Welcome to Cook-ies with Dame Ramune!
The kitchen was neatly prepared with an array of ingredients laid out: flour, butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, and chocolate chips, alongside a variety of baking tools. It was an unusual sight for the knights to see their stoic leader surrounded by whisks and mixing bowls instead of weapons.
"Today," Lionel announced dramatically, waving a spatula, "we're going to learn how to bake cookies under the masterful guidance of the Dame Ramune! And I, Lionel, shall be her most dedicated assistant."
Ramune, standing silently at the counter, raised an eyebrow before beginning. "First, measure the flour correctly. Precision is key."
Lionel grabbed a measuring cup enthusiastically, filling it with flour. "So...how much again?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.
"One cup," Ramune replied, her eyes narrowing as she noticed something off.
Before Lionel could pour the flour into the bowl, Ramune's hand darted out, her knife tapping the edge of his measuring cup with precision. "This cup is for liquids," she said flatly, handing him a dry measuring cup instead. "If you use the wrong tool, the ratio will be wrong, and the cookies will fail."
Lionel froze, wide-eyed. "There's... a difference between cups?"
"Obviously," she said, as she expertly sifted the flour into a mixing bowl, her movements as precise as a soldier on a mission.
---
Next came creaming the butter and sugar. Lionel watched as Ramune's hands moved swiftly yet gently, mixing the softened butter and sugar until it formed a fluffy paste. "This is the base. Creaming helps incorporate air, making the cookies light."
Lionel attempted to copy her but ended up splashing sugar everywhere. "I think mine's alive," he muttered, poking the uncooperative mixture with a spoon.
Ramune let out a barely audible sigh and fixed it for him. "Focus."
Once the wet ingredients were combined with the dry, Lionel eagerly dumped in the chocolate chips—too eagerly.
"That's too much," Ramune said calmly, holding the bag.
"There's no such thing as too much chocolate," Lionel declared passionately, holding his ground.
Ramune, unfazed, allowed him a moment of indulgence. "Fine. But if the cookies melt into puddles, it's on you."
---
After carefully scooping the dough onto the baking tray and sliding it into the oven, Lionel sat at the edge of his seat, staring through the oven window as if his life depended on it. Ramune stood by, arms crossed, amused by his intensity.
Finally, the timer beeped. Ramune placed the tray on the counter, the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the kitchen. She set a plate of cookies in front of Lionel. "Enjoy."
Lionel wasted no time, shoving a cookie into his mouth with childlike excitement. "This...this is amazing!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up. "I didn't know your hands could create something this divine!"
Ramune inclined her head slightly, a rare, soft smile flickering across her face. "We made them. I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Her demeanor quickly returned to its usual stoicism, but Lionel, brimming with affection, wasn't done. "Well, well! Is this a new side of Dame Ramune?"
He suddenly pulled her into his lap, grinning mischievously. "Who cares? I love it!" he declared, peppering her cheeks with kisses.
Ramune, clearly used to his antics, rolled her eyes but didn't resist. "You're going to drop me," she muttered,with a heavy sigh.
---
After that, Louise greeted Ramune once more, his words brimming with gratitude. "Thank you again, Dame Ramune," he said, bowing slightly.
She gave him a brief nod, her expression unreadable as always, before turning her attention back to Lionel, who was thoroughly engrossed in devouring his cookies. Lionel looked as though he had been transported to another world, his blissful expression unchanging as he muttered praises about the taste between bites.
With nothing more to say, Ramune began making her way toward the grand hall, her strides deliberate and unwavering.
The other knights, still lingering nearby, exchanged uneasy glances. While the fear she once instilled in them hadn't completely faded, there was now an underlying current of grudging respect. Her cold demeanor still carried a weight that could silence a room, but the events of the day had softened the edge of their wariness.
"I still can't believe she made cookies," one knight muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah… Maybe she's not as scary as we thought," another added cautiously, though his tone carried more hope than certainty.
"Don't get too comfortable," a third knight whispered sharply, his voice low. "She's unpredictable. One minute she's baking cookies, the next…" He trailed off, glancing nervously in the direction she had gone.
The group collectively shuddered at the thought but quickly straightened up when they realized they were still on duty. For now, the tension seemed to ease, her presence no longer casting the suffocating shadow it once did.
As Ramune disappeared into the distance, her cape billowing slightly behind her, one knight remarked, "Still… It's hard to ignore how terrifyingly capable she is. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her, that's for sure."
The others nodded in silent agreement, the image of her cold, calculating stare still fresh in their minds.
---
The grand hall was vast and silent, its high ceilings echoing the faint rustle of the banners swaying gently with the breeze from the open windows. At the center of it all sat the king, his figure relaxed yet imposing, one hand resting on his cheek as he listened intently to the man before him.
The man kneeling at the base of the throne had an air of precision about him. His olive-green braid was tied neatly at the back, his posture unwavering as he spoke with urgency. "Your Majesty, I must implore you to reconsider Dame Ramune's decision."
The king arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Reconsider? Why? I believe her proposal to explore the southern forest is a wise choice. We've ignored that region for far too long. It could hold significant resources, and," he paused, a glint of curiosity in his eyes, "there may even be remnants of the former king's legacy. A remarkable coincidence, wouldn't you say?"
The man's voice trembled slightly, though he maintained his composure. "That is precisely why I urge Your Majesty to halt her actions."
The king tilted his head, intrigued by the sudden tension.
"The risks, Your Majesty..." the man pressed on, his voice firm yet cautious. "If this venture ties the royal house to the former king in any way, it could bring unforeseen danger to the throne. And worse, to you personally."
The king leaned back, exhaling slowly. "And yet, what is ever accomplished without risk? All progress comes with sacrifice. If this mission could yield knowledge or power, then it must be done, even at a cost."
The man hesitated, his jaw tightening. He then lowered his voice, as if afraid the walls themselves might hear. "If Your Majesty insists on allowing this mission, then please... remove Dame Ramune from her position within the knights. Her... reputation already casts a shadow upon the kingdom. Her bloodlust is no secret, and this reckless action of hers will only give our enemies more reason to scorn us."
The king stared at him, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room thickened as the silence stretched. Finally, the king spoke, his tone calm but laced with finality. "I appreciate your concern, but the decision is mine alone to make. You may excuse yourself."
The man bowed low, though his shoulders were taut with frustration. As he rose and turned to leave, his pace quickened, eager to escape the oppressive weight of the throne room.
Just as he reached the grand doors, he froze. Standing outside was none other than Dame Ramune.
Her sharp gaze locked onto him, unblinking. Her presence alone radiating an intimidating aura.
He swallowed hard. "Dame Ramune... I didn't expect to see you here."
Ramune gave a small nod, stepping forward. "I was about to brief His Majesty further on my plans after finishing some... preparations." Her eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest smirk curling her lips. "But I see you've already made yours."
The unknown man stiffened, his pulse quickening. "I-I merely offered counsel to His Majesty, as is my duty."
Ramune's gaze pierced through him like a blade. "Of course," she said smoothly. Then, as she turned to leave, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Oh," she added, her tone dangerously casual, "don't forget to check your tools, Damian."
His breath hitched.
"I might have borrowed a few things... to remind you how fragile they can be in the wrong hands," she finished, her cold stare locking him in place.
Damian's mind raced as her words sank in. His tools—he was the head of the medical division, and his instruments were meticulously arranged, essential to his craft. The thought of Ramune, with her infamous precision and calculating nature, tampering with them sent a wave of dread coursing through him.
Ramune didn't wait for a response. She strode down the hallway, her boots clicking against the marble floor, heading toward the knights' lounge.
Damian stood frozen, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His heart pounded as her words echoed in his mind.