The palace kitchen, located in the southeast corner of the main building of the palace, was visited by Cepes for at least half an hour almost every day.

In this era of lack of entertainment, people always have to find something to do for themselves, develop new dishes, and satisfy their appetites, which is really a good choice.

With the advent of new cuisines, Cepesz was able to regain some familiar feelings in this strange time and place.

At the same time, several fat chefs in the kitchen have also become his most loyal believers.

If you make a selection, the loyalty of several chefs will definitely be ranked in the top ten.

The premise, of course, is that none of these cooks are undercover agents arranged by the monastic or anyone else.

At this moment, this group of guys with big shoulders and round waists sorted out their chef clothes and stood straight at the kitchen door.

Almost every day, Cepes would come to the kitchen at this time, and it had become a habit.

So there was no need to be announced, whether Tsepes showed up or not, they would stand outside the kitchen for dozens of minutes like soldiers waiting for a review.

"Mirsa, what do you eat at the monastery?"

Before I saw him, I heard his voice first, and several chefs subconsciously tidied up the square scarf tied around their necks.

"Bread, butter, bacon, and some vegetable soup and pickles."

Mirsa replied a little stiffly, about food, it had never been a matter of concern to him.

And the next moment, turning the corner, several chefs with big bellies and smiling faces met his eyes.

I have to say that it is still a bit deterrent for several chefs with big shoulders and round waists to stand together.

Mirsa had never seen such a scene, and out of self-preservation, the Roman broadsword in his hand was again held in front of him.

Several cooks wanted to salute Tsepes, but Mirsa's actions interrupted their movements.

Chef Jones, looking at Millsa with a wary eye, asked cautiously:

"My lord, is he?"

If, at this moment, Tsepes uttered the word 'enemy', or something like that, all the chefs would surely rush to Mirsa without hesitation.

"Friends."

However, Tsepes gave the opposite answer, and the chefs breathed a sigh of relief, and at the same time finished the unfinished salute.

"My lord, according to your instructions yesterday, we have improved the way we roast duck, as well as the sauce, would you like to try it?"

"I'm going to have a dinner for my best friend today, and you can make all the new dishes, all of them."

Tsepes commanded, and as he reached out and pressed Mirsa's sword-wielding arm down.

The cooks were ordered to act immediately, when Tsepes's voice rang out again.

"Wait, among the few of you, are there any people from the hermitage, tell me honestly."

"When I was younger, I joined a chef's club in Poland and paid two silver coins.

What's that club called? It's been too long, I don't remember it very well.

It seems to be called the Honey Black Cross, and I'm not sure, but it's the kind of society that only cheats membership dues. ”

Several of the chefs turned around, all with blank expressions on their faces, and only the head chef, Jones, recalled his past club experience.

Tsepes carefully observed the expressions of several people, and at first thought that it was all right, but as he deepened his observation, he felt that everyone had a problem.

Actually, this is the psychological effect, the typical self scaring oneself.

"You guys are busy with your business, my friend is already hungry, hurry up and prepare food."

With a self-deprecating smile, Cepes continued to send a few cooks to work.

He turned to Mirsa and said:

"Your combat power is very strong, I don't know how many times stronger than me, I talk nonsense when I am in the square, you won't be angry, right?"

"Of course I'm angry, in the Ajiesh Hermitage, my combat power is ranked second, how can I have a draw with you."

Mirsa's answer was very direct, this is his character, a stunned boy with no heart and no lungs.

"I apologize to you, and then treat you to a big meal, can you forgive me and be my good friend?"

On the simple and direct side, Cepes also had it, and he felt like he was back in kindergarten and sharing sugar with the children who had just been fighting.

"Friends?"

Before that, Mirsa had heard Tsepeš call him a friend twice, and he was very unfamiliar with the word.

For as long as he can remember, he has lived in a monastery and has never had friends except for his teacher, who is a parishioner.

"Yes, friend."

Tsepes gave him an affirmation, and at the same time showed an extremely bright smile.

"What is a friend going to do?" Mirsa was impressed, but still asked questions.

"A friend is a friend, it doesn't matter what you do.

Friends, regardless of status or wealth, will not force or order others to do anything.

Friends can laugh and scold, or help each other, and it's okay to make small jokes and hurt each other. ”

Expressing his understanding of his friend, Tsepes stretched out his palm and continued:

"Well, can you be friends with me? Rest assured, I am a very righteous person and will never let my friends suffer. ”

What Tsepeš said made Mirsa even more moved and yearned, but of course, betrayal and betrayal between friends, alienation and indifference, were another matter.

Mirsa didn't experience that, and he didn't think about it, and his throat fluttered, and he spat on the palm of Tsepes's hand.

Then, he stretched out his palm and motioned for Cepes to spit on it.

Looking at the spittle on his hand, Cepes didn't care whether the droplets would spread germs, and took revenge on Mirsa's behavior just now with a thick sip of saliva.

Subsequently, the hands of the two young men were clasped together, and Mirsa had his first friend.

And Tsepes said silently in his heart:

"I hope that we can always be friends, and that those intertwined conflicts of interest will never affect this friendship."

Originally, Tsepes's original purpose was to use Mirsa to pry into the ancient and mysterious organization of the Hermitage.

Now, his idea remains the same, and at the same time, he sincerely wants to befriend Mirsa, a heartless and straightforward young man.

If one day, he was going to turn against the church, he wanted Mirsa to be on his side.

If not, what the result will be, he did not think.

What will happen in the future, no one can say well, in short, now, he has one more friend who can be with his heart.

Expelling distracting thoughts out of his mind, Tsepes let go of his hand, wiped his spit on his body, and said with a smile:

"Why spit up, just shake hands or give high-fives, can't you?"

"I don't know? I saw people do this two days ago, so I did it. ”

Mill Sha said innocently, he really didn't understand.

"Friend, are you mistaken, the two people you saw that day should have spit on their hands and then shook their hands."

"yes, it seems to be spit on my own hands, should we do it again."

Mirsa held out her hand as she spoke, only to be grabbed by Tsepesh.

"You see if there's livestock around when people do that."

"Yes, there are three sheep."

"Spit on your own hands, and then shake hands, it's the cattle dealer who says the deal is done, friend, let's sell ourselves to each other."

Tsepeš couldn't laugh or cry, he had been thinking about things before, and it turned out to be like this.

Mirsa was also embarrassed, and finally could only grit her teeth and giggle at a loss.