Prophet of the Gods

Chapter 4: Royal Prophet

By the time she made it downstairs, lunch was finished and Fallin and Allison were nowhere to be seen. Thank the Gods. It wasn't exactly intentional to miss it, more like a happy accident.

It meant Gen had some time before dinner and instead of worrying and over analyzing each part of her test and wondering how exactly the prophet would be chosen, she decided to walk around and see the other parts of the palace. Councilor Ulysses had offered to give her a tour but one look at his face told her that he'd prefer it if she politely refused.

After an hour of wandering down random hallways and getting hopelessly lost, she decided food was a good idea. She did skip lunch.

She spotted the maid talking to Princess Cora before, dusting a porcelain vase. Gen decided she looked friendly enough with her blonde hair, a pale freckled face, and bright brown eyes. "Hi," she said. "I'm looking for the kitchens?"

The girl- Anna she remembered- smiled, "Yeah, that's down the stairs two floors and on your right. You can't miss it, just smell your way there."

"Right, thanks," she said, and added a slightly awkward smile. She walked away feeling kind of stupid. What was with that smile?

Why was talking to people so awkward?

Anna was right though. The kitchen was easy to find once she caught the whiff of freshly baked bread. There was a smaller dining room probably meant for the help and across the room was a curtain. She pushed through the entrance and gasped.

The kitchen was huge for one with wooden floors and tables. Cooks and servants of all ages worked diligently around, slicing, stirring, mixing, and tasting. There were machinery that Gen didn't even know existed being used to help prepare meals. There were racks of pots and spoons, shelves of pans and tins, and counters with sinks and cutting boards. Most importantly, there was so. much. food. Her mouth was watering and her stomach was rumbling. She needed something now.

She walked over to where a small, timid looking girl was slicing carrots and took a deep breath. One awkward encounter was worth food. "Hi," she said, maybe a little too loud because the girl jumped. "Um, sorry. I was just wondering, is there any food here that I can eat? I'm really hungry?"

She blinked, and said quietly, "I don't know if that's allowed. You should ask him." She pointed to where a tall, gangly boy that looked her age with chocolate brown skin and really curly hair was humming and sprinkling spices into a boiling pot of soup.

Okay.

Gen walked over to him, and tried again, "Hi, I was wondering-"

The boy saw her and jumped back. The spices in his hand flew into the air and into Gen's eyes until she was coughing, "Ach, um. Hi-"

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, grabbing a rag and handing it to her. Gen took it gratefully and wiped her burning eyes.

"It's okay," she said. The boy looked really upset so she tried to reassure him. "Really, it's my fault for distracting the chef. I'm Genevieve." She stuck out her hand. Was that still a thing people did?

Before she could awkwardly pull it back, he took it and they shook. His grip was firm and he smiled. "I'm Dell. What can I do for you?"

"I'm really hungry," she said.

"Then you've come to the right place."

A few minutes later, Gen was sitting on a stool in the kitchen stuffing pieces of warm bread with smooth butter into her mouth, taking small breaks to drink the really good cider that Dell recommended. In between bites she introduced herself a bit more, "I'm one of the candidates for the Royal Prophet position, to replace Leonard Baz."