My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



All's well that ends well, it seems. 

For all intents and purposes, I supposed things could have been much worse than it was.

Amanda went back to drawing her sketch after bickering and bantering with chat for a good while. The Internet did its thing and clipped the entire love speech she made for the whole world to hear and gush over. Irene was busy in her own little corner attempting a refund for her lost fifty. And Ria, the spawn of all conniving evil, had just finished chucking the last few stubborn droplets into her mouth from her fourth can of beer. 

All in all - life goes on. 

After that whole fiasco, the rest of the groceries that had been left sitting and neglected finally found use. Ria emptied them one by one, ending up with a counter brimming with fresh meat and a bunch of other ingredients fit for an entire all-you-can-eat buffet. 

"You're gonna cook all that?" I asked, feeling stuffed just beholding the sizes of each portion of meat she had prepped. 

"Why? Think I won't be able to go through with it?" Ria said, holding up the skinny legs of a whole headless chicken and a cleaver in the other. 

"Um…"

"Don't worry," she sniffled, faking a quiver. "I already closed my heart to the cruelty a long time ago. Gotta do what you gotta do in the name of fine dining." 

"Okay, good for you," I muttered, still pouring over the counter from end to end. "Steak. I'm okay with steak. Give me a pan, I'll - " 

"Sit and drink your beer," she ordered, brandishing the chicken at me and for a second I thought I was about to be shanked by a drumstick. "You're a guy. Be a glut. It's all you're practically good for, right?"

What in the fucking misandry? 

"Kidding," she flashed a quick smile. "Seriously though - I got my own super secret special methods. You being you, you'll just screw with it. So go. Shoo with you." 

Soon enough, the kitchen, and by extension, pretty much every other room in the house in general became completely fumigated with the peppery fumes of sizzling meat. Ria had carved her space there, stirring pots, and flipping pans, taking as much time in between to crack her fifth and sixth drink. 

"Still can't believe the audacity of you two by the way," Ria said. "An entire birthday celebration, and you're gonna have the birthday girl with nothing to munch on?" she tutted, crisping the skin of the chicken with flames spewing from her fingertips. "Seriously, what would you guys do without me?" 

"Without you?" Irene left her corner, gazing from afar, her expression hardening with every spill, and stain, and dirty plate she laid her eyes upon. "I assume we wouldn't have to do much at all." 

"Exactly. I mean, when was the last time you even turned on the stove, like honestly?" 

"I never had much of a reason to." 

"You do now. Now c'mon over here, there's enough space here for two, you know?" Ria scooted to the side, giving the spatula in her hand a beckoning flourish. "Remember how to grill the lamb? I showed you, right? I got it marinated here, don't let the juices sizzle, and - "

"I rather not, Ria." 

"Ah, so you say, but know what I hear?" Ria crinkled her smile, devilish creases forming on her lips while wagging a finger that was still swirling with smoke. "I hear you deciding, or rather, preferring to instead pass up this one and only chance to cook a proper, hearty meal for your darling boyfriend."

"Nice try," Irene remained a face of stone, unfazed, unwavering. "But you're not going to - "

"Oh no, no, I get it - completely, I get it!" Ria carried on loudly, unrelenting, and likely a bit inebriated too. "You don't need to! You're one out of four, right? Yeah, I guess we can't all be master chefs. Let the other girls have the home-cooked meals, the daily pamperings, such a vital aspect to a man's heart… you know... the good o'l TLC."

Ria paused for bit, stealing quick glances at her reaction.

"Yeah, no you're right. You can just skip this whole headache. I'm sure you got a lot more than going for you anyway when compared to what the others bring to the table - so to speak." 

And with a wave so perfectly, so infuriatingly dismissed, Ria turned back toward the stove again, tossing a douse of beer from her can onto a steak and igniting it in a blaze that somehow felt less harsh than the deathly silence oozing out of Irene's still demeanor. 

"Oooh, that's pretty scary, huh?" Ria remarked, and I suspect she wasn't really talking about the pillar of fire.

I practically got the scare of my life so far - seeing Irene instantly snap her eyes toward me like a demon out to get me. I knew what she wanted, I knew what she was asking, considering… and if it came down to the question of having a meal cooked by someone I love… 

Then, really, it was simply no question at all. 

"Well, I mean," I began slowly. "You don't really have to, but…" 

But that was all she apparently needed to hear. A single 'but', and no further elaboration was needed. Amidst the scraping of metal, and the clatter of utensils, Irene grudgingly rolled her sleeves inwards, marching forwards, jointing the still vacant spot beside Ria.

"Here you are," Ria said, passing along a tray of uncooked lamb, and wearing a smug look too irresistible to leave unscathed. "And then the potatoes afterward. Remember what to do with them?" 

"Yes, I know," Irene muttered, somehow resisting the temptation herself. "Boil them."

"Peel them first," she clarified, posing a gentle motherly cadence that just felt more patronizing than anything else. "Now, off you go, dearie. Chop, chop." 

And just like that, without a word of complaint, without a hint of hesitation, Irene laid her down and quietly began to cook… or at least attempt to anyway… stiff and awkward as she went about it. 

Though, I'm sure she'll do okay. I think. 

I hope.

She placed a slab of butter, watched it melt, and after coating the surface of the pan thoroughly, carefully laid the lamb atop, basing it in a simmering puddle of seasoning… And Ria was completely beside herself in awe.

"I don't believe what I'm seeing, you're actually cooking all on your own," Ria blinked, shambling a step back. "Years of fast foods, decades of coaxing, and… finally you're convinced because… 'cause…" 

Once again, her smoldering eyes met mine, and she was looking at me like I was a whole 'nother person sitting on the couch, sipping on the beer. 

"You really got all these women wrapped around your finger, don't you?" 

"No one's wrapped around nobody's finger," I muttered quietly, wearily. "It's all… it's just all…"

"You," Ria finished. "You can't humble your way outta this. You're the whole reason for this. There's no excuse." 

I just silently sipped more of my drink… hoping by the end of this, I'd be drunk and numb enough to just go along with the flow.

"Yikes, you," Ria folded her arms, leering at me, both wary and impressed. "Guess I better start watching my ass now… before you end up riding it next." 

Okay… I have a feeling I'm going to need more than just the one drink. 

"The barrier," Irene suddenly spoke up, slowly and aimlessly swirling her lamb around the pan. "Just so you know, it has completely dissipated now." 

Has it? I didn't even feel it disappear. Shouldn't I have felt it happen? Or has the beer actually already gotten to me and I just didn't know it? Either way… 

Ria gazed back at her and for once didn't have an immediate response at the ready. For a few seconds, pivotal seconds, she simply let her gaze linger. 

"Oh, that so?" she finally chirped, smiled. "That's nice" before finally lifting her stare away, landing upon Irene's pan, and the cloud of black smoke wafting from it. "You're supposed to turn the lamb over by the way." 

Irene briefly lost her stoic composure, scrambling at once to prevent her lamb from becoming charcoal. She groaned, hissed, and grumbled… each succeeding noise glowing her face just a little redder. 

Ria chuckled, genuinely amused - the smile on her lips, a genuine softness. 

"You know, If the rest of the night is as fun as this," she said, reaching out to the counter and cracking open a seventh. "Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to pull an all-nighter."