"So it's taken care of?"

Uncle Julienne turned to a new section of the crowd and offered a single static wave. "Neccio was seized at the gates. He didn't even make it to the Trunk."

Julienne didn't know exactly how, but Uncle Julienne had coerced Duke Malakoff into releasing the list of sponsors for the truffle hunt, confirming Neccio's role in the assassination attempt. Knowing that Neccio was now in prison should have calmed Julienne, but he still felt exposed up on the open-air carriage.

He scanned the crowd, eyes darting, heart racing, breath out of control. When people waved at him, he feared they were throwing something at him. When they didn't wave, he wondered what they were hiding. Neccio had been captured, but what if he had hired someone else to assassinate Julienne? Would they even go for him, or would they go straight for his uncle? Were the guards prepared? Could they stop an attack?

And as scared as Julienne was of an attack, he was just as afraid of the counterattack. Yarrow marched with the Labruscan Chefs behind the carriage. If he tried to stop an attacker, it could be catastrophic for everyone. People were packed in tight to watch the parade, and Yarrow's acid didn't discriminate. Julienne touched the drops of burnt flesh on his forearm, the pain reminding him of that night. Of the burnt corpses. Of the smell. His breath quickened and his stomach turned.

"Did he go quietly?" Julienne asked.

"There was minor resistance. A Khalyan warrior took care of things."

"How do you keep a Black Jacket imprisoned? Won't he escape?"

Uncle Julienne frowned. "No one escapes the depth of the dungeon that he will be placed in. Those cells are guarded by doddergere."

"What's that?"

Uncle Julienne took a deep breath as if he was about to explain, but then just swallowed. Julienne realized how seldom he saw his uncle rattled. "Visit Neccio if you want to see. Pray that you never do otherwise."

Julienne didn't press for an explanation. He didn't need more stress. If his uncle said that Neccio couldn't escape, that was good enough for him. Now he just had to worry about the possibility of Neccio having a contingency plan. Julienne spotted Archie and Nori, but had no time to wave. He continued to search for any would-be assassins as he scratched off the cuticle of one of his nails.

"Wave," Uncle Julienne commanded from the corner of his mouth.

Julienne wiped a bit of blood off his finger and raised his hand. It shook so much that he hardly had to wave. He tried to compartmentalize his stress in order to navigate it. There was the fear of survival that had been at the forefront of his mind since the truffle hunt. There was the annoyance from his so-called family members that he had experienced in Labrusca. At least that one was fading. And then there was that most familiar doubt of not being worthy of his name. He slipped into that doubt like an old, comfortable pair of shoes. It was a torment he could understand.

"I heard Growhouses had a recent breakthrough with their strawberries," he told his uncle. "I was thinking of seeing if they are up to our standard. It could suit a late summer menu."

Great Aunt Julienne turned to join the conversation. "Oh, strawberries in the summer reminds me of my childhood. How would you feature it?"

"On yellowtail ceviche for an appetizer. For the entree, I'd grill duck over peach wood charcoal and put the strawberries in the coals to cook. For dessert, panna cotta with balsamic strawberries."

"Sounds delightful," Great Aunt Julienne chimed.

Uncle Julienne was not as moved. "People will be coming for Yarrow's lobster. You need to accommodate that."

If Julienne hadn't been so on-display, he would have let his smile fade. But he kept it up, putting on a cheery front for the crowds of the parade. In Labrusca, Yarrow had made noise with his lobster and potato salad served with truffled mayonnaise. In fact, he had made so much noise that the diners of Cafe Julienne requested it within days of their return. Julienne wasn't sure how he felt about it. Having a mainstay on the menu was certainly a win for his team, but he couldn't help but wish that it had been one of his dishes that had earned them that ink.

"We can do a strawberry gazpacho topped with lobster," Julienne suggested.

"That will work. If the strawberries are good enough."

The carriage pulled to the side of the main stage to make room for the Kuutsan procession. Julienne turned to sneak a look at Grand King Flambé. The king seemed natural enough. He certainly seemed more natural than the last time Julienne had seen him slumped over in his carriage unable to even chew his own food.

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"He looks better," Julienne said.

"The Charmant truffle has relieved his pain, but not his sickness. His cough is still as prevalent as ever. Hollyhock is worried that the truffle will lose its effect if they overmedicate. She keeps him at a manageable agony. They double his dose when he needs to make a public appearance."

Julienne snuck another look. He wondered how much pain the king was in. "I thought the truffle was supposed to cure him."

"No. Hollyhock is unsure if it will even extend his life. But it will make his remaining time more comfortable."

"Are they looking for a cure?"

"He's the grand king of the world," Uncle Julienne stated. "Plenty of people are working to keep it that way. You worry about the restaurant."

Julienne nodded. That was right. Compartmentalize the stress. Separate them all into little rooms and never leave the one labeled Cafe Julienne.

"I think your gazpacho idea will work nicely," Great Aunt Julienne added.

Julienne watched the rest of the parade in silence, and just when he thought the formalities were over, a new voice cut through the rabble of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clover Albrecht announced as if he was back in The Serving Bowl. "Please welcome the sponsor of today's festivities, Grand Prince Waldorf!"

A grand carriage rolled its way down the same path as the parade, its intricately carved wood and gaudy gold furnishings giving it just as much gravity as the processions of entire kingdoms. Four chariots escorted the carriage, each occupied by a driver and a Chef that was clearly a fighter. Julienne thought he recognized a few of them as fighters from The Serving Bowl.

The crowd cheered and clapped. Julienne prayed that the warm welcome was for the fighters and not the Gluttonous prince, but his time in Labrusca had taught him that not everyone shared his disdain for Gluttons.

"Why did Grand King Flambé not sponsor the event?" Julienne asked his uncle.

"Apparently, the crown's treasury is unexpectedly diminished. The last accounting had it at half of the expected value. There has been an oversight."

"An oversight? What, someone miscounted and lost half of the kingdom's gold?"

"An oversight in personnel," Uncle Julienne clarified. "The Grand Treasurer is currently on trial for embezzlement."

"He stole half of the kingdom's gold?"

"He was accused of stealing half of the kingdom's gold. A tax administrator found evidence and levied the accusation." Uncle Julienne took a deep breath through his nose and looked up so that his next words might float away rather than being tied to him. "My understanding is that the accuser is a good friend of Waldorf's. It is fortunate that the prince was able to sponsor this entire event from his own personal wealth."

Julienne found a loose piece of skin on his lip and chewed at it. He knew his uncle had more to say, but they both just watched in silence.

Waldorf exited the carriage to another round of applause. Over the summer, he had grown another six inches in every direction, but he moved more nimbly than ever, hopping up the stairs to the main stage. Grand King Flambé shuffled away, shrinking in his son's presence like a scared dog.

"Hello, my wonderful people of United Ambrosia," the Glutton said, needing no magic to make his voice large enough to fill the square. His fingers danced idly as he spoke. "I hope you all enjoy this grand feast! Eat your fill and then some! Let none go to waste. There is no greater pursuit in life than nourishing ourselves with Ambrosia's gifts. That is how we express our gratitude!"

The words divided the stage, most of its occupants clapping vigorously while a small few near Grand King Flambé pursed their lips and mimed applause just so that they wouldn't cause a scene. The divide was reflected in the crowd, but only for a moment. Once the majority began clapping and raising their food in cheer, the rest of the crowd followed suit.

The reception emboldened Waldorf. His fingers stopped jittering and started puncturing the air to emphasize his points.

"I look around the Crown and I see the Chefs and noble people upon which our world is built! We select few have the power to shape the world, and I say we shape it to one of bounty! I have a dear friend who works in construction. He told me that business has been slow for nearly three years now. Three years! He's living on scraps. He has a little kid. Two of them, I think.

"Well, I can't sleep at night knowing that lovely family is going hungry. We need to do something about it! Us, with the influence! So I say…let's give him more work! I want to see the fields produce so much food that every house in the Crown needs a new pantry constructed. We will fill our shelves, and the work will keep that carpenter fed!"

The crowd clapped, moved by the story of the carpenter that Julienne didn't think really existed.

"He's campaigning," Julienne observed. "With his father dying on the other side of the stage."

"He knows his time is near," Uncle Julienne replied. "And he'll wear their affection like armor against any attempt to usurp him."

Julienne shook his head. "They see through him, though. Don't they?"

Uncle Julienne watched the crowd with a steely gaze.

"Don't they?" Julienne scoffed. He knew Waldorf was evil. Any facade of generosity or compassion was just the start of some scheme of personal enrichment. Waldorf wanted everything in the world to himself. Surely everyone else saw it. Surely.

Great Aunt Julienne looked at Julienne with sad eyes and pursed her lips.

"Everyone sees to some extent," Uncle Julienne said. "The real question is not whether or not they understand Waldorf's nature. The real question is whether or not they think they can benefit from it."

Julienne looked behind him and watched as Yarrow clapped.

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