Frostsilver said this, then clapped her hands confidently.
A group of chefs of varying heights walked in; they all wore white chef uniforms—there were gnomes, dwarves, and humans.
They clumsily bowed to Frostsilver and said, “Good day, Countess.”
“Good afternoon, Countess.”
Aurina sniffed, catching a whiff of spices.
She followed the scent and saw it was a halfling chef.
The edges of his white chef uniform were already stained with old yellow marks.
Those were from various dishes that had stuck on and been washed off, stuck on and washed off again, until they became part of the uniform.
“I’ve invited master chefs from all over the world,” Frostsilver said. “Originally, there was a handsome elf chef, but unfortunately, his cooking skills were far inferior to his fame and appearance, so I drove him away. Words are empty—over these few days, Aurina can properly experience the difference between being raised by an amateur and by a professional.”
Frostsilver paused and said, “And an amateur who’s stretched thin and poor at that.”
Sophia originally wanted to speak up for Richard, but she looked at Aurina on his head, her lips moved, and then she said not a single word, burying her head in her dessert.
“So fragrant,” Aurina said, her tail tip twitching. “Can I eat it?”
“Of course you can,” Richard said. “That’s your freedom.”
“Yay.”
Since the strongest little bug was willing to use his brain and not be so stupid, Aurina kicked off with both feet, leaping from Richard’s shoulder and pouncing straight at the fragrant halfling.
The halfling didn’t react at all; Aurina transformed into a dragon in mid-air, opening her wide dragon mouth to bite at him.
Thud!
Like the sound of a bowstring being drawn tight, Richard grabbed her tail, pulling it straight.
Aurina’s dragon form bit toward the halfling, her sharp teeth snapping shut right in front of his nose tip, scaring him into a stupor.
“Quack!”
Aurina’s tail was elastic, snapping her back in an instant; she tumbled backward, and in the blink of an eye, her body glowed red, turning into a little girl, her back hitting the ground.
Richard said with a grim face, “No eating people.”
“But I’m still a child,” Aurina said subconsciously, her eyes seeing stars. “You clearly said I could.”
“I thought you meant Frostsilver’s food.”
At this point, the halfling chef who had been keeping his head down was so scared his chef hat fell off; he backed up but bumped into the chest plate of the armored gnome hell knight.
The gnome hell knight said, “Stand properly.”
“But, my kin—she suddenly turned into a monster… she…”
The gnome hell knight said, “Stand, get back to your position.”
The halfling chef, still shaken, stood in place.
Aurina chanted madly, rolling on the ground: “I’m still a little girl, I’m still a little girl, I’m still a little girl.”
It worked.
Richard said, “Alright, I won’t pursue it this time.”
Aurina immediately stood up, a big smile on her face, almost reaching her ears—cute and lovable.
Richard thought of her “father,” who was also a dragon that loved to smile—if defining baring teeth that could easily bite off a chunk from a mountain peak as smiling.
There was a region where legends said the Dread Dragon would emit a destructive laugh, letting everything daring to stand before it see the “execution tool” that would kill them.
Quack quack, sure enough, the little girl spell paired with a bit of casting posture could easily defeat Richard.
Aurina jumped up, spinning a few times in the air to shake off the dust on her body, then jumped back onto Richard’s shoulder.
Along the way, her tail hooked up a plate of dessert from Sophia’s hand, stuffing it into her mouth, then tossing the expensive porcelain plate.
The maid screamed, reaching out to catch it, but it was too late.
It landed on the orange dragon that had just climbed onto the table; the orange dragon meowed, its fatty body shaking, and the plate landed safely on the table unharmed.
“Very good,” Frostsilver said. “It seems the chefs I carefully hired are very attractive to my dear adopted daughter.”
“How did she become your adopted daughter?”
Frostsilver said, “What I want will inevitably belong to me.”
“I… can I resign?” the halfling chef raised his hand and asked.
Frostsilver pushed her glasses up with her middle finger: “If you can repay your debts, of course you can. Oh, and don’t forget the courtyard house where your family lives—the yard big enough for three or four children to run and play—but you still need to serve for thirty-one years to pay it off. If you breach the contract, you’ll pay two hundred and thirty-one gold coins, and the house will be confiscated. After all, that’s special supply—you only have the purchase privilege because you serve me.”
Only then did Richard see the halfling chef’s face clearly: “Aren’t you Master Dars?”
“You know me?”
“Your ‘The Art of Cooking’ inspired me greatly; the lines are filled with love for food,” Richard said. “I just now realized you look a bit like the portrait on the cover.”
“That was from my younger days,” the halfling chef smiled. “Unfortunately, now I realize being a chef is a job with no future.”
Richard said, “If I may, I can redeem you.”
Frostsilver said, “I have no objection—if the dragon-slaying hero wants to spend his own spoils. For the sake of being former teammates, I can even give you a twenty percent discount. Anyway, there are plenty of chefs. Of course, you can also try leveraging your kindness advantage and buy my entire chef team.”
The halfling chef smiled and said, “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m no longer alone. I’m lucky—working in the kitchen is better than working on the battlefield.”
But Richard was still confident; he believed Aurina had feelings for him.
Otherwise, why did she always like riding on his head?
“Alright,” Frostsilver clapped her hands. “The best way to know chefs is to see the dishes they serve, not the people. Oh, and I heard you like cooking too, Richard—the kitchen is open for you, with people inside to assist.”
Richard waved his hand and said, “Right now, I just want to properly enjoy the masters’ works.”
Dish after dish was brought up, the insulating covers lifted, presenting the prepared delicacies directly in front of Richard and the others.
Richard looked—impressive, all sorts of dishes, from palace cuisine to street snacks.
Roast chicken, roast duck, roast suckling pig, fried lamb, fried beef, fried venison, stewed mushrooms, stewed pumpkin, and red wine stewed beef.
As each one came up, Aurina ate it directly, without hesitation.
The maids pushed the dining tables with both hands, like going to battle, poised and ready, charging forward one after another.
Like a train, continuously charging toward Aurina’s mouth.
… Masala, curry stewed meat…
Aurina’s little belly had already swollen up, finally like a child bride pregnant, her small belly pressing on Richard’s head.
She patted her belly.
Seeing the hall, the maids were already in chaos.
Just with her mouth, she could disrupt the little bugs into disarray.
Aurina proudly patted her belly.
Frostsilver clapped her hands and said, “Reserve team, advance!”
The final reserve team charged in; the young maids with resolute faces pushed a dining table and stormed in.
Aurina’s eyes showed some despair; she patted Richard’s head and said, “We can’t stay here long—wait for me to go back and sleep, then continue the slaughter.”