The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1149: Fire In The Winter Garden (Part Two)

"Do you like the salad, Inquisitor?" Ollie prompted the man sitting next to him when he realized the older man seemed to be hesitant about taking a bite. "It really isn’t that spicy," he offered as he took a bite that included several slices of pickled peppers as if to prove that they were edible. "It’s just that Heila is, um, exceptionally sensitive to spicy things."

"No, it’s not that," Diarmuid said as he shook himself free of his thoughts while staring at the artistically presented plate enough to spear several different morsels. "I was just thinking that Master Georg managed to welcome almost everyone to the table with a single dish, and that’s very, very impressive," he said before taking a bite of the salad that felt almost too pretty to eat.

That first bite was a revelation of contrasts. The endive provided a crisp, slightly bitter foundation that gave way to the buttery sweetness of the roasted beets. The candied walnuts added a satisfying crunch and a deep, toasted flavor that mingled with the savory, faintly peppery flavor of the aged cheese that melted on his tongue.

And then, like a small explosion in his mouth, the small slice of flame-shaped red pepper added a brief moment of intense heat along with a slight sourness from the pickling that cut through the sweetness of the beets.

The flavors were incredibly complex, as were the textures, and Diarmuid found himself closing his eyes just to focus on the bite he’d taken as he tried to compare it to anything he’d eaten in any of the marches or duchies he’d visited across the Kingdom of Gaal. Ultimately, however, he failed to think of anyone, commoner, priest, or lord, who served food prepared like this.

"Is it, is it to your liking?" Georg asked as his ears twitched nervously, flattening against his head as he awaited the Inquisitor’s verdict as if he were standing trial before the Inquisition. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

When he’d learned that they would be entertaining a member of the very same order that Sir Ignatious once hailed from, along with the famed Lothian priest, Loman, he’d sought Ignatious out to ensure that the dish he presented wouldn’t in some way appear blasphemous to the sensibilities of the Church.

But, just because his artistic presentation didn’t come off as offensive in some way didn’t mean that the dish was enjoyable to the palates that had been shaped by simple cooking favored by many within the Church.

"’Like’ is too mild of a word, Master Georg," Diarmuid said as he opened his eyes to meet the gaze of the anxious cook. "I can think of several wealthy merchants in the kingdom, and half a dozen noblemen, who might go to war with each other for the chance to hire a man of your talents," he said honestly as his fork moved, almost on its own, to prepare a second bite.

"I’m curious," Thane said, observing the Inquisitor carefully as he neatly arranged a perfectly balanced bite on his own fork. "You said that Master Georg managed to welcome almost everyone at the table with a single dish. Who do you think his dish left out?"

"I’m probably over-thinking it," Diarmuid said after his second bite as he looked down at the plate, surprised to realize that in just two bites, he’d cleared away nearly a quarter of the salad. It looked large because it was so artfully arranged across the plate, but the portion was actually much smaller than it looked.

"No one will judge you harshly for sharing your thoughts, Diarmuid," Ignatious encouraged from across the table. "There’s a good reason why Georg is the Master of Kitchens here, and it has a lot to do with his ability to make people feel welcome through the food he creates. I’m sure he’d love to hear your thoughts on how he succeeded."

"And if I fell short," Georg added quickly, pursing his lips together as his ears went nearly flat atop his head. "Lady Ashlynn and Sir Ollie have taught me a great deal about the food that humans prefer, but I’m still learning all of the different tastes people have," he said, thinking specifically about Master Isabell and her preference for simple dishes that could be prepared quickly.

Once he understood that it was a genuine preference on her part, born of years of cooking for her family while also working hard to establish herself as a Master Engineer in Blackwell City, he was able to set aside his worries that she doubted the capabilities of Eldritch cooks, but he still tried to find ways to elevate the dishes he served her on the few occasions he’d had to cook for the newly risen Hemlock Witch.

"I was just thinking, from the appearance of the plate alone," Diarmuid said as he organized his thoughts. "You mentioned the dish being in honor of the people from the Church, and the ’flames’ of your peppers convey the warmth and intensity of the Inquisition well," he said with a slight nod at Ignatious before glancing down the table at Loman and receiving an answering nod in return.

"The roasted beets add to that," Diarmuid added, as he continued his analysis. "They’re like little golden suns, tracing their path across the dish, but they’re also a very human ingredient. From what I understand, beets aren’t native to this part of the world; they came across the sea from the old countries, so they’re familiar to people like Lord Liam and Sir Hugo even while representing something from the Church."

"So you welcomed the Church and the humans at the table with the peppers and the beets," Diarmuid said as he pointed to the leaves of the salad with his fork. "But both are supported or sheltered by the leaves of the endive, just like the feeling of support and shelter that Lady Ashlynn and her coven give off," he said, nodding politely in Ashlynn’s direction.

"There’s even a dusting of ’snow’ for Lord Hauke," he added, glancing down the table at the towering figure of the Frost Walker who had covered Hanrahan Valley with a blanket of snow using his sorcery. "That just left the nuts," he concluded. "And I couldn’t figure out whether they were meant to welcome Artificer Erkembalt and Commander Aspakos, or the vampires, though I assume the former."

"Impressive," Nyrielle said, smiling at the Inquisitor broadly enough to completely reveal her fangs. "You haven’t been in Lothian March very long, Inquisitor Diarmuid, but you live up to your reputation as a thoughtful and insightful man."

"Thank you, your Eternity," he said, bowing his head slightly as he tried to calm his heart that suddenly wanted to race like a galloping horse. Somewhere, deep within his mind, a voice screamed that he should run before those fangs sank into his neck, as if a part of him instinctively recognized that he was prey in the presence of a great predator.

"You missed something important, though," Nyrielle said as she speared one of the golden, roasted beets with her fork, bringing it to her dark, crimson lips to savor a bite of the delicately roasted vegetable. "The beets aren’t just a human food. They’re something my parents brought to the Vale of Mists when they were forced to abandon their lands by the first of the Church’s Crusades," she explained.

"They couldn’t have known then," she said with a smile that was both enchanting and slightly predatory. "But beets have a way of cleansing the palette that’s particularly suited to vampires," she said. "Most of us feed not long after we wake," she said as one hand reached out to interlace her fingers with Ashlynn’s. "So for a meal like this, in order to prevent everything else we eat from tasting a little... coppery," she said lightly. "Georg makes sure we have something that will let us enjoy the rest of his artistry as much as the living do."

At the far end of the table, Loman hung his head in complete and total defeat. Even if Ashlynn’s high collar prevented him from seeing the marks of fangs on her neck, Nyrielle’s declaration and the way she held hands with Ashlynn made it clear that the vampire who ruled over the vale was feeding on his sister-in-law.

He wanted to protest. He wanted to rage and shout... His brother had already nearly killed Ashlynn, and now, she’d been reduced to a meal for the ruler of the territory she’d fled to in order to escape Owain’s cruelty.

But he couldn’t find it within himself to protest. Not when Ashlynn looked so happy sitting next to that very same vampire. Part of him wanted to protest anyway, to claim that Ashlynn was only happy because Nyrielle had her trapped under some sort of demonic, vampiric spell. But he’d also seen Ashlynn’s power, and he doubted that even a vampire as powerful as the famed Demon Lady of the Vale could subdue his powerful sister-in-law.

Which meant that, whether Nyrielle was feeding on her or not, Ashlynn was happier where she was than she’d ever been in Lothian March... and perhaps happier than she’d been at any time in her life while she hid herself away from much of the world to protect the secret of her mark of the witch.

It was a bitter realization, but he swallowed it along with the fiery peppers and the sweet, buttery beets. Making a fuss about things now would only bring more pain to everyone involved, and he’d done enough of that already...