CHAPTER 794: HEAD COOK OTIS

When Ollie reached the kitchens, he was momentarily taken aback by the sight that greeted him.

Clearly, Tipfany and Mina weren’t the only ones with barricades on their mind, but Otis had gone a step further than tipping over his heavy oak worktable to block the doorway. From the looks of the people standing in the large kitchen, Otis had gathered a handful of his staff and armed them in what looked like an attempt to defend the kitchens at all costs.

Two large men who Ollie vaguely recognized as wood cutters responsible for keeping the kitchen hearths supplied with firewood stood behind the improvised barricade with large axes while two younger women who Ollie had never seen before held sharp filet knives in their hands as they crouched behind upturned iron pots.

It was Head Cook Otis himself, however, that gave Ollie the most pause. Barely healed burns were visible on the backs of his hands as he brandished a heavy cleaver in one hand and a burning torch in another. Those same burns seemed to extend even further, peaking out from the collar of his tunic and extending up the left side of his face almost to his ear.

The man Ollie had known before was kind, frequently flustered by the demands of important nobles, and always watched out for the servants who worked under him. He was a man who got by with what he had and did his best to help others when he could.

The version of Otis standing before him now, however, looked as if he’d been through more than just a single crucible. His eyes were firm as he stared at the door, and even though the woodsmen were both younger and stronger than the thickly built chef, he was the one who stood in front of the others with a grim determination that said that he expected to die.

"Otis!" Ollie cried, pushing aside the heavy, improvised barricade in his haste to reach his old friend. "Thank goodness you survived the fire," he said as he strode across the room to throw his arms around the startled cook in a fierce hug.

The sight of the scars from burns on his friend’s body struck Ollie like a knife to the chest as he realized the price his friend had paid to help him and Lady Ashlynn escape the Villa after Sir Kaefin’s death, and Ollie silently resolved to make sure Ashlynn heard about those wounds. Given everything he knew about her, he couldn’t imagine that she would allow Otis to suffer any longer for the help he’d given them, and even if Ollie couldn’t heal wounds that were that old, he was certain that Ashlynn or Heila could.

For a moment, Otis stood frozen in shock, holding his torch out away from the knight who had just shoved aside the table that had taken two strong men to move and blinking in confusion as he tried to understand who this man was to embrace him so fiercely. But when he pulled back and got a good look into the young man’s pale eyes, recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning falling from clear skies.

"Ollie?" Otis asked in disbelief. "Ollie, is that really, really you?"

"Your lordship," one of the young girls said, rushing out from behind the pot and clutching Ollie’s tabard. "Please don’t punish him for forgetting his manners," she said as she dropped to one knee. "He, he’s a good man who..."

"He’s a good friend," Ollie said, pulling back from the embrace but holding on to Otis’s shoulder as he glanced down at the frightened scullery maid. "Is she my replacement, Otis? Did you need two people just to cover for me leaving?" he teased.

"No, she’s not yer replacement," Otis said, putting the cleaver in his hand down before smacking Ollie across the chest with the back of his hand. The familiar gesture was followed by a wince of pain as he felt the coat of mail underneath Ollie’s tabard, and he hissed as he shook his wounded hand.

"Paela’s a good girl who don’t bring no trouble down on me," Otis said furiously, though the smile tugging at the corners of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes spoiled the effect. "An you didn’a jus’ ’leave,’" the cook said. "Ye ran away wit’ that murderous Lynnda woman ’an weren’t never seen again! ’Course I needed new help. But how’re ye here? An’ why? There’s demons out there!"

Outside, the distant sounds of battle had shifted and the cries of anguished, dying men seemed to have vanished completely. The crash of Ipiktok’s battering ram against the stone curtain wall echoed across the bailey and could still be heard even here, but aside from that, the fighting seemed to have stopped entirely.

"I came here for you," Ollie said simply, as though it explained everything. "I came for all of you," he added as he bent down to help the young woman named Paela to her feet. "I can take you all away to safety," he promised.

"Constable Daithi, you remember him, don’t you?" Ollie asked. "He was one of Sir Broll’s men. He’s waiting in the forest nearby with more of our men, ready to help bring you to safety. My village is only two days from here and I already ordered men to fetch supplies from the larder..."

"Village? Yer men?" Otis said, blinking in confusion. "But Ollie, er, Sir Ollie," he said uncertainly. "The demons..."

"Are mine to worry about," Ollie said firmly. "Right now, I need your help to make sure everyone gets out of here. Have the staff had their morning meal? I told Mina and Tipfany to bring everyone they could find here, but it’s cold out there and we won’t stop for the day until close to nightfall."

"It would help if everyone could get a bowl of porridge or something before we leave. Or anything they can take with them when we go," Ollie added as he glanced around the kitchen at the half-prepared meals that had been pushed aside when Otis barricaded his staff in the kitchen. "So long as they have a meal in their bellies for the journey, it will help."

"Porridge," Otis said in disbelief as he stared at the strange knight wearing Ollie’s face. It was Ollie, he was sure of it. He looked like he’d done a bit of growing up and filling out, but those eyes and that voice were both unmistakable. But everything else about him had transformed so much that it left the balding cook wondering... Was this really Ollie?

But, no matter how much doubt gnawed at him, he just couldn’t give in to it. Despite everything that had gone wrong on the day he set the kitchens on fire to help Ollie escape, here the lad was, back in the kitchens and come to rescue them from the most terrifying demons Otis had ever heard of. If that didn’t earn the lad a bit of trust, then nothing would.

"Sure, porridge," Otis said as he tossed the burning torch in his hand onto the hearth. "We still have a pot. We still have bacon and bread and boiled hens’ eggs for the soldiers too. Everyone can have breakfast!"

"That’s the spirit," Ollie said, clapping the older man on the shoulder. "But I do have one other question that needs an answer," he said as his voice grew solemn. "Is ’Lady Ashlynn’ still at the Villa? I need to make sure that she comes with us as well..."