The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 378 - 392: The Demons’ Chef

Chapter 378: Chapter 392: The Demons’ Chef

With the creaking sound of the bone door being pushed open, Lancelot walked into the kitchen of the Demon Castle. Unexpectedly, it was not Tanari who were busy here, but a large group of goblins. These green-skinned creatures had clear division of labor: some were chopping meat, others were making fires, and still others stirred in pots with large spoons, occasionally scooping up a spoonful to taste, and then grabbing some unidentified seasoning from a nearby bag to throw in.

“Gormack! If you haven’t chopped up that damn meat in one minute, I’ll personally chop off your fingers and throw them into the pot! Bug! You stupid stinking bug, if I see you adding snake tree bark to the soup again, I’ll cook you in it to neutralize the stench! And Guluga! Given that you are my aunt, stop sleeping, or I’ll be forced to come over and kick your butt!”

A goblin wearing a tall chef’s hat was standing on several stacked crates, issuing orders to the other goblins in the room. From the aroma in the air, these goblins weren’t doing too badly, Lancelot thought the scene before him was actually quite amusing, but the ‘Head Chef’ clearly didn’t think so.

Because of where the goblin chef stood, it easily noticed the ‘two-headed’ human knight who had just entered. The goblin’s face changed, and it yelled at the others, “Continue your work, I’m going to take a break now. If I come back and find anyone slacking off, they’ll be tomorrow’s breakfast appetizer. Did everyone get that?”

The rest of the goblins responded vaguely to the Head Chef’s threat, seemingly not taking his words seriously. The goblin sighed, took off his hat, put it down on the spot, then tumbled off the crates and walked towards Lancelot.

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“Please follow me, sir,” the goblin said directly as he passed the iron-skinned, two-headed person and headed towards an empty room, while speaking, “I will cooperate fully, there’s no need for any violence.”

...

“Do you know what I want?” Lancelot found it very interesting, but cautiously stood at the door, not following into the room.

“I guess you are not here for doughnuts, right?” the goblin sighed, “Listen, I’m just a complete fool for signing a contract with Tanari—I actually thought it was Bartez who use that stuff… Anyway, aside from cooking this disgusting food, I have no responsibilities in this castle, so as long as you promise not to kill me, I can tell you anything I know, though I don’t really know much useful stuff.”

“Would you trust my promise?” Lancelot raised one eyebrow, “And why should I believe that you won’t immediately report to the guards after being released?”

“For the first question, do I have another choice but to trust you?” the goblin sighed again, walked to the corner of the room, and opened the lid of a wooden barrel, “As for the second question, see this barrel? It’s filled with the water of the Stygian River, you should recognize this particular color, right? Just a small spoonful will make me forget everything that just happened… So, what do you want to know?”

“First, tell me your name,” Lancelot said in a mock threatening manner, “You know the power of a name, right? If you dare deceive me, no matter which corner of the Multiverse you hide in, alive or dead, I will be able to find you.”

“You really don’t need to tell me these, sir,” the goblin sighed resignedly once more, “I am Rotfoot Rottenfoot, at your service.”

“Very well, Rotfoot, when I came by just now, I saw a big fat man with a hood. Who is that?” Lancelot did not intend to expose his true intentions too soon, so he asked another question he was interested in first, “Have you seen what he looks like under the hood?”

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“Oh, that’s Paji, our Butcher.” Mentioning this name obviously made the Goblin quite uneasy, as if invoking the owner of the name himself, “It is said that he is one of the Mother of Demons’… offspring, or perhaps not a failed experiment. I gave him that hood because although he loves to kill, he gets angry when blood splashes on his face. You wouldn’t like it when he’s angry… As for his face, imagine an ogre’s head soaked in cow’s urine for three days; that’s pretty much what it looks like, both in appearance and smell.”

“You seem very afraid of him?” The skull on Lancelot’s shoulder spoke, mimicking his voice and tone as if it were another head of Lancelot.

“He really enjoys flaying and deboning,” the Head Chef named Rotfoot shrugged, “And in his eyes, we are no different from the food that needs to be processed. Gro once got drunk and slept in the wrong place; it took us a month to find her dried-up body—pushed in a cart along with other ‘ingredients.’ I’d advise you not to mess with Paji. He hardly feels pain, and the layer of fat on his body is better than any armor. I assume you’ve noticed, his senses are not sharp, and with that hood, it’s not hard to slip past him.”

“Very well.” Lancelot nodded, and Cromwell also mimicked the motion as if in sync with him, “How much food do you need to prepare each day?”

“Are you trying to find out how many demons are stationed in the castle? I’m sorry, although these guys can go without eating and drinking, no matter how much you make, they can devour it all until something else catches their attention.” The Goblin shrugged, “To me, eating is just an amusement for demons. We can send up five hundred pounds of food at a time, and if not replenished promptly, it would be gone in about an hour. However, the rate of food consumption today has indeed been slower than usual, if that information is useful to you.”

“Interesting.” Lancelot nodded, finally asking the question he wanted, “What about the Dungeon? Are there prisoners inside that you need to feed?”

“The prison guards often come over to order for the prisoners, but they always only ask for vegetable soup, either to purposely torment the prisoners or because the prisoners dislike the meat I cook.” The Head Chef sighed again, “But I don’t blame them, to be honest, I don’t eat it myself. Ever since what happened with Gro, I get nauseated just looking at meat.”

“I see.” Lancelot stroked his chin, “How should I get to the Dungeon?”

“Turn left after you go out, go straight at the first crossroad, then turn right, you will see Mard and Rek guarding the door, two very friendly giant toads, I believe they would be happy to see you.” The Goblin exaggeratedly winked at Lancelot, “But if you… prefer not to meet them, I know another way…”

Lancelot was familiar with that kind of smile. He considered for a moment, reached into his pocket, and asked the Goblin:

“How much salary do those demons pay you every week?”