13 Summer 518
Nahaali stood in the Lark Estate kitchens. Her body was stiff, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. It was her first day in the kitchens, on her own. She had been training with other slaves to learn how to cook, but this was the first time she was going to have to cook something herself. And for her own bondmate, no less. She looked down at the paper in her clenched hand that held the recipe she was to make. A sort of pan-roasted fish served on noodles with vegetables and sauces. Some of the ingredients she couldn’t even read properly, but luckily all she had to do was recognize the words on labels. She was also grateful she was told that the kitchens had all the ingredients, so she wouldn’t have to go shopping. She’s rarely left the Estate before this, so she would be completely lost.
She set the paper down and gathered the ingredients. For the fish part: smoked trout, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil, and parsley. For the noodles part: wheat noodles, almond oil, more salt and pepper, mushrooms, chives. It seemed so intimidating, and that was just the ingredients list. There was so much, she didn’t realize food was so complicated. Being nothing more than a pet for most of her life, she didn’t really learn a lot about working. But that was changing.
The trout called for being pan-roasted, but she had to prepare the fish for the pan roasting to begin with. The noodles had to be boiled, so she had to get a pot of boiling water ready too. She sprinkled salt and pepper on the fish and brought out a pan and put it on the stove. After a moment of looking around, she figured out how to turn it on, and did what the paper said next: pour some olive oil on the pan, and when it was sizzling she added the garlic. While she let that sit, she turned the heat on under the pot to start boiling the water. By then it was time to add the fish. She grabbed it with one hand by the edge of the cut and placed it on the pan. Her hand touched the side of the pan though, and she let out a small hiss of pain. She stepped back from the pan, the fish letting out a loud hiss of its own as it cooked against the oiled pan. She reached out carefully with the wooden spoon and moved the fish across the pan, not wanting the oil to pop and jump out to hurt her.
The recipe called to flip it after a minute, but Nahaali was bad at keeping track of time. She flipped the fish when she thought it was right and moved it around with the spoon again. Now she had to add the lemon juice. She squeezed it fresh out of the lemon, worrying about how loud and steamy it was getting. She looked over at the noodles and poked them with the spoon. How long did it take for it to get soft like noodles usually were? She had no idea, so she went with her gut and said they were ready now. She strained the noodles and put them to the side. The fish was probably done cooking by now, right? She went back to it and slide the fish onto a small plate. It would be put on a serving plate over the noodles, when they were finished.
The noodles themselves also had to be finished in the pan so she put them on and stirred. She added the mushrooms, already chopped by another slave earlier, as well as the seasonings. It smelled delicious and Nahaali’s mouth watered. But this wasn’t for her, she knew. It was for Eleanor.
When the noodles were done, she put them on the serving place and sprinkled the chives on. Putting the trout on top, she did the same with parsley. It looked decent, for her first prepared meal! Nahaali couldn’t help but smile. Surely Eleanor would love it! She grabbed it carefully and walked into the dining hall. Miss Eleanor was already sitting there, ready for her meal. When she saw Nahaali approach her eyes lit up and a small smile crept onto her face. “Finally! It smelled so good, Pet, I almost couldn’t wait any longer!”
Nahaali have her the plate and bowed her head. “Enjoy, Miss Eleanor.”
She stepped back against the wall, patiently watching Eleanor begin digging in. But a couple bites in Eleanor began coughing and spitting out the fish. She turned to Nahaali with a scowl and barked, ”Are you joking? This is terrible!”
At her cry, a slave warden hurried into the room. ”What’s the issue, Miss Lark?”
Eleanor threw down her utensils. ”This is disgusting! The fish is cooked unevenly, and the noodles are crunchy and barely cooked! It’s like she did it on purpose! You can see the discoloration in the fish!”
Nahaali’s heart stopped. Her mouth opened to respond, but quickly closed it. Her eyes shot towards the slave warden, who went from looking at Eleanor with concern to glaring at Nahaali with fire in her eyes. She stormed towards her, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall. ”Are you trying to get her sick, slave? You idiot!”
She started dragging her away from Eleanor, who was being tended to by other slaves. Nahaali gasped and coughed, tears gathering in her eyes. She… she had tried! But she knew it wouldn’t matter. She screwed up, and she knew what was coming next.
She was taken to the courtyard. The warden threw her down, her back facing her, and she stayed where she fell because she knew moving would only get her in more trouble. She clenched her fists, dipping her forehead so it touched the ground.
”Have anything to say, you stupid toy?” The warden asked.
Eleanor bit her lip, staying quiet.
That was when the first whip strike lashed against her back.
She tensed, letting out a cry. Another burned across her back, and she sobbed. Nahaali didn’t fully know how much she messed up, so she didn’t know how many lashings to expect. Could be 10. Could be 15. She could’ve gotten Eleanor sick, after all. Just because she was smart enough to realize the food was underprepared doesn’t mean Nahaali was excused from punishment. This would remind her to think about what she was doing, and make sure she didn’t screw up again.
She set the paper down and gathered the ingredients. For the fish part: smoked trout, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil, and parsley. For the noodles part: wheat noodles, almond oil, more salt and pepper, mushrooms, chives. It seemed so intimidating, and that was just the ingredients list. There was so much, she didn’t realize food was so complicated. Being nothing more than a pet for most of her life, she didn’t really learn a lot about working. But that was changing.
The trout called for being pan-roasted, but she had to prepare the fish for the pan roasting to begin with. The noodles had to be boiled, so she had to get a pot of boiling water ready too. She sprinkled salt and pepper on the fish and brought out a pan and put it on the stove. After a moment of looking around, she figured out how to turn it on, and did what the paper said next: pour some olive oil on the pan, and when it was sizzling she added the garlic. While she let that sit, she turned the heat on under the pot to start boiling the water. By then it was time to add the fish. She grabbed it with one hand by the edge of the cut and placed it on the pan. Her hand touched the side of the pan though, and she let out a small hiss of pain. She stepped back from the pan, the fish letting out a loud hiss of its own as it cooked against the oiled pan. She reached out carefully with the wooden spoon and moved the fish across the pan, not wanting the oil to pop and jump out to hurt her.
The recipe called to flip it after a minute, but Nahaali was bad at keeping track of time. She flipped the fish when she thought it was right and moved it around with the spoon again. Now she had to add the lemon juice. She squeezed it fresh out of the lemon, worrying about how loud and steamy it was getting. She looked over at the noodles and poked them with the spoon. How long did it take for it to get soft like noodles usually were? She had no idea, so she went with her gut and said they were ready now. She strained the noodles and put them to the side. The fish was probably done cooking by now, right? She went back to it and slide the fish onto a small plate. It would be put on a serving plate over the noodles, when they were finished.
The noodles themselves also had to be finished in the pan so she put them on and stirred. She added the mushrooms, already chopped by another slave earlier, as well as the seasonings. It smelled delicious and Nahaali’s mouth watered. But this wasn’t for her, she knew. It was for Eleanor.
When the noodles were done, she put them on the serving place and sprinkled the chives on. Putting the trout on top, she did the same with parsley. It looked decent, for her first prepared meal! Nahaali couldn’t help but smile. Surely Eleanor would love it! She grabbed it carefully and walked into the dining hall. Miss Eleanor was already sitting there, ready for her meal. When she saw Nahaali approach her eyes lit up and a small smile crept onto her face. “Finally! It smelled so good, Pet, I almost couldn’t wait any longer!”
Nahaali have her the plate and bowed her head. “Enjoy, Miss Eleanor.”
She stepped back against the wall, patiently watching Eleanor begin digging in. But a couple bites in Eleanor began coughing and spitting out the fish. She turned to Nahaali with a scowl and barked, ”Are you joking? This is terrible!”
At her cry, a slave warden hurried into the room. ”What’s the issue, Miss Lark?”
Eleanor threw down her utensils. ”This is disgusting! The fish is cooked unevenly, and the noodles are crunchy and barely cooked! It’s like she did it on purpose! You can see the discoloration in the fish!”
Nahaali’s heart stopped. Her mouth opened to respond, but quickly closed it. Her eyes shot towards the slave warden, who went from looking at Eleanor with concern to glaring at Nahaali with fire in her eyes. She stormed towards her, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall. ”Are you trying to get her sick, slave? You idiot!”
She started dragging her away from Eleanor, who was being tended to by other slaves. Nahaali gasped and coughed, tears gathering in her eyes. She… she had tried! But she knew it wouldn’t matter. She screwed up, and she knew what was coming next.
She was taken to the courtyard. The warden threw her down, her back facing her, and she stayed where she fell because she knew moving would only get her in more trouble. She clenched her fists, dipping her forehead so it touched the ground.
”Have anything to say, you stupid toy?” The warden asked.
Eleanor bit her lip, staying quiet.
That was when the first whip strike lashed against her back.
She tensed, letting out a cry. Another burned across her back, and she sobbed. Nahaali didn’t fully know how much she messed up, so she didn’t know how many lashings to expect. Could be 10. Could be 15. She could’ve gotten Eleanor sick, after all. Just because she was smart enough to realize the food was underprepared doesn’t mean Nahaali was excused from punishment. This would remind her to think about what she was doing, and make sure she didn’t screw up again.
