t anything like my days in Fralia, given the poor quality of the ingredients and the cooking equipment, but that didn’t mean my talents had declined. The inn soon made a name for itself, and through word-of-mouth, its reputation even reached the nobility. Then, one day…
“That vichyssoise is amazing! Tell me, would you like to become an exclusive chef of the Granado Castle? We can give you the environment you deserve to display your true abilities! We have ingredients and recipes from all over the world.”
…I was recruited by Madam Liu Liu.