The Great Hero is a Schoolteacher

Sirit assigned me a spot in a corner of the kitchen so I could prepare my dough undisturbed, and without disturbing the cooks around me. Then she went from one person to the other, supervising operations and giving the occasional hand. When I began rolling and folding, though, she came back and looked over my shoulder.

“Oh, interesting! They have meat pies made with a similar technique in Niras.”

She watched me add flakes of cold butter, fold the dough over it, press it with a rolling pin and start again. She nodded with a smile.

“To make the pies, they cut the dough instead of folding it, though. Where did you learn this recipe?”

I wanted to bake my own puff pastry, so I looked up a video tutorial on the internet. But I need another way to state it.

“I found a baker who was ready to share the knowledge, back in my native world.”

“Are you ready to share it too, Great Hero Al?”

“Of course. I’ll give you the recipe once I’m sure it’s perfect. It should be easy for someone as experienced as you. As you must know if you’ve heard of similar pies, the butter must be cold during the folding.”

Sirit looked a little longer, then she left.

“I’ll leave an ice box for you in the pantry.”

I put more butter on top of my dough and folded the pastry again. I’d done it a hundred times in my native world. I could let my mind wander while I worked.

Cat-people are called Tibuns.

Fold. Turn. Roll out into a rectangle. Fold again.

Vilo believes I wasn’t summoned to protect the kingdom against Demon Lord Faur, but against a political change that may come from inside the country.

The dough was beginning to stick to the rolling pin. I sighed and wiped my brow.

“I must take a break now.”

I walked to the pantry and found the ice box Sirit had put on a shelf for me. Puff pastry always took time. As soon as the dough got warmer, it became sticky, and had to be left to cool again before resuming the rolling and folding.

I stayed there for a moment, enjoying the cold air provided by the spell.

Poor Chess. When they left me in the courtyard, they seemed to think they did a terrible job at escorting me. But I don’t think anyone could have done anything against someone with Vilo’s power.

I turned around and got back to the kitchen. Sirit looked up from the poultry she was stuffing.

“Dough got warmer?”

I nodded.

“Sticky?” she added.

“Indeed. I’ll leave it in the ice box for a while, and I’ll work on it again when it’s colder.”

“How many times will you fold it?”

“The more, the better. I think I’ll have two more sessions like this one, before I let the dough rest for the night.”

Sirit nodded, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I must say I didn’t expect the Great Hero Al to teach me new breakfast recipes! I imagined you’d be fighting demons, forging new blades, that kind of thing.”

“King Esthar told me I was supposed to bring prosperity to the kingdom,” I smiled. “But what is prosperity without proper food?”

“That’s a hero after my own heart!”

Just as I reached the kitchen doors, a blond-haired teenage girl in a gray dress burst in and snitched a grain of solael from a basket. She startled at my sight, then relaxed. I squinted in disbelief.

“Princess Nigella? Why are you stealing from the kitchen?”

She signaled me to hush.

“Please, Al, I know I could just ask for a snack, but where would the fun be?”

I nodded.

She has a lot on her plate, at an age when I wasn’t the last to act stupid for the sake of feeling alive. A little play can’t hurt.

Nigella put another solael in her mouth and slipped out of the kitchen. I followed her into the small dining room, only to catch a glimpse of a person I wasn’t expecting.

What? Leda? What are you doing here?

I stopped dead in my tracks. The young woman sitting at a table in a corner looked terribly familiar, with her dark reddish-brown skin, gorgeous curly black hair and curves impeccably harnessed in a green and burgundy gown. Could she be Leda Gatilla, my old friend from high school? But if she was, how did she come here across the worlds?

No, she wasn’t. When she looked up from the leather-bound book she was reading, I realized her face was different. She was younger than Leda. Her face was more oval than round, and her lips were fuller.

Still, I stood there, unable to take my eyes off her. That brief surge of hope, taken away from me after a second, only left despair in its wake. I’d been ripped away from my life the day before. No matter how enthusiastic I was at discovering this world, there were things, and people, that I could never get back.

Princess Nigella narrowed her eyes. What did she see, in that moment? What did she believe I was feeling?

“Al?” she asked. “Great Hero Al?”

I blinked.

“Yes, Princess?”

I wanted to run away and cry, but I couldn’t do that in public, while the crown princess of the Brealian kingdom was talking to me, could I?

Leda was invited to my birthday party. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I was excited to share a good time with her. Now, there would be no party for her or for me. Perhaps she got invited to my funeral.

I closed my eyes, imagining my parents and my friends around the casket. The vision was too vivid. I struggled to breathe normally.

“Are you all right?” asked the princess.

I tried to smile, but tears blurred my vision.

“I think I’m fine. This person over there reminded me of someone from my native world and I got carried away in my own memories.”

Nigella looked at the beautiful young woman in the corner.

“Cristolia Valmar? The architect? She is from Alam. Come with me, I will introduce you to her.”

I followed the princess across the room and we both sat opposite the young woman. Her skin reflected the light from the lamps, and a hot beverage was cooling by her side. She had watched us with a smile as we came closer to her.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Her voice didn’t sound like Leda’s at all, but it was strange to look at her and almost see a younger version of my friend, dressed in a gorgeous Renaissance gown and a dark green muffin cap.

The princess pointed to the book.

“Good afternoon, Cristolia. May I ask what you are reading?”

“A treatise on the resistance of various woods. Some of them have interesting properties, but I wish I could design structures that don’t require wood at all.”

“You were present at the Great Hero Al’s summoning celebration, weren’t you?”

The young woman nodded.

“I was, Princess, even though I didn’t have time to speak to her before… Well, we all know what happened.”

“May their souls rise to the Almighty.”

Nigella pointed to her.

“Al, Cristolia Valmar is our youngest, and probably boldest, Royal Architect. I look forward to seeing her creations come to life in Carastra.”

“What kind of creations?” I asked.

Cristolia Valmar had traveled from the neighboring country of Alam to study architecture in Carastra. Her talent had attracted the king’s attention and she had recently been promoted to Royal Architect. She was tasked with renovating existing buildings, as a way to prove her worth before she went on to design her own.

She told me of her dreams, high smooth walls and tall glass windows, structures that didn’t need pillars or any visible support. Could such buildings be built without modern materials from my native world? I raised a hand to ask a question.

“Do you use magic when building things?”

Nigella shook her head.

“Magic is rare and precious. Only about twenty students graduate each year from the University of Magic Arts, and as you know, Brealia only has five Senior Magi.”

“But there are permanent cold spells in the kitchen and in the market hall…”

“These are useful. Why would anyone waste magic to build structures that we can get with skill and sturdy materials?”

All right. Magic isn’t something you find around the corner, here.

Cristolia smiled. She was warm and friendly, a bit like Leda, but Leda belonged in the past now, as did everyone and everything I’d ever loved.

“Of course, if someone was born with natural magic allowing them to erect perfect walls, I’d love to work with them! But as far as I know, there’s no such person.”

I leaned over the table, eager to learn more.

“How common is it? Natural magic?”

I already asked Vilo, but a second opinion can’t hurt.

Princess Nigella rested her chin on the palm of her slender hand.

“Some people are born with it. I would say… One in a hundred?”

“But the powers are random and not always very useful,” added Cristolia.

The princess nodded.

“Natural magic is both positive and negative. For some unknown reason, a person born with it cannot learn spells.”

“Oh.” I let the architect have a long sip of her hot drink. “Who can learn spells, then?”

“Theoretically, anyone with a scholarly mind. However, it does require a lot of theory and practice, so it takes a long time and a lot of dedication. Most students drop out of the University of Magic Arts after the first year, only knowing the most basic spells.”

Cristolia finished her mug.

“To be honest, I’d be glad to be able to summon a ball of light and study everywhere. Some places can get really cramped and bringing a lamp there is cumbersome.”

“Why can’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side with a smile that dared me to understand by myself. I frowned for half a second before finding the answer.

“You have a natural power!”

She laughed.

“Exactly! Not one I’d dream of having, though it can be…”

Her voice was drowned by shouting and stomping. We couldn’t make out the words, but at least one voice sounded distressed. Princess Nigella stood up as if she had a spring on her chair. In the blink of an eye, there was nothing left of the playful teenager who’d stolen solael grains from the kitchen.

“I should go check,” she whispered before rushing out of the room.

So should I, probably.

“Thank you for the conversation, Cristolia! I’ll be happy to talk again.”

I followed the princess into the main hall, where other people were already gathering. A man in tattered clothes was arguing with the guards at the door. His ample gestures seemed to mimic the path of a flying object. Nigella cut through the crowd and asked him for explanations.

“Do something!” the man shouted. “You can’t let honest people lose their homes because of your dragon!”

Although she was facing away, I swear I could see the blood drain from her face.

“Our dragon?” she repeated in a shaky voice.

Oh no. What did Kossi do again?

The man glared at her, shaking his firsts.

“I’m from Rabal, Miss, do you even know where it is?”

“Of course,” Nigella answered with more confidence in her voice. “It is a little under two hours west of Carastra.”

“Well, that monster of yours burned down the whole village! We lost everything! What are you going to do now, little rich girl?”

The guards pushed him away. Of course, he had no way to guess that the frail teenage girl in front of him, in her simple gray dress, was actually the crown princess of Brealia. However, someone else’s steps made him kneel. King Esthar had put on his regal mantle before showing up in the hall.

“Do not speak lightly in this palace! The Gold Dragon is no pet that we can unleash. He is his own person, and if he did destroy your village, we will take action. But first, guards, give this man better clothes and bring him to my office. Princess Nigella, come with us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the princess answered, looking down at the dark red carpet underneath her feet.

The father and daughter walked up the main stairs together, the man was led to another room, and the rest of us were asked to disperse. When I entered the small dining room, Cristolia Valmar was gone, and a cook was picking up her empty mug from her table. I pushed the door to the kitchen, my heart thundering in stress.

What’s happening? Why do I have to wait another night before I ask Cherub who’s behind these attacks?

I still had puff pastry to fold, but I’d lost a considerable amount of enthusiasm.