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Once in a blue moon, Zenos could be found in the officer’s kitchen of the Ala Mhigo palace. While the larger kitchen and banquet hall was set aside for the majority of troops as a makeshift mess, the officer’s kitchen was reserved for anyone who led a unit. Usually Zenos’ meals were prepared specially by his medicus due to his strict diet, today he was feeling rebellious. He’d dismissed the man meant to prepare his meals and was cooking his own instead, something simple that required little more than flour, oil and time. Namely, pancakes.
Of course the smell was drawing more people to the kitchen than he’d like, many gave a wide berth once they saw who was greasing up the stove. For the best really, the less he had to talk, the less likely he’d lash out at any of them whilst in the grip of a foul mood. Unlike many of the others though, rem Lupus did not seem to have the same hesitation. “How many do you plan to make my lord?”
“At least three- and mayhap some steak and eggs to go with them.”
“Ah- just for yourself then, alright.”
He paused for a moment, his culinary skills weren’t exactly a famed attribute, quite the contrary to be honest. It took almost no skill to follow a simple recipe and make a rare steak on the side, so the thought of cooking for others had never occurred to him. “How hungry are you, rem Lupus?”
“Maybe enough for two pancakes- and some butter and jam to go on them, but that’s in the fridge and I can get that myself.”
“I suppose while I’m here I might as well. Anyone else want pancakes?” Everyone did, apparently. Someone offered to make the eggs for him at least while he made the cakes, someone else started grabbing butter and jam, and Fordola herself started mixing up more pancake batter when it became clear there wasn’t enough to go around.
If they showed this much teamwork on the field as they did in the kitchen maybe he wouldn’t be so prone to pulling his blade out. Honestly, this show only made him more irritated with the sorry state of leadership in his legion. At least it meant less work for him in the long run. After a few plates had been filled, Zenos started to become bored with the task, looking for ways to make it interesting enough to capture his mind. So after a bit he put down the spatula and started tilting the pan, testing it with a flick of his wrist. The pancake moved, and he tried again. A gentle flip here, a little flick there. Like the prodigy he was, it seemed effortless to flip the pancakes without the help of a tool.
Which is why he started trying to flip them higher.
Finally he was on the last plate, his own, and had managed to flip one to eye level. This next was going to go over his head, land neatly in the pan, and then be flipped out onto his plate to finish off his own stack. He could see it easily in his mind, but when he went for the flip he put just a bit too much force in. He knew it was too much the moment the cake went flying.
Zenos tilted his head up, ready to see it sticking to the ceiling- and instead got a face full of air-cooled pancake.
For but a moment not a single person in the room dared to breathe. Zenos could feel every officer’s eyes on him, fear filled the air so heavily he could smell it past the cake on his face. He didn’t know how to respond either, frozen in shock.
Which is why he was almost thankful when Fordola snorted out a laugh, even if she immediately covered her mouth afterwards. The tension drained out of Zenos’ shoulders and he quietly removed the offending piece of food, putting it onto his plate. “Are you going to be alright my lord?”
“It was a temporary miscalculation. Naught else.” The whole room calmed down afterwards, he was given his portion of scrambled eggs and two rare steaks so he could settle down to eat. “Although if any of you breathe a word of this I will make sure it’s your last breath.”
A chorus of “Yes my Lord” met his threat and the morning carried on as per usual.