“Moringa is an unique plant that is native to the Ironwood Viscounty,” Stella explained, walking closely at Francesca’s side as they ascended the newly constructed wooden ramp to the second floor. The steady, rhythmic click-thump of Francesca's cane reverberated down the quiet hallway as Stella continued, “Other territories in the freezing north have tried to cultivate it, but only two managed to do so, and even then, only in tiny quantities.”
Stella beamed, her eyes sparkling with local pride. “People around here even call it the 'Miracle Plant.' You will see exactly why once you dine in the family dining room!”
Just as Stella finished her sentence, they arrived at their destination on the second floor.
“Until now, I wasn't able to dine in the traditional family dining room because of the steep stairs,” Francesca mused, a soft, appreciative smile playing on her lips as Stella pushed the heavy doors open. “But thanks to the new ramp, now I can.”
The moment they stepped inside, Francesca saw that Miller was already seated at the long dining table. However, he wasn't alone tonight. A young man with jet-black hair and a rough, disciplined soldierly air about him was standing right beside his chair.
“Kenny!” Stella called out with sudden excitement, her professional composure instantly melting away.
The young man turned, a warm smile breaking across his stern features. He stepped forward and greeted Francesca with a deep, respectful bow. “My Lady, I am Kenny Fillows. Please forgive Stella's outburst... due to my absence. We haven’t been able to meet properly since my duties took me away from the Viscounty center recently.”
“Ah, so you are Stella’s boyfriend, Mister Kenny?” Francesca smiled gracefully, walking up to the table. “There is absolutely nothing to forgive. If anything, I should be thanking you for speaking up in support of me against the grumbling council of vassals.”
“It was nothing, my Lady,” Kenny replied with a humble nod. He then turned to Miller, preparing to excuse himself. “Well then, I should be getting on my way. I was only here to update his Lordship on the living conditions of the orphan children, since I am currently in charge of inspecting their welfare.”
“I see. Thank you for your hard work,” Francesca nodded.
Miller stood up, stepping over to pull back a chair for his wife. Holding onto his strong hand for physical support, Francesca carefully lowered herself into the seat.
Meanwhile, Stella was staring longingly at Kenny’s retreating figure. Sensing the heavy gaze, Francesca glanced back. Before the maid could even speak, Francesca cut her off with a knowing smirk. “Go on, Stella. I know you two haven't been able to see each other much, especially since Miller tasked him with resolving the orphans' housing issues.”
“You are the absolute best, my Lady!” Stella beamed, her cheeks flushing pink as she practically rushed out the door after Kenny.
With the door clicking shut behind them, only Miller and Francesca were left in the warm room.
Miller leaned forward, an eager, boyish grin on his face. “Are you excited about the upcoming dishes? The head chef was practically gloating in the kitchen earlier, telling me how confident he is to serve you our native cuisine.”
Francesca picked up her crystal glass, taking a slow sip of water before looking across the table at Miller. “Why is everyone asking me that? It’s just a few rural mountain recipes, Miller... how unique can it really be?”
A quiet, amused chuckle slipped from Miller’s lips, though he quickly cleared his throat to hide his amusement as the doors swung open. Led by the proud head chef, a line of servers began marching into the room, carrying covered silver platters.
Francesca's sharp eyes immediately noticed that the heavy dishes were being brought up from the kitchen through service lifts that utilized clever pulleys and counterweights. So service lifts can exist even without electricity... she noted silently.
As she was occupied with her observations, the chef stepped forward and bowed deeply. “I am Henry Knors, my Lady. I have been the head chef for the Ironwood Castle for the last twenty-five years, and I have put my whole heart and soul into today's meal to ensure you experience the absolute best authentic flavors of the Ironwood Viscounty!”
“You didn’t have to go to such lengths, Mister Henry,” she replied, slightly overwhelmed by the old man’s intense sincerity.
“Of course I had to, my Lady!” Henry replied instantly, his chest puffing out with pride. “After all, the moment you took the reins of the household, you approved the optimized cooking schedule that his Lordship had been proposing to Miss Maria for ages!”
“The cooking schedule?” Stella asked, slipping back into the room.
Francesca glanced at her maid, noticing that Stella's collar was a bit messy and her hair was clearly in disarray from her quick, passionate rendezvous with Kenny.
Unaware of the maid's distractions, Chef Henry continued, “Yes, Miss Stella. Miss Maria previously forced the kitchen staff to cook six separate times a day. Once with lower-quality ingredients for the castle servants, and then multiple times with high-quality, imported ingredients for his Lordship’s family.”
“Oh my... I was always with the mercenary corps back then, so I didn't know the household details were that bad,” Stella remarked, placing a hand over her mouth.
“Indeed. His Lordship and Young Master Alan would frequently skip breakfast or lunch due to their training and schedules, yet we were still forced to prepare a full, extravagant table every single time,” Henry grumbled. “The excess food would always go to complete waste because the servants were strictly forbidden from eating 'noble food.' It was heartbreaking.”
“It was a completely absurd practice,” Francesca commented with a disdainful sigh. “Even my father’s household, the LeonCraft Duchy, didn’t maintain such a wasteful, inefficient kitchen system.”
“I know, right!” Miller added enthusiastically, taking a sip of his water. “I kept requesting Aunt Maria to change it, but she always ran to the council of vassals for defense. They made my suggestions look entirely unreasonable. She constantly used the excuse that I didn't understand how high nobility functioned in the capital. She claimed that since His Majesty himself had bestowed the title upon me, I needed to maintain those exact wasteful standards to protect our household's reputation.”
“It was ridiculous. We local chefs weren't even allowed to use the native ingredients we were actually experienced with, and were forced to rely solely on expensive imported goods,” Henry finished venting. With a theatrical flourish, he stepped forward to introduce the first course. “But today, we begin properly. For your starter, I present the traditional Ironwood Moringa Broth.”
“I must say, I was highly impressed by the kitchen proposal you drafted for Miss Maria,” Francesca praised Miller.
Inwardly, she thought, Calling it 'impressed' is an understatement. Your proposal was structured exactly like a modern, highly optimized military supply system. Focusing back on the meal, she lifted her spoon and took a careful sip of the steaming green broth.
Francesca's eyes widened instantly at the first taste. The rich, deeply satisfying base of bone broth, simmered for hours from fresh chicken, was perfectly complemented by a generous handful of dried Moringa leaves. The leaves had partially dissolved into the liquid, turning it a deep forest green and releasing a pleasantly earthy, slightly spinach-adjacent flavor that sent a jolt of comforting warmth throughout her entire body.
In these freezing, isolated mountain communities, this nutrient-dense broth clearly functions exactly the way hot miso soup does in Japanese households, Francesca realized, deeply fascinated by the culinary adaptation.
Chef Henry smiled warmly as he watched her expression shift, a thoroughly smug and satisfied look plastered across his wrinkled face. “Did our local flavors manage to captivate your refined palate, my Lady?”