Why it never ends

Chapter 942 Pastry

There was a sigh from the crowd. It turned out that the scores of both sides were very close. It seemed that they had come to the 12th question, but the scores of both sides just reached 12:.

Tryon stood in the middle of the long table on the left, holding a list of questions in his hand, many of which had been asked before and were therefore crossed out.

Trion was dissatisfied: "The questions we set are too easy! My God, some of them can be answered even if I haven't attended the party tonight - they are completely ineffective!"

"Okay," Fatima agreed, "How about we pause for five minutes and go over the remaining questions again?"

"Good! That's great," Trion held out his hand. "Who has the pen? Give it to me!"

The young people sitting opposite Trion obviously had the same idea. They called their friends and gathered at the other end of the long table to discuss countermeasures.

The crowd around Hesta receded like the tide, and she soon discovered that old Irene, the member of the Lord's Gospel Church who had been chatting with Trion that afternoon, was sitting on her left, with three or four people between them.

Most of the guests who were not involved in the game were elderly. Several of them were talking about the reception at the Grand Mansion in the East District of Emmanlia tomorrow night, which was said to be for officials from the First District and the Third District who came to inspect. Several guests were also invited, but they were not interested in such a party and asked each other whether they would go tomorrow night.

"Master Tutor has also received an invitation, right?" someone suddenly said.

Kovicik nodded.

"He is the emperor's eyes now," Old Irene smiled like a fox, "so naturally he can't miss any movement."

Kovicik glanced at Old Irene - what he said was true, but it sounded a bit weird coming from Old Irene's mouth.

"Really?" Another man looked up. "Is Your Majesty also paying attention to this official visit?"

"Your Majesty cares about everything." Kovicik said softly.

"I heard that the United Government came up with a new assistance plan yesterday," the man turned to Old Irene, "saying that they want to push our actual control area to the south of the Galan Zone within three months - this is a big project."

"They are a bunch of people who are only interested in profit. Beyond Galan, the land is not suitable for growing crops with high hydrophobicity," Kovicik said expressionlessly. "Coffee seedlings will rot when it rains. How can people from other regions care about such a place?"

"That's why I hate politics the most," Old Irene suddenly said. "There is no gratitude or reward in politics. People take it for granted to do some addition and subtraction, and calculate all the gains and losses, fearing that they will suffer any loss, but they never mention the really important things."

"What's really important?" Hesta looked at her. "What is it?"

"Good question." Old Irene didn't even glance at Hesta's district, but just smiled at Kovicik. "Without the support of the Third District and the First District, what will Your Majesty rely on to fight the rebels? Our honor guard? Our government is reorganized every six months, and the army lacks training. These soldiers, if they can stay in the military base and not come out to rebel and rob, it's already a great achievement. Can you expect them to fight?"

"You're from District 3," Kovicik said softly, "so you'd naturally say that."

“Third District people,” Old Irene sneered, “If it weren’t for the old Governor Arevalo—a true Third District person—who has always been guarding the north, some people probably wouldn’t be able to calmly slander my origins here…”

"You never know what's going on." The man sitting opposite Old Irene laughed, "I still remember the first time I met the tutor a few years ago. He fainted before I could say a few words to him. Today he has become so eloquent." Old Irene laughed out loud.

Kovicik's hand, which was originally on the table, quickly moved to his thigh. He took a deep breath, raised one hand again, and grabbed a silver fork on the table.

Old Irene raised her glass to Kovicik: "You didn't drink too much today, did you?"

As soon as these words came out, people present laughed sporadically.

Kovicik stood up and said, "Excuse me."

Everyone who had gathered in the corner had returned. Trion returned to his seat with confidence, not even noticing that Kovicik had left early. He held the note in his hand and said, "Okay, now let's start the last five questions - the last five questions are actually just one question! Please tell me the names of the last five cakes at the banquet tonight. I'll give you a friendly reminder: these five cakes were prepared by Fatima herself. They are specialties from her hometown. She specifically introduced the name and method of each one when it was served - you must tell me their real names!"

The young people sitting opposite Trion were stunned. They immediately laughed: "Baron, you are simply cheating!"

"Just tell me the names of those cakes. Did Fatima mention them tonight?"

The guests across the long table began to whisper to each other.

Trion was very proud of it, this was almost his trump card, he had discovered long ago that when the hostess at the table began to introduce some difficult-to-pronounce exotic dishes, few people would take the time to remember them. But no one would deny it - because everyone clearly remembered that when the pastries were served, there was indeed such a process.

Hesta suddenly raised his hand: "Do you still have those cakes?"

"...Indeed," Fatima looked at her in surprise, "Do you want to try it again?"

"Sure, I can't quite remember which five they were," Hesta said, "maybe it would be better if the real thing was served."

Trion immediately waved his hand to call the servants, and five pastries on long-necked white porcelain plates were lined up in front of Fatima.

"Starting from the left," Hesta said, "the first dish is Gunzunak sweet bread. Although it is called bread, it is actually more like a cake. After it is made, it is usually served after it is completely cooled and served with coffee, tea or milk.

“Then there’s the Savarin doughnut, which is a ring of sweetened cake filled with whipped cream, spread with cranberry jam, baked until golden and drizzled with rum syrup.

"The third, the Pascal Cross, is a pastry flavored with vanilla and citrus juice, and filled with ricotta, sour cream, eggs, sugar and raisins... Its golden crust and golden filling symbolize the sun, probably because the locals like to eat it on Epiphany.

"The fourth one is Wagbelei, which is made by cooking egg noodles with milk, then mixing it with whipped egg white and curd. It can be eaten hot or cold... but local people usually eat it for breakfast, not dinner.

"The last one," Hesta fell into deep thought, "Well, I remember the last one seemed to be called..."

"Placita fried cake," said Eucalyptus, "a kind of savory cake stuffed with savory fillings such as cheese, mashed potatoes, and shredded cabbage."