The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1156: A Taste of the Wider World (Part One)

Meals served in courses like this were uncommon among the aristocracy in the kingdom of Gaal. Or rather, the sequence of dishes seemed very different from what men like Liam Dunn and Loman Lothian had grown up with.

In the great halls of Lothian manor, the first dish to be presented was often one of the most impressive, and by tradition in Lothian March, was almost always something the host’s family had personally hunted for that evening’s feast. Whether it was a triumphant stag, presented with the beast’s antlers, or a fearsome bear, the first dish to be placed upon the table represented the host’s valor and capability as a warrior.

Liam had taken up this responsibility to provide for his father’s table years ago, and though Loman hadn’t ever led a hunt, he’d accompanied his father on such hunts as a boy.

The copious amounts of meat that accompanied the beginning of a feast led to a general fatigue, followed by lighter dishes that guests would nibble on for several hours, while conversation turned more serious once bellies were full. But in the Vale of Mists, everything seemed strangely out of order, particularly when Georg brought out the next course for everyone to enjoy.

"I take no credit for this dish," Georg said as servants placed small metal bowls containing a pair of vibrantly colored quenelles, one a dark purple and the other an equally dark red. The bowls themselves had been chilled, likely filled with ice until moments before service in order to prevent the delicate quenelles from melting once they were formed and placed in their dishes.

Of course, Georg hadn’t stopped at simply scooping a pair of quenelles and placing them in bowls. He’d very carefully created a swirl of lavender-infused honey around the quenelles, keeping the honey from touching the dish in the center of the bowl but perfectly framing it. At the same time, a sprinkling of candied thyme leaves wandered back and forth over the swirl of honey like the footprints of a tiny traveler exploring the wondrous dish.

"Lady Ashlynn did all the work for this," Georg said, smiling with a small bit of pride as he recalled how uncomfortable she’d been in his kitchens when she first came to him for lessons in cooking in order to hone her senses. The dish she’d prepared for this course, however, had very little to do with his teachings, and he kept his decoration from touching the literal fruits of her work so as not to force a mingling of flavors she might not have intended.

Ashlynn wouldn’t have minded, in fact, she was quietly impressed at the way he’d elevated her simple sorbet, but Georg didn’t want to leave any doubt in the guest’s mind about Ashlynn’s contribution to their evening meal. After all, it wasn’t often a person could say that they’d dined on something prepared by the Mother of Trees herself!

"I wanted to share something from the world beyond the mountains," Ashlynn said as she picked up a spoon to take a bite of the delicate sorbet. "Once you cross the mountains, if you turn south at High Fen City and follow the White River south along the mountains, you’ll eventually find yourself at the entrance of the Briar," she said, explaining far more than she needed to in order to give her guests a sense of the wider world she’d walked through in the months since her marriage to Owain Lothian.

"The Briar isn’t just hot, it’s incredibly muggy," Ashlynn continued as she allowed the sharp, sweet flavors of blackberry and raspberry to cleanse her palate of the richness of the carpaccio, caviar, and the chestnut soup.

"There is barely anywhere solid to stand in the Briar," Heila added between bites of the familiar treat that had felt like salvation on the hot summer days and nights while she and Ashlynn trained with the Mother of Thorns. "It’s a swamp, filled with brambles, sandbox and cypress trees, and all manner of dangerous beasts that lurk in the water below or the branches of the trees above."

"We lived in huts built on stilts while we were there," Ashlynn said, thinking back fondly to Amahle’s miniature village nestled in the heart of The Briar. "And we slept in hammocks so you could feel the breeze beneath you at night. The fog there is just as thick as it is in the Vale of Mists, but it doesn’t offer any relief from the heat; it just makes everything feel gloomy and sticky," she said as she took another bite of the cool, refreshing sorbet. "So any night that we had enough strength left to make a treat like this, we did."

"The Briar is even more inhospitable than the High Pass," Erkembalt agreed, shuddering at the memory of the only time he’d been desperate enough for knowledge to pay a visit to the powerful Mother of Thorns in her own domain.

"There’s a maze of thorny plants all around it. Combined with the fog and the shifting waterways, you can get lost there for days," the artificer warned. "And if you prick yourself on anything, you’ll die of poison before the things swimming in the water devour you whole. No one goes there unless the only alternative is death," he pronounced as if it were a law written in the stars of the heavens.

Across the table from him, Liam Dunn stared at the artificer in open-mouthed shock, and the look on Loman’s face wasn’t that different from his.

They both understood, or thought they had understood, that Ashlynn had faced a number of dangers in the days since she crawled out of the shallow grave that Sir Tommin and Sir Broll had left her in. They knew, for example, that she’d snuck back to the Summer Villa in order to spy on Owain, and that she’d killed Sir Kaefin and Sir Broll in her escape from the villa.

Loman knew a little more. He’d seen the shattered sword that hung above the mantle in her sitting room, shockingly made from a metal the Church considered both demonic and nearly indestructible. That alone made it clear that she’d faced opponents who possessed strength that rivalled her own.

But to hear Erkembalt tell it, she’d gone somewhere even more dangerous on her journey... somewhere that meant certain death to most people, and that even the powerful sorcerers among the Eldritch would hesitate to go unless their very life was in jeopardy if they didn’t. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

But what could have been so important that Ashlynn would willingly go to a place so dangerous? And just how strong, or how insanely lucky, did she have to be in order to come back from such a place alive?