Frie(n)d Rice

I don't know why or how, but somehow Grampa is loading chunks of glaciers into the cold storage rooms underneath the troops.

I suppose he's saving on import costs?

"A little further...." Grampa orders casually, motioning with his fingers.

As if he were loading the back of a truck, and not...a whole glacier.

He has a chain of people backing up, sliding giant blocks down ramps, or with pure physical labor. Very much like the back of a warehouse full of workers.

In times without electricity and refrigeration, people came up with lots of interesting ways to keep stores and supplies cold. Even with magical aids such as cooling or freezing stones, we need a lot of practical common sense things. Like building some insulated well-drained ice houses and cold rooms. With the careful layers and materials to keep temperatures cool.

Normally, we import cut ice down from a local source over winter. If not a much more Northern country.

Yes, people import ice. It's a very necessary thing.

I'm lucky enough to not only be born into this wealthy family, but one that resides in a warmer climate. Even if it's getting colder and more brutal in the coming years, it doesn't actually snow all that often in my homeland. Not counting the tall mountain tips.

We can go many years without ever seeing a white speck fall naturally over the land surrounding my villa.

Which is why that sudden camping trip, as terribly empty as it was, was so new and exciting. But only for a short time.

I'm not too excited about staying somewhere like that indefinitely.

It's even emptier than that outpost, near the leprosy colony, in the northeast.

Absolutely nothing around! Very lovely for those pristine nature hikes yes, but in this world, there's more nature than anything else.

Should I be concerned about a portal doorway that seemingly goes to the troops' underground freezer though?

It's most likely temporary of course. A limited time window I understand, even if I don't know how it works.

Where in the world even were we?

"Give it up Ron, we're not going to be growing grapes out there. " Gable speaks as he checks up on my little sister.

It looks even cooler since he does so by making her float 360degrees.

"Wheeeeeeee!" Lilyanne rolls around midair, thinking it's a game.

The latest zap zap session went well. It was primarily refilling more of the power supply in the large pillar stones that make up the foundation here. Possibly the main reason Grampa is luxuriously using these magic portals to do something like cheat importing glacier ice.

"It's going to happen," Grampa says solemnly. "Whether in my lifetime or not, someone is going to figure a true ice wine out. One day... We shall make wine all year!"

Amazing life goals there, Grampa.

"Impossible Ron. That is not a challenge. Do not take it as one. " Gable drops my giggling sister into Grampa's arms.

"Impossible, he says. Just like everything else I've done. Impossible they all say. " Grampa mocks in a high-pitched baby voice, making my sister laugh even more.

I shall keep quiet on the matter.

Ice wine is sincerely delicious. Where grapes are left frozen on the vine, till that harvest day. Oh so sweet and lovely.

If anyone in this world can figure it out to be even more unnatural methods, it shall be the crazy old alcoholic.

Only I sincerely hope he's not thinking of trying to grow a vineyard out there. Now that is surely impossible. In any world or time.

"Grampa, the rest of us don't need to be here. May I please be released?" I kick my feet back and forth from the box I sit on.

It's very boring to be treated as a child, waiting for the adults to finish their errands or chores. Like being left in the car or right outside. Doing nothing.

I don't even get a snack! Surely it's snack time?

Not too far away, Lukas and Amar are riding on top of another one of the cut glaciers being moved. A tall and precarious position, but as little boys they sure are having fun for such a chore.

"Mush! Onwards!" Lukas points and poses heroically.

"This is really thick?" Amar jumps up and down on the ice.

Well, they're making more of a spectacle of themselves rather than be any help. At least they're cute.

"Get...me...OFF OF THIS?!!!" comes a scream from someone I did not realize was up there.

Ohhhhh that's where Yuna went.

"Of course it's thick! Who knows how long this ice has been pressing into itself over there? Not an air bubble in sight. This stuff isn't melting for a looooooong time. " Grampa laughs, holding up Lilyanne to slap at one of the glacier cuts.

Yes indeed, it does look very solid and very cold.

When Lukas and Amar somehow turn Yuna into a screaming sled, sliding them back down, it's with a very barely PG-rated curse-filled howl.

"Further in, plenty more where that came from." Grampa doesn't seem to mind the commotion at all. He keeps ordering people around or even laughing as one or twelve of them slip somewhere.

Not everyone was quite prepared for the sudden icy call with Grampa, it seems. But that's life out here. In this entire world, let along the troops. A bit….or well a lot, unpredictable.

"Are we done yet?" I complain.

Gable explains to me in a much clearer manner than my own grampa's wild:

"Not quite yet pumpkin! So much more excitement! So much more plans! So much more pain!"

Whatever that means?

Regardless, it's not much fun watching them. I know it's logistically important. But I'm a child! My brain operates at a very inconvenient pace. It gets bored easily.

Yuna and Amar however, are released into freedom with my question. Grampa turning around to free them, should they so wish.

For they don't even do anything. Unless you count Yuna's babysitting services.

"I'm not even paid for this...." Yuna adjusts his pack, snarking as soon as we're out of there and up a floor.

He was paid in food, clothes, and medical care? Right, not a paycheck still.

The minions and I were ordered to stay near him in a neat group, at all times, if we wanted out to play. A stern warning from Gable as he continues to poke at my sister, and a not so stern wave from Grampa to not leave the troops.

Thus, I take the opportunity to escape the boredom even if it was but for a little bit.

If anything, Grampa would find and take me back when he's done with whatever he's doing.

Say what you will about the troops, from the messy sausage fest it's in daily, to the poor lower dorms, and even that one little fire thing last year. But nothing can really happen to me here! I am the unfortunate little princess of this place.

I know this for sure from the way everyone bows their greetings to me as we make our way up. Fearfully so.

Huh? I like the respect and all but isn't this a lot more than usual?

"They're bowing to my awesome." Lukas nods in dumb approval.

"...No. They're not." Yuna hushes or mushes us.

I feel a bit like a sled dog being directed by him, even without the toddler leash. But it's better than actually being leashed up or worse.

"It's for me because I'm the young miss." I explain my heaven cursed nobility naturally to the poor young and overly dumb children.

"...not exactly wrong, princess." Yuna grimaces oddly as if holding back a bad barking laugh. The pretty pink line in the inner parts of his lips stretching into something mocking.

"Oh. They're scared of Rosa from that last time." Amar knocks his hands together, as if figuring out the puzzle.

"What?" I myself am puzzled.

It's a little early for people to be fearful of my might and prowess just yet. I'm more adorable than intimidating, despite all my best attempts. Being evil is harder than it looks when you're still lisp and need to take naps.

Yuna, however, finds that a more than acceptable answer. Since the terribly mocking smile of his turns to an open and real one. His hand reaching out to affectionately rub Amar's head into a soft fuzzy bird's nest.

"What last time? What are you all laughing about?" I demand an explanation, waving off the obvious bias from our bad babysitter.

"That time that your funny papa got all mad over. When he threw us in the dungeons?" the little bird's nest speaks.

"Hmm yes, I vaguely recall that. " I remember the dungeon fiasco.

Sheesh, that's what happens when you use pre-bought dungeons not built ground up to every one of our evil and specific details. They can barely hold anyone worth holding. Even a brain-damaged child could slip through and escape. Or they explode with the hot spring pipes through some very strange tunnels. What a pain.

What, what does that have to do with people being so afraid of me today?

"Oh. No not the dungeon part. The stuff before it? Where Yuna broke that man's neck and other stuff." Amar explains with a head tilt, looking adorable.

"That sounds fun! Why wasn't I there?!" Lukas complains, huffing like a fluffy snowball.

"Wasn't fun. You dragged me out later with the damn fishes. But yeah that shit at the tavern lived. I didn't aim to break his neck but guess I did. Boo, town border rules." Yuna sets them back on track, marching up the halls and ramps.

"Oh. That." I admit in shame, a mini flashback of even more shame playing in the movie theatre of my brain.

Most of it consists of my sobbing on a dirty sticky tavern floor, crying myself blind due to my own tininess, and everyone else's big fat feet.

Welcome to the still short life of me! Embarrassing myself more than should be possible.

If the original Rosalia could see me now, and all the terrible things I've done, she would be rolling around her grave in said shame. A mostly honorable life. Messed up by me and this toddler clumsiness.

Just wait till I grow up a bit more oh tiny body of mine. Then I'll give the world something to fear!

"Wait, I still don't get why anyone would be scared of me from that? They should be scared of neck-breaking grumpy cat?! All I did was get kicked around and get into even more trouble? Wait...did weird rumors spread?!" I ask, going straight for the little collar of the only reliable source of information.

"Can we start calling me neck breaker and not a grumpy cat? That would be great." Yuna snorts.

"Grumpy not awesome meow meow meow meow meow grump." Lukas pats him on the leg.

"What weird rumors spread about me?!" I shake Amar, who does not respond except for getting dizzy in the eyes.

I suppose I hear some unclear whining sounds, splattered with "I don't know?" or pleas for mercy but that's NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

"How about we don't do that. You really deserve your own criminal bounty poster on the bulletin board, princess. " Yuna bends down to suddenly pick one of us up.

Guess which one?

I have lost my walking privileges. Boo.

His lean arms are far more strong and sturdy than they look. Like a taunt layer of wires, slowly forging its way to iron.

Ohh not bad. Not bad at all. Ohohoho!

"....I don't even want to know." Yuna responds to my groping by readjusting me quite roughly in his arms.

Boooo, don't take it the wrong way. I am complimenting your muscle growth! Grow even more beautifully young man, to make me more money in the not so far off future!

Wait a minute.

"Bounty poster?" I think I heard wrong.

"It means you're awesome sauce enough to get your name up there!" Lukas clamors to me from below.

"No? That's the naughty list, you're not supposed to get on there. " Amar shakes his head.

"But mine was up there all the time!" Lukas counters.

"Um?" "uhhhhh…." *snort*

All three of us lack the proper response to that.

"You're not telling me that my previous behavior warrants my name to be placed on the list of shame upon the troop's bulletin board. Are you?!" I turn the topic back to me. As it rightfully should be.

"Uhhhhhh..." Amar hides behind Yuna's legs, carefully out of sight in my position.

"You're not on the list but you're not wrong either. " Yuna snickers.

"What's so funny?" I get the uncomfortable feeling I won't like the truth very much.

"Don't worry too much about it. Besides, it's easier to show you than try to explain it. " Yuna's response rattles me in his arms, grip tight lest I escape and make trouble of some sort.

How rude an assumption? The thing is that I never make trouble. Trouble just comes to me?

This is exactly what it looks like when we're accosted by a gang right on the doorway to the surface. A gang of burly armed scarred men and women, dressed in mostly simple garb. Workwear and untraditional armor, guarding hands, limbs, and pulling up messy hair. The most protective thing they're wearing may be some aprons.

Yuna could probably take them all, while we run crying back to Grampa for safety. Great plan, me. What happened to nothing can happen to me here?!

"So it's true....you have returned, our young lady." a deep well-rounded voice steps out as the leader of this posse.

Two heads shorter than most of them. A tall floppy hat that tries and fails to make up for that gap. Top and center heavy, with arms that can forge steel or mix and feed bread for an army. A twirl of an overly well-groomed thick mustache.

"Mr. Boar! Ahem, I mean... Mr. Boaregous." I acknowledge our troop's head baker regally from my taller than usual height of being nestled in Yuna's arms.

"Greetings young miss Rosalia. "

The dutiful man bows formally, his mustache stiffly staying in perfect place with his movements. As if they were plastic handlebars on his face and not hair.

With his words, the rest of the gangsters, aka the cooks, all repeat after Mr. Boar. Giving their proper greetings to me.

They're a much tougher lot than the usual chefs in the kitchens of the main villa....or anywhere They need to be, to work here. Bowed and reverent with their big bodies. They look far more like soldiers...or even pirates.

"How come my name is on the list all the time and no one ever does that to the awesomest me?" Lukas questions, uncaring of his surroundings.

"You're not supposed to be on that list? It's why you don't have enough credits all the time. " Amar lightly answers again.

"Silence for now, minions. What is the meaning of this Mr. Boaregeous? I know you will not bother my busy schedule for something as simple as a greeting.`` I would wave my fan if I had one.

I settle for sitting as grandly as possible in a teenage babysitter's arms. Yes, very intimidating.

"Of course my young lady. Please, let us speak somewhere more comfortable and fitting. With refreshments. " Mr. Boar pulls at the strings of any greedy little eater. For the boys, even the babysitter, jolt ever the bit at the mention of snacks.

"Of course. You don't expect me to just stand around in the center of this joke of a greeting? More structure. More respectful formations. This makes me feel like you're a shady gang seconds away from pouncing at us in attack. Onwards to tea, I am exhausted. " I command, treating my current lacking minions as the only entourage I have.

They technically are. Oh, it's just so hard to find good help when you're tiny and useless.

"I am very tempted to drop you down a well just to see what would happen. " Yuna snarks at me.

"You could, but then where would be your tea and snacks? Less grumpy hiss hiss at me, more walking. And carry me higher! I like to feel tall " I respond easily.

Think you can bully me? Ha!

I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella, try again in another 10 years you adorably feeble teenager.

Who nursed you through your cold? Who kept you company reading you terrible romance novel after romance novel? Who provides you extra goodies? I am your benefactor as well as your torturer!

Our escort takes us to a back area beyond the troop's mess hell. Past the main kitchens and the break room beyond that.

Mr. Boar claps for most of them to disperse, perhaps ready themselves. For I see a lot of table top kitchen mills out. The core of the latest research that has taken Mr. Boar's section of the kitchens by storm.

After all, a baker must prioritize his flours and mixes above all else. Ingredients are the top priority in making and baking a great product.

He takes us further in, past the break and locker rooms of the kitchens, down a hall, and up a set of stairs into what must be a simple but tasteful courtyard of his own. Where a nice acceptable set of tea and refreshments is hopefully prepared.

There is, but there's another problem.

"....It's you...YOU'RE BACK!!!" Georgie appears from a corner, quickly setting down a bowl of something.

His simple dress is far more quality, and modern, than any common chef. A lovely apron protecting him from the worst of a random splatter of flours. Though it could not protect it from getting on his face and hair.

When he runs, the longer lengths of his bangs fluff and fly in the wind, as his teary eyes look upon me in what I would dare describe as... sincere love and longing?

Oh my?

Has my little assistant finally learned how to miss me?

Well, I suppose it can't be helped. Eventually, they will all bow to be in reverence or risk their good lives and livelihood.

The sooner my oddly spoiled Georgie comes around, the better. I should leave him more often as a reminder of what life is like without me.

If only Yuna could learn to be so well behaved.

"Ugh." Yuna makes a somewhat disgusted sound, dropping me like yesterday's trash. Right in the trajectory of a running Georgie.

How rude!

"You're back! Oh, thank all the gods you're alright. You are alright, aren't you?! Have you eaten? Was it cold? Did anyone hurt or was mean to you!~" Georgie runs up with pink cheeks and sparkly doting eyes.

I have to rub my own to get the shoujo filter image out of my mind's eye.

"Hmmf, is that all-" I begin to start, facing my servant.

Only for him to speed run right past me.

What...in the...world?

"You're disgusting. Get away from the kids. " Yuna sticks his foot out, fully intending to trip or kick Georgie away.

But someone is getting a little too used to Yuna, or increasingly shameless. For Georgie jumps right over that one leg, rolling onto the floor with his whole body to come into a skidding terrorizing attack. A very big hug.

"You're back in one piece! Oh, how I missed your cute face! Not bad, Yuna." Georgie glomps and snuggles.

"Hello Georgie," Amar giggles, squishing his cheek back where Georgie rubs his face back and forth in an overly enthusiastic manner.

"What do you mean not bad?! What do you take me for? Yourself? Get off the floor, you nasty." Yuna complains, kicking at Georgie who was already on the ground.

Just his back though, for Amar goes unharmed. Chirping away to any terribly mundane questions Georgie asks of him. Eventually with Lukas climbing up over Georgie's shoulders to join in. Talking about their time camping and about how there was nothing to bring back but some snow unless Georgie wanted that.

A happy blabbering mess on the floor.

"It must have been hard." Georgie continues to lovingly hug and snuggle away, cheerful invisible flowers bursting out of him.

"....I am feeling ...very….unloved here?! " I feel something in my body temperature rise.

How. RUDE?!!!

Does no one understand who they should be knees and forehead to the ground bowing to me in respect!

More training for you!!! So much more! This is obviously not enough suffering yet?!

"Oh, you're here too. " Georgie shrugs at me and my attempts to smack smack smack submission into his surprisingly solid spine with my tiny fists of fury.

Maybe it's not him that's solid….I'm just too weak.

"Ahem, pardon my young lady but..." Mr. Boar pretends to cough, watching the mess that can only be described as a messy pile of children.

"Right right. Very good, thank goodness our young miss is here to right her own messes. " Georgie pats himself off.

He gives Amar and Lukas one last messy hug before plucking me off the ground, forcing me to dangle my little legs.

Despite my complaints, my babysitters all naturally carry me. Even when apparently their unfair favorite child is elsewhere. I do not think it is out of love, but fear.

Fear of me.

Perhaps it really is better to be feared than to be loved.

Tsk tsk Georgie, soon you shall see what you will make me do.

"I wasn't even here. What messes are you falsely blaming on me now?" I must proclaim my innocence.

We are seated in a lovely entertaining room, the kind that hosts right outside of one's personal office. One that is decorated a bit too ostentatiously compared to the rustic practicality of the kitchens.

But a man such as Mr. Boar must have their tastes. Who am I to judge?!

It simply means he is easier to bribe, if you know how.

Right. Mentally noting that down.

"Wait....is that how you got in without me, Georgie? With bribes?" I whisper up to my very rude girl handling assistant.

For I see the standard jars of lotion that Abbey worked hard to organize with my commissions. Hmmm, and it was a bit odd how many of the gangster chefs were wearing aprons now that I think about it.

"You'll thank me. By the gods, Rosalia you don't know how bad it got here. I got in with a brand new ugly capelet that personal shopper put into your mother's closet. No one noticed it was ever there. Pssst by the way he likes scarves. Says it brings out his facial hair. " Georgie whispers back over the top of my head.

Ah yes, he does have impressive care over his facial hair. A man like Mr. Boar must have his pride and tastes.

"Well, whatever was the matter?" I try getting a bit more information.

"The flour. The mixes. The horse feed? Then there were rules and regulations and the....oh you'll see. Act natural."

Georgie sets me down on a chair before Mr. Boar turns around. Flipping a brand new luxuriously checkered scarf with the glamour of a hair model, his hands boldly gesturing us to please have a seat.

"Ahem, what wonderful timing. That the young miss has returned to us on this day, at this moment. " Georgie smiles very fakely.

Oh, he's improving his sales pitches, not bad. Not bad at all.

Yuna rolls his eyes but makes no more than one and a half vaguely mocking sounds. The teenager is only here as an add-on entourage, and his goal of snacks finally in sight. With a minion of mine on each of his sides, they seat themselves comfortably. He has at least enough sense to hold Lukas back from pouncing on any source of food.

"Indeed. As if our prayers have been answered. The answer to all our problems and woes!" Mr. Boar moans dramatically, his new scarf flipping the other way in the nonexistent wind.

I guess Georgie was right. That man loves his scarves, the more fabulous the better.

Will note.

"I....wouldn't go that far. " Georgie takes back the situation, pouring tea from a minimally simple but clean ceramic set that's already been prepared.

Using hot water in a black stone natural thermos, he quickly cleans out the teapot of whatever was last in there. Uncaringly dumping it all out, leaves and all.

Then replacing it with another more child-friendly blend from Mr. Boar's own collection.

Hmmm, how suspicious. Just how many times do you come here, Georgie?

Well....he is a chef in training.

Can't be helped. Work hard to make me more tasty food Georgie! Until I grow up more into acceptable age and size, I will have to rely on you as my hands and feet in the kitchen.

"What do you have for me today?" I hold out my hands like a noble, waiting for my Georgie to dip and wipe them clean in warm mixed water.

He goes a step further and wipes my entire face as well.

Ack, too much Georgie. I'm losing respect and authority here. Behind the ears too? Geooooorgie, stop I'm not a baby.

He only steps away from towel patting me dry when he deems me acceptable, clean, and well served. Passing the warm water bowl and towels to the other minions as he busies himself with tea. Movements still far from my dear Alfonso, but that is an impossible standard to hold in the first place.

A small cream-colored mug, of the same set ceramic, makes its way to my little hands. Only half filled and mixed with a generous pour of milk.

Not exactly how I take my tea but we're getting there.

"No sugar or honey, Rosalia." Georgie warns, pouring hot tea across the table.

Oh, darn it. Whatever.

"My apologies, my young lady!" Mr. Boar gasps in sudden shock and horror. As if it were a great offense for not thinking of preparing some beforehand.

"No matter. Tell me what is all the commotion. I trust someone will eventually. Despite all behavior, I've seen thus far." I glare at the boys and Georgie. Then sip my milk tea, warming myself from the inside out with a faint relaxing floral fragrance.

Ahhh, that's more like it. Nothing like a tea break.

"Surely, it must have something to do with the 'snacks' you're so dutifully preparing. Am I right Mr. Boar?~" I sip and smile, feeling a bit impatient from the messy early day I've had today.

Grampa may have somehow created a cheat portal opening under the freezer, most likely using my sister as a power source, but travel always makes me weary.

It's not like I had it easy the whole trip either. Surely I burned thrice as many calories as I consumed? That was a lot of strenuous exercises Grampa had us out exploring and doing. You burn and need more calories when it's cold.

Though I don't think nutritional science is a known thing here.

"You are indeed astute and wise my young lady....in the matters of the BREAD!!!" Mr. Boar dares to stab the air with a long segmented blade.

His bread knife!

Then goes right back to cutting up the various loaves of bread. The slices kept somewhat warm by the little candle flames in and around the tea warmer. A beautiful crunch of the crusts audibly cracking. Enhancing one's appetite over the seemingly simple offering of plain bread and a bit of condiment.

Really though? How many things can beat some fresh free bread?

"I must thank you, my generous young lady Ventrella. For your patronage, your reign of freedom! All this would not be possible, without your great permissions. Your blessing of the loaves! How they rise and crackle for you!" Mr. Boar sings, the sound of delicious bread playing a symphony for my ears.

"Oh ho ho ho! You praise me so, but it is not unwarranted. Oh hohoho!" suddenly this tea tastes so much sweeter, even without a bit of sugar.

"Rosa is so weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeird lots of times. '' Lukas apparently has, to this day, never learned how to whisper.

Someone, perhaps everyone, shushes him as subtly as they can.

"Yes, our young miss is truly very generous. She is after all very innocently young. Pure from the realities of the world. A shining pearl in her noble family's protective palm. How our dear young miss pulls at the strings of all our hearts...and purse." Georgie smiles only wider.

Somehow though, I don't think he means that as a compliment.

I sip my tea extra loudly to acknowledge his claim.

Also to let him know I want more, and if he does not refill me by the count of 5, I shall in a brattish manner throw the cup at someone's head.

"It is all thanks to our young miss Rosalia that we have been allowed such steady shipment of FINE PURE WHEATS flours. The quality and tastes have vastly improved! It is every baker's dream, even for one such as I in this honorable regiment, to play with so much glorious WHITE FLOUR. Finer than the clouds! Untainted and unblemished. How luxurious! I can only sigh and bake while I can. " Mr. Boar holds up his hands, fingers kneading the air in his imagination. Tears nearly fell from his dark sparkling beads for eyes.

I have messed up somewhere, but I'm not sure how or where.

"But Mr. Boaregous~ What were we just talking about?" Georgie smiles wonderfully, repouring my tea in a seemingly threatening manner.

"Oh I know, of course, I do. This much FINERY has spoiled us, and some of the soldiers' guts...Of course, we cannot keep it up. Even with the grand watermills! Fine baking flour is cheaper now but how could it ever be enough. How can such waste be allowed?! We must all tighten our belts, our abdominals, as the forthcoming winters are foreseen to be harsh ones! What a blessing we had, even if for a short beautiful rose-filled summer.~" Mr. Boar really does cry this time, sucking in his waistline to no avail.

He even used a slice of bread as a handkerchief to dab his tears, lest they touch his meticulously waxed boar tusk mustache. Mmm....naturally salted…

"Can we eat now?" Lukas, once again, whispers for the whole room and beyond to hear.

"...I understand." I hush the others myself by speaking up first.

Milling can only go so far. There is still an unbreachable technology gap and the problem of supply.

My doughs and all sort of bread experiments feature mostly some variety of wheat flour. The creme de la creme of grain crops. Even mixed with the other common variety of grains, or if I think of it as 'whole wheat', my modern standards are not as sustainable as I had assumed.

There was a wheat shortage before, and there shall be many more.

What I or people in the modern world would like to think of as 'rustic', 'farmer's or even a 'peasant' bread is still too extravagant. The finer, and whiter, the sifted milled flour, the harder it is to produce. The more expensive it is. It tastes good, yes, and that plays a part in the high price in correlation to the demanded supply.

It's one thing for a wealthy noble family to stock their kitchens for themselves.

The troops feed hundreds to thousands of people on any given day. Soldiers and warriors, whose appetites are not small.

There are no mega supermarkets or supply depots. People work with what they have available, and there is little to no waste.

With the autumn harvest over and settled with and the upcoming famines, my bakery dreams are just that.

Dreams.

I've been spoiled by another life, in someone else's too fluffy and honey-sweet bakery. Silly me.

"But is that not why I allowed, no...why I ordered for all the experiments? " I refer to the miniature mills.

Even before me, they were already mixing grains for healthier and more cost-effective bread. Something more fueling. That goes with all food supplies.

This isn't the kitchen of a nobleman's banquet hall. It's a place that's trained and suitable to feed a war. There was a system in place before me, and it will operate with or without me.

Though economics must always play a part, health is the largest focus here. As much as these people know it.

Grampa emphasizes a balanced food and meal plan. One that goes entirely against the sense of this world but is more familiar to any modern person such as me.

It's not just whatever is cheapest and filling. It's about getting all the food groups while maintaining a healthy balance. Healthy fats, vegetables, protein, and yes of course wine. Which is more than doable with a Meditteranean climate and a reasonably diverse seasonal menu. I know we're already lucky to have the climate, weather, and growing conditions that we do in these lands.

It could be a lot worse. It has been a lot worse for countless people across our borders.

Our famines never got so bad.

It's nowhere to the standards of the modern world, where most of those in first world countries never had to worry about such things. Things are reversed here and there. The baker's white flour was the cheap common stuff, here it's the premium. Various whole grains, peas, and lentil flour are the staples.

Even the daily bread baked in Gable's fire lit hearths, is mildly sweet with darkened rye and sprouted grains.

"Research cost resources. I have provided to the best of what I'm allowed. Everyone must make their livings. We all know this, even the simplest of children." I let myself be served.

With my tea, this time is a rainbow selection of bread.

Browns and yellow, earth tones, and creams. Even those naturally colored with no longer exotic potato blues. Mixes of experiments that have made the selection to finally meet me.

The corner of some slices already clotted and spread with a bit of fluffy whipped butter. Others too near a few small shallow dishes of olive oil and salt.

I select one at random and bite down.

In the background, a very simple child named Lukas whimpers in hunger. As if he's been unjustly starved.

I munch on, for this is beyond some petty issue of favoritism. This is my duty.

"As expected, it's terrible. Beyond terrible. My teeth hurt, it's hard to swallow, the split legumes and peas are overpowering the more I chew. It's very nutritious. I'll give it that. If softened with a hot stew, I can perhaps fool myself into enjoying it in the first two minutes before my jaw grinds down." I generously dip the olive oil in order to swallow down my small bite.

With a slight nod, Georgie tosses that particular loaf like a football.

The thick coarse horse bread thuds quite loudly, but someone catches it indeed. Who knows, without enough butter, they may even be able to eat it.

"But this is the cheapest bread, and the standard line we must work with. " I sip my milk tea daintily, keeping manners in check though I feel the need to chug.

"My young lady, how you go against my weak expectations. For you to knowingly judge from the lowest tier! Indeed why I cannot fathom your wisdom." Mr. Boar sweats.

Though that could be from watching Lukas try to gnaw that loaf of horse bread. Go forth young simple child, train your jaw!

"You need help with that?" Yuna takes it from him despite his disinterest in the lower quality, then pulls out a long knife from nowhere.

Don't mind it. In this world, everyone just carries around weapons and eating utensils. It's just how it is.

"Of course the finer we grind, the easier and tastier it is. More feasible now with our current milling technology. Those with mixed main flours are less tiring on the tongue. Flavorful. There's nothing wrong per se with acorns or legumes. A bit of texture is also tasty in its own way. " I take one bite of each bread, carefully going up the tiers.

Like eating sushi in the right order. Fine dining with all the courses plated for reason. Going up the proper staircase of tastes.

It's rather funny looking. Like a mouse has gone in and chomped exactly one tiny mouthful. Baby teeth mark looking almost adorable in each slice of bread.

No worries, for they won't go to waste.

Out of my done pile into the minion's tummies. Lukas in particular will eat anything. Taking him along is like bringing a mochi version of a trash compactor with you wherever you go.

"There's a difference between accepting something because we seemingly have no choice, and our own pride in our work. How much have you tampered with, Mr. Boar? What have you found?" I pause right as I reach the finer, nicer samples.

My gaze may be taken as a cold judgemental stare. A line of irritation already in my bearing. For Mr. Boar bows to me again in apology.

But really my jaw is already getting sore and I want to eat something else. I'm a spoiled young miss!

Still, the judging must go on!

"If I may, my young esteemed miss...tamper is such a harsh word. It is mixing! Art! The creation of new art!" Mr. Boar excuses.

Slowly, he goes over the bases and knowledge gained from his prides and joys. Slow enough for me to munch away, taking careful bites of each while calculating costs and efficiency.

Georgie helps speed things along with the service. At least in front of Mr. Boar, does he act like a good assistant to his lady.

After I manage to taste something first, the subsequent loaves may or may not be tossed to the minions.

Amar isn't too interested in playing bread football, at most nibbling the slices passed to him out of curiosity. Meanwhile, Lukas is far too eager. A trash compactor that isn't going down any time soon.

Thus Yuna, being the awful and economical babysitter, feeds Lukas the tougher, hard to chew, ones first. Yuna himself is slowly beginning to look like a dragon hoarding up mostly whole loaves of bread. Only the good ones, of his choosing, from the tossed items. But that's still quite a bit.

"I like this one! Not as much as the ones back home but it's blue and that's cool! And this one because it's almost as hard as Cap's and I can wear it like a cool helm!" Lukas declares, hollowing out the strangely colored potato bread experiment.

"Um..." Amar slides away whichever sample I tossed at him, uninterested in the tastes.

He's more taken with knocking on the battle helmet on Lukas's head. Knocking and testing for that indeed helmet-like hardness, producing an oddly hollow hoof or coconut sound.

Picky or not picky, children are just so difficult either way.

"Try the bean bread." Georgie slyly snickers over to Yuna.

"I don't want to try the loaves of beans," Yuna responds with evident disgust.

"Try the bean bread~" Georgie indicates again.

"I'm not trying the GREEN sprinkled lump of beans." the argument goes, maybe being used again and again.

"...I don't think I like this one very much...I think it has more than beans." Amar tries not to gag.

After washing out the taste, he takes Lukas's new bread helmet and puts it on himself. Turning it around so no more Amar is seen or available for tasting.

See what I mean by difficult?

Most of these things are very good for you. Raw, organic, untreated, minimally processed, whole somethings. Super healthy!

The problem is making them taste good.

Yeah...a lot harder than it sounds. Especially for products meant to last a while in storage.

The original Rosalia had this exact problem in her reign, only in much much very much more dire circumstances. The demand for food aid only was increasing in our own population, not to mention beyond the borders. What was a responsible noble girl in a position of power and responsibility to do?

Start a soup kitchen?

No! That was a terrible idea, Lilyanne! Absolutely idiotic! And then you just went and did it with my explicit no's and-... Oh, more on that at a later time.

Unlike my short-sighted sister, or perhaps even a certain even stupider lover of hers, I must account for this minor little thing... called reality.

How do you make food last a long time?! Account for the time for storage, shipment, distribution, and more. Account for the time for any disasters to occur. Just account for a whole lot of time for food NOT to spoil.

Neither our troops deployed on their missions or the common people in need of our southern food aid can afford that.

Let's not have a 'princely' meat apple incident ever again, urgh.

Some items that did work were a recipe that was already in the troop's arsenals. Developed by my grampa himself, if not further improved. Low costs, highly nutritious, far more so than any bread, and could last decades even.

The problem, however, was once again taste.

I thought the oil-pressed seed cakes were pretty good for 10-year-old rations? Tested them myself, as I do my dungeons or any other things. Perfectly good food aid?!

But I suppose others, let alone starving revolting commoners, see things differently.

"Can we go yet? I think Cass is waiting for me." Amar's muffled voice from inside the bread sounds out.

"She's busy enslaving people anyways. Just a few more…" Yuna continues to stuff mostly whole breads under his clothes.

"I think I lost to a tooth!" Lukas sticks a finger into his mouth before inspecting whatever he was supposedly chewing.

"You what?!" Georgie panics over the child.

Uh….lets just give him more milk. Right. It will come out, eventually? ….Eventually.

"This one?" I come across a seemingly plain loaf.

It just...tastes like bread? A basic moderately fluffy bread? Nothing to blink twice over. That's the issue though.

"This pure and simple taste. This nostalgic texture. How is it possible, let alone in this tier?"I exclaim over the bread.

The more I chew, the more I feel something terribly familiar. So much so it can't be. It's wrong but yet not? Not to mention that it's clearly a coarse lower-cost bread. How can it have this height and rise? How can it be as inconspicuous as something you would find on a modern bakery shelf?

No extra frills or add on, no nuts and extra grains. Just a pure-tasting bread. How?!

"Blessed you miss, you've noticed! You have found it! My greatest discovery!" Mr. Boar raves.

He looks practically villainy, twirling around his mustache in evil glee. About to recite his evil monologue.

"Congrats. You found the real horse bread. Literally. The horse feed went into this bread." Georgie tells me, still patting Lukas's back.

"Yep, definitely lost my tooth. What's that? Is that one yummy?" Lukas licks the new hole in his mouth, making gimmie gimmie hands over at me.

I'm stuck pondering too much over this sample to pay him the attention he may need though.

This taste I can't stop eating. It's really...oddly familiar. Almost clean tasting. How could that be?

"Wait. Rosalia, my young complainly miss, let me make it clear. You are eating horse feed?!" Georgie turns his attention to me, really stressing on the horse feed part.

"Horse feed? Is it well grinded oats or something of the sort?" I take another tentative bite.

"Stop eating that!?" Georgie panics. Genuinely surprised out of all the carbs I've tasted this is the one I keep munching.

But I'm just trying to figure it out!? Besides, it's tasty. It's not like I feed my horses bad things.

"Do we, as humans, adventurers, discover all our goods at some point?! YES I admit it! I found this wonderful grain among the livestock feed on the young miss's stables. This bastardization of-" I think Mr. Boar has started to dance with his explanation.

"Language, Mr. Boaregous?!" Georgie redirects his screaming.

"Ahem, yes, pardon my slip, this….grain that is not risotto! This sad, dirty, unpolished and unnoticed fat pearl! Beautiful pearly grains to make such white flour. Grains of-"

"...Rice?" I finish for him.

"Animal feed! Live stalk food! Stalks of trash you bought from nowhere for your pocket lint that one time you were taken to that horse convention?! Horse trash lint???" Georgie's voice keeps rising. As if he were afraid he was not being heard.

"Yes? Yes yes yes with some extra care to clean the grains, they can substitute fine wheat at a 3/7 ratio! That is the ideal weight and rise I have found. But it's only with my young lady's horse feed, that I inquired for that achieves these results!" Mr. Boar gives an excited twirl, leading a screaming Georgie into dance.

Tea time and a show. Yuna and Lukas sure seem to enjoy it, cheering the oddly dancing couple on to the sound of bread.

My mind is elsewhere. I need no more explanations, at least not verbal ones.

"Halt. Show me. At once. Show me the source, these grains. " I stop the farce. My tone has obviously changed enough to halt my employees.

Even Amar peeks out from his hiding bread to look at me when I'm like this.

There is work to be done, important work. Work that no one in this world can understand but me.

"Rosalia? Are you feeling alright there." Georgie escapes the Mr. Boar's grasps to feel my forehead.

"Bring me to them. The research. Am I heard, or will you keep making me repeat myself? " I tap my tea cup, finishing it up.

"Right away my young lady." The baker bows, hurrying to gather his things. Finally, a worker that does as he is told.

I hop off impatiently. Already walking off to the kitchens. My legs are too restless to wait around to be carried.

"What is it, Rosa?" troublesome minion number one catches up to my side.

"Yeah, you're acting like you found my lost tooth. " bothersome minion number two is already there, at my other.

"...It's easier to show you all than to explain." I throw back the words I received earlier.

I don't know if it's because little legs take far too long to walk, or my own anxiousness that makes things feel impossibly long. Even when we arrive to where Mr. Boar leads us in the baking research areas, my limbs tingle in that uneasy feeling.

The feeling where you try not to get your hopes up. Just in case.

I always have to remind myself that in this life. Never get my hopes up too much. Even for the most mundane things. It's far easier to deal with than the fall of disappointment. Far more reasonable.

"Bring out, my precious!" Mr. Boar orders.

"Yes, chef!" the military line of cooks respond, separating into their neat parades.

I wait. Anxiously, I wait.

Looking around, I try to find something to climb. A higher vantage point, somewhere I can actually see. Then I wait some more.

I try not to think too hard, I try not to be counter productive.

The truth will make itself known eventually. Tossing and turning 'what ifs' in my mind does nothing.

"I think the 'horse food' bread turned Rosa even dumber and weirder. " says Lukas, the child that never learned how to whisper.

"Just a little." nods Amar, the child that looks dumber than ever.

He's still wearing the whole crust of bread on his head, an oversized bread helmet. Yet no one bothers taking it off for him. He shall simply go through this possibly monumental discovery in culinary history like that.

"Many thanks for your gracious patience and wisdom, my young lady. Please. My humble findings from your generosity. Wherever did you find them?" Mr. Boar finally presents to me when two muscular chefs haul out a weighted tub.

A line of chefs each carry a large bowl, containing the grains at various stages.

I dive in, digging my tiny hands.

"This is it. It really is….it's rice! It's...pearly white rice?!"

For once, I am not disappointed after all. This looks to be rice. As close to the rice of my dreams. A Japonica like rice! Round, thick, so different from our risotto or even the wild stalks of imports or feed.

"Cooked?! Is there a whole cooked sample!? Not grinded up. Steamed? It must be boiled to steam!?" I order impatiently.

I need to make sure!

I also need to not flail about in my excitement, for I somehow almost slipped off the counter. Both Yuna and Georgie push back my little butt, their eyes judging me behind their hard to read expressions.

"You heard the young miss! At once!" Mr. Boar rushes.

"I don't get it?! What's the big deal for the little tooths?" Lukas plays with the pearly dried rice.

He pinches a small handful and throws it in his mouth to chew. Hard, dry and uncooked. Obviously, it's not a very good reaction.

I see how he swallowed his own tooth whole.

"Just wait, we'll see soon enough. " I explain to him as much as I try to calm myself down.

But I fail, I can feel myself failing. How can a girl like me be reborn into a world without my rice?! Ahhhhh! I miss so much! Rice. Soy sauce. Everything that goes with good clean pure rice!!!

Rice. Could this really be? My precious rice?!!

"Is it really that yummy? You look really excited and something. " Amar questions, the bread slipping over his eyes when he tilts his head so.

"....I hope so. I hope it's as delicious as I remember…" this body of mine cannot stop the anxious shaking. The fear. The drool!

"Oh. Ok." Amar dabs and wipes the drool I didn't realize had materialized down my mouth. Only he does so with a random slice of bread, much like Mr. Boar.

Uh...let's not waste anymore bread like that.

Hot steam wafts from somewhere. A far too familiar smell. I give. I give up. I can't wait anymore! Disappointment be damned!

"Get a wok! Ahem, a pan! A flat steel pan, something that gets hot quickly. Open fire. Oil! Eggs! Plenty of them! Scallion-er small green onions. Some fried garlic? Just a bit. Oh oh oh seasoning!" I shout out my orders.

There is confusion. There is chaos. But it shall be done, as by my word. For here my word is the law!

"Yes!" the entire kitchen shouts out.

"What's even going on?" one babysitter nudges the other.

"Once in a while, Rosalia just gets like this around food or something. Just uh….make sure she doesn't hurt herself. " Georgie hisses back.

People can talk, for they do not understand. They do not understand the call of the rice.

In the face of this strange mutated rice, this mixed breed that's as close as I've ever seen here, I have returned to who I was. Names do not matter now. Who I am, who I was, how many worlds there ever are or what it all means.

Nothing matters, but the soon to be deliciousness of a forever classic.

Egg fried rice!

Simple! Basic! Much harder to master than it looks. Terrifyingly addicting!

"Georgie! I need you at the post!" I shout out to the only soul here I can truly trust.

My personal junior chef! Make me my food!

At a loss at the strange directions, everyone can only watch as Georgie goes through the steps I instruct. With the skills of a true professional, he cracks the eggs and prepares the seemingly simple ingredients provided.

As the steamed rice dries off a bit, he heats up the industrial sized pan. A big thing for mass cooking in a cafeteria of this size. Oil and heat, treat it right, then turn up the flames.

In goes the whisked eggs with a hot sizzle. The aroma of them cooking instantly blasting in the air. I have Georgie keep swirling, cooking the edges to half doneness. Then move it aside.

In goes the main, still steaming rice. It hits that hot surface with a symphony.

The music of fried rice only grows with each addition. Beating over the fried eggs to melt and cook together. Melding in fresh slices of green onion and just a bit of fried garlic for the aroma, The salt and sugar to taste.

So simple. So close to perfection as it can get.

"Wait! I have something!" I yell out, digging through my purse.

I know what's essentially missing. An aroma that will surely complete this simple yet iconic dish.

Toasted sesame!

Luckily for me, I am a very rich girl from a well connected family. Getting sesame seeds was a bit inconvenient but I was able to have my people's people purchase....sesame oil!

It is a bottle of that stuff I pull out of my blessed seemingly infinite purse.

"At the end, add a bit of this." I order and hand over to my little junior chef.

"Of course, my dear young miss." Georgie deadpans through his sweat, too used to my seemingly odd demands. They all work out in the end….mostly.

Frying is hard work. Full of hot flames and heavy tools. Work those arms Georgie! Stir and fry!

If I take time to look around me, there is a sudden dense crowd much larger than the original line of muscle bound cooks lining out the door. I do notice, since Yuna has resorted to throwing undesirable bread at anyone who gets too close. Some are staring with wide gaping mouths. Some others are smartly taking notes.

Behold, for history is being made in these kitchens.

"No bacon? Meh," Lukas shrugs, watching the drama without any understanding.

Amar stays unusually silent, since he would at least quip back with Lukas. Their meaningless chattering is typically noisy in the background as I work. But he too is mesmerized by the song and dance of egg fried rice. Slipping off the silly bread hat, one can see hot flames reflected back in the shine of his childish green eyes. A little brown nose, like a tiny mouse, twitches when he smells that far too appetizing air.

It's hard not to smell the char. The aroma of fried eggs. The low smoking oil.

Yet it is not greasy, not when done right.

A cut and bite of fresh green, the right blend of simple seasoning to take the place of typical soy sauce. A luxurious sprinkle of sugar, that bit of sweetness to mellow things out for a child's taste buds.

I instruct Georgie to pour the hot contents of the pan in a bowl, then to flip it upside down on a plate. So it forms that perfect dome shape.

It can hardly get anymore perfect than this.

"Plate it up...Now...Let's dig in!" I declare, my spoon at the ready.

Oh.

Oh my!

Oh ho hohoho oh my my my! I am a GENIUS! In this world, I am truly a genius!

Fried rice! The building blocks of my ancestors in another world. Blood can mean nothing but the soul remembers!

Ah how many simple lunches have I taken this meal for granted? These precious ingredients?

First you've met with the steam. The physical heat.

A delicious taste that spreads across your tongue at anything fried with good oil, but what is this?

Your tongue is wrapped in the silken heat of the eggs. They slide smoothly, the delicate flavor enveloping you. It should feel wrong against the char smoke of the fried rice but no! The egg is not innocent either! Certain edges crisped, forged of the pan and fire. They go together perfectly in harmony. As you chew the purity of the white puffy rice comes more and more out, revealing the sweet wholesomeness of the sinful pair.

A slice of the green onions to keep things fresh. Just a bit of crispy fried garlic that makes it even more an addiction. That last stroke of sesame oil, arousing your hunger from deep where you never even knew existed!

Each bite as satisfying as the last, yet this scent dares keeps you wanting more. Delicious! Oh so wonderfully delicious.

I have finally met you again, even worlds apart, my beloved. My rice! My sweet fried rice!

"You know this is pretty good for horse feed. Really interesting application." Georgie munches.

"I actually like it," Yuna points with his spoon, continuing to eat.

"No meat no life! Make it with meat next time and you got it, sidekick! " Lukas still happily stuffs his face with the hot meal.

"It's good right?! Told you it is easier to show you." I huff out the heat with each bite.

Hot, but so good. Fresh fried rice is so yummy!

I'm pretty sure there's a crowd of tummy rumbling cooks still looking upon us, but there's only so much fried rice in a batch. Go make your own or something. I have imparted the skills and wisdom of the technique onto you all.

Go forth and make the world a more delicious place!

"Puuuuumpkin!? Here Rosie *whistle* here gurl. Oh?! I'll just follow whatever smells good. " A strange call sounds out in the distance.

Not even Grampa can put me in a bad mood. Not after this. I have discovered my rice once more, and even created the first fried rice of this world. A great success by the way everyone's enjoying it. Myself especially.

Not a bad day at all.

-------------------------

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Bonus Lunch

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There is a problem.

A very big problem I had no way of foreseeing.

It has been three days since my discovery of the mixed breed white rice. One that can take the place of the beloved staple in my heart and mind. It goes well plain, with side dishes, and especially fried.

Too well.

It has been three days.

Three days since the start of this problem.

"Georgie, please help me post this sign on all kitchens, bulletins, and news centers of the troops. " I hold up to the junior chef.

I have made signs.

Ones of solid wood for their permanency. These shall not go unnoticed or easily removable. The words are etched and painted in a bold black, to maintain seriousness. Yet a few contain some simple cute doodles, to really make sure people understand. Just in case people can't read.

They're all a bit different, due to being handmade. But the general gist of it is the same.

The message reads:

"Do not feed fried rice to Amar. No. Bad. Don't do it."

To make it extra clear, I have even drawn out tiny chibis of the minion's face. Along with colored plates of the new forbidden dish.

If the kitchen didn't already recognize him, they will now. Warning, do not feed fried rice to that child. Do not make it for him. Do not prepare the equipment or ingredients. Do not help feed that nasty habit of his in any way!

It has been three days since the discovery of fried rice.

In these three days, I am ashamed to say that I don't think Amar has eaten anything else but fried rice.

I have created an addict. I have created a little monster.

As a responsible minion owner, I must ensure they grow up well. Provide them what good growing minions need. Brainwash them into being at least somewhat loyal to me and all that jazz. Get them used to running my errands and doing my labor. All very normal things.

But as children, I have to be even more careful with their upbringing. Nipping problems in the bud and promoting good behavior.

While I'm very glad one of them likes new exotic foods, not quite of the time and word yet, I think there's a problem with Amar consuming nothing but egg fried rice. It's not healthy for a little boy.

Also, I fear.

I fear the scary lady with the long whipping braids and the pan and who knows how many hidden goods and weapons. I fear Cass very much the more I get to know her. She is a very shady maid. Too shady. I don't think she's very pleased that Amar is going through a childish phase of literally not eating anything else but one thing.

While I'm not sure of their exact relationship, I think it's safe to just assume Cass as Amar's new extra shady guardian and not make her mad.

Not all of us can be so blessed to be adopted by Gable.

Oh how I wish to be adopted by Gable. How I wish to be with Gable in our perfect domestic bliss, isolated away from society to our loves, research, and simple hobbies. What a dream. But alas no one is worthy.

Back to reality now.

"I don't think those signs are going to be of any help." Georgie stirs and filters away something. Purifying the mix.

"Of course they will be. They shall inform the kitchens across the boards of this new menace. Also I already made them." I hold one. One of my better designed ones if I may say so myself.

I am aware I look even more like a child than usual. Holding up my colorful terrible scribble for someone to see.

It is just a fact of life I must admit. I am very short while the world is very big and tall.

"Oh, well if they're thaaaaaat nice. " Georgie plays along with his mocking voice, looking down at my very serious sign.

"They might just get stolen. Especially the ones with the cute drawings. " his tone actually flattens, sounding serious.

"You really think so?" I look upon the colorful mess, barely a few steps above some crude primary school fingerpainting.

"It's adorable. His face is so fat I feel as if I could reach out and pinch them." Georgie nods to the chibi drawings on the sign.

"The important part should be the message though?," I put one sign down to hold up another.

"Oh that really won't help at all. " Georgie signs, shaking his head like it's a lost cause.

"Well why not? It's a problem and surely with an official public alert, we can help curb it. " I point to the tiny caricature of my minion, and then to the big red no sign with a plate of fried rice.

Georgie sighs again, long and weary as he ladles up the preserves in some big clay jars.

"Well for one thing, your fried rice is too new. Most people don't even know what it is, let alone tasted it yet." he starts out gently.

"That's fair. But they still should not promote Amar's bad habit if he's around. I don't think he's eaten anything but fried rice in three whole days. After I said no more, I still catch the scent of fried eggs and sesame oil in the air. He's sneaking it somehow! If I check, I know the rice stock has gone down. I can't even search and find the vendor I bought it from until after winter lets up!" I let out my grievances.

I have already sent out my agents. By that I mean I cried and demanded Alfonso to help me search, or worse yet, my grampa. In a world without the internet, I can only rely on these adults.

I would ask Father, but he's been strange as of late. Actually he's just strange in general. I also recall him being in an almost murderous mood last he saw those vendors.

It was my fault for being dirtied and disrespected like that but still, what can you expect when I'm so pathetically tiny?

So while their agents are out tracking the vendors down, I only have a very limited stock of 'horse feed'. When processed into actual clean rice, the amount becomes even less than that!

It's too precious!

I can't let Amar keep stealing it with his picky tastes.

But perhaps Georgie is right, and the signs won't be much help. Since it's not like he's a phantom in the night, stealing the rice supply through all my family's locks, safes and security.

No, I'm pretty sure he just shows up at any kitchen with the stores. Blinks those pathetic sleepy eyes of his. Whimpers that he's hungry. Then just get served.

How did all my employees and minions get so uselessly spoiled?

"I'm hungry...is there anymore fried rice? With the eggs?"

"Only a limited amount of that rice. That's why I made these signs to post up. We need to protect it!"

"Oh. That kinda looks like me?"

"It is. For you are a foodie criminal stealing all my rice and it's not good for you to just eat that in the first place and…. hey wait... WHEN DID YOU GET IN HERE?! Georgie! Georgie come and arrest this little thief!!!" I shriek.

"Um? I just got here a little bit ago. Yep. Hi Georgie." Amar answers and waves shyly.

"Oh you're BACK! Why do you ever leave!? How are you today? Did you eat yet? Are you thirsty? Where did you go? Leave that woman in her cave and stay with me so I can feed you forever." Georgie rushes over. Quickly taking off his apron and cleaning his hands to smush and snuggle the growing mochi cheeks he apparently likes best.

A far cry from how casually he catered to me just earlier. Far too enthusiastic now.

My cheeks are softer and cuter just FYI.

"This is why the signs won't work, isn't it?" I raise an eyebrow to the obvious display of unfair favoritism.

"That's a lot of signs to draw?" Amar remarks, getting hugged and nuzzled by Georgie. Perfectly complacent in his role as a teddy bear.

"They're supposed to be posted onto the kitchens to keep you out. " I hold the message up.

"Oh. It's very pretty. I like the way you drew fried rice. Good job, Rosa. " Amar reaches out to pat and praise, completely treating me like Lilyanne and her ugly toddler scribbles.

I don't think this child can read. He's too little and brain damaged.

"It says very clearly, 'Do not feed Amar fried rice!'. Do you understand!?" I yell out not only for the child, but for the not so loyal employee rubbing his cheeks all over the kid.

"Did I hear Amar is here?" someone yells out from the main kitchen.

"Oh he is! Georgie, stop hogging him." screams out another voice.

"Get the rice! Heat up the oil and the pan! That's his favorite lately." another disloyal employee makes themselves known.

"Move over, I want to make it this time." they fight.

"No me!" they really fight.

I should just smack myself with my own signs and put myself out of my misery.

"That. That is why the signs won't work Rosa. Even when people can read them just fine. " Georgie can't seem to stop laughing at me.

"....I should have everyone fired." I grumble, not accepting his hands picking me or my signs up.

"There there my fussy young miss. Your signs shall not go to waste, I shall put them up and they shall all be stolen because they're just too cute, just like I predicted. " Georgie tries not to cry through his laughter.

It was the threatening of his job that did it, wasn't it.

Just you wait Georgie. One day, one blessed day, I will trade you in for some high spec almost OP super servant eye candy that you can't compare to. Then you shall know crying!

"I'd like one too. Can I have this one? It looks yummy. And I like the funny faces." Amar holds one up from the pile.

I have been made a joke of. Oh why bother?

"Yeah yeah, take it and die of malnutrition and constipation. See if I care. " I grumble into Georgie's shirt.

At that moment, Barbara enters in with the usual juice pitcher and platter.

"It's fried rice for lunch again! How exciting hmmm. They're getting much faster with making it each time. Do you kids want to have it here, or over at the main table? Do you want to have anything else in it?" she gives us a motherly smile with our drinks.

At least I can sigh and mope about my uselessness into juice now. Bottoms up.

"Thank you. I'll eat it anywhere. Thank you lots but I like the one with just the yummy fried eggs best. Like Rosa and Georgie made it." Amar smiles back."

"Awwwwwwwwww." Georgie sounds like he's willing to leave me right here and now to wiggle after the ray of cuteness.

"How sweet. And for you our young miss? Our young lady doesn't like to eat the same thing day in and day out afterall." Barbara chuckles.

"...Plain egg fried rice is fine…..But today's broth soup and some suitable pickles on the side please. Fresh slices of veggies with a mild dressing, if we have them. Meals must be a set. " I decide.

Tasty things are tasty.

I suppose the kitchens are getting better with making, plating and pairing if they're getting all this experience. I can't blame it all on the kid if my own kitchen staff are gluttons trying and making my dishes each time I come up with something new for them.

"Oh course, set balanced meals. With extra pretty colors and vegetables ,very good of you, Rosalia. " Barbara praises, then makes off with our 'orders'.

"....make it lots!" I call out after her.

Then it's time to be distracted with Amar picking over my 'drawings' to Georgie finishing up his jarring and storing. The empty ones big enough for Georgie to pick either one of us up and drop in whole.

It's not very fun, for I can not get out on my own.

Just wait world, one day I, Rosalia Therese Ventrella, shall return in my full frightening glory. One day you may see, and know true fear.

Just not right now. It's almost lunch time.

And please get me out of this jar, the sides really are too smooth to climb out of.

"If only I had those little animal onesies on hand. " Georgie bemoans, pulling us out of our respective jars.

I suppose he too, is an addict. For cuteness. Bad news for me, but understandable. Cuteness is just too powerful.

Luckily, we're cute enough without the suits.

A part of a workbench is cleared, and the kiddy menu is set up. A few more of today's lunch dishes set aside for Georgie to enjoy with us. He washes up all up and it's another, relatively, peaceful day of eating and growing. The smell of freshly fried rice is as perfect as can be.

Still just as tasty as I remember it.

Now to do something about the problem child.

"Will you eat it with soup?" I shove a little bowl, that Barbara prepared, at the kid.

Amar munches a spoon of his rice, takes a careful sniff and sip of the soup, then nods his head obediently.

I let out a sigh of relief. This is too much effort to raise a minion from scratch. But who told me to be so wise and responsible.

"Will you eat it with pickles? It goes really well with fried rice. " I slam more nutrients and variety his way.

Another bite of egg fried rice. Another tentative show of watching, smelling, nibbling and finally and the tiny head nod of acceptance.

Another small victory!

"Haha see, you figured out a better way, Rosa." Georgie really doesn't seem able to stop laughing at me. But at least I can tell he means it in a good way.

Can't be helped.

Let's pass by another year safely. Stay warm, eat well and grow up better everyone.

"Now the salad! Don't turn away from me or the fork. Say aaaahhh. Say it! Eat the veggies. Eat them! Stop being picky, Amar! Do it!"

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