Hill giants.

Few could claim the ability to wrestle dragons outside of raucous inns and bars.

They were one of them.

Born from the fantasies of drunkards as they imagined themselves twice the stature they were, these 12 foot amalgamations of near-sightedness and terror uprooted trees as easily as they swung them.

Natural warriors with famously few equals in the art of pummelling, stomping or sneezing flesh into paste, hill giants were weapons unto themselves. Needing no armour other than their leathery skin and the rotundness of their bellies, they viewed the tips of spears and arrows with as much disregard as laws against eating privately owned cattle.

Hill giants, after all, did not just roam the world.

They feasted upon it.

With labouring footsteps led by their hunger, they were voracious eaters with an insatiable appetite, carving a home for themselves in any corner of the world to possess ample amounts of ingredients.

When the earth quaked and villagers rose from their slumber, all knew from that telltale sound of shuddering rooftops to toss aside their languor and rush away their livestock with practised ease.

Which is why–

Wearing a white curtain plucked from whatever window he’d seized it from, this hill giant wasted no time in proving it was not only an appropriate uniform he lacked, but also a recognisable menu.

“Apologies for the wait,” said the hill giant in a deep, rumbling voice. He smiled enthusiastically as he leaned down to present an arrangement of dumplings wrapped in sage leaves upon a plate of stripped bark. “Raviolis au bouncing fungus et à la sauge, served with a red sherry and mandarin reduction.”

Within a hollow cave, only a ceiling of hanging moss served as decoration. 

A smattering of natural light seeped through the cracks in the cavern walls, drowned out by the cauldron fire merrily burning in a pit. 

And there, staked precariously beside it, was a simple wooden sign.

The Restaurant De Les Bolgrof.

A restaurant.

An appalling insinuation given the cave’s lack of ambience.

Here was a place only appropriate to wrinkle my nose at. Yet even so, it wasn’t the absence of disgruntled nobility as servers stood by to answer my every whim at their expense which earned my look of gall.

No … instead, it was the plate of grotesquely sized and strangely odoured dumplings being forcibly presented to me upon a chiselled plate of bark.

“Excuse me?” I asked, peering up at the dubious offering.

“Raviolis au bouncing fungus et à la sauge,” he repeated simply, his genial smile widening. “A Bolgrof special.”

I knew at once that this hill giant’s hospitality was greater than his cuisine.

A shame. 

Famed gourmet chefs the world over, each hill giant frequently competed to represent the pinnacle of innovation in modern gastronomy. 

Found often as solitary bastions of culinary experience travelling in some rocky outcrop, they used their trees for whisking meringues as much as tenderising mutton. 

Or in this instance … bouncing fungus.

I regarded the fare with a highly trained eye.

Even so, I didn’t know what a Bolgrof special was. Only that I’d be avoiding it from now on. Especially if it was served without accompanying tableware, furnishings or even a harpist to throw the dessert at. 

I reached my arms out, immediately requiring Coppelia’s assistance to not suffer an ignominious end under the weight of so much experimental cuisine.

Then, I sniffed the offering.

“Woeful.”

Towering over me, the hill giant recoiled at my declaration.

An incorrect response. He should be weeping with relief, glad in the knowledge that as he wasn't employed by me, he also couldn't be fired by me.

After all … what was raviolis au bouncing fungus et à la sauge?!

Why … was that not a plant monster?! 

A poisoned, mushroom-like spore of a creature?! 

The very types we saw outside?!

“A failed prototype,” said the hill giant, not even bothering to insist I taste the offered death sentence to my palate. “The reduction has reduced completely, leaving a tartness to overpower the delicateness of the bouncing fungus. And though the aesthetics are satisfactory at first glance, a sage leaf wrapping cannot hide the coarseness of the filling threatening the uniformity of the raviolo.”

I raised a brow, craning my neck as high as I could. 

More than enough to meet the hill giant’s gaze. Yet not enough to fully avoid the scent of disappointment wafting from beside me. 

“How curious. I see you’ve a talent to objectively judge the worth of your own creations, but not to decide against serving them.”

“A hill giant’s hospitality cannot be waived. And though I offer a poor first impression, I speak the truth when I say I honestly held hope you might see some measure of redemption in my experiment.”

He paused, as though hoping to allow the sincerity of the statement to settle.

I was rather less impressed.

“A hope to earn my professional opinion held in vain. Because even more than the issue of the bouncing fungus, I fail to see a single–”

“Omnomnomnomnomomomom~”

Suddenly, I was interrupted by the sound of the kingdom’s least picky critic stuffing her face with the entire contents of the plate.

Coppelia wasted little time, slapping entire balls of poisoned dumplings into her mouth at the same speed at which she swallowed them.

“Whaff ischt it?” she said, smiling as she broke as many rules of etiquette as she could in one mouthful. She swallowed. “If you’re not gonna eat it, I will! Hey, this is great! All zingy and mushy inside, while still crispy on the outside!”

The hill giant’s expression brightened considerably.

I was appalled. As a princess, there was a strict quota to the amount of unwarranted compliments either myself or my personal entourage could offer regarding the texture of poisoned fungus. And that quota had already been breached at none.

“As … As I was saying, I fail to see a single–”

“Omononomnonm~”

“I fail to see a–”

“Omnomnomnomnomnonm~

“To see a–”

“Omnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom~”

“C-Coppelia! Surely, the sounds you’re making aren’t necessary?!”

“They make everything taste better! You should try it!”

My loyal handmaiden beamed wider than even the hill giant above us.

I let out a silent groan, then opted to wait for her to finish before continuing.

It didn’t take long.

“Ahem, as I was saying … I fail to see a single justifiable explanation regarding your presence here. Are you aware that this is a cave?”

The hill giant chuckled. It reverberated like the crackling of the nearby fire.

“Quite aware. The insulation helps to keep the temperature consistent.”

“Excellent. Then are you aware that this cave is also under the purview of the kingdom, and thus your use of it as a private abode requires the payment of appropriate fees to the local barony?” 

The hill giant let out a guffaw, for all the world as though I’d told a magnificent jest.

Seeing my expression, he stopped chuckling.

Then, his eyes blinked as he took me in, no longer seeing me as yet another curious visitor to act as a gormless sampler for his menu.

Within moments, a large bead of sweat ran down his temple.

A poor omen. 

After all, the stipulations my kingdom had regarding visitors’ right of residency was very clear.

They must pay their due and lawful keep.

I cared not whether it was a cave lacking in ambience or a fashionable villa hosted within Reitzlake’s royal district. If this hill giant stayed in my kingdom for even a single moment outside of a taxable establishment, then he did so at the expense of my kingdom’s soldiers and its beautiful princesses.

And I was not so generous. 

“Oh,” he said, giving an all too familiar glance at the exit. “Is there a fee?”

“There’s a fee. And were vagrancy the only issue, I wouldn’t be required to maintain my frown at such an angle. No, should you wish to operate a restaurant, then a dozen different licences and permits need to be applied for. All of which may be rejected on the basis of how you source your ingredients.”

Thus–I pointed to the hidden recesses of the cave.

Somewhere, tucked away in some dark corner, was the source of a stream tarnished beyond what even the hygiene deficiencies of peasants could achieve.

But a hill giant with little attachment to the land they squatted on?

Oh, I had utterly no doubt the presence of the jungle of death outside being used in this hill giant’s highly avant garde cuisine was no unhappy coincidence.

“I shall be frank. Are you permitting, even harvesting the hideously ugly plant monsters terrorising the scenic beauty outside? Because if so, that is utterly unacceptable.”

The hill giant responded with an expression almost bordering on gall.

“I don’t even charge for my samples.”

“Which is understandable, should you be failing to pay your expenses.”

“Is it objectionable to remove the plagued treants which infest the local area?”

“No. But the objections afterwards would depend on whether you were responsible for them in the first instance.”

“Then the answer is no. My intention was merely to sample the local flora. The chickweeds, watercress and sunflowers which grow here are particularly notable. The range of plant monsters are an unexpected delight. But they are not the result of any action on my part. That would be the nymph.”

I briefly shut my eyes to the world as I prepared myself for whatever travesty of an explanation was to come.

“Repeat that again.”

“The nymph,” said the hill giant, all too ready to divert away from the matter of his illegal restaurant. “Should you have an issue with the state of the stream, then I suggest taking it up with her.”

I pursed my lips.

A nymph.

Of all the capricious cousins of the fae I didn’t want to waste a single moment of my precious time rolling my eyes at, the mischief of nymphs was outranked only by every mosquito in the sky.

“How certain are you?”

“Very. I saw the act myself. And heard it. The giggling still resounds in my ears. Petty and mischievous, the lot of them. And this one in particular. She returns occasionally to lob pineapples at me. And not particularly good ones, either.”

I briefly covered my face with my palms.

Nobility. Fae. Pirates. Sisters.

And now pineapple throwing nymphs.

This … This was not an upwards trend.

“And yet you saw no need to expedite the nymph’s removal.”

The hill giant shrugged.

“I won’t begrudge their occasional good use, even if unintended. The assassin vines make for a particularly delectable entrée when braised over several nights. Truthfully, I’ll be sad to witness such an exemplary range of exotic ingredients fade. But I shall not prove a hindrance. The Restaurant De Les Bolgrof believes in common partnership with whichever local community it finds itself in.”

The hill giant smiled, nodded, then gave a small grunt.

All things which disregarded the fact I took a dim view of wandering squatters pilfering their way through my kingdom, no matter what veneer of hospitality they hid behind.

Fortunately for him, I considered nymphs causing my roads to be overrun with floral monsters to be more pressing for my time. 

Even more fortunately for him, I was nothing if not generous. And so I’d allow him to leave at his own leisure.

So long as that meant immediately. 

And his direction of travel was Granholtz. 

A personal gift to the Grand Duchess. Anything else was unacceptable. If my peasants needed to flee from both hill giants and my family, then they’d never get a day of work done.

But first things first.

“Very well. Where is this nymph?”

The hill giant paused before responding.

I raised an eyebrow as an answer to whatever bargain he hoped to strike. It was the best he’d receive. The next offer would involve accepting his cauldron as scrap.

After a moment, his shoulders fell as he pointed to the side.

I swept around at once.

Now for the next vagrant. 

And for a nymph responsible for littering my roads with floral monsters which couldn’t even be saved with the correct seasoning, my offer would be less kind.