Chapter 714: Just a Pie!

Anno’s response failed to quell Isabella’s lingering discontent.

Gazing at her mother who carried herself as though no years had been lost between them, Isabella found herself incapable of summoning bitterness or reproach. Though this woman had been absent through the hollow echoes of her childhood and the silent storms of adolescence, forcing her to armor her heart with rigid chivalric codes…

The pale figure before her simply couldn’t align with those decades of maternal absence in Isabella’s mind.

"Would you like some pie, Isabella?"

The gentle inquiry almost drew an automatic nod, but Isabella caught herself. "No," she declined, turning toward Lolth with renewed focus. "So… why does this concern my mother?"

"I haven’t the faintest idea," Lolth admitted, tapping her chin. "Having just arrived myself… but if speculation serves – Lady Anno, did you perhaps encounter a foul-mouthed, half-dressed midget with pink hair? The sort who might’ve misplaced half her cerebellum?"

Anno’s laughter bubbled forth like springwater. "An admirably precise portrait…"

"I did meet such a creature. She entreated me to deliver ‘something’ to you." The pie-maker’s knuckles rapped twice against weathered wood. "Though ‘trickery’ seems harsh wording. The artifact’s provenance and ownership remain unequivocally mine. My choice to surrender it stems purely from personal resolve."

As Anno spoke with measured conviction, Lolth’s brow furrowed. "Then… what exactly is it?"

The question hung heavy. Lolth’s senses detected no trace of divine resonance from Isabella’s mother – no thrum of power comparable to Duke Heidegger’s commanding presence or other luminaries she’d known. This Anno radiated disconcerting mundanity.

True, the prophecy’s opening verse had led them here, corroborated by Sword Saint Seychelles’ timely appearance. Yet seated across from this unremarkable baker, Lolth struggled to reconcile reality with cosmic significance.

What crucial fragment could Kululu and Xiletor have seen in this woman to enshrine her in destiny’s verse? The prophecy charted Lolth’s godhood – affairs where even Hell Demon Gods became mere kindling for ascension’s pyre.

She sought the Divine Throne’s pillars: authority, essence, the celestial conduits to the Divine Kingdom. A Qiu’s blade, while an unexpected boon from Seychelles’ demi-god Sword Master, amounted to mere flourish upon this grand tapestry.

But this… this flour-dusted landlady, this biological mother to a knightly daughter, this woman devoid of mystic aura – what profound "something" could she possibly hold that divinity itself required?

Lolth grew increasingly curious as she gazed at Ms. Anno.

The lady began speaking gently.

"It’s a ‘pie recipe.’"

"The kind you’ve tasted… A formula I conceived after being inspired by a dream one day."

At Ms. Anno’s words, Lolth froze in astonishment.

"What?"

As Lolth questioned, Ms. Anno tilted her head slightly.

"Ah, it was when I was about Isabella’s age… well, to be precise, even younger. The night before my first date with her father during our courtship days."

Ms. Anno’s narration drew a resigned expression from Isabella.

Though separated from her mother early in childhood, this moment flooded Isabella with fragmented yet vivid memories of their brief time together…

"Back then, Heidegger—Isabella’s father—was a dreamy fool aspiring to become the Ryman Empire’s greatest archaeologist while scheming to marry me. As you can see, the former ambition got shelved for various reasons, but the latter…"

"Mother, must you suddenly flaunt your romance now?"

Isabella interjected helplessly, recalling the childhood dread of parental storytelling sessions.

Young Isabella had never experienced proper bedtime tales.

Though both parents took turns narrating, she reluctantly admitted…

Neither’s storytelling qualified as torture, yet neither offered pleasant experiences either.

Duke Heidegger would solemnly recite knightly codes from archaic texts—dry educational materials meant for initiates, some composed in Ryman’s convoluted formal syntax with rigid poetic meters.

Their soporific effect proved too potent—Isabella rarely survived the opening paragraph. The cruel twist? Whenever she dozed off, Heidegger would rouse her, maintaining this cycle until precisely nine o’clock struck, his designated "proper bedtime."

Mother Anno’s approach proved more… memorable.

To her four-year-old daughter, she narrated love stories—not fairy tales of mermaid princesses or elf princes, no maidens rescued from wicked sorcerers, no woodland warlocks encountering Abyssal Succubi…

Just the earnest chronicle of a provincial lad destined to become Grand Duke and his beloved—a story both original and autobiographical.

She spared no detail except Isabella’s conception story.

This explained Isabella’s absolute conviction that her parents’ separation involved no emotional rift. One glimpse of Anno’s storytelling manner revealed the truth—if global divorces were counted sequentially, Duke Heidegger and Lady Anno would stubbornly cling to the list’s tail end, fiercely contesting the final ten positions.

Thus, Isabella’s protests proved as ineffective now as in her childhood.

"…Our first date occurred at a minor archaeological site within the Ryman Empire—that fool’s choice, given his archaeological aspirations."

After a prolonged silence, Lolth finally remarked,

"Duke Heidegger… sounds rather extraordinary."

"No need for formal titles," Anno said, observing her daughter’s crimsoning complexion. "Just call him uncle… considering things remain unofficial."

"Mom, could you please stop this nonsense?"

Isabella buried her face in her palms, now thoroughly convinced that accompanying them here had been a terribly misguided decision.

Though it had been a decade… she’d have preferred meeting her mother several hours later rather than enduring this excruciating experience surpassing even that time her father inexplicably showed up in Hillenbrand Town.

"Let’s refocus then," Anno declared while steering the conversation further astray from any semblance of proper topics, "After Heidegger finalized our ruins expedition plans, I became quite excited and resolved to prepare a surprise – rising early tomorrow to personally craft provisions for our adventurous date."

Lolth’s eyes sparkled with sudden interest.

"Marvelous! So you settled on pies then? Inspired choice!"

"Indeed – portable, tasty, and relatively resistant to spoilage. My thoughts precisely."

Ms. Anno’s approving nod sealed their peculiar camaraderie, twisting Isabella’s discomfort into fresh agony.

While harmonious relations between her lover and mother should theoretically please her…

Never in her born days had Isabella imagined her mother finding such perfect comedic synergy in romantic storytelling with Lolth’s enthusiastic interjections.

"Though committed to pie-making," Anno continued with self-effacing humor, "I possessed no culinary skills whatsoever then – merely a sheltered girl who assumed mastery came effortlessly. No seeking guidance from estate chefs, no trial batches… how arrogantly naive of me regarding kitchen arts."

"Worry not," Lolth interjected warmly, her professional pride untouched, "Culinary journeys always begin with curiosity. Preconceptions about difficulty matter little when approaching uncharted territory – especially without mentors emphasizing challenges. That’s not arrogance… just untested optimism."

Anno inclined her head thoughtfully at Lolth’s earnest wisdom. "Well phrased. Despite my ignorance, fortune smiled – or perhaps I’ll boast modestly, some innate talent emerged." Her gaze grew distant with recollection. "Drifting asleep with romantic visions of Heidegger enchanted by my pastry prowess, I tumbled into an extraordinary dream."

"A banquet stretched endlessly across the land – snow-white linens draped over tables groaning with delicacies, vintage wines glinting in spectral light. Yet only one guest occupied this eternal feast… A regal woman of indistinct features, draped in deceptively simple yet sumptuous robes, languidly sipping wine at the table’s farthest reach."

Lolth experienced sudden déjà vu – fractured memories of similar scenes teasing her consciousness before dissolving like morning mist.

"The hostess noticed me immediately," Anno continued. "When I explained appearing through dreamwalking, she inquired about my last waking thought. Upon hearing my pie-making ambitions and courtship tale with Heidegger, she grew strangely delighted. ‘Create your perfect dish here,’ she proclaimed."

"Guided by her, I envisioned sublime flavors – recipes blossoming in my mind. Ingredients materialized as she designated workspace on the endless table. My first attempt succeeded spectacularly – the recipe etching itself into my soul as she praised my gift, christening it my ‘perfect creation’ before warning against sharing this secret freely."

"Awakening with crystalline dream-memory, I recognized supernatural contact – thrilling my youthful spirit. Kitchen attempts proved mysteriously masterful; though otherwise culinarily inept, my pies astonished professional chefs. Yet…"

Anno’s voice softened. "Reality’s flavor differed. The dream-pie nourished both body and soul with inexplicable joy. During my second attempt, realization dawned – the magic sparked not from technique, but intent. Mechanical reproduction yielded mere pastry. But when crafted with genuine desire to delight… the pies became transcendent."