The fragrance of tea in the reception hall had not yet fully dissipated, but the atmosphere between the two n had already beco very harmonious.
Luke had always held considerable goodwill toward the character of Tyrion, appreciating his wisdom, the kindness hidden beneath his sharp tongue, and his struggles and perseverance within a twisted family and environnt.
Tyrion, on the other hand, was amazed by the novel viewpoints Luke casually dropped in conversation, his completely different angle on problems, and that unrestrained, imaginative creativity that seed unbound by any tradition.
This young rchant who called himself a "Heavenly Dragon descendant" possessed a quality that felt out of place in Westeros, yet was strangely captivating.
"Lord Tyrion, it's getting late. Why not stay for a simple al?" Luke glanced at the darkening sky outside and extended the invitation.
"My chefs have rather unique skills. They might bring you a different experience."
Tyrion, who was enjoying the conversation, readily agreed: "Oh? Then I shall look forward to it. To be honest, the food in King's Landing is either roasted at or stewed dishes — I've long grown tired of it."
Luke led Tyrion and the accompanying Bronn across the courtyard to the already prepared dining hall.
When Tyrion saw the dishes laid out on the large wooden table, even with all his experience, he couldn't help but widen his eyes slightly.
Six dishes and one soup, artfully arranged.
White-cut chicken with golden, oily skin, paired with a small dish of ginger-scallion sauce; White-cut duck with a golden hue and a fresh fruity aroma; Braised blackwater river fish steeped in rich, reddish-brown sauce, the flesh plump; Braised pork belly, crystal clear, perfectly balanced fat and lean, trembling enticingly; Beef and potato stew with thick gravy, the potatoes soft and floury; Tomato scrambled eggs in vibrant red and yellow; A plate of bright green blanched lettuce, and a basin of milky white seafood soup with kelp threads.
Every dish was thoughtfully plated. While not as elaborate as a royal banquet, the color coordination was harmonious, the aromas intoxicating. In Westeros' rugged dining culture, they looked exceptionally refined and… unfamiliar.
"Seven Gods above…"
Tyrion subconsciously swallowed, his green eye filled with curiosity and appetite.
"This looks… incredible! And it slls wonderful! This must be another one of your 'Heavenly Dragon' flavors, right? I assu the way of eating is also different from ours?"
"You have sharp eyes, my lord." Luke smiled and gestured for everyone to sit.
Annie and Emma Waters had already begun serving rice.
When the crystal-clear, perfectly separated Wuchang rice was scooped into equally pristine white porcelain bowls and placed before Tyrion, the dwarf noble once again showed a puzzled expression.
"This is…?"
"Rice, a type of grain."
Luke explained while picking up his chopsticks first.
"It is the staple food of the Heavenly Dragons. I myself… am not very used to bread. You can try it and see if the texture suits you."
Dinner officially began.
Tyrion demonstrated extrely strong learning ability and adaptability.
He carefully observed Luke and Bronn.
Bronn had eaten with Luke several tis already. He could barely use chopsticks but preferred a spoon.
He quickly mastered the knack of scooping rice with a spoon to go with the dishes.
The white-cut chicken dipped in special sauce combined the tenderness of the at with the savory aroma perfectly; The duck's sweet-and-sour fruity scent stimulated the appetite and cut through greasiness; The braised fish had rich sauce and tender, boneless flesh; The braised pork belly was fatty but not greasy, lting in the mouth. Paired with rice, it created a wonderful, satisfying "rice-pairing" feeling; Even the simplest tomato scrambled eggs and blanched lettuce brought unprecedented freshness and ho-cooked comfort.
What made Tyrion feel even more novel, and a little uncomfortable, were the "rules" of the al.
Everyone sat around one table, taking food from shared dishes (though using serving spoons).
Master, guard, and maids all ate at the sa table.
This was almost unimaginable in the strictly hierarchical society of Westeros.
Luke noticed his confusion. While deftly picking up a piece of beef with chopsticks, he explained: "These are called 'chopsticks,' made from two wooden or bamboo sticks. It takes practice, but once you're skilled, they are more agile than knives and forks, convenient for picking up food, and cleaner since you don't use your hands directly."
He paused, looking at Bronn and the Waters sisters at the table, and said naturally: "As for why we eat together… eating alone would be too boring. Bronn is my most trusted guard and partner, so of course he qualifies to sit with . As for Annie and Emma…"
He looked toward the two sisters. They were eating in small bites and looked up with bright blue eyes when they heard their nas: "They are among the closest family I have in this world, so of course they should eat with us too."
Bronn, who was focused on a piece of braised pork, paused mid-chew. He glanced at Luke with a complicated look, then lowered his head again, but ate his rice noticeably faster.
Annie and Emma's eyes instantly reddened. The sisters looked at each other, both seeing overwhelming emotion and sothing deeper in the other's gaze.
The master said… they were his closest family in this world!
We didn't want this, but he called us family…
We are伐木累.
Tyrion took all this in. A thoughtful look flashed through his green eye.
This Luke Jacknien not only brought novel goods and cuisine, but also seed to be practicing a way of interaction completely different from mainstream Westeros?
Was it naivety, or did he have deeper intentions?
Soon, Tyrion's attention was pulled back to the food.
He almost finished all the rice in his bowl and sighed with satisfaction: "These cooking thods… are truly astonishing! Honestly, I think they're even better than the royal chefs in the Red Keep — at least… they suit my taste more."
"If King Robert knew you had such chefs, I'd bet he would send the Kingsguard tomorrow to 'invite' them to the Red Keep."
He licked his lips, looked at his empty rice bowl, and even a bit embarrassedly asked: "Luke, could I… have so more of this 'rice'? Seven Gods above, this is the first ti I feel that eating rice without wine can be so satisfying!"
Luke laughed heartily and was about to signal Emma to serve more rice when he suddenly raised his hand to stop: "Wait, Lord Tyrion. Such fine dishes — how can there be no fine wine to match? That would be the real regret."
He stood up and walked into the adjacent study.
A mont later, he returned carrying a small wooden box.
Under the curious gazes of Tyrion, Bronn, and the Waters sisters, Luke placed the box on the corner of the dining table. Then, like performing magic, he took out bottle after bottle of wine.
With each bottle he took out, he gave a brief introduction:
"Brandy." "Whiskey." "Vodka." "Gin." "Rum." "Heavenly Dragon Spring, 22%." "Heavenly Dragon Spring, 28%." "Heavenly Dragon Spring, 35%." "Heavenly Dragon Spring, 53%." "Champagne." "Wine."
Eleven different types of alcohol in various bottle shapes — slender, squat, square. The glass bottles refracted charming light under the lamps.
The caps were also different — tal screw caps, corks, plastic press caps.
Most importantly, all original labels had been carefully replaced by Luke with new ones in a unified style, beautifully designed with full English printing.
In the upper right corner of every label was a clear circular pattern: A simple black dragon forming a ring by biting its own tail, with an ancient jade bi disc pattern embedded in the center of the dragon's body.
This was the unified trademark Luke had designed for all his "products": the "Dragon Jade Ring" logo.
He had recently updated the packaging of all his products — salt, sugar, perfus, etc. — to include this mark.
Tyrion's gaze was imdiately captured by these never-before-seen bottles and labels.
He picked up the bottle labeled "Heavenly Dragon Spring 22°," brought it close, and carefully examined the label.
The texture of the paper, the clarity of the printing, and the beauty of the design far surpassed any packaging he had ever seen.
"What a clever design…" Tyrion murmured, his fingers stroking the label. "This is paper? So white and smooth… These patterns and words look as if they were printed with magic. And this 'Dragon Jade Ring' mark… I understand now!"
His green eye suddenly lit up as he looked at Luke with admiration: "This is a kind of… 'product identifier'! So people can recognize it at a glance as sothing of yours! Like a house sigil, but used on goods! Mr. Jacknien, this is truly a… brilliant idea! It gives the goods themselves your mark and reputation!"
He grew more excited as he spoke, his words speeding up: "No wonder the noble ladies in King's Landing now talk about perfu and always ntion 'Rose Water,' 'Demon's Whisper,' 'Lady's Kiss.' The traditional spice rchants and perfurs in the Reach hate you to the bone — you've almost monopolized the high-end market!"
"And the salt! There are now clearly two prices for salt on the market. Nobles buy your refined small jars of 'Mithril Sal,' while commoners buy bulk salt, but they actually taste the sa!"
"Your glass bottles are also terrifyingly advanced in craftsmanship… They had better truly co from Volantis or even further east. If the glassmakers' guild in Volantis finds out soone's craftsmanship far surpasses theirs, those slave masters will definitely try every ans to eliminate you!"
"You've broken their monopoly."
Luke laughed heartily. He couldn't help but admire Tyrion's sharpness and insight.
He had seen through the core of modern branding at a glance — building recognition, conveying quality assurance, and creating emotional connection — a sense of belonging like a house sigil.
In this era where commodity circulation mainly relied on reputation and rchant credibility, this "trademark" concept was truly a dinsional strike.
"Lord Tyrion is truly wise. You saw through my little tricks at a glance."
Luke smiled as he picked up the 53% Heavenly Dragon Spring bottle, unscrewed the tal cap, and a rich, llow grain alcohol aroma imdiately spread out, making the wine-loving Bronn perk up. Even Tyrion couldn't help but twitch his nose.
"But you need not worry about the source of the glass. They indeed co from an extrely distant place beyond even Volantis' reach."
Luke shook the bottle in his hand, his eyes sparkling with eagerness: "As for these wines… today is a rare happy occasion, and with a distinguished guest and kindred spirit like Lord Tyrion present, why don't we have a small 'wine tasting session'?"
His gaze swept over the dazzling array of bottles on the table, his tone full of confidence and challenge:
"Let us see whether these fine nectars brewed with 'Dragonfolk' secret thods can… defeat the wines of the Arbor that they are so proud of, or even the intoxicating 'Sumr Red' of Dorne!"
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