The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 846: Three Knives

Initially, the Duke was certain that the smell was coming from the basket the Count was holding.

After all, the man was practically clutching the large bundle to his chest like a newborn, and Duke Leander would have been the first to admit that he had seen stranger things as the father of the usual source of said strange things.

But the more he sniffed, the more his brows furrowed. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Because all of a sudden, the scent wasn’t just coming from one place.

It was everywhere.

Rich. Warm. Deep. The kind of aroma that didn’t ask for attention but instead seized it by the collar and dragged it closer. Surprisingly, it wasn’t his wife this time around.

But just as he should have expected, he wasn’t alone in noticing it either.

One by one, conversations faltered. Heads turned. Noses twitched. A low ripple of murmurs spread through the waiting area as the remaining crowd instinctively tried to pinpoint the source.

Unfortunately for them, they were already too late.

Because the orcs had moved.

With absolute confidence, the towering figures had already marched straight toward one corner, expressions sharp and focused, as if answering a primal summons.

And there it was.

A long table set neatly near the corner, draped in clean cloth, seemingly prepared for a grand reason. Atop it sat massive slabs that looked suspiciously like charred rocks that surprisingly smelled way better than they had the right to be.

Behind the table stood Xavier, whose suit jacket was now nowhere to be found.

This time around, his sleeves were rolled up. Posture relaxed. Expression calm.

A large knife gleamed in his right hand. A carving fork rested in his left.

And yet, that was not all.

To his left and right hovered additional knives and forks, suspended in the air, each held delicately by translucent spiritual tendrils visible only to those capable of using visual resonance. They moved as naturally as extensions of his own arms, mirroring his motions with unnerving precision.

Three slabs.

At the same time.

All of a sudden, Duke Leander realized what was happening, and his eyes widened at the realization of an upcoming feast.

The middle one was carved normally, blade sliding through meat so tender it barely resisted. On either side, the floating utensils followed suit, slicing cleanly, evenly, each movement synchronized as though rehearsed a thousand times.

The sound was soft.

Almost obscene.

A thin, delicate slice separated, wobbled slightly, then tipped to the side.

Juice glistened along the cut.

Someone hissed while Duke Leander gulped.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Those who knew seemed to stiffen in anticipation, while those who didn’t expect the charred rock to look like that once cut were definitely having a mind-blowing experience.

Around him, guests stared openly now. Throats bobbed. Eyes followed every movement. Even breathing seemed to slow as the scent intensified, thick and mouthwatering, filling every empty space.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a strained voice.

"Ah. Uh. Lord Kyle. I might need to stay a bit longer," Reeve said, sounding torn between terror and awe. "The viewers are demanding to see everything. I was told if I don’t get the right angle, I won’t be able to live peacefully once I get out of here."

There was a pause.

Then Kyle responded, calm as ever, as if the young cadet had actually anticipated this.

"No problem, customer. If that’s the case, you might as well stay for the plating," he said smoothly. "And if it’s the angle of our Captain, then you can stand anywhere. He’s blessed like that."

Plating?

Duke Leander blinked as Reeve continued to thank Kyle for his understanding and assistance.

He knew what plating was. He wasn’t uncultured any longer. It was the act of making food look pretty!

He simply hadn’t expected his wolfish son-in-law to be the one in charge of it.

"!"

Then again, how could the father with the most rose-colored glasses in the Empire ever have known what Duchess Amelia already did?

__

See, when the heavens scattered talent, their precious son had clearly collected everything else and left artistic flair untouched. Though if she were being honest, he also got the flair and mainly just left artistic alone.

Conversely, and this would be a hill her husband would probably die on, it was also possible that everyone else just didn’t get the appropriate ability for artistic interpretation.

So really, it was all a matter of perspective.

But considering the type of eyes they unfortunately all have, Duchess Amelia was certain that such cases were exactly why partnerships existed.

To elevate what was already good and to be able to create better things as a result of combined effort.

Just like the plates now forming in front of them. To the others, this may not make sense, but to her who could roughly identify more ingredients as well as dishes, she was seeing something remarkable.

With practiced ease that spoke of deliberate training, Xavier began arranging the dish. Several thin slices of roast beef were laid neatly across the plate, edges still glistening. Beside them went a smooth mound of mashed potato, pale and creamy. Roasted asparagus followed, vibrant and lightly charred.

Then came the sauce.

Xavier lifted his hand, the tendrils responding instantly. With a precise motion, the sauce was poured and finished in one fluid sweep, framing the plate instead of drowning it.

Only then did he straighten.

"This," Xavier announced calmly, "is tonight’s main course."

"Carved Roast Beef with Gravy."

A hush followed.

"For those who are seated," he continued, voice steady, "the dishes will be served in order, starting with the starters."

His gaze shifted slightly.

"For those who opted for a more casual experience, you will find the same dishes prepared inside your picnic baskets."

A beat.

"Please do not hesitate to call us if you need any assistance."

Silence lingered for half a second.

Then the sound of swallowing echoed through the crowd.

But with it was a silent appreciation of the young man who was probably roped into doing all this but did it well nonetheless.

Just how much effort did that young man—whose daily schedule always looked like three people owned it—exert just to be able to get to this level of proficiency?

Likely a lot.

Duchess Amelia looked over at her son-in-law, who once again focused on his work and thought.

Clearly, when the heavens scattered the ability to pick a partner, her son was probably right there bagging it.