Chapter 7: Living in the Past Sucks
Alicia offered a faint nod, still processing the weight of his words.
But Lancelot, in that moment of resolve, felt a very human reminder clawing at his focus—his stomach let out a low, impatient growl.
Alicia raised a brow. "Shall I take that as the Regent’s cue for a recess?"
"I’ve declared an empire within an empire," he said dryly, resting a hand on his gut. "I think I’ve earned lunch."
Not long after, a servant entered carrying a polished silver tray and set it on the side table. The warm, earthy scent of spiced broth and roasted meat filled the room. The lids were lifted to reveal a spread of caldereta de cordero—a lamb stew simmered with olives and peppers—alongside fresh pan con tomate, sun-dried olives, slices of jamón, and pickled vegetables in ceramic jars.
Lancelot sat at the table, his hunger now outweighing formality. He started slow, but within minutes he was eating like a man who hadn’t touched food in a century.
And in some ways, he hadn’t.
The stew was rich, layered with flavor and warmth. The bread, though rustic, had the kind of texture that no mass-produced loaf could replicate. The cured ham melted on his tongue. He paused between bites, surprised not only by the taste—but by how much he liked it.
This wasn’t some overcooked mess he feared from a pre-industrial kitchen. This was culture on a plate.
By the time the tray was cleared, he sat back with a deep exhale, fully satisfied for the first time since waking up in this world. He returned to his desk and began leafing through files again, now focusing on naval logs and a census of merchant fleets.
The numbers were incomplete. The margins were scribbled. But the process—the work—was beginning to feel... normal.