Page 74 of The Broken Mirror
Walking between the market stalls, Gretel tries to jump-start some ideas. Organizing a group of citizens to do anything seems difficult, though organization and event planning are both definitely in Gretel’s wheelhouse. They could throw a party? But how can they get the citizens of Eastphalia to create something for Charlie to drink, even at a party? Eichi didn’t explicitly say that they can’t just tell the citizens to make something, but Gretel knows that curses often have unspoken rules.
They walk by a booth filled with luscious vegetables and Alistair asks to stop. Rolling her eyes, Gretel gives in. As Alistair ogles silky eggplants and tomatoes, vibrant carrots and turnips, and fragrant bunches of herbs, something sparks in Gretel’s mind.
It reminds her of a story from the mortal world: a folktale known as “Stone Soup.” In the story, in a village not dissimilar to this one, a stranger comes to town and says they’re going to make stone soup. The only ingredient they have is a stone, but they encourage the townspeople to contribute ingredients. They end up making a soup for all to enjoy.
The solution dawns on Gretel.
“We’re making Charlie stone soup!” she cries.
You wouldn’t think it easy to quickly procure a giant cast-iron pot or a roaring outdoor fire, but when you’re a princess,many such feats are possible. That’s what Gretel’s learning. It helps that there’s just such a pot left over from the kingdom-wide soup-eating contest Eastphalia held during last year’s fall festival.
And so Gretel and Alistair are set up in the town square with a massive soup pot over a toasty fire. Alistair even has a step stool so that he can reach inside the pot to stir. John and Hortense are running through the marketplace and the village, knocking on doors and spreading the news that, in the center of town, a celebratory soup for Prince Charlie is being prepared as a homecoming gift, and anyone who contributes an ingredient can share in the soup and welcome their prince home, a preemptive celebration of his rule to come.
Gretel thinks this is also a good test of Prince Charlie’s popularity among his citizens. What Eichi said about monarchy made her think, and she is secretly interested to see if enough citizens care about Prince Charlie’s rule to contribute to the soup.
“So far it looks like we have a stone and some boiling water in here,” Alistair says, stirring the pot. “Not looking too promising.”
“I don’t think you need to start stirring until we have some actual food,” Gretel adds.
“Good point,” he says, getting off the step stool. “So you think this will work? You think enough people will care to come and have soup?”
“I think Hortense doing the rounds will certainly help. People seem to really like her,” Gretel responds.
“Yeah, even if they are like,Why does that girl have a frog on her shoulder?”
They both start laughing.
“Hey, you know what we haven’t talked about yet?” Alistair adds. “We kissed!”
“I only kissed you on the cheek, doofus!”
“I closed my eyes and everything!” Alistair yelps.
They break out in hysterics, this time at the concept of their kissing. Even as friends, it’s too funny. Gretel’s stomach is actually cramping up with how hard she’s laughing. When the laughter dies down and they wipe their eyes, they’re shocked to see a whole lineup of Eastphalian folks with baskets of vegetables and meat and bunches of herbs in their hands.
“Is this where we contribute to the soup?” a lady asks kindly.
“Wow!” Alistair jumps up, standing on his stool by the pot. “This might actually work!”
“Yes, come on up,” Gretel says. “Please add your contributions! And stick around—Alistair’s made peony punch for us all!”
Alistair leans toward the people in line and adds, “My take on peony fizz. It’s a bit fruitier, richer. Let me know what you think.”
And the people keep coming and keep coming. A little girl carries a bushel of apples. An old lady presents adelicate-looking artichoke. A handsome elderly fellow offers sprigs of sage and thyme.
“These apples are from the orchard by my house,” the little girl says.
“This artichoke is from my family’s farm,” the old lady says.
“These herbs are from my garden,” the fellow says.
Gretel starts to worry that these ingredients will create something most foul, but Alistair graciously accepts each item, then quickly measures, chops, and tosses it in. And there’s nothing Gretel trusts Alistair with more than creating something delicious. Except maybe having her back. So they’re doubly covered, then!
John and Hortense return, having knocked on every door and notified every stall at the market. By the time they arrive, it’s a full-fledged party. Everyone’s cheering Alistair’s peony punch—he tells every single guest his tweaks to the classic Northphalian recipe—and there’s dancing, laughter, greetings.
“Princess Hortense!” a girl cries, seeing Hortense join the action. “You’re my favorite princess! Is it true that you have a bow and arrows?”
“It is true, lovely girl. I’m a pretty great shot, too,” Hortense says, patting the girl on the head.
