Chapter 794: Head Cook Otis
When Ollie reached the kitchens, he was momentarily taken aback by the sight that greeted him.
Clearly, Tipfany and Mina weren’t the only ones with barricades on their mind, but Otis had gone a step further than tipping over his heavy oak worktable to block the doorway. From the looks of the people standing in the large kitchen, Otis had gathered a handful of his staff and armed them in what looked like an attempt to defend the kitchens at all costs.
Two large men who Ollie vaguely recognized as wood cutters responsible for keeping the kitchen hearths supplied with firewood stood behind the improvised barricade with large axes while two younger women who Ollie had never seen before held sharp filet knives in their hands as they crouched behind upturned iron pots.
It was Head Cook Otis himself, however, that gave Ollie the most pause. Barely healed burns were visible on the backs of his hands as he brandished a heavy cleaver in one hand and a burning torch in another. Those same burns seemed to extend even further, peaking out from the collar of his tunic and extending up the left side of his face almost to his ear.
The man Ollie had known before was kind, frequently flustered by the demands of important nobles, and always watched out for the servants who worked under him. He was a man who got by with what he had and did his best to help others when he could.
The version of Otis standing before him now, however, looked as if he’d been through more than just a single crucible. His eyes were firm as he stared at the door, and even though the woodsmen were both younger and stronger than the thickly built chef, he was the one who stood in front of the others with a grim determination that said that he expected to die.
"Otis!" Ollie cried, pushing aside the heavy, improvised barricade in his haste to reach his old friend. "Thank goodness you survived the fire," he said as he strode across the room to throw his arms around the startled cook in a fierce hug.
The sight of the scars from burns on his friend’s body struck Ollie like a knife to the chest as he realized the price his friend had paid to help him and Lady Ashlynn escape the Villa after Sir Kaefin’s death, and Ollie silently resolved to make sure Ashlynn heard about those wounds. Given everything he knew about her, he couldn’t imagine that she would allow Otis to suffer any longer for the help he’d given them, and even if Ollie couldn’t heal wounds that were that old, he was certain that Ashlynn or Heila could.
For a moment, Otis stood frozen in shock, holding his torch out away from the knight who had just shoved aside the table that had taken two strong men to move and blinking in confusion as he tried to understand who this man was to embrace him so fiercely. But when he pulled back and got a good look into the young man’s pale eyes, recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning falling from clear skies.
"Ollie?" Otis asked in disbelief. "Ollie, is that really, really you?"
"Your lordship," one of the young girls said, rushing out from behind the pot and clutching Ollie’s tabard. "Please don’t punish him for forgetting his manners," she said as she dropped to one knee. "He, he’s a good man who..."
"He’s a good friend," Ollie said, pulling back from the embrace but holding on to Otis’s shoulder as he glanced down at the frightened scullery maid. "Is she my replacement, Otis? Did you need two people just to cover for me leaving?" he teased.