Yes, Madam Prime Minister

"Isabel said."

She never forced things like recruitment. Besides, although Ronan was a talented person, he wasn't someone she urgently needed. If she could recruit him, that would be great; if not, it wouldn't be a big deal.

"Thank you very much," Ronan said apologetically.

To be honest, Dinia said that Isabel had a quirky personality and extreme ideas, but he didn't see that at all during their first meeting.

"It's getting late."

After saying that, Isabelle told someone to see Ronan off.

She then left this place, one of her many secret rendezvous locations.

Back at the hotel, it was already late at night. After washing up, Ronan quickly fell asleep. He didn't take Isabel's matter to heart; he had simply declined her offer in a normal way. After all, Ronan wasn't some important figure.

The next day at noon, Ronan checked out of the hotel, picked up his luggage, and was about to leave the hotel to hire a carriage at a nearby caravan shop when a priest approached him.

This was a man who looked to be around forty years old, with a receding hairline, a short beard, a seven-star cross hanging on his chest, and a white linen robe with seven red stars forming a cross in the middle. He also had a short-handled hexagonal hammer hanging at his waist. This hammer was called an exorcism hammer. In the past, anyone who was considered by the church to be possessed by a demon would be exorcised by striking them on the head with this hammer.

This attire indicates that the man is an exorcist deacon for the church.

Unlike assistant butlers like Eric, exorcist butlers don't handle problems; they usually deal with people who have problems.

Ronan was a little puzzled. What did the church want with him? He had given them all the sixty silver dragons, not a single one less.

"Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with?" Ronan asked.

“A fellow believer wishes to see you,” the exorcist deacon replied.

A fellow believer? An exorcist would certainly not refer to his superiors or other clergy as a fellow believer, so the person who sent him on this errand must not be a member of the church.

Goodness, Princess Isabel had a magician run errands, but this one is even more impressive—the church is running errands for her.

"Can you wait while I put my luggage down?" Ronan asked, not wanting to carry his luggage around forever.

"As soon as possible," the exorcist deacon said.

Ronan hired a carriage, and the exorcist deacon boarded as well. They traveled to the Duke's Theatre Hotel, where Ronan quickly dropped off his luggage. Afterward, Ronan followed the exorcist deacon to a church school next to a small chapel on the North Shore.

Upon entering the school, the exorcist deacon led the way to a vegetable garden behind the church school, where Ronan saw Ambrina, dressed in a light gray linen dress, sowing seeds.

As soon as she saw Ronan arrive, Ambrina immediately waved him over.

When Ronan walked up to her, Ambrina excitedly introduced what she had just planted, "This is a type of pea from the north. Not only can you eat the peas, but you can also pick and eat the pods when they are very tender. I just haven't figured out how to make them taste even better yet."

"Perhaps it would be quite nice to stir-fry it with some bacon and sausage slices," Ronan said. This was his modified version of stir-fried pea pods with preserved meat, a classic dish.

Ambrina nodded happily. "That sounds like a really good idea."

"Your Highness, what brings you here?" Ronan asked.

“Just call me Ambrina.” Ambrina said, walking to the side to wash her hands as she spoke. “I recently came up with a new dish, and it seems to be doing quite well. Since Ronan, you’re in the capital, I thought I’d share it with you.”

"It's an honor," Ronan said respectfully.

Ambrina paused for a moment upon hearing this, stared at Ronan for a while with narrowed eyes, then walked up to Ronan, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear, "There's no one else here, you don't need to do this."

Ronan could only nod helplessly, "Alright."

Ambrina's face immediately lit up with a smile. "Let me change my clothes, then I'll take you somewhere."

After a while, Ambrina returned after changing her clothes. She was wearing an ivory-white wide-brimmed hat, a plain white long pleated dress, and because the weather in the capital was still cool in May, she also wore a light pink half-length cloak. Over her pink and white stockings, she wore a pair of white lace-trimmed short socks, and on her feet, a pair of ivory-white sheepskin round-toed, low-cut wedge heels with a single buckle.

The little princesses in those fairy tale picture books are probably dressed like this.

Besides her, another person came with her, a woman with short flaxen hair, about 1.7 meters tall, about the same height as Elena, but with a slightly flat figure. She was dressed in men's clothing and had a sword hanging at her waist.

Although his attire is somewhat masculine, he doesn't have androgynous features. If he had long hair, he would definitely look good.

“Lucia Morel, my valet,” Ambrina introduced to Ronan, and then also introduced Ronan, “This is Ronan Artes, my friend.”

Lucia nodded slightly to Ronan, and Ronan, without saying hello, also nodded slightly.

Ambrina led the two away from the church school, and they walked until they came to a small garden.

They set up a stove in the open space, put a big pot on it, and then poured in oil. Next, they took a plate of marinated chicken legs and wings from the kitchen, and brought over flour, water, egg liquid, and breadcrumbs.

By this time, Ronan already knew what Ambrina was going to do: she was going to make fried chicken.

Ambriina really has a deep love for fried food, from potato chips to fried chicken.

Soon the chicken legs were prepared and the oil was hot. Ambriina started frying the chicken legs, frying two at a time, and then set them aside to cool.

She tested it with her hand and it wasn't hot anymore. Ambrina wrapped one in paper and handed it to Ronan.

Ronan took a bite, and Ambrina asked him, "How is it?"

"Not very good. The meat was a bit tough and too oily, and the batter wasn't seasoned," Ronan replied.

The kitchen helper was dumbfounded, and the attendant Lucia gripped his sword hilt tightly. How dare this guy say that the princess's fried chicken legs weren't good?

"Oh." Ambrina looked slightly disappointed.

“I’ll do it,” Ronan said.

Ronan directed the kitchen helpers to first remove the pot, then prepare a new seasoned batter, and then fry two more after coating them with double batter, and even fry them again. Finally, they brought over a mesh cloth to absorb the oil.

After the chicken drumsticks were fried, they were first handed to Ambrina to try.

Chapter 159 Tension, Acting Skills, Singing You a Song

Ambrina took a bite, and found the outer shell to be crispy but not greasy, while the chicken inside was tender and juicy, not dry at all, and very flavorful.

The aroma of the fat blends with the savory flavor of the chicken.

"Mmm." Ambrina couldn't help but let out a satisfied sound. "As expected, Ronan, you're really amazing. You came up with a better way to cook it after only seeing it once."

Can he say that he has watched countless fried chicken tutorials online before?

"It's nothing, I'm a food lover after all," Ronan said modestly. "Your Highness, I can give you this recipe. Just have the chef make it if you want to eat it."

Ambrina nodded, then shook her head. "It's fine to eat it once in a while. I'm not very pretty to begin with, and I'd look even worse if I got fat."

"I cannot agree with what Your Highness has said."

Ronan said.

This is the truth. Ambrina may not be as beautiful as Dinia, whose face is like a goddess sculpture, and she is also a bit less beautiful than Elena, the blonde beauty. But she is definitely not "not very good-looking". If she were placed among ordinary people, Ambrina would be considered an outstanding beauty in terms of both figure and face.

Ambrina waved her hand, and the kitchen helper tactfully stepped aside, leaving only her, her attendant Lucia, and Ronan in the courtyard.

Suddenly, Ambrina's face darkened, and her voice became more serious. "Ronan, who do you think is prettier, me or Isabel?"

"Ah, this," Ronan was stunned for a moment. Ambrina had planted a mole on Isabelle's side.

After his mind raced, Ronan gave his answer: "I think they each have their own merits, but from my personal perspective, Your Highness is more pleasing to the eye."

"Then, what did she say to you?" Ambrina asked again, her eyebrows lowering even further, her expression becoming more serious.

At this, a hint of tension appeared on Ronan's face.

Ambrina chuckled involuntarily, "Ha, so even you get nervous, Ronan."

“Of course I’m nervous,” Ronan admitted.

"You're not angry, are you?" Ambrina asked nervously.

“Of course not, it was just a joke between friends,” Ronan replied.

"So, Ronan, what do you think of my recent practice progress?" Ambrina asked eagerly, like a student who had just made progress and couldn't wait to hear praise from her teacher.

“You are like a queen,” Ronan flattered.

"No way." Ambrina looked a little embarrassed, but she was still extremely happy to receive Ronan's affirmation, even though she knew it was just flattery.

“Well, Princess Isabelle last night…” Ronan hadn’t even started speaking when Ambrina interrupted him.

“No need to tell me anything, I believe you,” Ambrina said. She was happy to see Ronan and didn’t want to talk about these unpleasant topics. “Come on, I’ll show you the flowers I planted.”

Following Ambrina, they arrived at another, larger courtyard next door.

Ambrina pointed to the flower field, "I saved up for a long time to buy this place, and many of these flowers were very expensive. Many of them died several times before I found a way to keep them alive."

“Your Highness, once the seed company starts selling seeds, you’ll have money,” Ronan said. “You can then buy a bigger yard and plant more flowers.”

Ambrina owns 30% of Ronan's seed company, so she doesn't have to do anything and just gets a share of the profits.

“I’m coming here less and less often now, and even less in the future,” Ambrina sighed softly. Even though she had begun to learn how to be a ruler, deep down she still longed for that kind of leisurely rural life: planting flowers and vegetables, raising chickens and cows, having a few children with the person she loved, and spending her free time playing the piano and singing songs by her door, living a simple and peaceful life.

“Actually, sometimes I think, it would be great if I could marry someone who could handle political affairs well,” Ambrina sighed, turning to Ronan. “Ronan, what do you think?”

I'm not going to say anything more, or your dad will call the mage squad over.

Ronan forced a smile. "Yes, there should be a prince like that."

“I’ve met several princes, and they were all awful,” Ambrina said. “They gave me flowers and food, but they had no idea how to grow flowers or how to cook food.”

“It’s nothing, he’s a prince, he’s not good at these things,” Ronan said, jokingly, “He’s a prince, not a gardener or a cook.”

“So, they’re all hypocritical,” Ambrina continued. “Let’s not talk about those people anymore, Ronan, have you thought about going to the central government?”

“I don’t have that idea. There are still many things to do in Xinhai City,” Ronan replied truthfully.

Ambrina specifically asked, but upon hearing the answer, she showed no reaction. Instead, she looked up at the sky, completely unaware of what she was thinking.

The sun was beginning to set, but there was still a while before dinner. Ambrina knew that Ronan wasn't interested in flowers and would get bored if she left him there any longer, so she said, "Ronan, come with me."

Ronan followed.

Ambrina led Ronan into a quiet, spacious room, while the attendant Lucia remained outside.

He took a four-stringed guitar out of the case, tightened it again, adjusted it a few times, and then sat down on a high stool by the window.

After randomly playing a simple tune, Ambrina began to play.

Ronan, a complete music idiot, didn't know what kind of song it was. It was just some kind of medieval folk song. He was instantly captivated, as if he had entered the countryside of that era in his imagination: sunset, windmills, wheat fields, streams, villages, butterflies perched on wildflowers nearby, and shepherdesses humming songs while herding sheep in the distance.

Before you know it, you feel a sense of immersion.

When the music ended, Ronan realized that he had been sitting on the ground without even noticing.

"Beautiful." Ronan clapped softly, genuinely thinking that Ambrina played well.

"Really?" Ambrina asked.

Aside from her close attendants and servants, no one had ever heard her play, and although they all praised her to the point of being on par with masters, she never took it seriously.

“At least, this is the best I’ve ever heard,” Ronan said, absolutely truthfully. After all, he hardly ever listens to music. The last time he listened to music was more than half a year ago when Dinia first arrived in White Star City and he listened to the performance by the three old men, Treca and his companions.

“I’ll play you a Weyland song,” Ambrina said. “Although many people say the Weylanders are barbarians and pirates, their folk songs are actually quite good.”

This piece was completely different in style, and Ambrina even hummed along, using Wielandian German. Her singing voice was completely different from her speaking voice. When she spoke, she sounded like a little girl, but when she sang, she sounded like a wandering singer full of stories. The music once again took Ronan to another world, as if he had walked into a noisy sailor's bar. Suddenly, the bard came in, and everyone quieted down to listen to him sing a poem, which was a poem describing the parting of a hero and his lover.

After the music ended, Ambrina looked out the window and saw that it was getting dark. She quickly and happily said, "It's late, why don't you stay and have dinner with us?"

Chapter 160 Headache, Thoughts, You Just Wait

Ronan was momentarily at a loss for words. He wasn't a blockhead; he could tell that after all that going around in circles, admiring the flowers and playing the piano, Ambrina was only trying to get him to stay for dinner.

But it's precisely because it's obvious that it's a headache.

“Okay,” Ronan agreed.

He had no experience dealing with relationship problems in his decades of life and had no idea how to handle them, so he could only hope that time would solve the problem.

Let's take it one step at a time for now.

Dinner wasn't extravagant, but it was quite varied, with thirteen courses in total, from appetizers to dessert. It took a full three hours to eat. Although each dish was small, the total amount was definitely enough to fill you up. Moreover, after finishing the meal, you could still recall the taste of three or four of the dishes. The chef in charge could definitely be described as having superb culinary skills.

During the middle of dinner, the two chatted a lot, mostly about trivial matters and anecdotes in their lives, which Ambrina found very interesting.

They didn't start talking about things outside of daily life until they finished the last bite of dessert. Ambrina looked reluctant, like a middle school student who had finally managed to play for a while but had to go back to her desk to do her homework.

“Ronan, I have something to tell you,” Ambrina said.

"Hmm." Ronan hummed in response, indicating that he was listening attentively.

“If I remember correctly, your meeting is not going to start for another week. According to the procedure, you are supposed to submit a report in three days, right?” Ambrina asked.

“Yes,” Ronan affirmed.

This point has already been made clear in previous letters.

This is easy to understand. The main function of the General Assembly of Secretaries used to be to report to the lords. Now it is to let the king know the situation in various places. If it is only at the state level, the king can summon them one by one to ask questions. But the city level is all here, more than 200 people. How can the king have time to summon them one by one in person? Naturally, he can only look at the written reports.

“He will send all your reports back,” Ambrina said, “and then require you to resubmit a report of no more than 300 words within two days, including a summary and discussion.”

Writing long, rambling reports with flattery in every three sentences is a basic skill for a secretary-general. If someone doesn't even have that basic skill, they can have their subordinates write it for them.