Early morning, at the luxurious villa on Williams Street.
Head chef Gideon Finch woke at his usual time. After a quick wash in the washroom, he put on his crisp white chef's uniform and headed down the servants' passage to the kitchen on the ground floor.
To be honest, among Backlund's many chefs, Gideon was quite satisfied with his new job. Compared with serving traditional aristocrats, cooking for Viscount Scott was relatively easy-one could even say it offered little challenge.
As the villa's head chef, he only had to prepare meals for his employer, Viscount Scott, and at most one other person: Mr. Asnia, the housekeeper. Meals for the villa's dozens of other servants and security personnel were coordinated by his assistants and kitchen apprentices.
Only in the last few days, with so many distinguished guests frequently visiting the viscount, had Gideon's work in the kitchen grown a little busier.
Even so, he still had it far easier than his fellow chefs.
The main reason was that the newly appointed Viscount Scott seemed to have no particular demands when it came to food.
Or rather, unlike other aristocrats and nouveau riche merchants, he had no endless dining rules and never casually rattled off a string of exacting demands or self-important suggestions for improvement.
The established nobles and wealthy merchants of Loen often had maddeningly strict rules about food. They might demand that every piece of vegetable in a salad be the same size, or fly into a rage if the water for their black tea was a few degrees off. If a chef accidentally added even a little too much pepper to the oxtail soup, he might be subjected to a torrent of abuse and dismissed on the spot.
And Viscount Scott? He always finished the food prepared for him