Calm before the storm (2/2)

The man sat behind a large, well-crafted wooden table, cluttered with parchments and papers. He was writing on one of the parchments with a feather quill.

What does he want? Rafael wondered as he followed the girl's indication to sit in a comfortable-looking chair in front of the table. After she left, leaving him alone with Frederic, Rafael took in the surroundings. So, this is where he works, huh? Nice office. I better not interrupt him; I'm still a nobody here.

After a minute passed, Frederic set the paper and quill aside and finally looked up at Rafael, leaning back in his chair with an air of comfort.

"Cleric Robert, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

Frederic observed him for a moment before continuing, "So, recently, my friend Brandyc, the head chef, introduced me to some new recipes—dishes I've never seen, eaten, or even heard of. And I must say... they were close to the best thing I've ever tasted! I praised him endlessly and even offered a better compensation, but, as a loyal and honest man, he told me it was you who taught him those recipes. What do you have to say about that?"

What do I say? Why does he make it sound like it's a bad thing that I taught those recipes to Brandyc? Should I feign ignorance? Better not.

"Yes, my lord. It was I who taught him the recipes."

"You're a cleric, right?" Frederic asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, God is everything to me."

"...Hehe—Hahahaah... Are you sure? Because I see a greater future for you as the new chef's apprentice! Do you have a family? A house? If not, I can provide you with that. So, what do you think?"

"The only thing I ask in return is that you create new, delicious dishes for me. Of course, I'm not unreasonable—I'm not asking for something new every week, but one or two new dishes every few months should be feasible, no?"

No, it's not! Maybe if I were a cook, I could think about accepting, but I'm not. If I think hard, maybe I could remember another recipe or two, but that's it. Rafael collected his thoughts. Okay, speak slowly and politely.

"Thank you for your generous offer, Baron Frederic, but unfortunately, I must politely decline. I have no experience as a cook, and those were the only two recipes I knew." Rafael ended his response with a slight bow of his head.

Frederic's smile softened. "Are you sure? This offer won't come around again."

Rafael pretended to ponder the words before repeating that he couldn't accept. "Please, forgive me for maintaining my stance." He clasped his hands together as if in prayer.

Frederic's smile faded, but he didn't seem angry. In fact, he appeared more curious. "You're good with words, cleric. Even your actions and manners are impressive. If you told me you were a noble like me, I'd believe you. But you're a cleric, so where did you learn all this?" He leaned forward, intrigued.

Good with words? I was just trying not to get sent to the torture chambers for saying no to your offer.

"I'm the High Priest's apprentice, sir. I've learned many things from him." It was the only answer Rafael could think of.

"Oh, so that's why I thought I'd seen you before—you're Julius's apprentice. How is he? I heard he went on a journey to the south." A smile returned to Frederic's face.

"He's doing well, no need for concern. He did go on a trip; he said there were matters that needed addressing." Rafael kept his response vague, not wanting to give Frederic too much information, as his first impression of the Baron wasn't favorable.

"Thank God he's fine. I was worried that cough was getting the better of him. So, since he's away, I guess I should speak with you until Julius returns." Frederic pointed at Rafael.

"Wait—"

"And the first thing is about paper! I must thank you—really. Actually, I'll thank you by giving you some sort of reward. You're full of surprises, huh, Cleric Robert?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Oh, no need for that. Julius told me the truth. It was you who taught him how to make paper, and if it wasn't for you, we would never have been able to mass-produce it here. Our production site is starting operations next week, did you know that? And we're going to make a lot of money selling it to the entire kingdom—all thanks to you... and God, of course."

"Ahhh... Thank you, sir. Yes, we should thank the Lord Creator for bestowing this knowledge upon us." Rafael felt uneasy, sensing something was off.

"Cleric Robert, as you can see, I have many things to take care of." Frederic gestured to the papers and parchments scattered on his table. "So I want to know—how? How did you gain this knowledge about paper? Did you see an angel, or God Himself?"

"I was sleeping, and in my dreams, a bright light shone and gave me the idea of how to produce paper."

"Interesting... Do you think it was Jesus?"

"I don't know, sir. All I know is that, since then, I've felt like I finally understand my life's mission."

"And what is it?"

"To be a devoted man and spread His word."

"God's word?"

"Yes." Rafael found the question strange. Who else could he be referencing?

"Hmm..." Frederic leaned forward over the table. "Cleric Robert, I believe in you."

Rafael blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond. I wasn't trying to gain your trust.

"What do you want in return for giving me the papermaking method?"

Should I accept his offer? What would I ask for, then? I have a place to live and food to eat... An idea struck him. At least, I should try.