┊♕ .┊ 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉!!
Marth & Chrom. ◞ @exaltbound ◞ Sword +1.
Within only a few days of his induction into the academy’s new season, it does not take him long to learn that here in Garreg Mach, labor enjoyed is also labor shared. The pleasurable dishes that lined the banquet tables at luncheons and suppers were not always made by master chefs. Affluent doyens who have pored over their spices as any warrior might their iron and steel.
No; so, too, did patches of lesser known students and professors come along, pitching in to the broad and demanding efforts that brightened every face, young or old, come the chime of the dinner bell!
Kitchen duty was therein a task that the good-hearted prince adopted with due diligence. By a fair system built on rotation, it would be every man and woman’s role to feed their fellow mouths at one point or another. Today this outstanding obligation fell upon him and one other; he is joined by a second entrant, a member of the faculty older, taller, and hopefully more if not equally dependable. They even looked comfortingly alike to a degree!
Only, his expectant hopes are.. Respectably dashed. To someone like the Ylissean he reckoned the culinary arts were ferried over from a world seven seas yonder. Observing the man at work was disturbing. Like watching an elephant attempt to wedge its way into a den of mice. A rolling pin in his one hand and a kitchen cleaver in the other, the image at least was earnest as the sun dawning on a serf’s humble day of work. Marth did not have the heart to tell Chrom that neither of these utensils were remotely needed for making sauce. Steaming crabs.
It is decided, then, that the Archanean prince must take command.
Marth runs a napkin bitterly down the flat of his tongue with as much regal grace as he can muster and tosses it into the waste-bin. “..Professor Chrom, steamed crabs are a simple dish, so they require the accompaniment of a solid butter sauce to truly shine. But, you did not use any butter as condiment. You used salt. You also did not pestle the garlic before adding them, so now their pieces float like sad planks of white atop a.. Well, not buttery sea.”
The young lord sighs then goes on to say, a bit desperately, though perhaps this could be a mark of the imagination, “But, no matter. You could leave the case of the sauce to me.. And.. Retrieve a few bushels of crabs from the back? Please, do not take it upon yourself to do more.” His gesture directed the other towards the coolers in the back where the kitchen’s crustacean bounty was stored, both princes unwitting to their doors ominously, questionably ajar...
