As for the neighboring Federated Provinces and the Republic, the situation there was even worse. So much so that Vineta philosophers like Conte once sarcastically commented, "The Provincial Army is not the military of the Federated Provinces; the Federated Provinces is the nation of the Provincial Army." The most update n0vels are published on novel{f}ire.net
As the first regime to overthrow the emperor and aristocracy on this continent after the ancient Muro Republic, each member state of the Federated Provinces was still groping its way in constructing a political system for the post-Imperial Era. To this day, none had been able to satisfactorily answer the simple yet troublesome question, "What do we do without an emperor?"
"Oh, and there's this." Antonio pulled out a small basket covered with a white cloth from under the table and pushed it towards Winters with a smile, "Take a guess, what's it?"
Winters leaned in to take a deep whiff and said happily, "Actually, I smelled the aroma when I entered the room, I just never got around to asking."
He lifted the white cloth and inside were neatly arranged rows of small pies, with another layer of white cloth beneath. Judging by its thickness, there seemed to be a total of three layers in the basket.
These pies had a unique shape, rolled up from inside out into chubby cylinders. Rather than calling it a pie, it was more like a rolled pastry.
The dough was made from the precious refined white flour, and the meat filling was seasoned beef. It required rolling the white dough thinly, evenly spreading the beef filling, rolling it into a long strip, steaming it until done, and then cutting it into small sections.
The ratio of white flour to water, the force used in kneading, the preciseness of fermentation, the seasoning of the meat filling—any slight misstep in these procedures could make a significant difference in the final product's taste.
This "dessert" was a recipe from Winters' mother's family, now the unique skill of Winters' aunt. Winters would confidently claim that in Vineta, this was the only place you could find it, with no other branches.
Food is the deepest bond to one's hometown, and one's palate has profound connections to their life experiences.
Winters didn't care about hygiene, directly grabbing a whole piece and putting it into his mouth. With a moderate salty taste, rich and juicy meat filling, and a properly fermented crust... The familiar flavor finally gave him the true sensation of coming home. Before he could savor it enough, the pie was already gone.
"I heard yesterday that the ship you came on had already reached the outer harbor. Early this morning, Kosa started preparing this in the kitchen for you," Antonio said affectionately, watching his nephew eat greedily with both hands. "I didn't expect such an incident... When I heard I was coming to visit you, she insisted I bring it over. Hey, this really turned into a prison visit."
After eating a few, Winters thought of Bard, Andre, and the others from his same period, so he put the pie he was holding back.
Seeing his nephew stop, Antonio asked in puzzlement, "What's wrong? Has it gone bad?"
Antonio knew his nephew's capacity; just six years ago when Winters was in Shanqian, he could eat two catties of such pies in one go. Let loose, this whole basket wouldn't be enough to fill him.
"No, I want to save them to take back for my friends to try," Winters said carefully as he covered the basket again with the white cloth, tucking in the corners.
Antonio inspected his nephew's eyebrows, eyes, nose, and jawline carefully, then chuckled, "You've grown up so much now. I still remember when you were a kid, you and your sister would fight over these pies…"
As his embarrassing past was exposed, Winters' cheeks flushed, and he hurriedly stopped his uncle from disclosing more old stories, "Let's not talk about that. I was wrong back then, and I have deeply reflected on it."
Antonio laughed heartily, finding joy as middle-aged people often did in revisiting children's embarrassing histories. But then he suddenly became serious, gazing directly into Winters' eyes.
Winters sensed the shift in the atmosphere and listened attentively.
Antonio asked his nephew earnestly, "Do you want to leave this place now?"
Upon hearing Antonio's words, Winters' first reaction was confusion. Then he realized his uncle wasn't joking—Antonio definitely had a way to help him leave the prison right now if he wished to.
Winters asked himself: Did I want to leave that prison cell?
The answer, of course, was yes. No matter how good the prison environment, it was still a prison: low, damp, crowded, with a floor full of pits and uneven mortar, not even a comfortable place to lie down.
There was also no way to pass the time in the cell, one could only sit withered in the prison room, where every second felt as long as a century.
But, if I were to leave that cell, it definitely wouldn't be alone. Everyone else was in prison too, what would it look like if I ran off by myself? If I were to leave, I must leave with everyone.
Having realized this, Winters shook his head: "When everyone leaves, I will go out too."
Antonio watched Winters's eyes, then suddenly burst into laughter, "Good! Such is the spirit befitting of the son of Glavis!"
Antonio forcefully rang the bell on the table and leaned back heroically in his chair.
Before long, a middle-aged man dressed in a silk customs official's uniform came through the door. The customs bureaucrat had a radiant smile on his face as he stood beside Antonio, rubbing his hands and asking in a low and obsequious voice, "General Serviati, have you finished talking with your nephew?"
Antonio also smiled, saying, "We've finished. There's something I really must ask of you."
"Of course, of course," the customs official nodded eagerly.
"This matter is truly embarrassing to bring up." Major General Antonio Selviati's smile was now warm enough to melt ice caps, "My wife has only this precious nephew, spoiled beyond belief. We've heard about the hardships this child faces in the customs prison, it's been causing quite a fuss at home..."
"Rest assured, as an esteemed Corps Commanding General personally guarantees him, I will certainly honor this request. I'll explain to the director and chief - you can take your nephew with you right now," the customs official quickly ascended the ladder of the conversation.
"That would be really wonderful..." Major General Antonio's expression suddenly changed, and he abruptly turned his tone, "But I have found that the environment of the customs prison is very helpful for young men to temper their minds, Ensign Winters!"
"I order you to stay in the customs prison! Without orders from the Army Department, even if customs asks you to leave, you are not to leave!"
The customs official, thinking he had solved a thorny problem for his senior leader, was now dumbstruck, but Major General Antonio did not let him off that easily.
He grabbed the collar of the customs uniform, dragging the customs official closer, and with a fierce and terrifying voice said, "Listen well to what I'm about to request! Go back and tell that old coot Hurd, the army will 'snatch' people back, but absolutely will not accept them back passively. If this matter isn't settled to our satisfaction, I'll lead my troops and tear down your customs headquarters!"
————Here's the divider line for the old coot————
In fact, I think fermented food is the type of food that best reflects the influence of life experiences on personal dietary preferences. It's hard for adults to get used to unfamiliar fermented foods they didn't eat as children, because many fermented foods basically just taste like decay, such as the infamous pickled auk.
Thanks to "Old Wang of Social Justice" for the recommendation ticket.
I used to give myself a recommendation ticket every day, but I always felt that voting for myself was a bit too shameful; recommendation tickets should be praise from the readers, not self-flattery by the author. So, I might as well ask for tickets from all you readers. If you have a recommendation ticket, please cast it for me, bowing in gratitude.