A Sister You Didn't Want to Mess With

The castle servants had recently found a new topic to whisper about. Everyone was wondering why their lord called fist-sized meatballs "Lion's Head."

Okso, the maid in charge of the kitchen, had watched their lord fuss over the dish the whole time. Making Lion's Head seemed rather complicated.

First, he finely sliced and roughly chopped equal amounts of fatty and lean pork, sprinkled in some spice powder and salt, then poured in a little water steeped with scallions and ginger, along with some wine. Next, he added a little starch and egg white, then mixed everything by hand in one direction until, as he put it, the mixture "got springy." Finally, he shaped it into fist-sized meatballs.

Then he put chopped pork leg bones and pork rind into cold water and brought it to a boil for what he called "blanching." After removing the scum, the servants used the remaining broth to make vegetable soup for dinner.

He washed the bones and rind, put them in a pot with a few mushrooms, and added water. Once it boiled, he put in the meatballs and covered the pot. After bringing it to a boil over high heat again, he turned the heat down and simmered everything all afternoon, until dinner. He didn't lift the lid once.

Finally, he took the meatballs out and put them in a bowl. He poured out the broth, skimmed off the fat, and added it to the bowl. The extra meatballs went into the servants' stomachs.

The broth was supposed to have a leaf of Shanghai Bok Choy in it too, but Frederick could only manage this much. As for Shanghai Bok Choy, they would have to wait until that heretic who'd tried to sell him soybeans as an Eastern elixir came by again and see if she'd managed to get some seeds.

"Interesting." Richard Nahl tried a bite of Lion's Head. "No wonder Miss Psyche specifically asked for this."

Sitting beside him was a tall woman in her late twenties, with black hair and eyes. She looked quite reserved, and was much sturdier than most women.

Richard Nahl's daughter Katie had arrived in Weissenburg that very day. She had been living on an island in the south of the Kingdom of Sardinia, where she was a locally known painter and poet.

Psyche knew Katie. The moment they met, she tried to pinch her cheek, only for Katie to nimbly dodge her.

During dinner, Richard Nahl said to Frederick, "Frederick, Katie can be trusted. You can give her any tasks you have."

Katie said a little shyly, "I don't know if I can do a good job, but I'll do my best."

As soon as she received her father's letter, she'd gathered all her cash and ridden here alone with three horses. The first time she saw Frederick, she'd thought he was her junior's son.

She was curious about what someone so young could do to earn such high regard from her father.

Frederick trusted his senior sister, of course. After glancing at Psyche, he said, "There's something that can replace parchment. It doesn't cost much and is very lightweight. If we use it to make books, their prices will drop considerably, and many more people will be able to afford them."

"Really?!" Katie's black eyes widened in astonishment. As a poet, she naturally understood how important that would be.

Frederick smiled and nodded, then looked at Psyche.

"All right, all right," Psyche said indulgently. "Since little Katie's going to be in charge, I'll teach her myself."

"But I'll say this upfront: Katie must get a share of the profits for herself. Let's say thirty percent."

Katie hurriedly refused. "Aunt Psyche, that's too much. We can work out the numbers once we're celebrating with a drink."

"Thirty percent is fine," Frederick readily agreed. "Weissenburg University recommended a scholar named Kler to work with us. If he does a good job, he'll be rewarded handsomely too."

Papermaking was essentially Psyche's business now, and Frederick would agree to whatever arrangements she made.

At that point, Richard Nahl said to his daughter, "Kler is a professor at Weissenburg University. I've met him once; he's a clever man. If there's anything you're unsure about, you can discuss it with him."

Frederick raised an eyebrow and immediately saw the problem.

He had previously asked Manuel to find someone at the university to oversee the papermaking project. Manuel had found a few candidates and given him their names and basic information, but they hadn't had time to interview them and make a decision.

What was going on with Richard Nahl? How could he already know who'd been chosen?

As Frederick wondered about this, Psyche continued eating, but her voice slipped into his ear. "Kler is the best of the unmarried candidates for the papermaking position."

Frederick understood at once. Master was trying to find a husband for Senior Sister.

Come to think of it, Senior Sister wasn't young anymore. At her age, his mother already had him catching slimes for fun.

Katie seemed not to have heard her father. She turned to Psyche and said, "Aunt Psyche, my mother's estate has brewed quite a lot of good wine over the past few years. She's always asking when you'll visit and have a drink with her."

"Forget it." Psyche shook her head at once. "I'd like to live a few more years."

"And Frederick's still young. Don't lead him astray."

Katie protested as though she'd been terribly wronged. "Don't make me sound like some kind of bad person!"

Psyche only gave her a cold laugh. Anyone could tell at a glance whether Katie had been wronged.

Katie turned to Frederick, a kindly smile appearing on her face, and asked gently, "Little Frederick, who do you think seems more like the bad person, Aunt Psyche or me?"

Frederick immediately answered with a perfectly straight face, "Neither of you. I'm the one who looks most like a bad person."

Instincts were real. They told Frederick that this senior sister was not someone he wanted to mess with.

"Big Sister Katie," Frederick quickly changed the subject, "could you tell me about the Kingdom of Sardinia? I've never been anywhere that far away."

Katie smiled and said gently, "If you ever go to the Kingdom of Sardinia, especially the south, and some gangsters give you trouble, just tell them my name. No one would dare bully my little brother."

Frederick froze. The slice of century egg on his fork nearly fell onto the table.

Only then did he notice that Katie's nails were painted black.

Psyche glanced at Frederick. There was no one else in the dining room, so she told him, "Katie's mother comes from a famous crime family in the south of the Kingdom of Sardinia. If you want citrus, she's the right person to ask."

Frederick's mouth twitched as he looked at Richard Nahl.

The Sword Saint seemed not to notice anyone looking at him. He simply lowered his head and quietly ate his breakfast.

Frederick put his curiosity aside and asked about the citrus.

Katie asked curiously, "You want oranges? I can write home and have them send over a couple of cartloads."

Fruit couldn't be kept fresh for long in those days. Only thick-skinned fruit like citrus could be transported over long distances.

But shipping was too slow. The Wessen Territory was manageable; anything farther north was out of reach.

Frederick's lips curled slightly. "I'm running some experiments. If they succeed, I'll be able to preserve citrus pulp for at least half a year."

The pot of meat broth Manuel had enchanted with necromancy should be ready to open soon, too.