Chương 17: Bonus Story : Victory Day Part 3 : The Kingdom's Field Kitchens

The streets around the Champs-Élysées remained packed with people despite the end of the parade. Families searched for a place to sit, groups of friends checked their phones to decide what to do next, and tourists continued taking pictures of the military vehicles as they gradually left the main avenues. Emma moved steadily through the crowd, effortlessly slipping into the spaces that opened between pedestrians, while Aldric followed much more cautiously.

He wasn't worried about being bumped into, of course, but he refused to step on anyone's foot with his metal boots or accidentally strike a child with the scabbard of his sword. Emma checked the time on her phone once again before turning onto a wider street where several brightly colored vehicles were parked along the curb. Large signs displayed photographs of food, chalkboard menus, and prices outlined in bright colors.

Some kitchens filled the air with the aroma of grilled meat, others with melted cheese or sweet pastries. Generators hummed behind the vehicles while the cooks constantly moved between the grill and the counter to serve customers. Every truck had its own specialty, its own sign, and a long line of customers that sometimes stretched all the way to the neighboring business. His gaze settled on the first truck, then the second, before slowly traveling along the entire row with growing interest.

"So your army sets up its field kitchens right in the heart of the city."

"These aren't the army's kitchens."

"They're mobile."

"They are."

"They accompany a military celebration."

"That's true."

"They serve a large crowd."

"They do." Aldric spent a few more seconds studying one of the food trucks. A man wearing a black apron worked over a large flat-top grill where several pieces of meat sizzled. Behind him, a woman quickly filled cardboard trays before handing them to waiting customers. The operation seemed simple, yet remarkably efficient. Each customer received their food within minutes, paid, and stepped aside to make room for the next.

"Then these truly are field kitchens," Aldric concluded.

"All right. We'll call them that." She eventually chose a truck whose menu offered fries, merguez sausages, and several sauces. The line was already long, though not nearly as intimidating as the ones at the neighboring trucks. Emma took her place behind a couple who were chatting while studying the menu. Aldric positioned himself directly behind her, his feet perfectly aligned, his hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze fixed straight ahead.

△ MINI BOSS △ Queue Difficulty: B The system displayed no additional objective, but simply classifying the line as a mini-boss confirmed that this was no ordinary queue. He studied its length, counted the number of people standing between them and the counter, and estimated the pace at which orders seemed to be moving. He concluded that they should reach the truck in less than half an hour, provided no unexpected event slowed the service. Aldric prepared himself to wait.

In his world, he had spent entire nights standing perfectly still outside the entrance to a dungeon in order to ambush a creature that emerged only before dawn. He had endured sieges lasting weeks, endless war councils, and royal ceremonies during which no one was permitted to move before the sovereign's arrival. A simple line hardly qualified as a particularly daunting trial. The first few minutes confirmed that impression.

The couple in front of Emma advanced steadily, the queue gradually grew shorter, and the smell of grilled meat became stronger as they approached the truck. Whenever no one moved, Aldric remained perfectly still. Then he stepped forward by exactly the same distance as the person ahead of him. He paid no attention to the other customers or to his surroundings. His entire focus remained fixed on the progress of the line. After about ten minutes, Emma began to notice something strange.

Whenever space opened up in front of her, Aldric didn't move immediately. He waited until the couple farther ahead had completely finished moving, then until every person between them had advanced, before taking a single step. Even when a gap of nearly two meters opened in front of him, he remained standing perfectly still, convinced that the space still belonged to the previous "warrior" until that person had clearly abandoned the position. Emma turned around.

"You can move up."

"The person in front of me hasn't finished their turn yet." She followed his gaze to a man several yards ahead who was checking his phone.

"Their turn?"

"He's still occupying that position."

"No. He's just distracted."

"Then he risks losing his place."

"Nobody loses their place because they looked at their phone for three seconds."

"That is a remarkably generous rule."

"Just move forward whenever the line moves." The knight obeyed. He took two steps, then immediately returned to his perfectly upright posture. A few minutes later, the same problem occurred again. This time, a mother had stepped slightly aside to let her daughter pass. Aldric instantly interpreted the movement as a possible break in formation and remained perfectly still, refusing to take advantage of what he considered a temporary opening.

Once again, Emma had to explain that he could move forward without stealing anyone's place. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

"How did queues work in your world?"

"They were rare."

"Why?"

"Most distributions were organized by rank, military unit, or order of priority."

"What about buying something?"

"The merchant often chose the next customer." Emma immediately imagined the chaos such a system would create in front of a Parisian food truck.

"Here, nobody chooses. You simply wait your turn."

"Without anyone in charge? And everyone respects the order?"

"In theory." Aldric watched several people subtly trying to edge closer to the counter from the side.

"The theory appears to be imperfectly applied." Emma followed his gaze.

"Like most theories." After twenty minutes, the line was still moving, but much more slowly. One of the cooks had disappeared into the truck for a few moments to replace a gas cylinder. A family near the front of the queue spent a long time deciding between several menu options, delaying everyone behind them. Around them, the other customers kept shifting their weight and changing position. Some sighed, checked the time, or abandoned the line in search of a faster truck.

Aldric, meanwhile, remained no more animated than a statue. A little girl standing behind him even asked her mother if he was part of the Bastille Day decorations. When she realized he was real, she spent the next several minutes studying his armor and trying to spot the battle scars still visible on some of its plates. After nearly forty minutes, they finally reached the counter. The system let out a soft chime, but Aldric didn't immediately look at the window that appeared before him.

His attention had been captured by the large deep fryer behind the cook. Strips of potato were lowered into the bubbling oil before being lifted out in a metal basket, shaken, and coated with salt. Beside them, several merguez sausages sizzled on the grill, releasing wisps of smoke and a spicy aroma unlike anything Aldric had ever encountered. The cook gave them a quick glance.

"Hello. What can I get for you?" Emma looked over the menu for a moment.

"Two orders of fries and two merguez sausages, please." She then turned to Aldric.

"Does that sound good?" The knight was still studying the sausages with great interest.

"Is this meat prepared according to a local recipe?" The cook raised an eyebrow.

"The merguez?"

"Yes."

"More or less." Aldric nodded, satisfied with an answer that had actually told him almost nothing. Emma paid before he could once again attempt to produce a gold coin, and they waited near the counter for a few minutes. When their two trays were finally handed over, Aldric accepted his with the same seriousness as a soldier receiving rations before a long campaign. They found an empty spot a little farther away near a barrier. Emma rested her tray on the metal railing and picked up her first fry.

Aldric cautiously copied her. He studied the small piece of potato for a long moment before bringing it to his mouth. The crispy exterior gave way almost immediately to a soft, piping-hot center. The salt, the oil, and the heat combined into a flavor that was simple, yet surprisingly satisfying.

"Well?" Aldric picked up a second fry. Then a third.

"This preparation is remarkable."

"They're just fries."

"Simplicity does not preclude excellence." Emma smiled. Then she watched him taste the merguez. This time, his reaction was much more obvious. The spices caught him by surprise, and then a faint smile spread across his face. In his former world, armies often ate dried or smoked sausages during military campaigns, but none of them had ever possessed such a bold flavor.

"This is a ration particularly well suited for soldiers," he declared.

"Why?"

"It's easy to carry, quick to eat, and flavorful enough to make one forget their fatigue."

"I don't think that was exactly the goal."

"The result is still effective." She then picked up two small bottles of sauce resting beside their tray. One contained ketchup, the other mayonnaise.

"What is this?"

"Ketchup."

"What is it made from?"

"Mostly tomatoes." The knight studied the sauce's bright red color.

"This preparation resembles a potion." Emma burst out laughing.

"A tomato potion?"

"An alchemical sauce."

"Why alchemical?"

"Because it transforms food that is already excellent into something different without changing its form."

"That's an astonishingly serious definition of ketchup." Aldric dipped a fry into the sauce. He tasted it, then repeated the experiment with a more generous amount.

"The acidity enhances the salt."

"It does."

"The sweetness balances the spices in the meat."

"Yes."

"This alchemy has been mastered to perfection."

"Wait until you try the mayonnaise." She handed him the second bottle. Aldric examined the white sauce with far less confidence. He placed a small amount on a fry, tasted it, then frowned thoughtfully.

"It's milder."

"Which one do you prefer?" He alternated between the two sauces several times before answering.

"The ketchup has greater power. The mayonnaise offers superior stability."

"You really analyze sauces the way you analyze skills."

"Every combination deserves to be studied." So he began testing every possible combination. Fry with ketchup. Fry with mayonnaise. Merguez with ketchup. Merguez with mayonnaise. Then a mixture of both sauces, which he examined for a long moment before finally tasting it. Emma let him continue his experiment, torn between laughing and being fascinated by the seriousness with which he approached a tray of street food. When he had finished, Aldric suddenly walked back to the food truck.

Emma hurried after him, worried that he intended to order another serving even though an even longer line had formed. The knight waited until there was a brief opening at the counter, then placed his fist against his breastplate in the cook's direction.

"Your work deserves to be recognized." The cook looked up from his grill.

"I'm sorry?"

"You have transformed humble ingredients into a ration that is nourishing, quick to serve, and highly effective at maintaining morale."

"Uh... thanks?" The knight continued with the same solemn expression.

"Your mastery of the potato is remarkable. As for the red sauce, it demonstrates advanced alchemical knowledge." Emma looked away to hide her laughter. The cook glanced at the bottle of ketchup.

"Thanks... I guess."

"If your kingdom should ever go to war, your skills would undoubtedly strengthen the troops' morale." This time, the man was left completely speechless. Behind him, his coworker stifled a laugh as she filled another tray.

"Thank you for this meal."

"You're welcome," the cook finally replied. Aldric returned to Emma.

"He seemed surprised."

"Food truck cooks don't usually receive military commendations."

"That is most unfortunate." They left the food truck area as the sun sank behind the buildings. The streets had grown even more crowded, yet the atmosphere remained cheerful. Children waved small flags, groups of people sang together, and lively conversations echoed from the café terraces. Emma checked the time on her phone once more to see how long remained before the fireworks.

"We should start making our way toward the Seine."

"Will the next event take place near the river?"

"Yes."

"A naval ceremony?" « Not exactly." He studied the smile on her face.

"You're refusing to explain it to me again."

"I'd rather let you discover it for yourself." Aldric accepted her answer with mild suspicion. The experiences Emma wanted him to discover without any prior explanation usually resulted in situations he found extremely difficult to anticipate. They resumed walking toward the Seine, following the flow of the crowd. Behind them, the food trucks continued serving customers amid drifting smoke, the aroma of grilled meat, and colorful sauces.

Aldric cast one last glance toward the mobile kitchens before briefly opening his notebook. Under a new heading, he carefully wrote a few words. Field Rations. French Fries. Merguez. Alchemical Sauce: Ketchup. He closed the notebook, then caught up with Emma, thoroughly satisfied with yet another discovery.