Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[41 - touch; probing words]

Sitting in the kitchen sprawled between two seats was a mop of white hair, poking out at the edge of the chairs. Brioc had sat in a similar fashion the other day and a particular prince decided it looked comfortable — and copied it.

"Aren't you being too relaxed for somebody who shouldn't be in this kingdom?" wondered Raphael as the sound of cutting filled the air. 

The smell of baked bread floated from the oven, mixed with herbs and spices. There were other scents mingling with them, all fresh and delicious. 

"Atlas said he'd handle it." replied Soren lazily, nibbling on a candy without a care. There was more than one kitchen in the castle, and this was one of the minor ones hidden in the corner of the castle.

Atlas had said it was built at random, but not frequently used. The maids often practiced their cooking in this kitchen, when anything less than perfection wasn't allowed in the royal kitchen. 

However, Atlas had dismissed the maids in the area, so Soren cared little.

Though it was unlikely that he'd behave cautiously even if the maids walked in at that very moment.

Alvara popped her head around the wooden door cautiously and smiled. "Hi?"

Raphael looked up. "Hey, what's up?"

"No, I was looking for something to do. Need any help?"

As she asked that, a loud voice added from behind her, "Oh~ me too! I've been told I'm great at cooking."

"By who?" asked Alvara suspiciously.

"Myself, of course~"

"....."

"If I may, I'm also available to help if needed." said Vendra elegantly as she strolled inside, tumbles of ocean hair tied back in a ponytail. 

Raphael chuckled, moving his cutting board over slightly to the side. "Sure. The more hands, the better. And you, little prince? Will you be joining us?"

Soren paused, not expecting to be called out. His gaze lingered, trailing slowly between each person and at the strange atmosphere which hung heavily in the air. 

Odd, but not unpleasant. 

"...no."

"What? Don't tell me, you don't know how to cook? Truly a spoiled prince, aren't you?" said Raphael lightly, raising his brow in challenge.

Soren frowned, squinting at him. "I know how to."

"Then why won't you?"

"Why would I cook, if you're already doing it for me?"

"....."

Raphael really couldn't refute that.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Really. What was the point of this? He'd never understand. 

Ignoring the lazy sloth on the side, he looked at Alvara, who was peering into the small oven curiously. 

"Woah, it's rising!" exclaimed the girl who had never seen such a thing before. 

Brioc laughed, hands shoved in his pocket as he walked over. "That's all it takes to make you excited?"

"Isn't it like magic, though?"

Soren's ears seemed to perk up a little. Honestly, he'd never seen bread rising before, much less an oven. For the life he remembered, he always found scraps of food here and there. 

The apocalypse took most of his memory, with childhood memories being almost non-existent. And during the apocalypse, the luxury of food was something that few received.