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"...and can you believe that they thought they were going to use kwarma eggs in a traditional Summerset soufflé? Pah," Sophrine scoffs as she stirs the custard in her pot. "Of course, something like that would never work. The proteins are too dense to inflate anything other than the Gourmet's misplaced ego."
Dahlia leans against a wall as she listens attentively to the pretty Breton woman talk about the tales of her most recent cooking adventures--even if she has no idea what she is talking about.
Over the last few months, a rumor has been spreading of a new chef in Kynesgrove with skills which could rival even those of the Gourmet himself. Naturally, the High Queen was curious, and thus, extended an invitation for her to come and cook in the kitchen at the Palace of the King's.
Luckily for her, Sophrine and her husband Roggi had nothing else better to do on a Sunday afternoon other than to accept her invitation, and so here they are: Dahlia with Sophrine helping--or at least trying to provide what limited help she can to the great chef as they mix together a trifle for their dessert, and Ulfric with Roggi sitting out in the Great Hall doing--well, whatever it is that men do when their spouses have left them to their own devices.
"Is it terribly hard to bake?" Dahlia asks as she moves forward to pick up one of the chef's knives to chop some of the fruit on the counter.
Sophrine turns her head towards her, all the while stirring vigorously at the thickening vanilla concoction in the steel pot before her. "Oh no, I mean--well, it does take some practice, and you can't say have a parade of mammoths stomping by as you make it; but, other than that, it's easy. I could even show you before I leave."
"I'd love that. That's very kind of you. I'll have to make sure to send down for some of Ilse's danishes before you go, and--"
"Everything okay in here?" Ulfric's voice sounds from the doorway, and when Dahlia turns, she can see that once again, he has poked his head around the corner to see what they are doing.
She bites her lip as she tosses a knowing glance over to Sophrine. He has been doing this all afternoon. Who knew her husband could be so nosy?
"We're just the same as we were 10 minutes ago when you came to check on us, my heart." She sighs. While she knows that he means well, he is starting to grate on her nerves. "Why don't you go back out to Roggi? It's like you're afraid of socializing and making friends which I know you are not."
"Yes, well--"
Dahlia stops chopping more ingredients, and turns around completely to face her husband, hands on her hips. "If you tell me that you're afraid of someone with a knot in his beard, I am going to tell Galmar, and he'll hit you with the broadside of his battle axe until he knocks some sense back into you."
"You wouldn't." He challenges as he raises a brow.
Sophrine tries--and fails--to hold back a chuckle at the two of them as she begins to pour her custard into its glass presenting dish. "She would." She shrugs as she begins to layer the fruit Dahlia had cut on top. "Perhaps I have not known her for more than a few hours, but she seems the type not to be," she nods down at the dessert in front of her, "trifled with."
"I just thought that I could help you or maybe start taking the dishes out to the--"
Dahlia abruptly snatches one of the many wooden spoons hanging on the wall beside her and throws it towards Ulfric, nearly missing his head. Intentionally, of course. "If you do not leave here this instant, the next one will not miss."
While the High King may be a formidable and rather stubborn man, he knows better than to try his wife again. He quickly turns tail, walking back to the great Hall to see Roggi sitting politely on the bench just where he had left him.
Ulfric sighs as he sits back down across from the man. "I tried to go in there again, and my wife threw a spoon at me. Clearly, I should be looking for threats closer to home rather than--"
"I can still hear you, you know." Dahlia's voice carries from the kitchen, echoing through the hall. "And I did not even throw it at you just in your general direction. If I had wanted to hit you, I would have."
Ulfric turns, shouting back to her, "In High Rock that would be considered an assassination attempt."
He receives no further reply. Apparently his wife thinks she has tortured him enough in front of their company, and he turns back to Roggi who is still patiently sitting in front of him. "I need a glass of mead."
At that, Roggi perks up, a true smile on his face for the first time in this entire encounter. "You like mead? Sometimes Soph and I brew our own from the honey in our apiary."
"You know, I have always wanted to try that myself, but I never have the damn time."
"I can imagine that you don't. Not with how much of a spitfire your wife seems to be. Is she always that? My wife can be--"
Before he can finish his sentence, Sophrine's voice can be heard from the kitchen. "Remember I can hear you too, and I am the one who makes your dinners."
At that Ulfric begins to get up from his seat, gesturing for Roggi to do the same. "Actually, I have quite the collection of mead in the cellars if you'd like to see it? ...and I am certain our wives will not be able to hear us there."
"That sounds absolutely delightful, and I would love to take you up on that offer immediately."