Chapter 122: THIRD POV.
Unlike Flounder, who used only the tiniest, prettiest cuts from a single fish and discarded the rest of the perfectly good meat to make a fancy aristocrat plate, Jacob couldn’t stand the idea of food going to waste.
He had decided to completely forsake the competition so as to prep a massive, hearty meal that everyone on the crowded deck could enjoy together.
*******
The two of them soon got to work on the deck.
They dragged out a massive iron cooking pot from the galley, placing it over a roaring fire box right in the center of the ship.
Flounder chopped the vegetables and handled the seasoning, while Jacob took care of the vast piles of clean fish meat, tossing them into the bubbling water until the entire ship was filled with a rich, thick, wonderful aroma.
"And here you are," Jacob said cheerily, leaning over the steaming rim of the giant pot.
"Here’s one for you," he continued, ladling a thick, steaming portion of the rich fish soup into a clean wooden bowl.
"And one for you," Flounder muttered, his voice flat as he mirrored the action on his side of the station.
Jacob and Flounder stood side by side by the large pot filled with the fish soup they’d made together, pouring ladle after ladle of the delicious food for the long line of people waiting on the deck.
The maidservants, Rudwig, and even the regular crew members of the warship stood in a neat line, holding out their bowls with eager, wide eyes.
Each person they gave a bowl to offered their sincere thanks, bowing their heads gratefully to both men before walking away to find a quiet spot on the deck to eat.
The warmth of the soup was a welcome comfort against the cool breeze, and the sounds of quiet chatting and soft laughter began to fill the air.
"Hey, why the long face? Everyone absolutely loves your food," Jacob said with a bright, wide smile, leaning over to nudge Flounder’s shoulder with his elbow.
He was really enjoying this whole situation, watching the tough, arrogant guard serve soup like a regular tavern worker.
It was a hilarious sight, and the good mood on the deck was contagious.
And Jacob’s words were completely true.
Everyone on the deck enjoyed eating the wonderful dish the both of them had prepared.
Rudwig was sitting near the mast, happily slurping his third bowl with a look of pure joy on his round face, while the three maidservants were chatting warmly with the regular sailors, their previous fear completely forgotten.
Even little Rebecca was sitting happily with a large bowl in her lap, her face covered in small splashes of broth as she ate with absolute delight.
"This dish was supposed to be for her highness alone," Flounder grumbled beneath his breath, keeping his eyes locked onto the bubbling soup inside the pot as he poured another ladle.
He refused to look at the happy crowd, his jaw tight as he tried his best to hold onto his remaining anger, even though the empty bowls and the endless praise proved that the feast was an absolute success.
Jacob obviously heard him but he said nothing, instead shaking his head lightly with a small, quiet laugh.
He knew there was no point in arguing with the young guard about it now.
The food was cooked, the people were happy, and the entire deck was filled with the warm sound of full bellies and soft chatter.
No matter how much Flounder grumbled under his breath, the reality of the situation wasn’t going to change.
"I think that’s just about everyone," Jacob said, leaning his hands on his hips as he stared down at the massive iron pot.
He looked around the deck one last time, checking to see if any of the former captives or crew members were still waiting in line, but the area around the them was finally empty.
Everyone had a bowl in their hands, sitting in small groups across the wooden deck and enjoying the fresh meal.
"Looks like we still have loads to spare," he said with an awkward smile, pointing his finger inside the deep container.
Even after feeding dozens of hungry people, the rich fish soup still filled nearly a third of the giant pot. The pink chunks of green-finned tuna were still bobbing around in the thick, seasoned broth, sending up a steady stream of delicious steam into the air.
"I think we’ll preserve the rest for now so it doesn’t go bad in the night," Jacob said, turning his head to look directly at Flounder.
He wiped his hands on a clean piece of cloth before gesturing toward the heavy iron handles on either side of the cooking vessel.
"Mind giving me a hand with this?" he asked him, wanting some help to carry it down below back to the dark kitchen where the cool air would keep the leftovers fresh for tomorrow.
"Fine..." Flounder muttered, his voice full of irritation, but he did agree to the request.
He clicked his tongue softly and stepped forward, bending his knees to grab the thick metal handle on his side of the pot.
He knew he couldn’t leave a giant pot of hot soup sitting in the middle of the main deck anyway, and he wanted to get away from the crowd of cheering people as quickly as possible.
The both of them grabbed the heavy iron handles with their hands, lifting the massive pot off the fire box with a shared grunt of effort.
They balanced the weight between them, walking with slow, careful steps across the wooden floorboards, and then they carried it down below into the narrow, dimly lit stairs that led to the lower decks of the warship.
******
"Mind if I ask a question?" Jacob said in a casual tone while they carried the heavy pot downstairs.
The air in the corridor was much cooler than the deck, and the smell of the soup filled the tight space instantly.