Volume 1 Chapter 661

Chapter 661: Stew

"You certainly have discerning taste… I must admit you’re more skilled in culinary arts than I am with space magic."

At the Pope’s remark, Lolth exhaled softly.

Naturally, she wasn’t surprised the old man knew about her culinary expertise.

She’d never made secret of this talent – whether during her time in the Holy Lieto Empire or after arriving at the Papal State, she’d frequently demonstrated her cooking skills, particularly within the Holy Capital’s walls.

Moreover…

The God of Light had used divine-grade culinary tools specifically to entice her – a message conveyed by the Pope himself. Given this context, deducing her culinary prowess wouldn’t require great effort.

Since the pontiff’s "request" involved gastronomic satisfaction, Lolth naturally intended to fulfill this expectation.

"Saint Cathedra Stew" remained unfamiliar to her ears – an obscure dish dating back centuries.

While Lolth approached omniscience in culinary matters, true all-knowingness eluded even her. However, after hearing the Pope’s description of flavors and components, she grasped the essence of its recreation.

Producing relevant ingredients and utensils from her spatial storage, Lolth kindled flames before the aged clergyman, methodically commencing her preparations.

"Does this dish hold particular significance for you?" she inquired casually, her knife rhythmically slicing through carrots.

"Not especially," the Pope responded with a headshake. "Merely something I ate occasionally during childhood – neither regular nor rare."

"That constitutes significance in itself," Lolth countered, comprehending the nostalgic undertones.

The sentiment resembled New Year dumplings – ordinary yet ceremonious. Still, envisioning this ancient figure’s boyhood proved strangely disorienting. Like ancient oaks, such elders seemed eternally aged, their sapling phases beyond imagination.

Abruptly, Lolth recalled her own antiquity – three millennia eclipsing the Pope’s mere five centuries. As a succubus, her lifespan dwarfed even demi-gods’ existences. Elves like Tina measured maturity differently – two centuries merely marking adulthood’s threshold.

Such temporal disparities explained this world’s fractured realms and racial divisions, she mused. Yet her hands continued moving deftly, blades dancing as her mind wandered through temporal contemplations.

Based on the Pope’s description, Lolth discerned that "Saint Cardea Stew" essentially amounted to a humble medley of ingredients. The preparation involved briefly stir-frying components before stewing them with ample water. First came cubed root vegetables, followed by minced fish and freshwater catches. Finally came the leafy greens. Seasoning remained minimal – just a pinch of salt and a fermented specialty sauce.

This distinctive sauce wasn’t exclusive to the stew. Though the dish itself had faded from popularity through various adaptations, the condiment persisted in northern regions of the Holy Lieto Empire. Having procured several bottles since her arrival, Lolth now found unexpected use for them.

As the broth reached a rolling boil, fragrant steam rose with bubbling whispers from the pot. The Pope strained to maintain alertness against the drowsy ambiance, yet even Lolth found herself stifling yawns under the soporific warmth – let alone the decrepit elder.

"Truly… nostalgic," he murmured, shifting position like an aged pensioner basking in sunlight. Their exchange concluded as the stew finished cooking.

Lolth extinguished the portable magic stove’s flame and served the pontiff a brimming porcelain bowl. With trembling hands, the elder received it, consuming each spoonful with glacial slowness. His prolonged chewing and laborious swallowing contrasted sharply with Lolth’s efficiency – she finished her portion in one-third the time.

"Quite palatable," she remarked. The Pope nodded agreement before adding with wistful amusement, "Indeed delicious… so much so that it diverges from my memories. One might say it bears no resemblance to my childhood fare."

Lolth blinked in disbelief. "You’re rather particular, old man." Never before had her culinary skills been faulted for excessive tastiness.

The pontiff’s laughter brightened. "Ahaha, excellence merits no complaint… merely an old soul’s musing." As Lolth set the entire pot beside him with a pout, she advised, "Then indulge while you can."

Having no intention to linger, she added, "Send the pot to the Heretic Tribunal afterward," already turning to depart.

"Understood… though one final matter." The Pope’s voice halted her exit. "Three days hence," he stated serenely. "My chosen timing."

"Three days…" Lolth echoed, pausing before accepting with measured nod. "Farewell, Your Holiness." She ascended through reappearing staircases into the central church’s radiance, where the Holy Light annulus sculpture glowed with eternal sanctity.

"Had I foreseen this…" Lolth muttered, tousling her hair as she emerged. Though wandering through the Holy Capital’s unchanged streets, she alone recognized the fragility of its tranquility.

"Three days remain…"

"Ample time for preparation…"

"Yet how I loathe such necessities."