I see. [Even mealtimes were martial training for this child, apparently. Koltira continues to dice the potatoes as Martin finishes them, his expression becoming muted, wistful. Both he and Faltora had learned swords at a young age, too, though it was sport to them, at least at first. But a high elf's life, back then, was long and easy and bountiful. There was no need for rigorous training, or so they had presumed.

Once the dicing is finished, Koltira scoops up his work and dumps it into a pot. He adds various things--more savory herbs to add to the heady mix of scents already permeating the air, several cups of fresh milk, and so on. He hands Martin a clove of garlic.]

I had a younger brother. [without skipping a beat--] Crush this, then peel off the skin. [he demonstrates with another clove, pressing the heel of his hand down firmly until the skin is loose. He peels the skin free, then sets it aside.] Like this.

[For Bariyan, he places a pan on the counter, which he then covers with a foil baking sheet. He uncaps a bottle of olive oil, shaking it gently before he sets it beside the pan.]

Asparagus on the sheet. Olive oil on the asparagus. Toss them up a bit so they'll be covered. Salt and pepper as you will.