Now, frying pans are normally not ant to solve one’s problems through violence.
No! They are for... frying stuff.
It’s in the na, people! What sort of age is this one that people associate a frying pan not with sizzling oil, but with head trauma?
Anyway...
I was making so easy blueberry pancakes. Just the standard mix. The thing is, the flour is the most important part.
If you don’t pick a flour which could have enough air in it, the pancakes won’t get fluffy!
And the eggs. They had to be a bit warm before you cracked them! Eggs are no cream, people!
Now, if one wanted to beat cream, one needed ice. Or a very fast whisking rune!
And I, as soone who valued his ti and output, had the best whisking rune there was!
Oh, sure, most people would say that beating sothing by hand made it tastier.
And that is even the truth!
It is just that beating by hand takes longer, so the ingredients have more ti to mix up!
But... beating by hand is tireso. Not to ntion that it takes all day.
Sure, if it’s for a special occasion, like the anniversary for which I was already planning, I was going to beat by hand.
But this was a fattening mission! Quality had to take a step back to quantity!
I looked at Desmond, who was looking at the pile of pancakes without really reaching for one.
"They are sweet!" I told him. I ant to bribe him with the sugar. After all, it was sugar, a cake, to be exact, which had made a part of the circle of the three Boliari in service of the king.
"I know," he said, as he worried his lower lip.
I began to blink.
"Wait... then you must want sothing that’s salty?" That had a double aning, and he must have picked up on it too because his cheeks turned rosy.
I, for my part, did not.
"Ok! I will send these pancakes to the villagers!" Because I felt that sending them to the gnos would result in a war. Still, I had no idea where my golems were.
I had like twenty, or so I thought. Why had they broken the contract was beyond . I gave them the standard package!
"No, Sylvan... I don’t need food. I’m fine!" Desmond protested.
"Oh, no!" But I ca to my own conclusion. The fact that I had two sons had given fathering or mothering instincts, it was unclear to .
But I knew only one thing:
Desmond was doing it. The most horrible thing which one could do! The one final insult on a famous chef’s grave.
Desmond was... dieting!
"No! You are not fat! And even if you were, you should still eat enough!" I yelled. Because I didn’t care whether one had fat rolls on or not.
If one was hungry, one ate. Then, of course, they began to chase the sun to the horizon. As fast as they could go!
Just like every morning!
"What?" Desmond asked.
I nodded to myself, stored away the rest of the pancake batter for later, placed the freezing rune on it, it did have eggs, after all, and then I took out sothing simple.
Sothing no one could resist.
Carrots!
It was simple, really. All one needed was a cleaver, a cutting board, seasoning, and carrots!
I cut up the carrots into carrot sticks. Then I made them a bit smaller. Then, I added salt, pepper, red pepper, and, of course, so oil.
Not olive oil. People were crazy about olive oil, but Nate was a miser. He didn’t want to supply with any.
Not that I am not grateful for the sunflower oil he supplied with.
Nate, honey, if you are reading my thoughts, know that I am not whining! Love you!
I thought in my mind.
I heard a snort from the darkness of my dungeon.
Huh... he really read all of my thoughts! That was not good. Did he know about that fantasy that I had last night of him and Aron and a spatula with cream?
"Sylvan," Desmond’s face was completely red. Huh, was it too hot in here? "I am fine. I don’t need food."
That was precisely what soone who was on a diet would say! I began to place the carrot sticks into the air fryer rune.
"You will eat," I told him, with the cold of winter in my voice.
At that mont, I didn’t care that the power difference between us was about as big as the difference in height between an elephant and an ant.
With the advantage going to Desmond.
I couldn’t let him do this! I couldn’t let him sacrifice his good health just because he wanted to get inside a corset!
"Desmond, corsets are not very comfortable," now I was just mothering him, but I needed to give him the sa pearl of wisdom I had given my own sons.
Least he went to a tailor. Those were ready to sew all kinds of horrors for money!
Even... certain bands for male body parts...
Sothing Nate had and liked to wrap around his own male body part. I thought he thought that it made him more attractive.
I hated that thing! My fingers got all sticky by the ti I removed it!
It was like a chastity belt, darn it!
I heard a giggle from Nate’s corner and a whimper from Desmond.
My eyes narrowed.
"Desmond," I was not so cruel as to hit the man with a hot frying pan, a cast-iron one, at that.
But, darn, I could hit him where it hurt.
"Yes?" Desmond whimpered the word.
"Can you read thoughts?" I asked him, taking my spatula and preparing to ttle so justice.
"Well... all Boliari can."
I froze.
Mordred... had Mordred...
"Yeah, dad," I heard my son say in my head. "But that’s ok. I don’t hold it against you that you’re a pervert who won’t invest into a mind rune."
It was my turn to whimper.
"Edda!" I squeaked.
Those 100 mana points were taken from the moss of the Tree of mories, but I wanted to look my son in the eyes, darn it!
Without him being reduced to giggles...
Reviews
All reviews (0)