He bypassed the main dining hall, grabbing a quick roll and some cheese from a passing servant tray, needing fuel but unwilling to face his father's potentially probing gaze just yet. His destination was the heart of the estate's logistical machine: the kitchens.
The controlled chaos was already in full swing, the air thick with the familiar symphony of smells and sounds. Lloyd moved with newfound purpose, ignoring the curious stares and hushed whispers that still tracked his presence like persistent flies. He headed straight for the butchery section, the metallic tang of raw meat sharp in the air.
Jasmin was there, already hard at work, her small frame surprisingly efficient as she wielded a heavy cleaver with practiced precision. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening momentarily in alarm before settling into a look of nervous anticipation. She quickly wiped her hands, dropping into a hurried curtsy.
"Y-Young Lord," she stammered, color rising in her cheeks. "You… you returned."
"Indeed, Jasmin," Lloyd replied, keeping his voice calm and low, mindful of nearby ears pretending not to listen. "And successful, I trust?"
Jasmin nodded eagerly, her nervousness momentarily eclipsed by pride in her accomplishment. "Yes, my lord! As you instructed!" She gestured towards a collection of large, sealed earthenware jars tucked discreetly behind a stack of empty crates in a cooler corner of the butchery area. "The tallow. I collected the trimmings daily, rendered it down myself after my main duties were done. Kept it clean, stored it away from the main larders."
She led him over, carefully removing the heavy lid from one of the jars. The rendered beef fat within was pale, clean-smelling (or rather, lacking the usual rancid undertones of poorly stored tallow), and solidified into a smooth, waxy mass. Lloyd peered inside, mentally estimating the quantity. Several large jars, each holding gallons. Enough. More than enough for initial experiments.
"Excellent work, Jasmin," Lloyd said, genuine approval warming his voice. He saw her visibly brighten under the praise. "Exactly what I needed. You've exceeded expectations."
"Thank you, my lord," she murmured, dropping her gaze again, though a small smile touched her lips. "I… I am glad to be of service. Will you be taking it now?"
"Not just yet," Lloyd replied. "Storing it here is perfect for now – discreet, cool. But you've completed the first part admirably." He paused, letting the anticipation build slightly. "Now, we move to the next phase. The part where I begin my work."
Jasmin looked up again, curiosity replacing the nervousness in her dark eyes. "Your work, my lord?"
"Indeed," Lloyd confirmed. "To make what I intend to make, fat is only half the equation. We need its chemical counterpart. A special kind of water, you could say. Something extracted from ash, something… potent."
He saw the confusion furrow her brow. "Special water, my lord? From ash?" The concept was alien, nonsensical based on her understanding of the world. Ash was just… waste from the fire.
"Exactly," Lloyd affirmed, leaning in slightly conspiratorially, lowering his voice further. "Think of it as… the hidden fire within the ash, drawn out by water. A substance powerful enough to transform things. But also," he added seriously, "dangerous if not handled correctly."
Jasmin's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of alarm mixing with her confusion. Dangerous? What strange magic was the Young Lord pursuing now? First tallow, now dangerous ash-water?
"Not dangerous in the way of magic spells," Lloyd clarified quickly, sensing her unease. "More like… the way a blacksmith's forge is dangerous if you touch the hot metal. It requires respect, care. Control." He saw her relax fractionally. "And for this process, we need somewhere quieter than this." He glanced around the bustling kitchen. "More private. And we need the right kind of ash."
Jasmin hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Her loyalty, bought with the promise of her mother's health and triple wages, warred with her inherent caution and bewilderment at these strange requests. But loyalty, fueled by desperation and a growing belief in this surprisingly knowledgeable (if slightly eccentric) young lord, won out.
"May I… may I assist you further, my lord?" she asked timidly, yet with an underlying eagerness. "May I see… what you intend to create? I wish to be useful."
Lloyd considered. He needed help collecting the ash, managing the extraction process. Having Jasmin involved from this stage would bind her more closely to the project, make her a true accomplice rather than just a supplier. And explaining the process to her would solidify it in his own mind, forcing him to articulate the steps clearly. The risk of revealing unusual knowledge was present, but manageable. She was already indebted, already sworn to secrecy.