Shadow tendrils.

Slowly, they wound their way up her legs, brushing against her in a manner that felt far too deliberate.

Because of the bond they shared — even if theirs was currently sustained only through the oath — Mirabelle felt every sensation with heightened intensity.

Warmth pooled low in her stomach.

Dread immediately seized her. She pressed her legs together before anyone could smell her reaction.

Or before the tendrils became too adventurous.

She was sitting next to her mother!

The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread suddenly seemed far less important than the shadows currently trying to crawl up her legs.

In a panic, Mirabelle leaned across the table and held a piece of bread toward the panther.

Silas hummed in approval and accepted it from her fingers. A self-satisfied smile appeared on his otherwise stoic face.

"Good girl," he whispered soundlessly.

Slowly, the shadows retreated.

The tension in her shoulders eased immediately.

Lucien, of course, noticed Mirabelle’s bright red face. He immediately knew the panther had fought unfairly.

However, since he had no desire to embarrass her further, he simply waited.

Mirabelle knew that favoritism was the death of every harem. So she offered a piece to the fox as well.

The Duchess watched the entire exchange with amusement. It reminded her of the early days of her own family.

Back then, anything remotely romantic had felt unbearably awkward whenever her mother was nearby.

Perhaps some rearranging of the arrangements was overdue?

Meanwhile, Mirabelle watched her males chew with obvious anticipation. She desperately wanted approval from these Beastmen.

Steam still rose from several of the loaves. The warm scent of freshly baked bread drifted across the table.

Silas spoke first. The crust cracked softly beneath his teeth.

His calm, melodic voice somehow made his judgment carry even more weight.

"It tastes remarkably good." He examined the remaining bread in his hand. "I believe Thorn-grass will allow us not only to diversify the territory’s diet, but also prepare for lean years."

At the same time, Kaelith’s thoughts were racing. The rich nutty taste still lingered on his tongue

Even if Luchsenstein had become his home, that didn’t mean he had forgotten his birth family and their struggles.

He needed to discuss something with Mirabelle later.

Lucien’s mind was working just as quickly as Lonan’s had after the first bite. The difference was that the fox was looking at a much bigger picture.

His gaze shifted toward the head of the table.

"Duchess, would it be possible to dispatch additional soldiers to harvest more Thorn-grass?"

The Duchess, who was currently enjoying a particularly juicy piece of meat, calmly finished chewing before responding.

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

Then her clear eyes settled on the fox.

Almost immediately, Lucien sat a little straighter.

His mother had always told him that the Duchess of Lynxstone was a clever ruler with a firm hand.

He wanted her approval of his position.

"We should absolutely do that."

She gestured toward one of the servants.

The man bowed and quietly left the room.

Then she returned her eyes to Lucien.

"How do you think we should proceed with the grains?"

Mirabelle’s attention immediately snapped toward the fox.

Lucien allowed himself a brief moment to think before answering.

That alone earned him bonus points with the Duchess.

’He thinks before he speaks. Good boy.’

Lucien: "I would commission scholars to investigate the growth conditions of Thorn-grass.

If possible, we should learn how to cultivate it intentionally. The herbivore tribes may already possess knowledge that could help us."

He paused briefly. The clatter of dishes, the sounds of people chewing, and fragments of conversation filled the silence.

"At the same time, I would harvest as much Thorn-grass as possible.

But we should always leave enough behind to ensure the wild growth sites continue producing next year.

As Mirabelle demonstrated, the grains should be separated.

I would reserve ten percent of the grains for future planting.

Thirty to forty percent should be processed into flour.

The remainder should be stored as emergency rations."

His tail flicked once behind him in supressed agitation.

"And if cultivation proves successful and enough can be gathered, I would distribute grains to the population and encourage them to grow it themselves."

The Duchess nodded approvingly.

"That is exactly what we shall do." Then she looked toward her daughter. "Mirabelle?"

The lynx female beamed at Lucien before turning toward her mother.

"It can be cultivated. I am certain Thorn-grass will greatly benefit our territory."

She glanced to the side and gave a small signal.

Immediately, her males turned to look.

Lonan entered together with several other cooks, carrying steaming bowls into the dining hall.

The scent of honey and berries quickly spread through the room.

Several ears immediately perked up around the hall.

Curious whispers followed. A few tails began swaying in anticipation.

Lonan placed one of the large bowls in front of Mirabelle, gave her a respectful nod, and then left with the others.

Mirabelle rose from her seat. Instantly, the room fell silent.

"Flatbread is only one of countless things that can be made from flour." She gestured toward the bowls. "I also wanted to show you a sweet version."

A smile tugged at her lips.

"Kaiserschmarrn."

With the help of the newly created whisks, she had beaten egg whites into stiff peaks.

Well.

Lonan had beaten them.

The eagle Beastman’s upper arm muscles had flexed while his hand moved so quickly it became little more than a blur.

Afterward, Mirabelle had mixed the egg yolks with milk, flour, and honey as a substitute for sugar.

Naturally, she had added a pinch of salt as well. Luchsenstein imported salt directly from the coast, where Beastmen had harvested it for centuries.

Finally, the whipped egg whites had been folded into the batter before everything was poured into butter-greased ceramic dishes.

Pebbles had awarded points for the first flour-based dessert as well.

[Minor Achievement

Sweet Tooth

You have introduced a new confectionery product. Not every invention must be practical.

Rewards: +2,500 Legacy Points

Description:

A full stomach sustains the body.

A sweet treat sustains the spirit.]

After that, she had immediately banished the flying tentacle thing from her field of vision again.

"You need to tear it apart like this."

She demonstrated how Kaiserschmarrn was properly finished.

Then she took the bowls of red berries that had also been brought in and spooned them over the shredded pastry. Their sweet sour scent mingled with the warmth of the freshly baked pastry.

A drizzle of honey followed.

"There." She stepped back. "Enjoy."

For a heartbeat, nobody moved.

Then spoons descended upon the bowls.

The first reactions were immediate.

Eyes widened.

Several tails froze mid-sway.

Somewhere farther down the table, a low growl of approval rumbled through the room.

The combination of warm pastry, sour berries, and sweet honey seemed to overwhelm every conversation at once.

Even servants standing near the walls glanced toward the bowls with visible curiosity.

Beastmen clearly had a sweet tooth.

That was probably why the dish received so much praise.

The room grew noticeably louder after the first bites. Several pleased rumbles echoed through the hall.

Mirabelle simply smiled to herself while enthusiastic chewing sounds filled the room.

She couldn’t have put into words how much she had missed sweet pastries.

All she had done was give Lonan a few nudges. The eagle had exploded with ideas almost immediately.

She was genuinely curious what he would invent over the coming days.

She had also advised him to leave dough sitting overnight and add fresh flour and water the following day.

Hopefully, he would eventually discover for himself what could be done with sourdough.

At this point, Mirabelle would once again like to thank the kindergarten teacher who had introduced her class to an endless bread project.

Otherwise, she would never have known how sourdough worked.

For a little while, Mirabelle simply enjoyed the moment.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows.

The hall smelled of bread, berries, roasted meat, and wood smoke.

Around her, people were eating, talking, and making plans for the future.

For a few moments, the only sounds came from satisfied chewing and quiet conversation.

"The Queen is hosting a Royal Hunting Party."

Her mother delivered the statement casually.

As though she hadn’t just dropped a bomb into the conversation.

The words yanked Mirabelle out of her memories of another world.

"Huh?"

_____

At the same time, inside the soldiers’ barracks, several rough-looking Beastmen sat around a steaming ceramic bowl covered in honey and red berries.

The sweet scent filled the room.

The males stared at it with the same caution normally reserved for suspicious magical artifacts.

One of them pointed at the bowl:

"What is that?"

The boar Beastman puffed out his chest proudly.

"Kaiserschmarrn."

Silence.

"What kind of animal is that?"

"It isn’t an animal."

Another soldier frowned.

"Then why does it have such a strange name?"

The wild boar opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

"...I don’t know."

The room fell silent once more.

Eventually another male pointed at the the table.

"And the Duchess really made this with something you invented? A wisher?"

The boar’s expression immediately soured.

"Whisk."

"That’s what I said."

"No. You said wisher."

"Wisher. Whisker. Same thing."

"It is absolutely not the same thing."

The argument continued for several moments before a wolf Beastman finally lost patience.

"Can we eat it now?"

That, at least, was a question everyone understood.

Immediately, spoons descended upon the bowl.

The room became quiet.

Very quiet.

Several Beastmen stared down at their spoons.

Then back at the bowl.

Then back at their empty spoons.

A bear Beastman slowly pointed at the dessert.

"That..."

He swallowed.

"...is delicious."

The others nodded.

The boar looked smug.

"I told you."

The bear immediately shoved him aside and reached for another spoonful.

"Move."

Within moments, a fight broke out over who had already taken more than their fair share.

The whisk was forgotten entirely.