Chapter 973: Galahad

The next day.

Dorothy, as usual, woke up early out of habit, and after completing her morning routine, she went to the Imperial Kitchen of the Dragon King’s Palace.

After all, she had been granted rewards by the Dragon King himself, with authority over the precious ingredients in the treasury—it would be unseemly to take benefits without contributing.

As for the future, she wouldn’t say yet, but at least during her stay in the Dragon King’s Palace, the House Witch felt she ought to show some effort.

So she decided to first check on the situation at the Imperial Kitchen.

Yet when she arrived, she found the imperial chefs already bustling about, smoke rising from the stoves, and the rich aroma of food drifting from afar.

Clearly, the chefs had already begun preparing breakfast for the palace.

It was barely six in the morning; Dorothy had thought she rose early, but seeing the scale of activity here, she guessed the chefs had started working at two or three in the morning—compared to them, the House Witch seemed downright lazy.

“Tsk, they say palace jobs offer great benefits and high status, but now it seems they’re not easy either.”

Watching the bustling Imperial Kitchen, Dorothy sighed inwardly.

The Imperial Kitchen was enormous—just at a glance, hundreds of official chefs were working at the stoves; if you added the assistant cooks and maids helping out, the entire kitchen likely had a staff of nearly a thousand.

Moreover, from the magical aura radiating from these witches, not a single one was mediocre—even the lowest-ranking food servers were elite witches, the vegetable prep assistants were all Grand Witches, and the official chefs who managed the stoves were even stronger, their auras growing more potent by the minute; the lead chefs, the head cooks, were at the very peak.

No wonder the Dragon King’s Palace was full of hidden talents—Grand Witches were as common as dogs, and Peaks walked everywhere; even just this kitchen’s staffing could form a formidable battle group if deployed outside.

But considering the Dragon King’s love of fine cuisine, and that this kitchen once represented the pinnacle of magical culinary art even before the Forest Witch’s rise, such staffing wasn’t exaggerated at all.

After all, nowadays getting a government post is like competing for a single plank across a river of a thousand soldiers—how much harder must it be to enter the palace, such a coveted opportunity?

Entering the palace meant a chance to meet the Three Kings—any witch would find that honor irresistible, and it was the most likely path to instant ascension.

Thus, whether it was the God King’s Palace, the Dragon King’s Palace, or the Demon King’s Palace, any position open to entry was fiercely contested, and such opportunities were utterly beyond the reach of ordinary witches.

These days, entering the palace required status and family background—even becoming the most ordinary maid inside was a prize fiercely fought over by noble daughters from medium and small witch clans.

Important posts like palace guards were almost entirely monopolized by ancient, loyal noble families; ordinary witches from common households rarely stood a chance, unless they possessed truly extraordinary talent.

Though the Dragon King’s Imperial Kitchen was far below the guards in status, it was still a distinctive position within the palace, with notable prestige, and offered the best chance to encounter the Dragon King and receive His Majesty’s favor—so naturally, many witches coveted it.

Though this kitchen had nearly a thousand staff, the magical world had a total population of five billion; even after subtracting elders and children, the number of eligible job seekers remained terrifying.

Moreover, the Imperial Kitchen did not recruit annually—positions were like fixed slots, one radish per hole; only when an elder retired could a newcomer take their place, making the competition unimaginably fierce.

Thus, the witches who ultimately secured even a minor post here were the ultimate elites among elites, far surpassing 99% of other witches in beauty, talent, and lineage.

Yes, it sounds absurd that you’d have to compete on looks just to apply as a chef—but what can you do? The competition is just too overwhelming. When two candidates are equally skilled, wouldn’t they pick the prettier one?

The workplace is a cruel place.

Dorothy didn’t walk in to disturb them; instead, she stood at the entrance and observed for a while.

The imperial chefs here were all undeniably professional and serious—none slacked off or goofed around; each focused entirely on the dish they were preparing, never letting their guard down, every step executed with utmost caution, terrified of even the tiniest mistake, for these dishes would soon grace the Dragon King’s table, to be tasted by the supreme sovereign.

Even though the Dragon King was no tyrant who would execute someone over a bad meal—in fact, He was kind and never overly harsh on palace staff—if a dish did fail, His Majesty’s mercy didn’t mean others in the palace wouldn’t hold a grudge.

The royal palace was, indeed, a place everyone wanted to enter—and yet also a hellish arena where everyone lived in fear.

Countless eyes watched your position; any misstep could instantly see you replaced by a hungry successor.

Thus, the chefs were deadly serious, the entire kitchen tense, almost murderous.

But this made the House Witch shake her head.

“Sigh, now I know why the food these past few days always tasted so… office-like.”

She thought helplessly.

She wasn’t criticizing—Dorothy didn’t feel she had the right to judge these chefs; she could see they were all trying their hardest, genuinely striving for the path of culinary excellence—no one had the right to say they were inadequate.

Never advise kindness to one who hasn’t suffered.

Dorothy was lucky—her talent and gifts spared her from the brutal grind of workplace competition; she knew well that not everyone had her fortune.

So to now look down and say, “Your cooking is terrible,” would be as absurd as saying, “Why don’t you eat meat?”

That would be far too arrogant.

Yet Dorothy wasn’t the type to ignore errors out of misplaced consideration either.

So she pondered how to gently hint that these chefs had gone down the wrong path.

In the House Witch’s view, these chefs had strayed far off course—they were like the samurai witches of the Eastern Isles, obsessing over technique while neglecting the far more vital heart.

Swordsmanship has a sword heart; cooking has a cook heart.

A cook’s emotional state directly affects the flavor of the final dish.

Thus, many of the Imperial Kitchen’s chefs had nearly perfect technique—they all used the Witch Kitchen series of spells, with high proficiency, especially the head chefs, nearly all at “Sage” level; their spellcasting was so flawless even the Forest Witch herself couldn’t find fault.

But true magic lies in belief.

How could these chefs, so tense, so cautious, so tightly wound, possibly create dishes that made people feel light and joyful after eating?

That’s why Dorothy said the food from the Imperial Kitchen these past few days always tasted… office-like.

But this problem wasn’t easy to fix—it wasn’t as simple as her walking out and shouting, “Relax, think of happy things!”

The House Witch tried to put herself in their shoes—if she were in their position, constantly fearing her colleagues would snatch her spot at the slightest mistake, she wouldn’t be cheerful either.

Sigh, this was tough.

Just as Dorothy was struggling with how to solve this, someone approached her side.

“Miss, is there something about our cooking that displeases you? I just saw you shaking your head.”

A gentle voice asked.

This snapped Dorothy out of her thoughts.

To avoid drawing attention and disturbing the kitchen’s work, she was currently using a disguise.

Since learning the Demon Dance, her disguise had become simple—no longer needing makeup or glasses; with just a slight manipulation of the Demon Dance, her appearance changed entirely in others’ eyes.

The Divine Face inherently possessed the ability to reflect the viewer’s ideal form—anyone saw in it the image of their dream lover; by controlling this power through the Demon Dance, she could easily prevent others from recognizing her as the famed Young Lady.

Now, though her face bore no makeup and was her true appearance, to others she was merely a pretty witch—not the Young Lady.

So this witch who suddenly spoke to her naturally didn’t recognize her identity—if she had, the entire Imperial Kitchen would have stopped working and rushed over to pay respects.

After all, she was the Dragon King’s personally appointed guest.

Dorothy turned to look at the witch who had spoken.

Hmm, unquestionably a beauty—though petite, barely reaching her waist, even shorter than Alice’s one meter twenty, around one meter eleven.

But she was a powerhouse—Dorothy couldn’t gauge her exact strength, but at minimum, she was an upper Peak.

“You’re the Head Chef?”

The House Witch asked.

Though she didn’t recognize this woman—whose face looked like a finely carved doll, childlike yet radiating an unexpectedly mature, older-sister aura—given that the entire kitchen was in chaos and yet this witch, who had taken a half-person as her evolution template, still had time to approach her, her status must be exceptional.

Almost certainly the supervisor of the Imperial Kitchen—the so-called Head Chef.

And half-people, a race resembling dwarves and gnomes, weren’t strong in combat, but were famed for their dexterity and craftsmanship—they were indeed skilled in cooking and possessed a rich culinary culture.

Few witches chose half-people as their evolution template, since it offered little combat advantage and sometimes even weakened their power—but if one pursued artistry like cooking rather than strength, the half-person template was among the best.

In response to Dorothy’s question, the half-person witch nodded cheerfully, confirming her identity.

“Yes, I’m the Head Chef. You can call me Galahad.”

She smiled and extended her hand to introduce herself.

Dorothy politely knelt down, lowering herself to eye level, and shook her hand.

“Dorothy.”

She gave her name.

Hmm, no need to hide it now—Galahad was no unfamiliar name; she was one of the original Knights of the Round Table.

She never imagined such a legendary figure would be working in the Imperial Kitchen.

“Haha, who doesn’t love good food? I not only enjoy tasting it, but I also have an interest in preparing it.”

Sensing Dorothy’s surprise, the half-person “little” sister laughed and explained.

Dorothy immediately felt Galahad was easy to get along with—her personality was pure, and though she was an ancient witch, she remained as innocent as a child.

“But it’s you, Young Lady, who’s here! Your disguise is incredible—I didn’t recognize you at all. Now I understand why you were shaking your head. I once ate squid balls brought by Aistros at a banquet—they were the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. In terms of cooking, we truly can’t compare to you.”

Galahad said, sounding slightly dejected.

Dorothy felt embarrassed by the woman’s honesty.

“No, no, your cooking is quite good, it’s just…”

Facing the gaze of this woman who looked like a child, her eyes as pure as an infant’s, Dorothy didn’t know how to explain.

“It’s fine, speak freely. In cooking, you’re the pioneer—we’re eager to learn from you.”

Galahad saw Dorothy’s hesitation and immediately encouraged her sincerely.

After careful observation, Dorothy confirmed this elder wasn’t the type to fly into a rage at a word—she finally spoke up.

“But do you truly love cooking? I mean, do you actually enjoy preparing food, find it light and joyful?”

Upon hearing her question,

the pure knight’s eyes lit up, looking at Dorothy as if she’d found a kindred spirit.

“Young Lady, would you like to taste my cooking?”

She invited.

In witch cuisine…

The cunning Dragon King began catering to her tastes—too sneaky. Dorothy will fall eventually.