Burned Supper While Inspecting the Keep’s Hinges

Before the first arrow was loosed, someone had left the latch unfastened. I was oiling the east gate hinges at dusk when the onion-and-lobster pie caught beneath the iron pot, and the crust went black before I smelled it. Niko, Bianca, and Allie Blu: three accounted for, though Allie Blu had already stolen Niko’s lobster treats.

I scraped the supper into a wooden bowl and called it a lesson in vigilance; Bianca talked steadily about the smoke, while I checked the hinge pins instead of listening. Niko, Bianca, and Allie Blu: still three, and no mercy for the nearest absent lord who leaves a cookfire unwatched.

You may have the ingredients, but not the method, because the recipe includes a covered pot, a spoon of brine, and precisely the wrong moment to inspect a latch. I will not share it. The keep remembers burned food as faithfully as neglected iron.