Fall 65th, 513 AV
Over the first few days of Lacerta’s slavery, things had been complicated and slightly confusing. She hadn’t been put to any sort of work… exactly… but luckily had been sent straight to the main house, rather than the fields. Apparently she was too valuable to be put to hard labor. She’d grumbled a little at this, but was actually quite glad for the treatment. Though the sun would be lacking, she would be able to do something other than weed, and farm all day. And she’d already heard stories from the other slaves about the Head’s harshness on slaves who worked her personal gardens. Instead, she’d been put in the kitchens, where an in charge, slightly motherly, but stern slave ruled. Honestly, the Eth felt out of place there, in a room filled with a few young woman, and a young boy. Still, she’d at first been ordered to clean things, pots, pans, the floor, whatever was dirty. However… today… the woman in charge, Nosalin was her name, wanted to teach her to cook.
She was, of course, not going to start with cooking things for those Dynasty members… only skilled cooks actually made anything to go in their mouths. She, instead, was going to be helping out with a basic stew for the other slave’s dinner in the evening. Meat, a vegetable or two, some potatoes, and lots of water. She’d eaten the brew once or twice, and had found it a pretty skimpy meal compared to most things. Luckily, the kitchen slaves were ‘graced’ enough to eat whatever leftovers remained from the Rajor’s dinner… sometimes there wasn’t enough, but other times they were able to eat to their heart’s content. Of course, Lacerta usually got the last of the pick, considering she didn’t need to eat for most of the time she was awake. Instead, she tried to work near one of the large windows that lined the longest kitchen wall.
Glancing to the short and burly woman beside her, the Eth caught full on the brand of the Rajor symbol seared onto Nosalin’s face. Most of the other slaves were in the same situation, though one or two of the prettier girls had dark tattoos. Her own ‘marking’ was hugely different from those of others, with only a collar to speak of. But she could feel the collar… always. You only felt a brand when you first got it. The woman shoved a potato and a kitchen knife in front of the Ethaefal’s face, who took it in surprise. “Peel it, then chop it up” was the blunt order, before the cook returned to her own work. She easily skinned the vegetable, slicing off the peel with the knife. The sailor tried to copy the move, grasping the potato in the same way, and slowly prying the skin off of the surface. However, her peels weren’t as thin as she’d have liked… and once in a while her control wavered and the knife gorged out a ditch in the starchy plant. She mused offhand why they would allow slaves to use such tools, considering all weapons were banned, but decided it was simply a loophole. How else would they make anything?
When the chopping came, she tried to cut the potato as Nosalin did, slicing easy sections out of the full body. She chopped it in half first, then that half in half, and again, until she had decent, mouth-sized chunks. She glanced at her ‘mentor’, and, seeing the woman dump them into a large pot, did the same. She was passed another potato, and was expected to also cut it up. She repeated the process, only having to glance at the cook once or twice before remembering what she had to do. The work quickly turned monotonous, but since the sun was shining brightly through a window in front of them… Lacerta was content. As long as she had calmness (the kitchen wasn’t yelling and screaming like it was in the evening) and Syna’ light, she was content. The pair made their way slowly through a pile of potatoes, eventually filling up the massive pot with as much as they could. Glancing inside it sneakily, the Eth saw mounds of potato pieces, reaching about a fifth of the way up. Apparently meat was supposed to make another fifth, and other greens another fifth after that…
When she was passed a leek to cut up, the sailor simply stared at it blankly. How did you chop one of these. Seeing the taller woman in confusion, Nosalin stated bluntly “Cut it along the middle, then in inch-wide sections.” She took her own leek and cut it up in such a way, quickly leaving the Ethaefal in the dust. Lacerta tried to catch up, making a wavering slice down the center, almost nicking her fingers once or twice. She then cut it up into uneven sections, before finally lopping off the bottom, inedible section as the cook did. She slowly picked up the pieces, as the vegetable had fallen apart into small, thin strips. She added them to their large pot, before continuing on with another vegetable.
When they seemed to have finished those, Nosalin pulled out several large strips of meat. “We will cut these up, then cook them at the same time as the stew.” The woman passed her student a larger, heavier knife, as well as one of the strips. “Make cubes, and put them in this pot.” Said ‘pot’ was actually a large, deep pan, sitting heating on one of the metal stoves. One of the other slaves had already set a fire in there, something that burned all day long to cook anything needed. The knife she used was heavier and sharper, and sliced through the thick meat with ease. Once it was in chunks just like the potatoes, she followed the cook’s example and added it to the pan. The woman quickly added some oil, before mixing up the cubes with a wooden implement. Lacerta paused, wondering what else she should do, when the tool was shoved in her hand. “Cook them until they’re brown, then put them in the pot, okay? Don’t let them burn, and mix it up a bit.” Instructions given, the woman stormed off to scold one of the children.
