Now that we’d found a lake to house our pearl farm, it was time to get started. But first, we had to make some adjustments to its surroundings. Gabriel put up a magic barrier to prevent wild slimes or tourists from wandering inside the area, and his tamed slimes built a fence with lumber from the mansion to keep wild animals out. By the time I visited three days later, it had become a proper facility, with a small cabin and a roof covering the lake to block the sun’s rays.
“Fran, what do you think?” Gabriel asked.
“It must’ve been a lot of work to get all of this set up in such a short amount of time,” I replied.
“Yes. It was necessary, though. We need to get started as soon as possible.”
Our wedding was scheduled for early spring, and it was currently late autumn. We only had a few months left. Even if we finished producing the pearls, there was still the issue of whether they could be processed in time. Right now, all I could do was pray for a future in which the pearl cultivation was successful.
“Gabriel, I know we just arrived, but would you like to take a short break?” I asked. “I made us lunch.” I had woken up early to do so, and the fruits of my efforts were inside the basket that Gabriel was carrying for me. “I hope it’s to your liking.”
“I’ll always look forward to your home cooking.”
“You said the other day that you wanted to have a picnic by the lake, so here we are.”
“I can’t believe it’s happening so soon. It’s like a dream come true.”
“Oh, now you’re exaggerating again.”
I sat down on the picnic blanket Wibble laid out for us and began arranging the food and preparing Triste’s trademark fragrant tea in a magicite-powered pot. The cups and saucers were the porcelain workshop’s new products, made by mixing the kaolin with powdered slime to enhance its durability. Mysteriously, this porcelain became transparent when fired. It was much tougher than other porcelain and ceramics and wouldn’t break even if it fell to the ground. It had seemed like these cups and saucers would be good for outdoor excursions like picnics, so I’d brought them outside for the first time today.
As I was cheerfully laying everything out, Gabriel gave me a worried look and asked, “Fran, are you sure about using those cups? They contain slime.”
“They have your seal of approval, so they must be safe, and besides, they’re wonderfully made. Is there an issue with them?”
“No, but wouldn’t you rather not directly touch something containing slime with your mouth?”
“You’ve guaranteed that they’re safe to use, so it’s completely fine,” I replied with a smile.
Gabriel hung his head weakly. “What am I going to do with you...?”
“Did I say something strange?”
“Perhaps, yes. Normally, people wouldn’t want to use products containing slimes.”
“Is that so?” I tilted my head. Gabriel had experimented with slime ceramics for many years, and he used them himself. They didn’t have any adverse effects on the body, nor could you tell by sight that they were made with slimes. They appeared to be nothing more than pretty cups that were clear like glass. “Even if they did have some kind of effect on me, you would do something about it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. I would do everything in my power to save you.”
“What is there to be worried about, then?” I squeezed his hand and told him my honest feelings to quell his fears. “I assure you all of your inventions are safe and brilliant. Won’t you trust me?”
“Ngh! If you phrase it that way, I can’t argue back.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
Gabriel heaved a long sigh. “I worry too much. Even I think it’s a problem.”
“That’s not true. I’m too optimistic, so I think it’s good that you’re a bit of a worrywart.”
“So if we averaged ourselves together, the result would be just right?”
I nodded firmly at his conclusion.
As we were chatting, Wibble poured our tea.
“Fra, Gabriel, go ahead and take your break!”
“Thank you, Wibble,” I said.
“Yes, thank you,” said Gabriel.
Sipping the Triste tea made me feel refreshed. I was now very accustomed to this flavor.
“Was it difficult to make all of this food?” Gabriel asked.
“No, I enjoyed it. These are actually the dishes we’re considering for the reception banquet.” Along with my mother-in-law, the head chef and I had thought of the menu together. “I tried making quite a few things. Would you mind taste testing them?”
“Not a problem. I can’t wait to try them.”
I had him start with the soup, which had given me the most trouble. It was stored in a thermos that was imbued with a heat-insulating spell. I poured it into a bowl.
“This is a herbal consommé made with poultry stock,” I explained. The stock was the key to the dish. It was called “fond de cuisine,” and it was an essential of royal cooking. “It’s the soup the head chef is most proud of. He makes it by simmering a bird whole.”
Other ingredients included poultry bones, potherbs, medicinal herbs, salt, and pepper, all boiled with the poultry of choice. The resulting cloudy soup was strained and left to cool. Then, the fat that floated to the surface was skimmed off, and milk, butter, and flour were added as thickening. Finally, it was garnished with minced, locally grown herbs: parsley, estragon, chervil, and chives.
“The dish was a team effort,” I said. “Go ahead and try it.”
“I will, thank you.”
I nervously watched Gabriel take a sip.
“It’s...delicious! It’s smooth and rich, but not excessively so, and it has depth to its flavor. It has a mild, pleasant taste, though, perhaps because of the milk and butter. I think anyone would enjoy it, child or adult.”