Chapter Text
"Ladies, gents, and other creatures, welcome to the annual Frontera cooking contest!" Lloyd announces, flinging his arms open wide like some circus master as he stood in front of a crowd of individuals (Actually, it isn't annual, this is the first time it's occurring. Lloyd wanted to put in some flair). Many of these people consisted of not only contestants, clad in a chef's attire with a tall white hat, but also regular spectators who appeared to be either excited or simply tired of Lloyd's antics. "I'm sure you're all very, very excited, so let's cut to the chase! Our first round will have a special twist, which is…"
He points to a table on the right, covered with a white tablecloth, and motions for the assistant to take it off. "Sesame oil!!" Lloyd shouts, beaming. People in the audience are quite confused. Nonetheless, he continues: "For our first round, all dishes must be cooked with sesame oil!"
Despite the intrigue of the audience, Javier is panicking. Badly. Profusely. Why, you may ask? That's because the famed Javier Asrahan, known for his extraordinarily delicious cooking, absolutely cannot work with sesame oil. Everything he makes simply fails when used with this damned ingredient. Therefore, as the other contestants besides him are excited to see how they can utilize this item, Javier is struggling to keep his composure on the outside.
Clearly, Lloyd (who knows this fact) has set his sights on making him fail. Maybe this is payback for all of the times he joked about Lloyd being too ugly to obtain any sort of love letter. While he, on the other hand, is covered in them.
"You can find the provided ingredients over there to the left!" Lloyd continues, clapping his hands together. "Oh, also, another thing: You must use at least one whole bottle of sesame oil across your three dishes to qualify!"
Javier feels like banging his head into a brick wall. Very hard. Very violently. Unfortunately, for the sake of his public image, he cannot do that—and the nasty bruise would also ruin his dashingly good looks.
Before the timer begins, Lloyd moves over to the side to allow the contestants to prepare themselves behind their stations. He eyes all of them and leaps into position, hands clasping around a button that would start the timer.
"Chop chop!" Lloyd pushes, and he runs over to the table of sesame oil. He gathers a few bottles in his arms. "One for you! One for you! You look like you need some, good sir! Incoming!" He starts throwing the bottles towards the stations. "Here you go!" He chucks a bottle at Javier, who practically drops it and sends him a very annoyed look. Lloyd, still grinning, throws another bottle his way, which this time nearly hits Javier in the head. Javier glares at the glass container that almost cracked his skull. Concussions are just as undesirable as bruises on the forehead. It'd be an absolute shame if anyone, much less the gorgeous Javier, died in the middle of a cooking competition.
"Now, let me introduce to you the amazing judges that will be eating your food throughout these rounds! Please, come out!" He exclaims, and four individuals walk out into the stage waving at the audience kindly. "First, we have my wonderful parents, the baron and baroness, Arcos and Marbella Frontera!" The man nods as he sits in his chair, his wife next to him putting a hand on his shoulder. The crowd erupts in cheers and clapping before quieting down to watch another individual walk into his chair. "Next, I present to you, the one and only dragon king, Verkis! He has graciously given up his nap time for this competition, but don't make any promises that he won't fall asleep during the cooking session!" With that, the audience is loud in not only cheering but also scared murmurs. It was to be expected.
"You can lower your fears. I will not attack you." He responds, slouching in his chair lazily.
"Finally, give it up for Her Majesty the Queen of the Magentano Kingdom, Alicia Termina Magentano!" Lloyd proclaims, bringing over a red cushion for her to sit on in the chair. She gives him a sly look, as to say, 'You're getting a beating for saying my full name, you brat.', and Lloyd only returns that sentiment with an awkward chuckle.
After a few more minutes of announcing the chefs behind their stations—Javier Asrahan, Julien Frontera, Scheherazade, Siluria Namaran, and Arosh—the competition officially begins on the mark of Lloyd pressing the button that illuminates a sign with a ticking clock on it. The time reads 8 hours, which is how much time the contestants will officially have for all three dishes. Lloyd had wanted to make it as flexible as possible, assuring that all of the chefs were able to get their dishes in properly.
Javier runs a hand through his hair, utterly lost on what he should make. A single drop of sesame oil would ruin his cooking entirely, let alone the "whole bottle" rule. He glares at Lloyd, who is across the room at his own station, surrounded by at least a dozen bottles of the ridiculous liquid. Of course, this guy had some kind of way to make this benefit him. One would always know he was up to no good when you could see a nasty, twisted expression on his face that looked like it came from the depths of hell. Javier was often too used to it, and when his master actually gave off a decent smile, it irked him.
On the other side of the room, Lloyd was having the time of his life. Humming some modern-day pop song and surrounded by his strong, impenetrable shield of sesame oil, no one could stop him. Similar to Javier, he had his own deal with this magical ingredient—he was a horrible cook on a daily basis, but when using sesame oil, all of his dishes became gourmet in the blink of an eye. He even tried it with food that shouldn't have sesame oil in it. Oatmeal, cake, even ice cream. It all came out delicious.
"Will you stop humming?! Everyone's ears are bursting!" Yells a person in the crowd, and Lloyd realizes that he has forgotten about his own tone deafness. He resorts to humming in his head instead.
"Sir Lloyd? I have a question," calls Arosh, and Lloyd skips over, a nearly empty bottle of sesame oil in hand. "Does using sesame oil to deep fry something count as using a whole bottle of it, oink?"
Lloyd sweeps his arm around and gives Arosh a huge grin. "Why, of course it does! In fact, using more sesame oil might even get you bonus points! You know, for being extra involved with the twist."
Arosh bows his head in thanks and starts dumping containers of sesame oil into a large pot, a plate of breaded tofu nearby.
Lloyd, still humming in his head, walks over to Javier and leans on the counter, an elbow propping him up. "How is the great chef Javier Asrahan doing?" he asks with a sly grin. "With so many years of practice, skill, training, and talent, this must be a breeze for you."
Javier looks down at his mashed potatoes, not yet contaminated by the sesame oil. He huffs in frustration, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm doing fine, no thanks to you," Javier snaps, then glances at the untouched bottle of the cursed liquid. Literally cursed.
Lloyd, following Javier's line of vision, also notices the untouched bottle. Lloyd gasps, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. "My darling Javier!" he exclaims, feigning shock. "What have you been doing? Not even an hour in and you've already broken a rule!" Lloyd shakes his head in disappointment. "And to think that I had such high hopes in you. Well, I certainly cannot sit by and watch my dear knight ruin his chances at making it to the second round because of a simple rule. Here, let me help!"
Javier's eyes widen in panic as he tries to shield his dish, diving between Lloyd and the mashed potatoes. However, luck seems to have went on a surprise vacation without informing Javier (how rude!), and Lloyd manages to successfully splash some sesame oil onto the once-perfect food.
In the blink of an eye, the once beautiful, golden mashed potatoes turn into a disgusting, brown mess. It starts to liquefy, the goo creeping over the rim and dripping onto the table with a sickening plop!
Nearby, Julien gags and Siluria drops an egg, the egg white splattering all over. "Who the fuck shit in here?" A member of the audience exclaims, eyes watering. Scheherazade tries to open her mouth to add something, but unfortunately she doesn't make it far before falling into a coughing fit. It appears that her sword master senses, similar to Javier's, expands on not only hearing but also smell…
"What is going on?" Verkis roars, finally awake from his short nap. If things had went his way, he would have slept the rest of the eight hours, but with Lloyd and Javier in the same room, he should have known better and expected the worst.
Fairly sure a giant plate of mashed-diarrhea-potatoes goes on the "worst case scenario" list.
With a shocked expression, Javier steps back slowly until his back hits the counter. He watches as Lloyd's face twists into a terrifying grin—though, it is a pretty normal occurrence. He still hates it since he is now the center of Lloyd's mischief. How fun.
"What," Javier chokes out, "Did you just do?"
"Well, I wouldn't know," Lloyd replies. Unlike everyone else in the room, he is completely unaffected by the abomination of a dish. After all, that goopy mess is what his food usually looks like before sesame oil is added. He's quite used to the ugliness and pungent smell. "You're the one that made the dish."
"You were the last one to add something to it!"
"You were breaking the rules!"
"Maybe I wasn't finished yet!"
"You're telling me that your extravagantly sculpted mashed potatoes weren't finished? I'm fairly sure making it look nice is the last step. Surely, as a master chef, you should know this."
"Well, you should know, that as a host, you should not be messing with the contestants' entries!"
"Oh, my sincerest apologies for trying to help my knight! I suppose I should just let him fail?"
"I was doing perfectly fine!"
Lloyd raises his eyebrows and glances at the mashed potatoes. "Yeah and according to my eyes, you looked pretty panicked, little bro."
Javier takes a deep breath and restrains himself from doing anything stupid. Do not murder Lloyd. Do not punch him in the face. Do not shatter his jaw. Do not pull out a dagger from your back pocket and stab him. You are his knight. You must protect him, not be the reason he's in danger. You are—
"I'd stop plotting to murder me in your thoughts and get back to fixing your beautiful mashed potatos, Sir Asrahan," Lloyd jeers, walking back over to his own station and enthusiastically pouring sesame oil in his pan—which, contrary to Javier's result, instantly turns his food into something from a gourmet cookbook. The absolutely delicious smell from his dish radiates through the stage and clashes with Javier's pooptatos, effectively cancelling both out.
After seven more hours, the greatly anticipated moment comes: the presenting of the food. Javier shrinks back, sure that he will be kicked out. What would people think? The great Javier Asrahan, out in the first round?
Head held high, Arosh begins to walk up proudly with his main dish, deep fried tofu, when a shout sounds from the back.
"Wait!" Julien yells. "I'm not finished yet! Could I get another half hour?"
Lloyd, standing behind his mother Marbella, frowns in disappointment. "Julien, you already had eight hours. That was more than enough time. If you are not finished, that is due to your own pace."
"Please," Julien begs. "Just half an hour. It's almost done… I can get it done if I present last."
Lloyd bites his cheek in contemplation before saying, "Judges, what do you say?"
Marbella answers immediately. "I think we should give him extra time." Arcos agrees with his wife.
Everyone turns to Verkis, who is on the verge of falling asleep again. "I don't care, as long as I can go back to sleep as soon as possible."
"That counts as a no," Lloyd concludes. "Alicia?"
"I believe that rules are rules," She says. "I vote no."
Lloyd leans forward. "Well, well, what do we have here? We have a tie. It seems like the final decision is up to me. And I vote…" Lloyd's eyes flicker to Javier. "No."
The crowd erupts, half in cheers, half in disappointed sighs. Arosh, still standly awkwardly halfway between the judges and the stations, starts to inch back.
"No, no, Arosh, you can come up now," Arcos says.
Arosh walks up and presents his three dishes, all of which get nearly perfect scores. Scheherazade goes next, followed by Siluria, and lastly, Javier.
"Please present your dish, give a short explanation on what it is, and tell how you incorporated sesame oil," an announcer says. Nervously, Javier places his dish on the table.
A well roasted turkey sits in the middle of the plate, but a foul odor comes from inside. Alicia wrinkles her nose. Well, it could be worse, right…?
"This is a roasted turkey with stuffing," Javier starts. "I added the sesame oil to the stuffing inside." As he describes his dish—which now appears to be rotting like a compost pile—a bigger sense of dread falls over his face. He's really done now. Honestly, with how this is playing out, he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to stay in and got caught with yet another one of Lloyd's sabotages (don't jinx yourself, Javier!).
A piece of the turkey is cut out for each of the judges, and though all of them pretend to take a bite, it's fairly obvious that all of them hid the "eaten" piece in a napkin, ready to be disposed of.
"Well," Arcos says slowly. "It wasn't too bad, but I think it could have been better. Three."
Everyone rolls their eyes at the obvious lie.
"Four," says Marbella.
"Three." Verkis.
"Two." Alicia finishes the judging round.
Lloyd sighs dramatically. "Well, in the end, Javier has the least amount of points with a sad total of twelve. However, Julien's score is void and since we can only remove one contestant each round," Lloyd turns to Julien. "Julien Frontera is out."
Javier lets out the breath he was holding. He'd made it to the second round, but only because of a mistake on Julien's part. Then he smiles. He'd made it through the sesame oil round, and now he was freed of the stupid thing. Next round, he'd prove to the audience that he wasn't a crappy chef.
"That's all for today!" Lloyd shouts, standing on top of a rickety table. "Come back tomorrow for round two!"
Relieved, Javier heads toward the exit, when he feels a gaze on his back. He turns.
Still standing on the table, Lloyd stares at him, an undescribable look in his eyes. However, Lloyd quickly shakes it off, giving Javier one of his signature evil grins.
Letting out a little laugh, Javier rolls his eyes and heads out the door. How ominous.