Rishe stood in the small kitchen of the palace, chopping herbs the knights had brought her from their morning patrol of the city's perimeter. She made short work of it, gathering the herbs on the cutting board and scraping them into the pot along with onions and bacon and other delights. She left it to simmer, the aroma filling the kitchen.
It was a small space, only ever used for making breakfast, and therefore completely deserted at night.
"Umm…" Rishe glanced over her shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want to wait back in my chambers?"
Arnold sat on a wooden chair in the corner, leaning against the bare table beside him with his head in his hand as he watched Rishe make the soup. "No, I'm fine here."
"If you say so." This couldn't be exciting, could it? He'd also just sat there watching as she attacked her dyed hair with hot water and a towel.
Maybe he just likes people-watching, she thought as she stirred the soup.
Sensing it was done, she scooped some out into a small dish and tried it.
After a moment of silence, she added salt.
Rishe stirred it again and tasted it. She squeezed her eyes shut, poured in some water, adding pepper once it was boiling. Then some more chopped herbs, just in case, before trying it again. The taste brought her quickly to her senses. She blinked her eyes.
What have I done?!
Regret welled inside her. What a terrible decision, made purely out of exhaustion—inviting the crown prince to a kitchen so late and then making him soup.
"Um, Your Highness?" Rishe passed the bowl of soup from hand to hand. "I'm going to apologize in advance."
"Advance of what? Wandering around the city again in the middle of the night?"
"Well, yes, I'll apologize for that as well. Just…I should have thought this through, so I feel really bad about it, but…" She took a deep breath to ready herself for the admission.
Admitting weakness to a former enemy was difficult, not to mention embarrassing. Indeed, she was only doing it to prevent greater misfortune down the road. She struggled to find the right words.
Finally, she managed to look Arnold in the eye and let out a strangled, "I-I'm bad at cooking!"
"Oh?" A fleeting look passed over his face, one Rishe had never seen before. It was gone too fast for her to divine its meaning. "Is that so?"
"I invited you here out of hunger and exhaustion, and I've made a huge mess of things. I shouldn't have offered. I'm so sorry."
"Well, I admit I was a bit confused," Arnold said. "I don't know any noblewomen who can cook."
"Fair enough…" Rishe trailed off.
In her previous lives, she ate primarily to keep herself alive. She preferred food that tasted good, of course, but she'd take time to sleep over the time spent preparing a good meal. In her last life as a knight, she would at most boil a potato and add some salt. Easy.
From her time as an apothecary, Rishe knew that brewing medicines and cooking weren't that different—you just added the right ingredients in the right quantities, chopping and boiling in a pot rather than a beaker. On the other hand, cooking was intrinsically different—you wanted it to actually taste good, and to do that, you needed to understand how to marry the flavors involved and the methods by which to enhance them.
She wouldn't have cared if she were the only one eating this soup. She had gone this far with making this meal, but she felt too ashamed to feed it to Arnold as well. "It took so long, and now it won't be good."
"..."
Arnold said nothing.
"I'll go fetch you something more edible from the main kitchens, just hold on a bit longer. Then we can talk about the Aria—"
Before she could finish, Arnold stood up, grabbed the dish from Rishe, and tasted the soup all in one smooth motion.
"Hey!" Rishe's surprise momentarily delayed her reaction speed.
Ignoring her dismay, Arnold said, "This is actually pretty good."
She gawked at him. "What?!"
Arnold finished off the rest of the dish. "I'm fine with soup."
"You're lying! I don't believe you!" Rishe tried the soup again. It was just…bad. Certainly not worthy of praise, and definitely not something to serve a prince—or anyone else for that matter.
Why would he pretend to like it?
A memory popped into her head. Arnold, standing on the balcony and drinking the capsicum-tainted wine. It was just spicy but still not very drinkable.
Is there something wrong with his taste buds?
"Hey, you're thinking something unflattering about me." Arnold pouted. "I can tell."
Rishe, with a rush of fresh embarrassment, realized that Arnold was trying to be kind. She floundered for a beat.
"Thank you," she said, rather nonsensically.
"You have me starving. Let's get the dishes out."
Moving automatically, Rishe quickly set the table. After that, there was nothing to do but dine on the…unique soup.
Typically, Rishe spent her meals alone. She'd never eaten with Arnold before, even during their journey. He was always busy with something or other, be it paperwork or directing the knights.
This scene took on a sense of unreality; eating bad soup with a prince in the middle of the night.
They chatted a bit as they ate. When they were finished, Rishe felt sufficiently recovered to finally discuss the situation—the whole reason Arnold had come.
Despite that, she insisted on clearing the dishes first.
"Basically, I need them to agree to my 'unreasonable orders'— and to do that, I must make them a profit." A rather vague explanation of her plan, but surely that was better than a long and boring one?
Arnold was frowning, so Rishe added, "The Aria Trading Company wants to expand its influence worldwide into a leading business, you see. I predict they'll acquire unique, otherwise unattainable goods as they expand their trading routes."
"Their track record over the past two years supports that, or so I've heard," Arnold agreed.
"I want their cooperation. That's why I contacted them, but they declined my business because my goals are opaque. Therefore, I…suggested different terms."
"Which are?" Arnold asked with some trepidation.
"I have one week to bring Mr. Tully a business idea that will be popular in the imperial capital. If I can meet his standards, he'll make me into a trading partner."
Hearing this unvarnished explanation, Arnold subsided into silence.
No doubt he wanted a more robust story, but just like with Tully, Rishe couldn't tell him everything. Arnold was the one who was going to start the war she sought to prevent; she couldn't afford him catching on to her motives.
She braced herself for his response, but all he said was, "Fine."
"Huh?!" Rishe blurted, staring at him.
"Fine, I said. I understand your aims."
Rishe didn't know what to say. "You're not going to ask me what my plans are for the Aria Trading Company?"
"You suggested these other terms instead because you're hiding something, right? And I doubt you want to tell me more."
"Well, you're right."
"You won't tell me, so why bother to ask? More pressingly, what deal do you plan to offer him?"
He'd touched a sore spot. Rishe hung her head. "I have a few ideas, but nothing foolproof. I don't know the area or the consumer base. I haven't been here long enough to know what's popular."
That kind of investigation took time, which Tully knew as well as she did. Hence the short deadline.
"In other words, this will cause you difficulty."
"Yes."
"Hmm." Arnold's tone held something she couldn't glean, and she looked over to find him grinning slyly. "I look forward to watching this play out."
I knew it!
Rishe couldn't see through to Arnold's true intentions, but she was beginning to notice a pattern. He still looked good even when he was smirking arrogantly, the bastard.
Rishe stewed in her annoyance as Arnold rose from his seat. "Like I've told you before, you're free to do whatever you like. I'll retire to the main palace."
"Very well. Have a good night."
In the doorway, Arnold looked back. "Rishe, have you met my brother yet?"
"Your brother?" This was the first she'd heard of him. "No, I don't think I have. Well, I suppose it's possible, since I don't know what he looks like."
"Good." Arnold hesitated. "Should he approach you, I ask that you avoid speaking to him any way you can."
"His name is Theodore, right? May I ask why I shouldn't speak with him?" It wasn't exactly an amicable way to act toward a future brother-in-law.
"It's better if you don't know."
Rishe was quiet for a moment. "If that's what you want."
Arnold left, closing the door behind him.