The first dish arrived, with the decorated chef leading the procession of servants. They were exhibiting discipline akin to perfectly trained soldiers.
"Good day to your imperial majesties and guests, I am Wolfgang Puck, and it is my privilege to feed you for this lunch service." The grey-haired chef bowed towards Valerian.
"For the first dish, a light starter, Goat Cheese-Garlic Toast, this was cultured using goat's milk extracted from a prime Tier 3 Nubian Dwarf Goats from our personal portal region, served atop sourdough brushed generously with extra virgin olive oil before being toasted until its golden brown."
"Our goat's cheese is highly rated for being extremely creamy, lemony, and mild."
"I recommend for you to close your eyes to shut off your senses, letting your taste buds do the talking."
Markus shut his eyes, taking in the toast all in one. The shattering crunch of the bread echoes with others in the silent hall, followed immediately by the cooling, herbal embrace of the chevre.
The following dish arrived shortly after, a stunning piece of art.
Wolfgang took the dish and served individual portions to the diners at the table.
"For the next dish, it would be my signature Savory Baked Carrot and Broccoli Rabe Terrine. This was my creation after reaching the pinnacle of vegetarian cooking."
"This would be your palate cleanser to prepare you for the next item on the menu."
Wolfgang bowed and exited for the kitchen, ensuring the following courses were prepared in accordance to his instructions.
Markus stared at the terrine on his plate. It was a botanical autopsy—vegetables stripped of their dirt, pressed into a rigid, rectangular mold, and forced to look beautiful for his entertainment.
"So, Markus, what have you been doing at the academy after the entrance trials?" Valerian asked, deftly savouring the terrine whilst engaging in small talk with his young guest.
Markus took his time to finish chewing and calmly replied to the Emperor, "Nothing much, I've been focusing on doing tasks in the academy to earn contribution points, all while refining my combat style."
Valerian nodded in approval. The young prodigy is laser-focused on improving his combat abilities, not slacking while he is ahead.
Many geniuses in history fell behind hardworking, less talented awakeners due to arrogance and the delusion that potential is the same as power.
Valerian was conducting a mental assessment of the young genius in the guise of a meal.
He was not just a veteran of the battlefield, he was a master tactitian that led an Empire into prosperity.
The next item on the menu is Potato Pancakes with Smoked Salmon, Caviar, and Dill Cream.
"Here we have a classic Latke-style potato pancake, pan-seared in clarified butter to a lace-like crunch. It serves as a warm foundation for our house-cured Smoked Salmon and a bright, lemony Dill Cream. The final accent is the 'black pearl'—a layer of premium sturgeon caviar to balance the earthiness of the potato with a sharp, oceanic brine. Please, enjoy."
After every introduction to the dish, Wolfgang Puck made his way back to the kitchen to prepare for the following course.
This dish was specially prepared for the Emperor.
The hot grease of the potato met the icy salt of the caviar; he felt the same familiar friction: the man who had worked the soil, forced to swallow the weight of an empire.
It reminded him of his humble beginnings and was a subtle reminder from Wolfgang to the Emperor not to get lost in the swiftly changing times.
The servants moved in a seamless cycle, appearing over shoulders to claim finished plates and replace them with fresh porcelain before a single word could be exchanged.
'Maybe we should hire some servants for the Blackwell household. This is pretty convenient.' Markus thought.
"Ahem," Rosalind coughed, attracting the attention of the table.
"Markus, I have been such a fan of yours in the past few weeks. Can I get an autograph later, after the meal?" Rosalind blushed, her cheeks blooming with the soft pink of a sun-warmed peach.
"Sure, I don't see a problem, why not?" Markus agreed, finding the young lady disarmingly sincere, her lack of calculated poise a welcome reprieve from the sharpened tongues of royalty.
Rosalind gripped tightly on her fork, her heart racing with excitement.
'What should I have him sign on? Paper? My Dress? Handkerchief? Yeah, I think my Handkerchief would be the best choice.'
The first entrée arrived, and the scent of scorched garlic and rosemary wafted through the air. It had a woody smell, reminiscent of a campfire in a pine forest, underscored by the deep, savory perfume of rendered lamb fat.
"For the centerpiece: Rack of Spring Lamb, herb-crusted and slow-roasted over applewood. The cuts have been hand-frenched to the bone and are finished with a wild clover honey and garden-mint vinaigrette. It is a dish that honors the richness of the Imperial pastures, balanced by the sharpness of the morning's harvest."
"Seared to a precise medium-rare. It is served with a broken vinaigrette of blossom honey and micro-milled mint, designed to cut the marbling of the meat with a clean, acidic finish."
Forgetting the silent audience of guards, Markus gave in to his instincts. He was a carnivore through and through.
"My purpose today, young Markus and Headmistress Elena, would be to request that you take on the task of teaching my youngest daughter about the elements and awakening her potential beforehand."
Markus's knife stopped in midair, his mind short-circuited.
'Did he figure it out?'
Elena, noticing the situation, stepped in, "You could put in a formal request through the academic channels, Valerian. What's with all this diplomatic theatrics?"
Elena, now visibly annoyed, addressed the Emperor directly by his name.
It was not her first rodeo dealing with this troublesome man.
"We did try, but no one took the task we assigned to all academies within the Capital City," Valerian sighed. The pressure from guiding the Imperial princess was something no student would dare to undertake.
"Fine, but what about travel or accommodation?" Markus relented, finding that entering and leaving the palace was too tedious a process to go through on a daily basis.
"You'll stay here in the palace for the duration of the teaching assignment. You will have access to our private records while you are in our care." Valerian added, throwing in a final, glittering bait—access to the forbidden archives that even the highest-ranking professors were barred from seeing.
Markus paused, his silver fork hovering just inches from the last succulent morsel of lamb.
He slowly raised an eyebrow, a gesture that, on his weathered face, carried the weight of a formal inquiry.
The interest wasn't born of greed, but of a strategist realizing the board had just expanded.
Elena nodded, showing approval. She could sense Markus's thoughts and allowed him to undertake this assignment.
The closing item is Wolfgang Puck's Espresso-Chocolate Semifreddo.
The team of waiters that accompanied the chef poured a warm ganache over his dessert.
A single flake of 24-karat gold sat atop the chocolate peak, trembling with every breath.
Around the base, a moat of warm, salted caramel pooled, the heat of the sauce causing the edges of the frozen mousse to weep in dark, delicious streaks.
He took a spoonful, the cold espresso blooming in his chest like a low-level mana surge.
It was the taste of a long day ahead—the taste of a man who was about to trade his presence for the secrets of an empire.