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Chapter 10 - The Commoner King
🕑 Added 2025-02-10 20:00:07 +0000 UTCNori hadn’t brought a dress to Khala, just her Chef jacket, cold weather clothes, and some rags to sleep in. So when she needed to get dressed for a dinner with the king of Khala, she stared in solemn sadness at her unsuitable clothes.
Luckily, she had Blanche. Her more dinner-party-inclined roommate had brought a dress, some blush, and a little tin of hair powder that smelled of cloves, nutmeg, and rose petals, all of which she put on Nori.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you wear a dress,” Blanche said, sitting in bed behind Nori and applying the red clay powder through Nori’s hair. She rubbed it in so that it wouldn’t brighten Nori’s black hair.
“I wore one during the summit parade and dinner.” Nori tightened the corset around her midsection. Blanche was taller and curvier, forcing Nori to shove the loose green fabric around her chest down into the corset. “I’d rather wear my Chef jacket.”
“You can’t wear a jacket to see a king!”
“But…we’re Chefs. It’s our title. The jacket is our uniform.”
“I suppose. But you didn’t get invited for being a Chef. Do you want me to braid it? Mindy wears it like this.” Blanche took a handful of hair and laid it horizontally across the top of Nori’s head.
“And that’s why I don’t want to go,” Nori protested as she shook the clump of hair from the top of her head. “Can’t I just stay here with you?”
Blanche grabbed two handfuls of Nori’s hair and twisted them up into two buns before letting them unravel. “I dunno. Can you say no?”
Nori sighed.
Blanche gently yanked on Nori’s hair. “I wish I could go,” Blanche said. She flopped back onto her bed and sighed with a noble lady’s lament. “All I’ve eaten since I got here has been plain food. I bet the king’s not eating like that.”
“As long as he doesn’t have our grand prince’s appetite,” Nori sneered.
“Ugh, don’t even mention him.”
Nori hung around Blanche for as long as she could before her mother’s voice started ringing in her head, warning her of the cataclysmic consequences of being even slightly late to a cordial event. She flattened the wrinkles from her dress in the hallway, taking her time walking past the boys’ rooms in case one of them happened to open their door and call her pretty. She would’ve even been happy to hear it from Sutton, even if the little toad of a boy stared at her too long sometimes. But she wasn’t even that lucky.
The walk to the palace was a short one—just across the plaza—but it was long enough for Nori to feel out of place. On the ground floor of the Monastery, people wore rags. Out in the plaza, few wore anything better as they organized into an array and prostrated toward the Monastery. The smell of incense mixed with Nori’s perfumes, adding a floral flourish to her spiced smells. Despite the praying masses leaving space to walk through, Nori decided to go around.
The nobles were easy to spot. Bright colors. Undetectable seams. No stains. No dirt. Nori thought she must look like one of them, parading through the city, all full of familial pride and vanity. Then she remembered that she didn’t just look the part. She was a Harper. She was one of them. The noble class. Their presence and equal status discomforted her. She preferred to look at the beggars rather than at her reflections.
The palace had been built on a hill, zigzagging stairs covering the slopes. At the top of the hill, white bricks were stacked three stories high to form a blocky, rectangular base for the more ornate red bricks and gold tile roofs that rose another six stories.
A guard at the base of one of the stairs led Nori up, his eyes widening when she flashed the envelope that carried her name. He passed her off to another guard at the top of the stairs, who passed her off to another guard down the hall, who passed her off to another guard past a courtyard, who had her sit and wait for ten minutes before finally taking her to the dining hall.
The massive granite slab of a table could seat twenty guests, yet only one waited for Nori. Across that vast surface of polished stone, the king waited. For most, those thirty feet of distance would pose all sorts of awkward questions—should I bow now? Bow later? Do I sit at the other end of the table? Two chairs away? Right next to him?
But Nori had been trained in such matters.
“King Tritsun,” Nori said with a slight bow—her full bow would come later.
The king stared at her. While he tried to figure her out, she returned the favor.
In truth, she’d call him less of a king and more of an older version of Sutton. Remarkably unremarkable. A little thin. Neither attractive nor ugly. Black hair with no discernable styling, tan skin that would probably be tanner if he didn’t spend all day indoors. If not for his clothing—a red and gold cape draped over a brilliantly blue tunic—he’d seem more commoner than king.
Brown beady eyes surveyed Nori from behind circular glasses, weighing her worth. Weighing her threat. Nori wondered which way he would lean. How did he normally greet a Harper? Did he look up at them, their foot on his neck, and smile? Or would he clench his teeth behind closed lips that curled into a farcical smile? And would he greet Nori the same way as the rest of her family?
“Nori Harper,” he said with a slight smile. A genuine smile. He rose and held his hands out in welcome. “Thank you so much for joining.”
“Of course.” Nori strode confidently to him, the green hems of her dress scraping across the rough stone edge of the table. The closer she got, the less kingly he seemed. Six or seven black squigglies scattered across his cheek, neither bearded nor clean shaven. Short, barely taller than Nori. His clothing seemed less and less regal and more and more satirical—dressing such a plain man in such royal clothing. In a way, it offended her. “Will we be dining alone tonight?” she asked.
“Yes we shall, if that’s alright.”
Nori hated the way he made it sound like a choice. A king should be kingly. Commanding. But in such an environment, with crimson tapestries hanging from walls and perfumed air and busts of rulers past, Nori faked courtesy with ease. He took her hand in both of his and she bowed.
“My council was clamoring to join us,” he said. “But their incestuous bickering does have a tendency to slow the evening down.”
Incestuous.
Nori’s smile faltered for a split second, her armor breaking for the first time in what she suspected might turn into a night of attacks. Perhaps the word had been said accidentally, or perhaps King Tritsun was falling back to a well-worn jab at Uroko’s marital culture.
While the rest of Ambrosia could hardly stomach marrying second cousins, Uroko had only recently started questioning the marriage of brothers and sisters or widowed fathers and their daughters. Foreigners weaponized these relationships, particularly against the Harpers. Nori thought that was unfair—she only knew of two marriages between her cousins.
“I believe you mean incessant,” she corrected.
King Tritsun pushed up his glasses and looked to the side. “Did I?”
Nori started to wonder if King Tritsun had only invited her to bully her in order to make himself feel better about living under Harper influence.
“Now why would a bunch of administrators want to have dinner with a second-year Academy student?” Nori removed her hand from their handshake just quick enough to make him notice.
“Hm,” Tritsun smiled. He motioned to the chair next to him. “Have a seat.”
Nori half-expected him to pull her chair out for her, but at least he had enough backbone to leave it up to her. She sat, adjusting her corset while the king looked down to seat himself. He snapped his fingers twice high in the air.
“I apologize for making you wait,” he said. “But my Chefs have been working to prepare what I hope will be an enlightening dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Nori lied. She wondered what she was missing out on as the others ate dinner together back at the Monastery.
A servant came out of the side door with a pair of wine glasses, a Green Jacket Chef in tow with a glass decanter in the shape of a swan.
“This is Dill,” the king said, motioning to the Chef that poured their wine. “One of the many Chefs that will be serving us tonight. Dill, what will we be having for the first course?”
“I believe it best to be experienced, not told, Your Grace.” Dill bowed and exited back into the kitchen.
Nori smiled with mild amusement. The king’s own council couldn’t get a seat at the table, but she was being introduced to a Chef just one rank above her? And that Chef could choose to not answer the king’s question? Nori couldn’t tell what game the king was playing, but she could tell a game was being played.
“I do hope it’s octopus. Dill has always been very skilled with octopus.” King Tritsun motioned to Nori’s glass. “After you.”
For a brief, ridiculous moment, she thought he might be trying to poison her. But if he did, her family would have him out of his throne within a week’s time. She sipped her wine and smiled. “Nice,” she commented.
The king nodded and took a drink. “Yes, although I’m sure you’ve had better. A king’s wine should be the best in the kingdom, and this is, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t compare to other kingdoms with more privileging weather.”
“Not everyone can be Labrusca,” Nori deflected. If the king wanted to make her feel bad, he’d have to try harder. “Having lived in Ambrosia City the last year, I’ve had the opportunity to try their reds a few times. Very good.”
“Ah, yes,” he lamented. “Nothing can compare to a Labruscan red, indeed. Unfortunately, it is prohibitively expensive here, even for a king. The tax for passing through Urokan waters. And while we have trade routes across land to Labrusca, no two capitals are farther apart in United Ambrosia.”
Another feeble attempt to guilt Nori. “A tragedy,” she said, her voice dripping in feigned consolation.
“Truly.” The king sighed and took another sip of his wine. When he set his wine glass down, he leaned forward and relaxed his arm on the table. “Sorry. I promise not to complain throughout the entire dinner.”
Just during your scripted segments.
“It’s alright. I’m sympathetic to your troubles.”
“Hm.” King Tritsun nodded. “So, tell me. I believe Chef Colby instructs you.”
“That’s right.”
“Ah, good, good. I hope you learn well from him. There should be more Chefs that can cook like him,” he said with a grin. He slouched in his chair, but somehow, it seemed less like an act of comfort by a powerful king and more like a person that didn’t quite know how to act. Nori stayed sitting upright.
“It must have been…Let’s see, I went for my thirtieth…by Ambrosia, it’s been nearly fifteen years. Anyway, long story short, I was in Ambrosia City and ate at his restaurant. He made this special dish just for me. It was—”
Dill re-emerged from the kitchen with two plates.
“Ah, good!” the king cheered, pausing his story to give his full attention to the Chef. “Come, Dill, show us what you’ve made.”
Dill held the plates above his shoulder so that the food could not be seen by the seated diners.
“Thank you for giving me the honor of preparing and serving the first course,” Dill said in his best tone of waiter. “I have prepared something near and dear to my heart. I grew up in Khaldeer, down by the harbor.
“My father passed when I was very young, leaving my mother as our family’s sole provider. She was a seamstress, but didn’t make enough to support me and my three brothers and sisters. We lived off the Monastery’s charity. We had fish soup and bread every meal for months.
“And then, on my birthday, the first one since my father passed, my mother spent…who knows how much on a piece of charred octopus. It was…” He laughed at the memory. “I felt like I was eating like a king. I saw the magic of food and made a vow to repay my mother. I would become a Chef and learn how to make an octopus that delicious for her.”
Dill placed the dishes down one at a time, first in front of Nori, then in front of the king. A little six-inch segment of charred tentacle curled around a bed of basil and dill, little black tendrils curling alongside yogurt that had been shaped to match their curves.
“I never ended up being a very versatile Chef, but I made sure to master one thing. This thing. The culmination of my dream. My signature spicy charred octopus. Please enjoy.”
Dill bowed and waited for their reactions.
The king took a bite and let out a content sigh. “Oh, Dill.”
Nori sawed through the tentacle with a knife, dipped the meat into the yogurt, took a bite, and experienced one of the greatest flavors of her life. The char added a perfect crispiness. Garlic and chili danced hand-in-hand across her taste buds as she chewed, little hints of lime and herbs coming out between bites. But there was more than flavor. There was a passion. A magic.
She could only muster one word.
“Wow.”
Dill chuckled, pleased with himself.
“You know, I try not to get too involved in the affairs of Chefs,” the king said to Nori, speaking as if Dill had disappeared. “But I have been tempted by Dill. I understand that until you earn your blue jacket, they test you on several subjects to make sure you are well-rounded, and then they move on to a merit-based system. Well, If they would just put Dill through the next rank, I imagine this dish alone would push him to a purple jacket.”
If the king had said it before Nori had taken a bite, she would have laughed at the notion. But having tried Dill’s octopus, she found herself agreeing with the king.
But Nori couldn’t agree with the king. She couldn’t like him. He had brought her there to break her down. She couldn’t get soft now.
She decided to divert her positive feelings to the deserving Chef.
“Your mother must be very proud,” she said to Dill.
He offered a pained smile.
“She never got to try it,” he said. “That next year, she couldn’t afford another piece of octopus, but she knew how much I loved it. So she went to try to catch one herself. Went out on the rocks that go out into the ocean. She, uh, a wave knocked her over. I, uh…”
He put on a practiced face—one that he had likely perfected for situations just like this one when he needed to appear as if he had recovered from such a trauma. As if anyone could.
“I make it in her honor,” he said with a rehearsed smile. “Please enjoy.”
Dill bowed and exited back to the kitchen.
Nori looked down at the octopus so that the king wouldn’t see her eyes glisten.
The king smiled and took another bite.
Nori cursed him for finally landing a blow.
