Chapter 502: Lekos Challenge (1/2)
The great hall, as the name would suggest, would be a luxurious ball-styled room with marbles floors atop which an artist poured his soul in making lovely patterns in reference to flowers and gems. A curved roof off which hung a diamond stuttered chandelier worth more than a few hundred lives.
Reality stuck hard, leaving Igna speechless. The great hall was further from the truth. Before reaching there, they exited through the back entrance of the office building onto a lovely stone-path. To the left were fields where the students played football as well as run on the perimeter made to be a running track. On the right stood a swimming pool. The extravagance of the piles bordering the body of water sent shivers. As it so happened, the iron fencing separating the path from the various facilities didn't block much. A few students were spotted laying on beach-style chairs, taking the sun for a loveable tan. The amount of liberty given was frightening. Obliged to keep pace with Leko, they next came across a heated court for tennis. Balls smacked against the orangish color floor. Each time one would receive, the ball flew across with a less than amiable grunt. It felt uncomfortable as the seamlessly innocent sound could have fooled the wisest of minds. The size of the academy became apparent.
”Leko's Cooking Academy rivals most schools and highschool in Plaustan. The sheer size puts the Adventuring Academy to shame,” said Éclair. ”The project was funded by the Trader's Guild, under the condition that Leko is a member and never leave unless permitted by Lady Haru. Part of the money comes from Phantom as well. The company in charge of construction is affiliated with Skokdrag's construction company. Considering the facts, Leko's Academy can be said to have been built using Ardanian craftmanship.”
”What about the students, what happens to them?”
”The nobles who graduate the academy are granted the honor to train at Leko's side for a month. There on, they are forwarded to the World Culinary Institute of Fine Dining where another test is conducted. Top restaurants around the world, regardless of the nation, come in flocks to fight for the elites. Cooking is a growing market; food will never go extinct – the skilled are in to make a fortune.”
”Part of me doesn't think it's the only reason.”
”Yes, that is true. They invested in such a show of a compound is to gather the truly prodigious to work for Arda. The province is now one of the richest around the world.”
”Yeah, I don't care about the politics. I want to know how they cash in favors…”
”Someone's gotten smarter,” said Éclair, ”-it's pretty simple. The rich and famous come, they sign contracts with the Trader's Guild to become business partners. The chefs are often the heir to riches beyond a person's imagination. Add that to another reason why Arda's growing in strength day by day, another reason why the crown is in trouble.”
”Once again,” mumbled Igna, ”-I don't care.” And so, the path arrived at rectangular archways leading towards a massive grey-door. A slide of a card gave a faint beep.
'Great hall…' thought he after crossing the labyrinth of corridors, '-why does everything have to end up like this.' Once again, for god knows how much, rested a battle-style arena. The Hidronian culture was one birthed off bloodshed and fight. Even now, in times of peace, even in a simple and peaceful activity such as cooking, was a place for battle. For an outsider, this belligerent behavior and will to sort out any misunderstanding on a battlefield, felt crude and barbaric. Yet, inside, for those born and raised, the survival instinct was primordial. Monsters, peoples, roads, even plants, anything could kill at any moment.
”This is where the graduation will happen,” thundered Leko clopping down the stairs. The voice echoed in full around the empty seats. The closer the stage came, the bigger it was until, finally, he stood to face the audience. It'd take a few minutes to go from one end to the other. The screen behind, somber and unactive, toggled with the flare of a solar eruption. The disturbance fired across by jolts of electricity and crackling of white-noise. The screen froze, shifted between distorted images, and ultimately played a familiar video.
”LOUD!” cried he to Leko, who shrugged.
”Igna, come here,” he gestured.
”Yes, what's the matter, chef?” gently touching the earlobe, ”-something amiss?”
”No,” said he, *clap,* the stage rumbled, clogs and ticking permeated outwards the ground to the head. The assistants from before were nicely seated in the front row.
”What's going on?” the video behind showed,'-cook-off.'
”I wanted to do this from the day you returned,” smirked Leko, ”-partner, will you take part in a cooking battle?”
”Isn't it a bit too soon?” he wondered, ”-don't you have to watch the students or something. As the director, won't doing this be disrespectful?”
”Shut up,” he laughed, ”-Igna, you worry too much.”
”…” two cooking stations sprawled to face one another; a line crossed the middle.
”Igna, my partner,” said Leko with pan in hand, ”-Cle is coming soon. I want us to have this battle right now since graduation is upon us. The girls will serve as judges. Is that acceptable?”
”I don't mind it,” said he, ”-if you're sure about the contest, then I'm all for it.”