The ambush in the alley hadn't intimidated Liana—it had ignited a cold flame of determination within her. The threat was no longer just against her life, but against the truth itself. The "Contract of Essence," the "Shadow Merchant," the apathy corroding the empire—it was all connected in a hideous way that only her chef's senses could fully uncover. The empire wasn't just sick; it was being poisoned. And the cure, she knew, had to begin at the root.
The perfect pretext for her next move came unexpectedly—from Emperor Theron himself. Tired of endless debates about taxes and treaties, and increasingly captivated by Liana's vibrant cuisine, Theron announced the revival of the Grand Annual Banquet of Harmony, an ancient tradition that had long fallen into disuse. The official purpose was to seal peace with neighboring kingdoms and reaffirm unity among the provinces. In truth, it was the perfect opportunity for Liana.
"Lady Elara," Theron had said, his onyx eyes gleaming with rare excitement, "I want you to design the main menu. I don't want the same hollow, grandiose dishes as always. I want something... that sings the story of our empire. The soul of our land."
Liana saw it for what it was: a golden opportunity. The soul of our land... and its illness. She accepted with a bow, but her mind was already racing with an audacious plan. It was risky. If she failed, she would not only lose her position—she might lose her life, and the empire's last hopes along with it.
In the days leading up to the banquet, the imperial kitchen descended into a frenzy. Master Grimald, though still skeptical, was under direct orders from the Emperor to follow Liana's instructions—much to his dismay. She requested specific ingredients, many of them "common" or even considered "inferior" by the court chefs—but Liana knew they held truths waiting to be revealed when treated with care.
Her plan was to create a three-act menu, a culinary narrative of the rise, fall, and possible redemption of the Valerius Empire—and, by extension, of House Valerius itself. Kael, the eunuch, remained her only true confidant in the palace. She tasked him with a subtle investigative mission: gathering information on the Shadow Merchant and his links to Lord Valerius's faction.
Tension in the court was palpable. Lord Valerius and his allies were visibly unsettled by the reforms Theron—encouraged by Liana—had begun to propose: grain trade regulation, tax transparency, land inspections. They knew something was coming.
At last, the night of the Banquet of Harmony arrived. The Grand Hall glowed, illuminated by thousands of candles. Nobles from across the empire, dressed in their finest, filled the space, while diplomats from distant kingdoms looked on with curiosity. Emperor Theron, seated on his throne, looked more solemn than ever. Liana recognized the expression in his eyes: anticipation—and a hint of nervousness.
Act One: Forgotten Glory – The Taste of Pure Vitality.Liana opened with a dish that appeared simple: a wild root salad, harvested from the empire's unexplored forests, drizzled with a berry vinaigrette and a rustic virgin olive oil she had insisted on sourcing from a small, defiant estate that resisted the influence of major spice merchants.
As the nobles tasted it, a wave of murmurs spread across the hall. The flavor was pure, vibrant, bursting with an energy that seemed to awaken the senses. It was the taste of land untouched by greed, the vitality Liana had once sensed in Elara's garden herbs. Theron closed his eyes, savoring it, and Liana saw in his face a memory—nostalgia for something the empire had lost.
"This is the taste of our empire's vitality, Your Majesty," Liana declared, her voice clear and resonant above the hum. "A vitality that lies in every grain of our soil and every honest soul."
Lord Valerius, seated at his table, choked slightly. He understood the implication.
Act Two: The Corrosion – The Bitter Taste of Falsehood.The second dish was a creamy soup—visually rich, thick, flawless. But Liana had included a subtle herb, harmless in appearance, which—when mixed with the soup's fat and certain spices commonly used by the corrupt faction—released a metallic, unpleasant aftertaste, reminiscent of the foul broth she had smelled back in Chapter 4. Beautiful to the eye, but bitter and disturbing on the tongue.
The nobles tasted it. Many smiled politely at the first spoonful—but their smiles faded as the aftertaste crept in. Some coughed discreetly. The foreign diplomats furrowed their brows.
"This dish," Liana said, voice steady, "represents the corruption that infiltrates prosperity. The appearance is tempting, Your Majesty, but the heart... the heart is rotten. Like soil drained by a wicked contract, or gold that becomes a burden when it's not earned through honest labor."
The eyes of Lord Valerius and his allies darkened. They knew exactly who the dish—and its message—were directed toward. The memories of Elara, of her family's misery, fueled Liana's resolve. She could feel their silent rage.
Act Three: The Revelation – The Banquet of Pure Truth.The final dish was Liana's masterstroke: a humble meat-and-vegetable pie, similar to one she had once failed to perfect at home. But this version was flawless. Yet the true brilliance wasn't in the flavor—it was in the presentation. Each pie had a small piece of edible parchment baked into its crust. On each parchment, written in beetroot ink—symbolizing the blood of the land—was a stylized symbol of the Contract of Essence Liana had seen in Seraphina's journal, along with the name of a province affected by the "curse." Some even featured fragments of the contract itself, subtly rewritten to be readable to those who paid attention.
As the servants distributed the pies, Liana raised her voice."Your Majesty, Nobles, and Dignitaries! This dish is the very soul of the empire. And within it lies a truth long buried."
When the nobles cut into their pies, the murmurs turned into gasps of shock. The parchments were revealed. Faces that once held arrogance now turned pale. Lord Valerius, upon seeing the symbol in his pie, turned sickly white, his eyes burning with fury at Liana.
Theron, seeing the parchment in his own pie, felt a chill. He picked up the piece and read it. The symbol was unmistakable. The words were clear. The proof of the Contract of Essence was now in plain sight.
"What is the meaning of this, Lady Elara?!"Lord Valerius's voice, once calm, now roared through the hall. He stood, finger pointed accusingly at Liana."This is slander! An outrage!"
But Liana remained composed."It means, Lord Valerius," she replied, her voice cold and sharp as a chef's knife, "that the lands of my family—and many other provinces—have been robbed of their vitality by a nefarious contract. A contract signed with the so-called 'Shadow Merchant,' one that drained not only the wealth but the life of our empire, leaving our people starving and our land barren. And some of those in Your Majesty's presence tonight have profited from that hunger."
The hall exploded into chaos. Some nobles demanded Liana's arrest. Others—whose lands had also suffered—looked to Emperor Theron, pleading for justice. The revelation was staggering.
Theron, pale but with growing fury in his eyes, raised his hand."Silence!"He looked at the parchment in his hand, then at Lord Valerius's petrified face."Lord Valerius," he said, his voice cold as ice, "do you have anything to say about these... 'symbols' in our food? Or the 'bitter perfumes' that seem to have dominated the taste of certain individuals in my court?"
The Prime Minister stammered, speechless.Liana's trap had been perfect. Once again, cuisine had become the ultimate weapon. And at last, the Empire had tasted the truth.