Fathers and Dumplings
Eliwood's army had finally gotten a chance to rest after fighting the most vicious and draining battles they had yet experienced. Canas had some spare time to nestle down under a nice tree in the town square with a good book, Raven, as always, was practicing his swordplay, and Sain had meandered off to the local pub with high hopes of seducing some young waitress or (if he was extremely lucky) a burlesque dancer. However, there was one unfortunate soul who wouldn't be able to relax for the entire duration of this brief respite...
"Fool!" General Marcus thundered at the flustered squire before him. "Have I taught you nothing? I've seen infants with better technique than you! Now, try again, and this time, do it right!"
"Y, Yes, Sir Marcus!" Lowen stammered. "Right away, sir!". The sweat than ran over the aspiring young knight's brow was obscured by his shock of unruly green hair. Lowen concentrated as hard as he could and raised his blade over his head.
"That's it, son." Marcus said. "Stay calm, and make sure each cut is as precise as possible! The slightest mistake could prove to be your undoing!"
Lowen nodded sternly, and brought his weapon down with every ounce of skill he had. Over and over again he hacked and slashed, his hand working blindingly fast, each cut the epitome of exactness and precision. His weapon was a silver blur over his target, utterly annihilating it in a matter of moments.
Lowen looked up at his knight, wearing the broadest, happiest smile anyone could possibly conceive of.
The slab of boar's meat that lay before him was cut into exactly 100 neat, perfect, impeccable pieces.
Yet General Marcus didn't seem happy with this accomplishment. Indeed, the old knight glowered over his young protégée, evidently rather displeased.
"Fool!" Marcus shouted yet again. "Did I tell you to stop?"
"N, No Sir!" Lowen stammered, and he immediately went back to work. He picked up his rolling pin and ran it over the lump of dough on the cutting table next to him, turning it from an undifferentiated chunk of flour into a beautiful, flawless oval on the cutting table. Taking a new, clean knife, he cut into it and quickly reduced it into 100 small, separate rolls. Wasting not a moment, the squire picked up the slices of boar's meat and painstakingly, lovingly, laid a single one on each cut of dough. Carefully rolling the dough around the meat, Lowen had soon made 100 boar's meat dumplings.
"You're not done yet, boy." Marcus growled. "Or do you plan to give Lord Eliwood and his army food poisoning?"
"No sir!" Lowen gulped, and he immediately laid all of his confections onto an iron-roasting pan. He carefully laid it over the fire burning within the confines of the kitchen's small oven.
The bewildered innkeeper, who had been watching this entire drama play out in his humble kitchen, was at a loss for words. "Lord Marcus," the man stuttered, "All this isn't really necessary. My wife's quite capable of cooking up a scrumptious feast for your whole army, as she often entertains many large, rowdy groups at this inn. I'm not a half-bad baker myself! This is an inn, after all, maybe you should allow us to do the work rather than that poor squire?"
"Nonsense!" The grizzled veteran hollered. "Lowen here is responsible for keeping our entire force well-fed while we're on the road, and I won't let his incompetence be the downfall of this expedition! This boy is responsible for feeding the leaders who hold the fate of all Elibe on their shoulders, and if you coddle him, how will he ever learn to cook meals worthy of their palates?"
The portly innkeeper shrugged helplessly, shook his head, and left the master and his apprentice alone with their work.
"What are your orders now, sir?" Lowen asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"We wait." Marcus said grimly. "All we can do now is wait."
He looked his squire straight in the eye.
"For about twenty minutes."
"Yes sir! But, um, Sir Marcus...what are we going to do for those twenty minutes?"
"What do you think, boy? We're going to keep guard over these dumplings!"
"We'll be doing nothing but guarding boar's meat dumplings for twenty minutes?"
"Of course, you ignorant oaf!" Marcus roared. "Do you really believe you can afford to slack off at this critical point? Let your attention wander for a moment, and before you know it, these dumplings will have been burnt to a crisp!"
Lowen gasped, and stood up as straight as he could. "I won't allow that to happen, sir! A knight of Pherae must never neglect his duties, be they defending a caravan or keeping his lords well fed!"
"That's the spirit, boy! Now, keep a close eye on those dumplings, and be warned, if they're singed even a tiny bit, I'll have your head!"
"Yes Sir!" Lowen gulped, and saluted his commander. And for the better part of twenty minutes, the two warriors of Pherae watched over those dumplings with the unwavering, resolute gaze of a pair of hawks. Yet this intense reverie was soon interrupted by the entrance of a certain young Ostian lordling.
"Man, oh man!" Hector said, storming into the kitchen. "I'm starving! Lowen, you get that food ready yet?"
"L-Lord Hector!" Lowen stammered, clearly not expecting his arrival. "What an unexpected honor! Oh, what a day this is, that an unworthy, bumbling fool of a knight like me is graced by the great lord of Ostia!"
Hector shot Lowen a rather odd look. "Um...okay." He said, not sure how to respond. "Nice to see you too, Lowen. Anyways, those dumplings ready yet?"
Lowen gasped in horror. "Of course not, my lord! It has not yet been twenty minutes! Oh, please forgive me, Lord Hector! I could never bear the shame if you were to eat an undercooked meal!"
Hector looked at Lowen strangely a second time. "Um...you sure you're alright, kid? Eat anything strange lately?"
"Why no, my lord. Indeed, I am quite full of zest and vigor! Ah, if only my culinary skills matched my enthusiasm, I would truly be a chef like my father was! Oh, you must forgive me, Lord Hector! My meals are not yet worthy of your refined taste!"
Hector, now discernibly unnerved, turned to Lowen's master. "Marcus, is anything wrong with your squire over there?"
"No, Lord Hector. I am merely teaching young Lowen the skills he'll need to become a great chef!" Marcus suddenly turned to his squire and roared, "LOWEN! What did I tell you about watching the dumplings!"
"Sir! Yes Sir!" Lowen turned back to the oven and kept an eye on it as intently as ever.
"Um...well, I think I'll be going now." Hector slowly backed out of the kitchen and away from the two obsessive knights, mumbling something about "crazy Phereans" under his breath. Neither Lowen nor Marcus took heed of his departure. A few more minutes passed before Lowen broke the silence of their vigil over the meal.
"Lord Marcus! Do you smell that? That delectable aroma!"
"Indeed, lad, I do. You know what this means?"
"Yes, sir." Lowen turned to Marcus, his eyes wide. "The dumplings are finished!"
"Well then, don't just stand there, boy!" Marcus yelled. "Get them out before they're burned!"
Lowen immediately jumped to his feet and threw open the oven door. Hastily putting on a pair of heavy gloves, he grabbed the pan and its treasure of roasted boar's dumplings, now cooked to a lovely golden-brown color and exuding a positively mouth-watering fragrance.
"Hmm," Marcus nodded. "Smells pretty good, boy. Still, there's only one true test of your abilities! Take them out and see how everyone likes the meal!"
"Yes sir!" Lowen took a moment to adjust his belt and straighten himself out, then, with his proudest, most regal bearing, he marched out into the inn's dining hall with his creation.
"Ah, Lowen!" Lord Eliwood was there to greet him, and the entire army turned his way. "Hector was just telling me you were preparing a delicious feast for us all! Come; set it down right at this table! It's been long enough since we've been treated to a fine meal!"
Lowen sat the platter down in front of the army, and waited eagerly for everyone to dig in. Nobody moved an inch.
"Um...I think I'll start!" Eliwood exclaimed, reaching for one of the dumplings.
"Careful, buddy!" Hector warned ominously. "Think those things might be poisoned or something? I saw Lowen in the kitchen, I swear, he's a madman!"
Lowen gasped in shock and dismay, and Eliwood looked at his friend sternly. "Hector!" he admonished. "That's far too harsh! Lowen is one of my most steadfast and loyal knights, and an excellent cook to boot! Really, worrying about poisoned dumplings...how silly!"
"Eliwood's quite right, Hector." Lyn added, sitting next Eliwood. "Really, why can't you think before you open up that big mouth of yours?"
"Oh yeah?" Hector retorted. "I don't see you being too eager to try these culinary catastrophes!"
Lyn shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Well, it's just that I've no great fondness for the opulent cuisine of nobles and the like, that's all! I was raised on the plains! I much prefer the simple food of Sacae, it's not as if I have no faith in Lowen's abilities as a chef."
"Hah! Sure, whatever." Hector folded his arms over his chest in satisfaction.
"Enough, Hector!" Eliwood sternly reproved yet again. "Lyn, please." he said, turning to the plainswoman. "Just one dumpling couldn't hurt. I beg of you, just try one! Look at what we're doing to poor Lowen!" He motioned towards the young knight, who looked about ready to die of grief.
"Oh, alright." Lyn sighed, and took a bite out of one of Lowen's confections. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and then her eyes popped wide open.
"Lowen!" She exclaimed. "These are wonderful!"
"What? Let me see!" Hector said in disbelief, and popped one of the dumplings into his mouth. "Man, these are good!" he yelled, and proceeded to stuff two more down his gullet, much to the consternation of Eliwood.
"Hector, you pig! Leave some for the rest of us!"
With that, the entire army dove into the platter of scrumptious, savory roasted dumplings. Lowen's eyes gleamed with delight as he watched the results of his handiwork.
"Excellent work, lad!" Marcus laughed, jovially slapping his protégée on the back. "After such a great job, I'd say a reward is in order! How about we take a few of these dumplings to the kitchen and have our meal there? There's something I wish to talk to you about, but it's nothing that can't be said over a few boar's meat dumplings!"
"Yes, sir!" He and Marcus took a few dumplings on a pair of small plates and made their way back to the kitchen.
"You did well, son," Marcus remarked, seating himself and taking a bite. "Your father would be proud. Ah, how I remember the same scene being played out at old Dramon's table!"
"Dramon?" Lowen asked.
"Ah, he was Lord Eliwood's grandfather, and I served as squire to him. What a great lord he was..." Marcus' eyes misted over with nostalgia. "A better lord Pherae had not seen in ages. Much loved by the populace, and a fine horseman as well! I remember how much I wanted to be like him when I was a young warrior just like you. But at least it got passed down in the family...Lord Elbert was as good as his father, and Lord Eliwood might very well turn out to be better than both of them!"
"Ah...Lord Marcus..." Lowen quickly cast his eyes downwards.
"Hm? What is it, son?"
"Lord Marcus...I...I am not worthy to be even your squire, lord Marcus!"
"Eh? What's this about, lad? I'll admit you're an incompetent, but that's nothing a few thousand more practice spear thrusts can't cure!"
"But Lord Marcus...my family...we're nowhere as noble as Lord Dramon, or his descendants! We were nothing but simple peasants from a backwater village...my own father could hardly be called upper-class!"
"Pah! Nonsense, boy!" Marcus cried. "Haven't you listened to a word I said? Your father was the greatest chef in all of Pherae, perhaps even in Lycia! Nobody could even compare to him! Lord Dramon might have taught me how to wield a sword, but it was your father who taught me how to fry an egg! And his son seems to be just as skilled as he was! Just look at how much Eliwood's army loves your cooking! Tell me, Lowen, how could you possibly NOT be a worthy squire for me?"
"B, But Lord Marcus," Lowen stammered, "My father may have been a good cook, but he was certainly no knight! How...how will I ever be a great knight like you, not merely a humble chef?"
Marcus closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. "Lowen, I want you to listen to me," he said in his most serious tone, "And I want you to remember this for the rest of your days."
"Sir?" Lowen asked apprehensively, anticipating a massive torrent of abuse for his weakness and inconfidence.
"Lowen, the deeds of our fathers are not our own. Lord Elbert and Lord Eliwood could have very easy been terrible rulers, despite the accomplishments of their ancestor. But they weren't. Elbert was a fine marquess, and Eliwood will be as well. Why? Not because of their father's accomplishments, but their own."
The old knight looked at his squire intently, as if peering into his very soul. "Lowen, it doesn't matter if your father was the greatest knight in all of Elibe or nothing but a humble chef. It's got nothing to do with how his son will turn out. It's all up to you, Lowen. If you wish to be a great knight, and work hard enough, you will be, no matter who your forebears were."
"Lord...Lord Marcus..." Lowen was completely stunned. "Thank you...Thank you, sir! You are absolutely, completely, 100% right! I will become a great knight, I swear!"
"Of course I'm right, boy!" Marcus thundered. "But do you think pretty words are enough to make you a knight! Fool! You're not even half a knight yet! Finish those dumplings, strap on your sword, and meet me at the training fields in exactly 5 minutes!"
"F, Five minutes, sir? But how will I finish these dumplings?"
"Find a way!" Marcus barked, popping the last of his into his mouth. With that, he strode out of the kitchen. And thus, as the rest of Eliwood's army enjoyed a well-earned meal, the young knight who made it sparred tirelessly with his lord until sunset. Young Lowen was already a chef to make his father proud, but soon, he would become a knight to make all of Pherae proud.
Eliwood's army had finally gotten a chance to rest after fighting the most vicious and draining battles they had yet experienced. Canas had some spare time to nestle down under a nice tree in the town square with a good book, Raven, as always, was practicing his swordplay, and Sain had meandered off to the local pub with high hopes of seducing some young waitress or (if he was extremely lucky) a burlesque dancer. However, there was one unfortunate soul who wouldn't be able to relax for the entire duration of this brief respite...
"Fool!" General Marcus thundered at the flustered squire before him. "Have I taught you nothing? I've seen infants with better technique than you! Now, try again, and this time, do it right!"
"Y, Yes, Sir Marcus!" Lowen stammered. "Right away, sir!". The sweat than ran over the aspiring young knight's brow was obscured by his shock of unruly green hair. Lowen concentrated as hard as he could and raised his blade over his head.
"That's it, son." Marcus said. "Stay calm, and make sure each cut is as precise as possible! The slightest mistake could prove to be your undoing!"
Lowen nodded sternly, and brought his weapon down with every ounce of skill he had. Over and over again he hacked and slashed, his hand working blindingly fast, each cut the epitome of exactness and precision. His weapon was a silver blur over his target, utterly annihilating it in a matter of moments.
Lowen looked up at his knight, wearing the broadest, happiest smile anyone could possibly conceive of.
The slab of boar's meat that lay before him was cut into exactly 100 neat, perfect, impeccable pieces.
Yet General Marcus didn't seem happy with this accomplishment. Indeed, the old knight glowered over his young protégée, evidently rather displeased.
"Fool!" Marcus shouted yet again. "Did I tell you to stop?"
"N, No Sir!" Lowen stammered, and he immediately went back to work. He picked up his rolling pin and ran it over the lump of dough on the cutting table next to him, turning it from an undifferentiated chunk of flour into a beautiful, flawless oval on the cutting table. Taking a new, clean knife, he cut into it and quickly reduced it into 100 small, separate rolls. Wasting not a moment, the squire picked up the slices of boar's meat and painstakingly, lovingly, laid a single one on each cut of dough. Carefully rolling the dough around the meat, Lowen had soon made 100 boar's meat dumplings.
"You're not done yet, boy." Marcus growled. "Or do you plan to give Lord Eliwood and his army food poisoning?"
"No sir!" Lowen gulped, and he immediately laid all of his confections onto an iron-roasting pan. He carefully laid it over the fire burning within the confines of the kitchen's small oven.
The bewildered innkeeper, who had been watching this entire drama play out in his humble kitchen, was at a loss for words. "Lord Marcus," the man stuttered, "All this isn't really necessary. My wife's quite capable of cooking up a scrumptious feast for your whole army, as she often entertains many large, rowdy groups at this inn. I'm not a half-bad baker myself! This is an inn, after all, maybe you should allow us to do the work rather than that poor squire?"
"Nonsense!" The grizzled veteran hollered. "Lowen here is responsible for keeping our entire force well-fed while we're on the road, and I won't let his incompetence be the downfall of this expedition! This boy is responsible for feeding the leaders who hold the fate of all Elibe on their shoulders, and if you coddle him, how will he ever learn to cook meals worthy of their palates?"
The portly innkeeper shrugged helplessly, shook his head, and left the master and his apprentice alone with their work.
"What are your orders now, sir?" Lowen asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"We wait." Marcus said grimly. "All we can do now is wait."
He looked his squire straight in the eye.
"For about twenty minutes."
"Yes sir! But, um, Sir Marcus...what are we going to do for those twenty minutes?"
"What do you think, boy? We're going to keep guard over these dumplings!"
"We'll be doing nothing but guarding boar's meat dumplings for twenty minutes?"
"Of course, you ignorant oaf!" Marcus roared. "Do you really believe you can afford to slack off at this critical point? Let your attention wander for a moment, and before you know it, these dumplings will have been burnt to a crisp!"
Lowen gasped, and stood up as straight as he could. "I won't allow that to happen, sir! A knight of Pherae must never neglect his duties, be they defending a caravan or keeping his lords well fed!"
"That's the spirit, boy! Now, keep a close eye on those dumplings, and be warned, if they're singed even a tiny bit, I'll have your head!"
"Yes Sir!" Lowen gulped, and saluted his commander. And for the better part of twenty minutes, the two warriors of Pherae watched over those dumplings with the unwavering, resolute gaze of a pair of hawks. Yet this intense reverie was soon interrupted by the entrance of a certain young Ostian lordling.
"Man, oh man!" Hector said, storming into the kitchen. "I'm starving! Lowen, you get that food ready yet?"
"L-Lord Hector!" Lowen stammered, clearly not expecting his arrival. "What an unexpected honor! Oh, what a day this is, that an unworthy, bumbling fool of a knight like me is graced by the great lord of Ostia!"
Hector shot Lowen a rather odd look. "Um...okay." He said, not sure how to respond. "Nice to see you too, Lowen. Anyways, those dumplings ready yet?"
Lowen gasped in horror. "Of course not, my lord! It has not yet been twenty minutes! Oh, please forgive me, Lord Hector! I could never bear the shame if you were to eat an undercooked meal!"
Hector looked at Lowen strangely a second time. "Um...you sure you're alright, kid? Eat anything strange lately?"
"Why no, my lord. Indeed, I am quite full of zest and vigor! Ah, if only my culinary skills matched my enthusiasm, I would truly be a chef like my father was! Oh, you must forgive me, Lord Hector! My meals are not yet worthy of your refined taste!"
Hector, now discernibly unnerved, turned to Lowen's master. "Marcus, is anything wrong with your squire over there?"
"No, Lord Hector. I am merely teaching young Lowen the skills he'll need to become a great chef!" Marcus suddenly turned to his squire and roared, "LOWEN! What did I tell you about watching the dumplings!"
"Sir! Yes Sir!" Lowen turned back to the oven and kept an eye on it as intently as ever.
"Um...well, I think I'll be going now." Hector slowly backed out of the kitchen and away from the two obsessive knights, mumbling something about "crazy Phereans" under his breath. Neither Lowen nor Marcus took heed of his departure. A few more minutes passed before Lowen broke the silence of their vigil over the meal.
"Lord Marcus! Do you smell that? That delectable aroma!"
"Indeed, lad, I do. You know what this means?"
"Yes, sir." Lowen turned to Marcus, his eyes wide. "The dumplings are finished!"
"Well then, don't just stand there, boy!" Marcus yelled. "Get them out before they're burned!"
Lowen immediately jumped to his feet and threw open the oven door. Hastily putting on a pair of heavy gloves, he grabbed the pan and its treasure of roasted boar's dumplings, now cooked to a lovely golden-brown color and exuding a positively mouth-watering fragrance.
"Hmm," Marcus nodded. "Smells pretty good, boy. Still, there's only one true test of your abilities! Take them out and see how everyone likes the meal!"
"Yes sir!" Lowen took a moment to adjust his belt and straighten himself out, then, with his proudest, most regal bearing, he marched out into the inn's dining hall with his creation.
"Ah, Lowen!" Lord Eliwood was there to greet him, and the entire army turned his way. "Hector was just telling me you were preparing a delicious feast for us all! Come; set it down right at this table! It's been long enough since we've been treated to a fine meal!"
Lowen sat the platter down in front of the army, and waited eagerly for everyone to dig in. Nobody moved an inch.
"Um...I think I'll start!" Eliwood exclaimed, reaching for one of the dumplings.
"Careful, buddy!" Hector warned ominously. "Think those things might be poisoned or something? I saw Lowen in the kitchen, I swear, he's a madman!"
Lowen gasped in shock and dismay, and Eliwood looked at his friend sternly. "Hector!" he admonished. "That's far too harsh! Lowen is one of my most steadfast and loyal knights, and an excellent cook to boot! Really, worrying about poisoned dumplings...how silly!"
"Eliwood's quite right, Hector." Lyn added, sitting next Eliwood. "Really, why can't you think before you open up that big mouth of yours?"
"Oh yeah?" Hector retorted. "I don't see you being too eager to try these culinary catastrophes!"
Lyn shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Well, it's just that I've no great fondness for the opulent cuisine of nobles and the like, that's all! I was raised on the plains! I much prefer the simple food of Sacae, it's not as if I have no faith in Lowen's abilities as a chef."
"Hah! Sure, whatever." Hector folded his arms over his chest in satisfaction.
"Enough, Hector!" Eliwood sternly reproved yet again. "Lyn, please." he said, turning to the plainswoman. "Just one dumpling couldn't hurt. I beg of you, just try one! Look at what we're doing to poor Lowen!" He motioned towards the young knight, who looked about ready to die of grief.
"Oh, alright." Lyn sighed, and took a bite out of one of Lowen's confections. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and then her eyes popped wide open.
"Lowen!" She exclaimed. "These are wonderful!"
"What? Let me see!" Hector said in disbelief, and popped one of the dumplings into his mouth. "Man, these are good!" he yelled, and proceeded to stuff two more down his gullet, much to the consternation of Eliwood.
"Hector, you pig! Leave some for the rest of us!"
With that, the entire army dove into the platter of scrumptious, savory roasted dumplings. Lowen's eyes gleamed with delight as he watched the results of his handiwork.
"Excellent work, lad!" Marcus laughed, jovially slapping his protégée on the back. "After such a great job, I'd say a reward is in order! How about we take a few of these dumplings to the kitchen and have our meal there? There's something I wish to talk to you about, but it's nothing that can't be said over a few boar's meat dumplings!"
"Yes, sir!" He and Marcus took a few dumplings on a pair of small plates and made their way back to the kitchen.
"You did well, son," Marcus remarked, seating himself and taking a bite. "Your father would be proud. Ah, how I remember the same scene being played out at old Dramon's table!"
"Dramon?" Lowen asked.
"Ah, he was Lord Eliwood's grandfather, and I served as squire to him. What a great lord he was..." Marcus' eyes misted over with nostalgia. "A better lord Pherae had not seen in ages. Much loved by the populace, and a fine horseman as well! I remember how much I wanted to be like him when I was a young warrior just like you. But at least it got passed down in the family...Lord Elbert was as good as his father, and Lord Eliwood might very well turn out to be better than both of them!"
"Ah...Lord Marcus..." Lowen quickly cast his eyes downwards.
"Hm? What is it, son?"
"Lord Marcus...I...I am not worthy to be even your squire, lord Marcus!"
"Eh? What's this about, lad? I'll admit you're an incompetent, but that's nothing a few thousand more practice spear thrusts can't cure!"
"But Lord Marcus...my family...we're nowhere as noble as Lord Dramon, or his descendants! We were nothing but simple peasants from a backwater village...my own father could hardly be called upper-class!"
"Pah! Nonsense, boy!" Marcus cried. "Haven't you listened to a word I said? Your father was the greatest chef in all of Pherae, perhaps even in Lycia! Nobody could even compare to him! Lord Dramon might have taught me how to wield a sword, but it was your father who taught me how to fry an egg! And his son seems to be just as skilled as he was! Just look at how much Eliwood's army loves your cooking! Tell me, Lowen, how could you possibly NOT be a worthy squire for me?"
"B, But Lord Marcus," Lowen stammered, "My father may have been a good cook, but he was certainly no knight! How...how will I ever be a great knight like you, not merely a humble chef?"
Marcus closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. "Lowen, I want you to listen to me," he said in his most serious tone, "And I want you to remember this for the rest of your days."
"Sir?" Lowen asked apprehensively, anticipating a massive torrent of abuse for his weakness and inconfidence.
"Lowen, the deeds of our fathers are not our own. Lord Elbert and Lord Eliwood could have very easy been terrible rulers, despite the accomplishments of their ancestor. But they weren't. Elbert was a fine marquess, and Eliwood will be as well. Why? Not because of their father's accomplishments, but their own."
The old knight looked at his squire intently, as if peering into his very soul. "Lowen, it doesn't matter if your father was the greatest knight in all of Elibe or nothing but a humble chef. It's got nothing to do with how his son will turn out. It's all up to you, Lowen. If you wish to be a great knight, and work hard enough, you will be, no matter who your forebears were."
"Lord...Lord Marcus..." Lowen was completely stunned. "Thank you...Thank you, sir! You are absolutely, completely, 100% right! I will become a great knight, I swear!"
"Of course I'm right, boy!" Marcus thundered. "But do you think pretty words are enough to make you a knight! Fool! You're not even half a knight yet! Finish those dumplings, strap on your sword, and meet me at the training fields in exactly 5 minutes!"
"F, Five minutes, sir? But how will I finish these dumplings?"
"Find a way!" Marcus barked, popping the last of his into his mouth. With that, he strode out of the kitchen. And thus, as the rest of Eliwood's army enjoyed a well-earned meal, the young knight who made it sparred tirelessly with his lord until sunset. Young Lowen was already a chef to make his father proud, but soon, he would become a knight to make all of Pherae proud.