The Mechanical Era

As the sun just started to shine its rays on the city of Hoverdam once more. Benvolio who had woken up at 4 in the morning, wearing his signature white chef uniform made of wool, tore the beige calendar marking the date from the 10th of Asinus to the 11th of Asinus in black ink.

The vast kitchen, a room floor tiled with polished gray stone tiles, the walls painted daisy white, and equipped with all the pots and pans any chef could ever dream of, was brimming with the maids in black and chefs in white.

"Come on everyone! The prince is coming over again to cook with us. We got to get ready." he said out loud to the staff. Kant had informed him that he was coming to the kitchen once again, to help them cook a new dish!

As they were preparing to cook breakfast, there was a knock on the door. Benvolio, as he was working on preparing everything, granted his permission to enter his kitchen.

"Come in," Benvolio said while he set up everything. When he turned around, he was surprised to see the prince, in his royal black suit enter.

"Good morning Mr. Benvolio," Kant said.

"Oh! Good morning sire. I did not expect you to get up this early. Are you hear to present the recipe to cook for you?" he asked while smiling.

"Yes I... I did." Kant replied while shaking his head in agreement. Benvolio naturally smiled at his response.

"Well, what are we making?" Benvolio asked.

"Hash browns, with pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs."

"Hash browns?" he asked. Benvolio never heard of such food terms before. Neither of the words was even coined yet. He asks Kant what it was and where he heard it from.

"Hash browns are mainly made out of potatoes. I will teach you how to make them." Kant replied.

"Sire you sure seem to love potatoes a lot. If may I ask, why is that so?" Benvolio asked.

"It's a cheap and nutritious source of food that allowed the city to traverse through tough times. Plus, any dish regarding the ingredient could be adapted to the masses rather quickly." Kant replied.

"If you say so, sire," Benvolio responded with a shining white smile. He got some potatoes in a wooden tray, washed them using water, and handed it over to Kant. Kant, who had put on leather gloves, grabbed a knife and turned to Benvolio.

"First, we got to peel the potatoes," he responded. Benvolio also grabbed a knife and potato and started peeling them so elegantly. Being a master chef, it was expected of him to do so. Kant himself wasn't doing badly either.

Though his peeling was much less glamorous, it was better than a rookie who did so. While they peeled the potatoes, the others got to work on making the other part of the dish. While some chefs cut the bacon into thin slices, others made the pancake batter, while a few tasked themselves with the scrambled eggs.

"Say sire, your birthday is on the 9th of Amare. Correct?"

"Indeed you are Mr. Benvolio."

"So about... 16 years old. Yet you seem to have a good grip on peeling those potatoes. Have you been to the kitchen before?" Benvolio asked.

"Indeed I have. Although it is not in this specific area we are in."

"If so then where?" Benvolio asked, curious to know how someone so young managed to do so.

"When I was a young boy, I used to travel to Mendella in the summer to play with my friend there. Whenever the two of us decide we want a snack but the maids won't give us any, we went in and stole some potatoes.

There, after we took what was necessary, we started cooking. Though it took us some time, we managed to create those potato chips and hash browns I told you about earlier. It was the only thing that came out of it." Kant replied.

Benvolio was a bit suspicious of Kant's explanation. Though it was a risk, he decided to further question Kant on the matter.

"If so, then how come his and her highness never found out about it?" Benvolio questioned.

"I often wear gloves when handling sharp objects. I understood that my mother would have gotten angry if I had injured myself. So I used protection too before doing so." Kant replied.

"Where was the place you cooked located?" Benvolio continued to ask.

"It wasn't located anywhere specifically. It was more like a campsite. To not raise suspicion, we moved."ραпdα `nᴏνɐ| сom

Once they were done peeling all their potatoes Kant took the box grater. Together, Benvolio and Kant started grinding the potatoes until the pieces themselves get cut into the smallest piece imaginable.

"Now we need to get the water out of the potatoes," Kant replied.

"Should I grab a cloth?" Benvolio asked.

"Yes, please. Thank you." Benvolio brought Kant a white tablecloth. Kant placed the tablecloth on the desktop, put the ground potatoes on top, and closed it. He then grabbed a basin, held the wrapped potatoes up, and started squeezing out all the moister.

Liquid dropped from the white cloth to the basin. The water looked to be yellow similar to that of a potato after being peeled. As Kant was doing so, from the corner of his eye, he saw a chef about to clean a frying pan used for the bacon.

"Do not clean than pan just yet. We will be using the bacon grease to cook the hash browns," he said.

"Why? What does it do?" Benvolio asks.

"It gives it a better taste, a better flavor," Kant replied.

"You stole bacon as well?" Benvolio asked.

"Yes. However, the slices themselves were small."

"How small?"

"It's about the size of the meat each recruit is rewarded with." He takes the pan and puts it on the stove, powered by the orange flames of burning wood. Kant places the ground potatoes on top of the hot pan surface and flattens it with a spatula.

He then lets it cook for a few minutes before flipping it on its side. The yellow ground potato looked to be more cooked as the top part, as there was much more brownish-orange on the side.

ραпdα nᴏνa| сom "Are we almost done?" Benvolio asked, looking at the pan.

"Yes. We are." Kant replied. After a few minutes, Kant took out the hash brown and placed in on a silver tray. Kant took some salt and started to pour it on top of the hash brown. It was then brought over to a different counter.

There the other food items were placed onto a white ceramic plate. They first put the three thick pancakes, along with the slices of brown bacon, and scrambled eggs. Out of Kant's request, they put on a bit of butter and honey on top of the pancake.

The dish was brought all the way over to the dining room where Kant could sit down and eat. He takes off his gloves and starts washing his hands with soap. When he was sure that his hands were clean of germs, he left the kitchen and went over to the dining room where his meal awaited.

He sat down, with Benvolio next to him. He inspects the finished product before digging in. As his nose picked up the smell, it rediscovered some roads to memories. Feeling excited, he grabs the fork and knife and takes a slice of the hash brown he made.

As soon as he started biting into it, the floodgates of memories and nostalgia opened. He can remember the time of his previous life, with old family and friends. How once his mother made him his breakfast. As he continue to eat it, his eyes started tearing up.

"What is wrong, sire?" Benvolio asked. Kant simply smiled at him before responding.

"It's perfect. It's perfect. Down to the last minute detail." Kant replied. Benvolio smiled at Kant's reponse.

"I am glad you loved it, sire. Would you like me to prepare you this breakfast every... week?" he asked.

"No. Maybe once a month but not every week. This is... well... it's unhealthy. I rather have it in terms of maybe once a month." Kant responded.

"Like a desert?" Benvolio asked.

"Yes. Exactly." Kant replied.

Once he finished his meal, he went to the bathroom, feeling the need to urinate. When he got there, he stopped to look in the mirror. There, he saw his black renaissance suit made of wool. With its white cross stitches and white buttons with diamonds engrained, it was a defining piece of clothing representing royalty.

He takes his left hand and places it on his chest. On the palm of his hand, he felt the small details that had been etched into it. Though a mark of craftsmanship, he felt it was a bit too... excessive. Not before long, he decides to stop focusing on the mirror and goes to do what he was going to do.

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