Zero's Guardian

Chapter 12 - Montmorency's Plight

Louise stands in her bedroom's open doorway with her hands on her hips and looks as though she expects something from me.

So, basically the same as always.

"Michael, I'm going to move a few things around in here. Whilst I do, I'd like you to head over to the kitchens and ask one of the servants there to prepare lunch for us," the pinkette instructs with a huff, flipping her curly hair away from her face with a toss of her chin.

"You, cleaning and tidying?" I question with a raised brow, chuckling. "I thought that sorta thing was beneath the nobility, Princess."

"Stop being so darn rude and do as I say, idiot," Louise glares at me. "You were complaining about being hungry after all. Well, weren't you?"

Not dropping my sarcastic expression for a moment, I bow laxly for my mistress. "As you wish, Your Highness," I say, not bothering to mask the humour in my tone. I give her a lazy mock salute as she narrows her pink eyes at me in irritation. "What do you want for lunch, anyway?"

"I have quite a craving for creamed potato soup, as it happens. Freshly boiled Potatoes with a thick cream and stock shall suffice." She tells me from my left in a lofty voice. With that, she closes the door in my face to get to work on... whatever the hell it is she's doing with her room.

I let out a deep sigh and shake my head.

"A please goes a long way in my world, Louise," I remark in a low voice, exhaling. Taking up her demand, however, I head back down the Academy dormitory's stairway to the lower floor and make my way towards the courtyard.

...

I step inside the kitchen and take a good look around. Many chefs gather around the large countertops, working to cut vegetables and various meats while the dinner hour is in full swing. They move with speed and professionalism, focused only on their work and nothing else.

Chef Marteau stands at the centre of the dining floor; he gives commands to his staff, making sure everything is in line.

"Get me some more venison, quickly now, young Renold," he orders sternly, clapping. "Chop chop, now. Those lazy nobles won't feed themselves."

"Yes Chef! Right away Chef!" A younger, green-eyed boy with blonde hair replies energetically. He runs fast, zipping past me and placing a full bowl of cabbage inside a cool, stone room with huge wooden doors. Its shelves are full of buckets of ice and salted meats. A primitive freezer, I'm guessing.

Marteau notices me at once and, throwing his young helper a hard, long frown, makes his way over.

"Is there something I can do for you, Michael? Did Miss Valliere send you to reprimand us for the lacklustre breakfast this morning? You see, the trader who usually delivers our jam was delayed yesterday, hence the lack of filling in the croissants."

I chuckle and wave off Marteau's concerns.

"Not at all, don't worry. Still, I'm guessing Louise made quite the scene about those pastries."

"Sadly, you guessed right," Marteau answers with a groan. The distasteful frown tugging the corners of his mouth speaks volumes. "Anyway. What brings you to my kitchen today?"

"Oh, right. Sorry to bother you, but I have a favour to ask."

The head chef thumps his chunky fists together and nods without so much as waiting for my request, being the kind and welcoming guy that he is.

"Anything at all," he grins cheerfully, and I nod.

"Okie dokie. See, Louise told me to come to the kitchens. She'd like you to prepare lunch for us," I explain, glancing over the already bustling kitchen. "If it isn't too much trouble, I mean. Seems to me like you already have your hands full."