The moment the heavy double doors swing open, I am hit by a literal wall of heat and the most incredible, overwhelming aromas I have ever experienced.
It is ten times more chaotic than the last two days. Dozens of chefs are shouting, massive pots are bubbling with rich stocks, and magic fire is roaring in the hearths.
They are preparing the greatest diplomatic feast of the decade.
But the absolute second my silver heels click against the floor tiles, the entire kitchen freezes.
"Glory to Your Imperial Highness!" the entire culinary staff echoes, dropping into deep bows.
I give them a gentle wave of my hand to raise their heads. The Head Chef, who is sweating profusely while frantically checking a dozen different grand dishes, immediately rushes over to me.
He bows deeply, then proudly gestures to a pristine, steaming bowl resting on a silver platter.
