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Chapter 24 - Grating
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 18:00:08 +0000 UTCJulienne softened his footsteps as he neared the quarters where he had grown up. He heard voices coming from an anteroom, wondering if they belonged to his parents. There were two, a man and a woman, but he couldn’t make out the intricacies of his voice. He needed to get closer.
His feet grew heavy. He was breathing far too heavily. His footsteps were loud, his legs didn’t want to move, and the sound of blood rushing in his ears kept him from properly hearing the voices.
Breathe. Breathe. In. In. In. Out.
He put the toe of his foot forward, rolling his weight back on his heel. In. In. In. Out. Another delicate step. Laughter bounced off the anteroom and into the hallway. He couldn’t be sure who it belonged to. Did he remember the way his parents laughed? Another step. The distant cry of a baby came back from the way of the royal nursery. Julienne wondered if the next Julienne-to-be needed a diaper change.
There was a shuffling of feet in the anteroom. A laughter that signaled departure. Julienne froze as he heard the steps of someone walking into the hallway. An old woman jumped when she saw him. She was the right age, but her hair was golden, not black.
“Oh!” she squeaked. “I was wondering when I’d get to speak to you! I am—”
Julienne let his eyes do the talking, keeping them fixed on the room beyond.
“Oh,” the woman said, softly this time. “We’ll have to sit down another time. I won’t keep you.”
“Thank you,” Julienne said as the woman shuffled by.
The anteroom remained quiet. A deliberate quiet. The people within waited for whoever lingered in the hallway. Julienne breathed. In. In. In. Out. He stepped forward, no longer bothering to hide his footsteps. He turned the corner, and there was no mistaking it.
The woman’s face was ravaged with wrinkles. The man’s hair had turned gray. They barely even looked like Julienne anymore. But they were undoubtedly his parents. They sat in plush chairs around a little tea table. Barbine nearly dropped her cup.
“Ar—” she exclaimed before covering her mouth. Julienne’s racing heart skipped a beat.
Candele looked at his wife with a flash of horror. “Julienne,” he said as he stood. “We were going to come see you later this afternoon.”
He had said something similar eight years ago. One of the last things he had said. Julienne remembered it well.
We’ll come see you in Ambrosia City.
Julienne smiled through it. “Well, here I am.”
Barbine jumped up and wrapped herself around him. “Oh, you’ve grown so much.”
As did most boys between the ages of eleven and nineteen. Julienne hugged through it.
“Of course he did, Barb.” Candele tried to wedge an arm between them, but Barbine squeezed tighter. When she finally pulled away, she sniffled and wiped an eye.
“Your hair has gotten so long,” she said. “You should let me cut it like I used to.”
Julienne liked the length of his hair. “I’ve learned to cut it myself. I prefer it that way.
Candele put one arm around Julienne’s shoulder, offering his other hand for an awkward handshake. “You’re a man grown! I don’t know whether to hug you or shake your hand!”
Julienne didn’t know either. He did half of each. All gesture. No sentiment. As powerful as the microgreens that Mindy hated so much.
“How was the ride?” Candele asked.
How was the ride? He hadn’t seen his son in eight years, and that was the first thing he wanted to know. Julienne regretted coming to them. He regretted coming to Labrusca at all.
“It was fine.”
“I heard you stayed at Duke Froletti’s? How is he? I haven’t seen him in…oh, it must have been almost a year ago.”
Almost a year ago. Duke Froletti was halfway between Toral and Ambrosia City. Julienne’s parents had made it out that far, at least.
“He’s getting fat,” Julienne stated. “I took it easy on the butter for his sake.”
“Oh, you cooked for him?” Candele folded his hands together and sighed with hopefulness. “You’ll have to cook for us. Do you have plans tonight?”
Cook for them. Not the other way around.
“I have an audience with the king.”
“Of course, of course.”
Julienne and Candele both sighed at the same time. It was the closest they had seemed to being related since Julienne stepped through the door. He looked at Barbine, whose eyes were doughy with impending tears.
“Julienne,” she said as she covered her trembling lips with her hand. “I’m sorry, I—I, at first, I thought visiting you would be too hard—”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Julienne interrupted. “I’ll be expected in the kitchen soon. I need to rest before then. I just wanted to say hi.”
Barbine looked away as the tears came. Candele looked at her and then back to Julienne with a somber smile. “Of course,” he said. “We’ll catch up another time.”
Barbine stepped forward for another hug, but Julienne was already turning to walk out the door. He didn’t look back as he marched away. He still remembered all the hallways to take to avoid others. By some miracle, those paths still worked. It wasn’t until he was back in the hallway of his team’s quarters that he heard anyone else.
Julienne stepped past the luggage that had been left in the hallway, peeking into Yarrow’s room. He was hunched over his open trunk, rummaging through his things.
“Everything still there?” Julienne asked, making Yarrow jump.
“As best as I can tell.” Yarrow returned to his things, making a mess of his room as he threw his belongings around. “Where’d you go?”
“To see my parents.”
Yarrow stopped. He turned to Julienne. “Oh. And…how did that go?”
Julienne scratched his head, a void of silence forming between them. He clicked his tongue and exhaled. “I’m going to lay down. Can you let Mindy know that we’ll be going to the pantries in two hours? I’d like to see what our options are tonight. Let Oliver know too.”
Yarrow scowled. “He’s going to cook with us?”
Julienne tugged on his yellow jacket. “He outranks you.”
Yarrow looked down at his orange jacket and shook his head. “He got his yellow on a single talent.”
Julienne shrugged. “We’ll use that talent then. He’ll make drinks. Now, let them know, then get some rest.”
“Yes, Chef.”
King Verjus’s pantries may have come just short of Cafe Julienne’s quality, but they made up for it with their prodigious size. The main pantry was as wide as a warehouse, a dozen rows of shelves set up in the middle. The students had to yell at each other to be heard.
“What meat are we serving?” Yarrow asked, his voice echoing across the high ceiling.
“Shrimp!” Julienne answered.
“We know you’re one,” Oliver joked. “But what are we serving?”
Julienne surveyed a fridge containing a hundred cheeses. “Hey Oliver, do you know how to make a drink that makes people less talkative?”
“Actually, they’ve been teaching me that one over at Lifted Spirits. Meant to be served to people who won’t stop chatting up the bartenders.”
“Great. Can you make one and then take a really big sip from it?”
Mindy’s laughter echoed from the other side of the pantry. “Jules, you over by the cheeses? Is there any smoked Gouda? We could do butterfly shrimp over it. I can make a honey butter sauce with some kick.”
Julienne spotted an assortment of several types of Gouda. “Yeah, we got it. You know, if you want, we could set you up with a Saucellerie while we’re here.”
“Really?!” Mindy shrieked with joy.
“Yeah. You’re already good. You can specialize. Learn from the best.”
Mindy ran to the wall of the pantry, peering down the row of shelves with a great big smile. “I’d love that!”
Julienne grabbed the cheese and started thinking about their schedule. “Hey Yarrow, I’m going to put you on the shrimp.”
“Yes, Chef.”
Yarrow’s acidic tendencies wouldn’t ruin the shrimp like they would the other courses. A little lemon on shrimp never hurt.
“And Mindy, scratch the honey butter sauce. Work with Oliver to make a cognac cream sauce. Oliver, we don’t want to make the king belligerent, so take it easy.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“You got it, dude.”
“Yes, Chef,” Yarrow hissed at Oliver.
“Whatever, man. We’re the same rank, and he’s not my boss. Hey, can I make a drink that turns you purple? It would really get the dinner conversation going.”
Julienne wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want Oliver to take that as a sign of approval. “Mindy, you’re on babysitting duty.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“We’re keeping it simple tonight, Chefs. Three courses. Turtle soup. And for dessert…”
“Cheesecake,” Mindy suggested.
“Pecan pie,” Yarrow suggested.
“A Negroni!” Oliver demanded.
“Yarrow takes it,” Julienne decided. “Pecan pie.”
It took a while to get the kitchen set up—again, the kitchen was larger than Cafe Julienne’s, but twice as large—but once they got cooking, Julienne finally felt at home.
Julienne made the turtle soup. Yarrow did relatively well with the shrimp, but Julienne still had to add a dash of sugar to cut the acid. Oliver surprised Julienne with his skills, not only making Mindy laugh the entire time they cooked, but also somehow capturing the flavor of her laugh in the cognac of the sauce. There was a sweetness to it that no sugar could replicate.
Julienne made his first appearance in the dining room when he presented the turtle soup. He had known the number of guests, but he had not known who they consisted of. He was surprised to see his parents and wondered how long after their conversation that they got onto the guest list.
Of the dozen guests, all but two were family. There were his parents, Uncle Neccio, a couple of cousins he didn’t recognize, some distant aunts and uncles, and at the head of the table, King Verjus.
“Cousin Julienne!” he roared as he was double Julienne’s age and king to a great kingdom, but he still insisted on a sort of forced brotherly friendliness behind closed doors. Julienne thought it was unbecoming of someone of such status. He often wondered if the king had truly earned a black Chef’s jacket or if there was some kind of understanding that a ruler of a kingdom shouldn’t be dressed in anything less. He wondered when the last time the king cooked was.
“King Verjus,” Julienne said with a bow.
“Come, sit with us. You should enjoy your own cooking sometime.”
Julienne started to refuse, but the king had already waved Neccio into abandoning a chair and moving to the other end of the table. Julienne looked back toward the kitchen.
“Oh, they’ll manage,” King Verjus said. He scratched the bald spot on his head. “Don’t worry about them.”
But Julienne wasn’t worried about them. He was worried about himself. He wanted to be in the kitchen, not at this table of people who claimed to be family. Julienne tilted his head in preparation to deny the invitation.
“Sit,” King Verjus commanded, his familiar persona slipping for a moment and the king underneath it shining through.
Julienne complied, waving off a butler offering soup.
“Ah, to be a Julienne,” the king mused. “I was almost the Julienne.”
Claiming to have nearly been the Julienne was their family’s greatest pastime.
“Perhaps I would have gotten the name if I hadn’t been next in line for the throne,” he continued, clicking his tongue in disappointment.
“Perhaps,” Julienne confirmed. But the king wasn’t looking for confirmation. He just loved the sound of his own voice.
“I could’ve spent my time making fantastic meals instead of sitting in court all day. Do you know how many wars are going on in Labrusca at any given moment? I don’t. There are too many. Dukes warring dukes over ancient feuds. Counts warring counts over an acre of land. It’s boredom, I think. Not every place can be as stimulating as Ambrosia City. How do you like it?”
It’s home.
“I’m still getting used to it,” Julienne answered.
“And how do you like the Academy of Ambrosia?”
“The Head Chefs are very talented.”
“Hah!” King Verjus looked around the table, prompting others to join him in a giggle. “That Colby was one of my father’s Chefs. He was good. I know that much at least. Although I doubt the rest stack up to Lyceum Labrusca’s Head Chefs.”
“Oh, Julienne, that reminds me,” Neccio said from his relegated position at the other end of the table. “I was speaking to Head Chef Orzo. He’s very excited for you to visit the Lyceum. When will you be going?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll be working on some menu items for our first week here, then our restaurant tour begins.”
“Oh, how exciting,” Barbine said with a little clap. “But you’ll be staying in the castle, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, good.” She put her hand on Candele’s arm. “We’ll be able to catch up, then.”
Perhaps they could ask about the weather. Julienne looked at the kitchen door again. He wanted Mindy to burn something or Yarrow to turn something into pure acid or Oliver to have a misfire and fill the entire room with bubbles. Any emergency that would pull Julienne back where he belonged. He breathed, in, in, in, out, controlling his chest so that no one would see it rise. His emotions simmered, threatening to boil. He just needed to entertain them. A few more minutes. He could do that. He took a sip of water, preparing himself.
But he couldn’t have prepared for the next question.
“So Julienne,” King Verjus started. He leaned in over the table. “What do you think of Prince Waldorf?”
Julienne choked on his water, grabbing a handkerchief to keep from dribbling on the table. At first he was embarrassed, but then he was thankful. His coughing fit gave him a moment to think about the impossible question.
The obvious answer was that Julienne thought Waldorf was a reprehensible excuse for a human being. That he flew in the face of the moral fiber of the world, threatening to shift them from a society of giving to one of taking. That the world would be far better off without him.
A lesser trained public figure would have said all of that. But Julienne was nothing if not trained. And he couldn’t be sure how the king would answer his own question. Julienne thought through a dozen ways to defuse the situation before finally pulling his handkerchief away and smiling.
“I think he eats a lot,” Julienne joked. The table erupted with laughter.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” King Verjus said as he slapped the table. “I’m telling you, Labrusca is on the verge of a golden age. Once Prince Waldorf is in power, we’ll be doubling our exports of both crop and Chef.”
The table broke out into overlapping agreements.
“Ambrosia City is rife with Gluttons. It’s why their restaurants do so well,” one noble said.
“I’ve been trying to convince some Gluttons to move here,” another added.
“I’ve heard they have a preference for dead harvests. Very lucrative,” another commented.
Julienne’s stomach turned over, not with acid but with nausea. He searched for someone at the table that shared his horror, but there were no dissenters, only people clamoring over each other to declare their excitement about the rise of Gluttony. At least Barbine and Candele limited their agreement to nods and smiles.
“Keep cooking for them, Julienne,” King Verjus said. “Show them all the wonders of Labrsucan cuisine, and then tell them we’ll sponsor their move.”
He laughed as other guests raised their glasses.
Julienne brought his handkerchief back up to his mouth. He stood, nearly knocking his chair over. “Excuse me, I just realized I forgot to tell my team something about our dessert.”
“That’s a Julienne, alright,” the king laughed. “Always thinking about the kitchen.”
Julienne fled to the kitchen, managing to hide his horror until the doors swung shut.
“You okay?” Yarrow asked.
“I’m fine as long as I’m cooking,” Julienne said as he rushed over to the stove and grabbed a pan. He didn’t know what he was stirring, but he knew he needed to be doing something. Cooking was the only thing that made sense. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “Mindy, you’re presenting the rest of the dishes.”
“Yes, Chef.”
Oliver snuck up beside Julienne. “Want me to turn them purple?” he whispered.
Julienne couldn’t help but laugh.
