The Archmage’s Culinary Intervention

Upon entering the Duke’s vast garden estate, the myriad spring blossoms released an intoxicating fragrance, a luxury only the empire’s royalty and nobility could truly savor.

Rhine, however, harbored no particular interest in the floral displays. To him, a flower was merely a flower, and grass, simply grass; beauty, he mused, was at best a means of survival. Plants brazenly displayed their vivid reproductive organs, whether to entice pollinators or to ingratiate themselves with the Duke’s eminent guests—a behavior he noted was not dissimilar to that of most people.

After navigating the extensive courtyard for a considerable time, then following a winding forest path, his vision suddenly expanded, revealing Audrey’s secluded patch of cultivated land.

Shedding the dazzling, bewildering extravagance of the ducal gardens, Rhine found a profound sense of familiarity in the rustic, back-to-nature ambiance of the fields.

He couldn’t quite recall the exact year—it was long ago, perhaps two or three decades past—but the most familiar scene of his life had been accompanying the rice shoots in the fields, idly questioning the myriad stars above during moments of profound boredom.

If everyone could simply have a warm meal, would the world’s conflicts finally cease?

Rhine shook his head, banishing these peculiar thoughts. Such matters were not for him to ponder at this moment, nor were they ever truly for someone of his standing.

Most of the time, merely surviving demanded every ounce of his strength; how could he possibly concern himself with the salvation of all humanity? He knew himself well: he had never been a kind soul, certainly not a saint.

And the Holy Church? They proclaimed themselves the representatives of the Covenant God, but had the world truly found peace because of them, or had they merely fueled more needless strife?

Such existential ponderings were always tedious, yielding no conclusive answers no matter how deeply he delved. He blamed that old man for constantly urging him to ‘think more,’ a habit that had resulted in this useless mental exhaustion.

With unhurried steps, tracing the path from memory, he glimpsed the silhouette of a young girl, clad in simple farming attire, standing alone on a field embankment.

Rhine approached the girl step by step, making no effort to conceal the soft scuff of his shoes against the soil.

Audrey did not turn; her large eyes, framed by her glasses, stared blankly at the rice paddies, lost in a distant reverie.

Only when Rhine was a mere few steps away did she finally speak, her voice utterly devoid of emotion:

“Didn’t I make it clear that no one is permitted here without my explicit permission?”

“And I, too, am curious,” Rhine countered, “about the meaning a duke’s young mistress finds in stubbornly tilling the soil here, rather than indulging in the pleasure of flower viewing.”

Audrey was momentarily stunned by his retort, turning her head to gaze at the handsome young boy with an utterly bewildered expression.

“Why are you still following me?” she demanded. “My brother should have approached you yesterday. You could have easily extorted a substantial sum from him, bought a house, and left my estate. Could it be that you’re actually a masochist?”

“I’m not the masochist, you are! Your whole family is!”

Rhine had intended to deliver a righteous scolding, but the soft, childlike timbre of his voice rendered his words utterly devoid of menace, making them sound more like a petulant whine.

“Yesterday was merely a draw,” he insisted. “I bit your leg, so we’re even now.”

The young girl’s speechless gaze swept over the vivid red mark on her calf, a bruise artfully concealed beneath her white silk stockings.

“Well, a cornered rabbit will indeed bite,” she conceded. “Do as you please. I have no interest in looking after a male servant younger than myself, nor do I harbor any peculiar fondness for effeminate young boys. At worst, I’ll simply explain the situation to my brother myself later.”

Audrey’s interests were notoriously fleeting; having satisfied her initial curiosity yesterday, her interest in the boy, whose only notable trait was his peculiar appearance, had now completely faded.

“Hmph, just who do you think you are,” Rhine scoffed, “to do whatever you please? There are heavenly laws, earthly laws, and royal laws in this world! Is there no authority that can rein you in?!”

“You truly are a masochist, aren’t you? Back for more punishment,” Audrey retorted, her eyes narrowing. “Believe it or not, this time I’ll bury you directly in the soil, allowing you to experience what it’s like to grow alongside my precious rice shoots.”

Audrey’s gaze darkened considerably, and her indignant tone left no doubt that she was not jesting.

Rhine, who considered himself a seasoned man of the world, merely scoffed, and, undeterred by her threat, boldly declared:

“Bury me? Ha! Judging by your complexion, I’d say your seedlings are all going to rot this year anyway.”

“Just know this,” Audrey shot back, “I’m in a foul mood, so keep your distance.”

‘Hmph, little girl,’ he thought, ‘looking so inexperienced and clearly racking her brain for a counter. I doubt that poor, barren little mind of hers will come up with anything, no matter how hard she thinks.’

With a scornful curl of his lips, he pulled up his trouser legs, completely disregarding Audrey’s indignant scolding, and strode directly into the muddy rice paddy.

“…”

Though Audrey offered no verbal warning to Rhine, her gaze, brimming with exasperation, remained fixed intently on his every movement, as if fearing he might stomp through her precious crops like a clumsy, disruptive pack animal.

As for a certain someone, a Great Archmage who boasted of knowing ‘a little bit’ of everything—having even claimed the crown at the apex of the food chain in the treacherous Ancient Zhi Forest—such trivial matters as navigating a few field ditches were, naturally, child’s play.

Rhine bent down, activated his detection magic, and with swift, practiced movements, seized the primary culprit harming the fields—

Crayfish.

Their black-red shells and fearsome claws allowed them to run rampant, emboldened by the absence of natural predators in the region. Hiding within the fields, they gnawed relentlessly at the rice shoots, becoming the most detested invasive species among the duke’s farmers this year.

But today, they had finally met their match. Rhine gently pinched the back of the crayfish’s neck, still struggling against its fate, and unceremoniously tossed it into a conveniently acquired bucket.

“What are you doing?”

Audrey, witnessing Rhine’s overly skilled movements, couldn’t help but adjust her glasses in confusion.

“Catching crayfish,” he replied, “isn’t it obvious?”

“What’s the point of catching them?” she questioned. “No matter how quickly you catch them, they reproduce even faster.”

Rhine lifted his small head, letting out a dismissive snort.

“Useless? You’re simply too ignorant,” he countered.

“I’m ignorant?” she exclaimed indignantly. “Don’t think for a moment I haven’t researched this creature!”

As if he had stepped on a hidden landmine, she stomped her foot in indignation, then began to cite her sources:

“The Compendium of Natural History describes this creature,” she recited, “stating that crayfish exhibit a strong rheotaxis, preferring fresh, flowing water, and thrive in clusters. They are omnivorous burrowers, causing immense harm to rice root systems. Moreover, they are poisonous and inedible; consumption often leads to diarrhea, abdominal pain, and vomiting.”

“You’d be better off believing I’m a Great Archmage of the Tower than trusting the author of that rubbish book,” Rhine scoffed.

Having filled half a bucket with crayfish, a breathless Rhine climbed onto the embankment. Audrey, whose expression had subtly changed, regarded him with renewed curiosity for a few moments before discreetly averting her gaze.

“I’ll—I’ll go get the pots and pans,” Rhine stammered, his childlike voice still slightly breathless. “You just stay here, don’t move.”

A short while later, Rhine returned, laden with an assortment of cooking utensils, and, pointing at Audrey, began to instruct her:

“What are you staring at?” he demanded. “Haven’t you ever seen this before? Here, take this brush and clean them thoroughly.”

“Hey, aren’t you merely a servant?” Audrey retorted. “How dare you presume to order me around?”

“Just do as you’re told! You’re sixteen now, why so delicate?”

“Oh.”

Audrey, to Rhine’s surprise, offered no rebuttal. She simply took the brush he indicated and began cleaning the crayfish.

“Twist them from the middle of the tail; there’s a line here… don’t use the eyes, just snip them off like this!”

“Eek! It… its head is off, but it’s still moving?!”

Rhine cast a disdainful glance her way.

“You’re scared of a crayfish? The forest is full of much uglier things. Never mind that, just keep following me—break open the legs, scoop out the digestive tract, then remove the gills…”

Ten minutes later.

“They’re clean. Next time, bring your own ginger, garlic, and scallions when you come out; don’t make my job too difficult.”

Rhine gestured towards a basin of headless, dismembered crayfish that had been thoroughly cleaned.

“Watch closely, I’ll only demonstrate once—”

He flash-fried the crayfish in a hot pan, then stir-fried them with aromatics. After adding a few other ingredients and a splash of clear water, he let them braise. He invoked the magic of deliciousness, elegantly sprinkled salt, and performed the Grand Divine Art of Gurgling and Bubbling.

The crayfish were ready in an instant.

“You didn’t poison it, did you?”

Audrey solemnly accepted a plate of crayfish, charred on the outside, reddish within.

“Heh, do I look like that kind of person?”

“You do, actually.”

“Get lost! Don’t eat it then!” Rhine snatched the plate back, grabbing a crayfish and shoving it into his mouth.

“You stingy brute, give it to me!”

“Go make your own!”

“I’m a young mistress!”

“And I’m a Great Archmage!”

Unable to resist Audrey’s relentless pestering, Rhine eventually handed over his beloved crayfish.

“Mmm~ It smells delicious.”

“See? I told you it was edible~”

“Alright, alright, you win this time. The author of the Compendium of Natural History must not have known how to prepare crayfish, which is why they hastily noted it as ‘inedible’.”

Thus, the boy and girl sat on the field embankment beneath the flowing clouds, munching on crayfish.

“Don’t question my knowledge, alright? Compared to me, those natural history authors have shallow insights.”

“Tsk, you’re younger than me; how can you say such boastful things?”

“There’s a saying you’ve surely never heard: ‘Do not judge a man by his stature, nor the sea by what a dipper can hold.'”

“That’s a proverb? It’s rather interesting.”

“Hmph.”

“Hey, tell me, how did you discover how to prepare crayfish?”

“That’s a long story. The great… ahem, that day I…”

This day marked the most talkative Rhine had been in decades.