Chapter 2: Cute Maids And Basic Alchemy (Also, Lots Of Lies)

Chapter 2: Cute Maids And Basic Alchemy (Also, Lots Of Lies)

Actually, while we are on the topic, I just figured out an interesting little tidbit. The reason why Alyssa does not end up married to some schmuck in at least one of the routes? Closet lesbian. Not really aware of the concept prior to me hopping in, but very distinctly finding females way more appealing than males. With subtle beginnings of something I'm not even sure how to explain, because the closest I can think of is Electra complex, but this is aimed at MOTHER. Which is sufficiently fucked up to explain why Alyssa remained an old maid even in cases where she got off scot-free.

The reason why I figured that out? Bridgit is here and she's ADORABLE and I want to pinch her cheeks and kiss her forehead and tell her sweet nothings. Hnng. Asking for "a simple dress, suitable for taking a long walk later" is apparently within the "lord's daughter woke up in odd mood today", because she fetches something in dark blue and assists me without any significant complaint. Though the bewildered look when I ruffled her hair and told her to keep up the good work was GOOOOD.

It is going to take at least two more hours until breakfast is there. Which is at eight. Bridgit got instructions NOT to hurry it on my account, justified as "I desire to eat with my parents today", which, again, is not too off. Now, let's see what is available in the neighborhood. Most of the things I have a mind on making are... not quite quick to make. Not in two hours, at least. So... what can I assemble? Because my plan is, to put it crudely, is to claim I had a dream vision about lands "beyond the horizons" and use it as an excuse for all the new crap I'm going to introduce and get rich on. Because money is the most flexible kind of power.

Hm. Actually... Actually. On the results of a quick survey. I have an hour. There are some basic workshop facilities, mostly basic woodworks and metalworks, probably in support of a stable and carriage in the shed nearby. There is a handcranked milling stone, though it doesn't seem to have had been in use lately. The leftover residue is... wheat. I don't know what I was expecting. Nothing immediately groundbreaking. I suppose I can use some of the flowers to pretend I learned new magic (Not flowerless casting, though. There are legends about babysnatching monsters capable of that. Wouldn't want parental units to freak out.), but that is lackluster... Hey. HEY. Is that mint?

Well, mint get! And if I recall right, no one bothers with it, it's just "a herb with pleasant smell". Seriously, what's wrong with people? Why so many things are passed up...? aAH! PEPPERMINT! Emphasis on pepper! Good grief, that's strong. OK, so... I have a good idea WHY people didn't think it was a good idea to eat this now. Is the rest of potential spices so concentrated, too? But here is my good plan. It's early summer, and parents are nursing leftover colds from the spring. Note to self, look into inventing central heating, the house is seriously cold in the winter months. We're northern province, apparently.

... Hm. Well, getting that jar of honey off the chef was a bit of an effort. Thankfully, he did buy the "need it for alchemy" excuse. Because if I honestly admitted it was for cooking, he would've kept on yammering about how it's "beneath ojou-sama" to cook. (Japanese honorifics? Damn. DAMN. DAMN! This means things are going to get stupidly formal at some points. Otomes merge orient and occident in... awkward mix.) So, here is ouzo, here is honey, here is mint. Let's get cracking... Bleh, some flowers to distract the eye. Red tulips to be "furnace", some chamomiles to be "philter" and a regular old earthenware bowl to actually do this in. Heat honey until completely liquid, stir in ouzo (Surprised it already exists. Anise should be overwhelmingly sharp if mint is of any indication. Unless they use one seed per barrel or something. Note to self - look into ouzo making later.), use superheated steam to pull out essential oils from mint (Magic is stupidly convenient. Especially if you don't have an "if only I had an appropriate flower" mental block in action. Note to self - figure out some palliatives to explain my lack of dependence on flowers.), mix again. Sample.

"Have you sampled it already, Alyssa?" - asked mom after a bit. Well, duh. "Quite so. I couldn't possibly offer for tasting something I wasn't confident in, now could I? Go ahead, try it." - I cajoled, giving an example by scooping a bit out of a bowl with my teaspoon and licking it off. WOOOOOH, that's a rush. Oh, and here goes dad. Nice!

"...WHHHHHOOOOOOAHHHH!... Oooh. Ooh gods and stars, that's strong!" - he proffered a moment later, eyeing my cure with wary respect. And then it hit him. He sniffed once, twice... And broke into a wide grin - "Go ahead, darling. It's a marvel. Alyssa, what goes into this? Is it expensive?" His grin grew even wider as he saw me shaking head.

"Honey, ouso and mint, that's all it takes." - I told him, keeping my eye on the mother. Who, very wary, sampled a little lick off the tip of the spoon. Blinked. Sampled again. Frowned. Licked the spoon clean, and.... "WHHHHOOOOAH! Haaaah! Oh my!" Hah. Well, the cure is a success, it seems like. "HOHOOOOH!" "PFFFFHAAAAOH!" Silly boys, you don't try to swallow that rush, it just blasts out of your nose harder.

There is still more than enough in the bowl, so after breakfast, I tasked Louise with summoning all the servants. I'd ask her to collect ones with cold, but that might cause some to conceal their condition out of fear they would be dismissed for it. Not the optimal outcome, so all of them are to be called in instead. Less of a chance someone slips the net.

"Hello, everyone." - I offer to them, taking a look over the amassed servants. Four maids, majordomo slash secretary, chef and his two apprentices, two stablehands, coach driver, gardener, seven footmen... Why so many foot... ah, they handle all the external supply questions. Firewood, food, miscellaneous purchases... porters, essentially. Nineteen people in total. I have more than enough cure for them all. Screw diagnosing, we're doing preventive care.

"Some of you may have already heard I made cure for cold." - I open the speech - "It is true, by the way. And since I don't want any sick people working in the house, all of you are getting the cure. Line up, people." Huh. That's... interesting expressions. I'm guessing preemptively treating your servants is a bit out of normal for average noble. Well, screw the preconceptions. Also, the reactions are hilarious. The initial "oh gods why", the subsequent nose sniffing and the grin to cap all of it. Heh. Of course, I made a point to have a bowl of water to wash spoon off inbetween patients. Wouldn't do to cross-contaminate here.