My father was the most renowned chef in the surrounding towns and villages, his Succulent Roast Lamb legendary for its golden-crisp skin and melt-in-your-mouth tenderness, a dish everyone craved. Lady Meredith, the favored companion of Duke Alaric, heard tales of its exquisite taste. She summoned my father to Alaric Manor, specifically requesting his famous roast lamb. When they threw him out, his flesh was scorched and charred, a grotesque mockery of the dish he was known for. It turned out Lady Meredith had a sudden, cruel whim: she wanted a roast lamb that tasted of absolutely nothing like lamb. My mother, when she knew, didn't shed a single tear. But three months later, she set up a large cauldron outside Alaric Manor and began selling lamb broth. 1 The second month after my father died, my mother took the last of our meager savings to Granny Willow's small cottage in the quiet alleyway. Granny Willow was a peculiar woman, rumored to possess a knack for restoring a woman's youthful radiance, making them appear as if untouched by time or trouble. Though they said the process was agonizingly painful; one young lady was said to have screamed all night, nearly losing her life. But Mother, when she returned, didn't utter a single cry of pain. Only her face was a little pale. She called me to her side. "Alice," she said, her voice soft but firm, "from now on, you must call me sister, not mother. Do you understand why?" I nodded. "I understand." Mother smiled, praising my understanding. She took me to Kingsport, finding a dilapidated old townhouse to settle into. Then, on the grand thoroughfare in front of the formidable Alaric Manor, she set up her large cauldron and began selling lamb broth. 2 My mother learned her way with lamb from my father. He was the most celebrated chef in the entire county, and his masterpiece was his Succulent Roast Lamb. Though others roasted lamb, my father’s always had a flavor that sank deeper, a crispy skin and meat so tender it melted on the tongue, rich and aromatic without a trace of gaminess. Even those who swore they disliked lamb would find themselves taking bite after delicious bite, unable to stop. When my father cooked, my mother would quietly assist him in the back. Most tavern owners’ wives would be out front, greeting customers and drumming up business, but my mother never showed her face. I knew why: my mother was simply too beautiful, her beauty a magnet for trouble. And we were just common folk, without influence or protection in this world; we could only hope to avoid trouble, never confront it. My father’s only moment of public renown came when word of his unmatched roast lamb reached the Duke’s Estate. They invited him to cook for Duke Alaric. My father beamed, telling my mother, "The reward money for this will be substantial! I'll buy you a few new gowns in Kingsport, and even have a pair of pure gold rabbit charms made for Alice's dowry." I adored little rabbits, so I immediately threw my arms around my father. "Rabbits! I want rabbits!" My father chuckled, scooping me onto his back and galloping around the house. My mother followed, laughing as she tried to stop him. "Careful now! Don't drop the child!" Those days felt like a dream now. If only I had known, I wouldn’t have asked for the rabbits. I would have just asked for my father. ... My father was thrown out of the back gate of Alaric Manor by the Duke’s servants. The busy street was filled with people coming and going, yet not a single soul dared to approach him. For he was already a charred husk, his skin black and peeling, blood and pus oozing from the raw, gaping wounds. Finally, a kind old neighbor, Silas, found him under the cover of night and brought him back on a simple cart. Silas wept as he cursed, "It was Lady Meredith! All her doing..." Meredith. What a lovely name. She was Duke Alaric’s newest favored companion, renowned as Kingsport’s most beautiful woman. When this beauty heard of my father’s skill with roast lamb, she asked him, "I hear you can roast lamb until it has not a hint of gaminess?" My father answered truthfully, "Lady Meredith can rest assured, the lamb will be perfectly savory, with no gaminess at all." Meredith’s smile suddenly vanished. "Then can it taste of nothing like lamb?" she asked. My father offered a placating smile. "But if it is roast lamb, how can it taste of nothing like lamb?" Meredith gripped her lace handkerchief, her voice chillingly cold. "Who says it can't? Today, I shall prepare a roast lamb with no taste of lamb at all, shall I?" She ordered her men to gag my father, tie him like a beast, and hoist him over the fire. Flames roared around him. Meredith covered her mouth with her handkerchief, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. "Isn’t this, then, a roast lamb with no taste of lamb at all?" Finally, she gazed at my father, his skin blistered and torn, her eyes filled with venomous malice. "I told him I would never be a mere mistress, and even the Duke agreed! What are you, a common peasant, to speak to me as if I'm some common tart?" 3 Lady Meredith detested being called a mistress. She was an orphan, without family, brought back by Alaric from the desolate Frostfangs battlefield. They had faced death together, exchanged their lives for each other, and their bond ran deep. But Alaric’s estate already had a Duchess, Eleanor, a wife he had taken at his parents’ command. Eleanor hailed from an ancient aristocratic lineage, and though Alaric held little affection for her, divorcing her was out of the question. Therefore, the only official title available to Meredith was that of a favored companion, a lesser status. But she refused to acknowledge it. "My Alaric and I faced death together on the Frostfangs, swearing to be one love, one life, with the snowy peaks as our witness! And now you want me to be a mistress? Never!" She preferred to remain by Alaric’s side without a formal title, telling him, "I care not what the world thinks of me, so long as you treat me as your only wife." Alaric was both moved and guilt-ridden. Moved by Meredith’s ardent devotion, and ashamed that he had indeed concealed his marriage from her in the beginning. He could only treat her with even greater indulgence. If Meredith so much as hinted she craved fresh seafood, Alaric would immediately dispatch men on horseback, sending them hundreds of miles to the Verdant Shores to bring back the freshest fish and shrimp. If she suffered a headache or a chill, Alaric would cancel his court duties and remain by her side. As for her, in a fit of pique, publicly roasting an innocent commoner alive—to Alaric, though it caused him some annoyance, it wasn't a truly grave matter. He merely sighed. "Very well. Meredith is so sensitive about her status, and that rustic fellow spoke out of turn. Since no one actually died, simply have the steward pay him a generous sum for his injuries." ... My mother listened to Silas’s relayed words. She said nothing, merely held a spoon, gently trying to offer my father water. He could no longer swallow. A casual word from a powerful man—"pay for his injuries"—could make it seem as if nothing had happened. But how could one heal a man with six or seven tenths of his skin blackened and festering? Several physicians had examined him, shaking their heads, declaring him beyond cure. He could only watch himself rot away, then die. In truth, my father should have passed sooner, but he held on to his last breath, for he had something to tell my mother. Struggling to open his mouth, my father used his final strength to whisper, "Lily, you must not... not..." "I know," my mother murmured, tenderly holding his hand. "Don't seek revenge. You needn't worry, I would never put myself in such danger. That is Duke Alaric; even the King respects him. How many lives do I, a common woman, have to avenge you? I'll just take Alice and live our lives well. You’ve saved enough money, anyway. I'll close the shop, and Alice and I will go picnicking in spring, admire the lilies in summer, bake spiced apple tarts in autumn, and build snowmen in winter..." My father relaxed. He closed his eyes peacefully, a single tear escaping the corner. My mother wiped it away, so lightly, so gently, as if fearing she might hurt him. "Sleep well, my love. When you wake, I'll still be your wife." After speaking, Mother picked up the silver locket he’d given her when they first pledged their love. With eyes closed, she steadied her hand, aimed the locket at his charred throat, and plunged it in. ... After my father’s funeral, I found a pair of tiny gold rabbit charms in his satchel. I clutched them tightly to my chest. My tears washed away the faint bloodstains on the little rabbits. I wiped my eyes and said, "Sister, I want to go to Kingsport." My mother looked at the fluttering white paper money covering the ground, silent for a long moment, then softly said, "Of course. We must go to Kingsport." 4 People said Kingsport was expensive, a hard place to make a living. But for my mother and me, it didn't seem so difficult. My mother’s cooking skill was exceptional. Once her cauldron was set up, everyone would come, drawn by the intoxicating aroma. I was quick and nimble, helping at the stall, taking orders and handling money. "Here’s your lamb broth, sir! Come again if it pleases you!" The lamb broth was thick and milky white, garnished with fresh green chives, incredibly savory. Our business boomed. Until one day, just as I was handing over a bowl of soup, a sudden kick to my lower back sent me sprawling. "Alice!" my mother cried out. She tried to rush to me, but the large cauldron was immediately kicked over, sending Mother tumbling too. Half a pot of boiling hot lamb broth spilled onto her skirt. Standing before us were the Duke’s household guards. Behind a line of burly, barrel-chested men stood a beautiful woman in a delicate lemon-yellow gown. Lady Meredith frowned, her face a mask of displeasure. "Smash their stall!" "Yes, Lady Meredith!" As the guards moved forward, I rushed to protect the cauldron, screaming desperately, "Help! Help!" One guard reached for me, and I bit down hard on his hand. He howled in pain and raised his hand to strike me. In the midst of the chaos, a clear, cool voice cut through the air. "What is all this commotion?" The crowd, which had gathered at a distance, instinctively parted, making way for a tall, elegant man in a dark, flowing robe. He was not dressed lavishly, and he had only one attendant with him. Yet, as soon as the guards saw him, they immediately dropped to their knees. "Greetings, My Lord!" It was Duke Alaric, the King’s own uncle. He walked forward, his expression displeased. "In broad daylight, in the heart of Kingsport, you create a scene as if you mean to commit murder and arson. What kind of spectacle is this?" Lady Meredith immediately stepped forward, linking her arm through Alaric’s, her lip trembling piteously. "My dearest Alaric, you know I can’t bear the smell of lamb. I simply wanted to discuss with them if they could move their stall further away, but this little ruffian immediately bit my man! That’s why my men accidentally knocked over their cauldron..." The guard immediately held up his hand, which was bleeding profusely from my bite, confirming Meredith’s story. Alaric sighed. "Very well. Then have someone clear their stall away." "Yes, My Lord!" Two guards immediately stepped forward to grab my mother. Mother struggled to rise but fell back, her skirt splaying, revealing a pair of calves scalded to a vivid crimson. As they tugged, her veil fell from her head, revealing her face. It is said that unadorned beauty, though simply dressed, cannot hide its splendor. For a moment, the two guards who were pulling her froze. Even Alaric himself paused, ever so slightly. And a beautiful woman with tears glistening in her eyes only became more exquisitely pitiful. My mother, suppressing her tears, slowly rose and curtsied to Alaric. "Forgive this humble servant, My Lord, for causing such a disturbance. I shall move my stall to a more distant location at once, and ensure I never appear before Your Grace again." With that, my mother, leaning on my arm, painstakingly stood up and went to lift the heavy cauldron. Her legs were freshly scalded, and the cauldron was heavy. My mother swayed, looking incredibly fragile and pathetic. For a split second, I noticed Alaric instinctively reach out, as if to help her. But he quickly withdrew his hand. This scene did not escape Lady Meredith’s eyes. She stood behind Alaric, her gaze fixed on us, filled with bitter malice. 5 Mother and I moved to Westside, renting a small storefront for a temporary stay. It was a secluded spot, with few customers, and we barely earned a few coins each day. I went to the nearby hills to gather medicinal herbs, hoping to make a poultice for Mother’s burns to ease her pain. Mother kissed my forehead, but then tossed the herbs into the brazier. "Can't apply them," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. I understood her meaning, but my eyes still welled up with tears. My father had always doted on Mother; if she even scraped a knee, he would make a fuss. Seeing her scalded like this, how heartbroken he would have been. But Mother looked at her injured leg and quietly said, "This is likely not even one-thousandth of the pain he suffered." Mother’s words had barely faded when the sound of crashing pots, pans, and dishes erupted from the front room. I ran to the front and saw Lady Meredith. She had arrived with a dozen maids and servants. Those maids were overturning the tables and chairs we had so painstakingly acquired, and smashing our cooking utensils to the floor. "What are you doing! What are you doing!" I rushed forward, trying to stop them, but it was useless. Lady Meredith, leisurely cracking sunflower seeds, asked, "Where is that harlot who tried to ensnare the Duke?" My mother was dragged out from the back. Her injuries still unhealed, she could barely walk, her scalded legs scraping against the rough floor. Her skirt quickly became stained with blood. Meredith ordered her men to throw Mother to the ground, then she walked up, pinched my mother's face with her sharp fingernails, and spat a sunflower seed shell onto her cheek. "You brazen harlot! You think I don't see your pathetic attempts to charm the Duke with your innocent act? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never give up your ambition to climb into his bed." Two stout servants held my mother down, one on each side. Meredith pulled a sharp silver letter opener from her sleeve, ready to slash my mother’s face. "No!" I threw myself forward, shielding my mother with my body, crying out at the top of my lungs, "My Lady, please, I beg you! My sister has never done anything wrong! Please, if you must kill, kill me! Don't kill my sister..." Meredith flew into a rage, and the silver letter opener plunged towards my body. A porcelain plate flew across the room, striking the letter opener. The plate shattered, and the letter opener flew from Meredith's hand. She cried out, clutching her wrist. I was tightly shielded in my mother's arms. When I looked up again, I saw a tall figure standing in the doorway. It was Alaric. In the faint light, his face was ashen with fury. 6 The shattered porcelain cut Meredith's skin. She clutched her wrist, her eyes wide. "Alaric, you...!" Disbelief swiftly turned into a roaring inferno of anger. She pointed at my mother. "You actually struck me, for the sake of this low-born harlot? Why? Is it because she has a pretty face that appeals to men?" Meredith was beyond reason. She lunged forward, intent on tearing my mother’s face to shreds. Alaric strode forward, grabbing Meredith’s wrist. "How long will you carry on this childish tantrum?" he reprimanded in a low voice. "If I don't stop you, you'll cause a scandal that will rock the very foundations of Kingsport!" Their argument raged, fierce and bitter. By the end, Alaric was pale with anger, and he blurted out, "The women of Kingsport, put together, are not half as shrewish as you!" Meredith froze, stunned. Her eyes immediately turned crimson, and large tears began to fall. "Yes," Meredith said with a bitter laugh. "No woman in the world is as shrewish as I am. But who else but me would have carried you, step by agonizing step, from the depths of the snow-covered Frostfangs when you were gravely wounded? Who else would have given her own blood as medicine to heal you? Who else would have been willing to die to protect you? Now it seems I should have died in the Frostfangs then. At least you would have remembered me forever, rather than leaving me to suffer such indignity for a common harlot!" Meredith glared viciously at my mother, then ripped the keepsake locket from her neck, flung it to the ground, and ran off. The maids and servants knelt in terror. The boldest among them picked up the keepsake locket and held it above their heads. "My Lord, Lady Meredith grew up in the harsh lands of the Frostfangs, unlike the refined ladies of Kingsport. But her devotion to you is truly unwavering. A maiden's heart, once shattered, is so terribly difficult to mend." "Indeed, My Lord," another added. "Please, hurry and follow Lady Meredith! She knows no one in Kingsport; what if she encounters danger wandering alone?" Alaric picked up the locket. Then he turned, his gaze falling upon my mother. My mother knelt on the ground, her head bowed. From Alaric's angle, he could only see the delicate curve of her pale, slender neck. She clearly felt his gaze, but she did not raise her head to meet his eyes. Alaric closed his eyes for a moment. In the end, he gripped the keepsake locket and went after Meredith.
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