I started the day with a quick meeting to calm the soldiers. There was nothing but grumbling during the night. I conferred with Caden and told him my thoughts. He said they thought they were solid plans, so I presented them to the men and women.

"Listen, friends. How much money do you all have?" I asked.

"None of your business is how much," Doan said.

"Enough to get by. Let's move out before the orcs return," Mira said.

"Just hear me out. Please. Look. You all have fought hard, and I know you don't want to see your enemies up close. You'd rather put a sword up their asses than feed them, am I right?"

"First smart thing you've said today," Doan growled.

The others laughed.

Face flushed, I tried again."Those idiots," I spit the word for effect, "have gold. And from the sound of the big dude's bag, jewelry and maybe gems. They just lost the war and ran away from their defeated overlord. Do you think they left the coffers empty on the way out the door?" I didn't mention I knew the orc leader had been in the actual throne room with Morthisal when he'd swapped souls with me.

Doan crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side.

"Think about going home with their loot."

Mira grinned. "We could find them, sneak up on them, and slit throats before they knew what hit them!"

"That's—actually not a bad idea." I shook my head. "No. Wait. How about getting their money without bloodshed? We do one cook, take some of their coin, and see where we're at. Just one cook. What's the worst that can happen?"

Caden sighed.

"It's free money," I added with a grin.

"We're still working for it," Doan put in.

"Listen. We make one meal. One." I held up a finger for emphasis. "And we assess our situation. It's called ‘risk and reward’."

"Seems like we're the ones whats riskin'," one of the other soldiers yelled from the back.

"Every day is a risk, friends. When you were knee-deep in the trenches, covered in blood, thinking of your families, did you still risk it all for victory? You did because you're all the bravest soldiers I have ever seen. The bravest men and women I've ever been around."

Doan grinned broadly and puffed up his chest, "You're not wrong on that point."

"Right?" I nodded enthusiastically. "So let's take a low-key risk right here, right now. Let's make one meal. Fleece these idiots for everything they have, and then move on."

Doan turned his head to the side and spit, then turned back to me. He held up an arm and extended one finger. "One meal. One."

"That's the spirit!"

Once Doan caved, the rest fell into line. Caden couldn't stop smiling and occasionally laughing whenever he looked at me.

"What?"

"You, friend. I think I know what you did before you lost your memory."

"Oh?" I asked nervously.

"Politician."

I burst out laughing.

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The day was a mad scramble to create a bizarre, medieval kitchen on the side of the road, minus the fully stocked kitchen and fancy gadgets. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. But the orcs were hungry. They wanted heat, and they had gold—real gold—to pay us with.

Doan remarked that he'd never seen an orc become so trusting of a human in such a short amount of time.

"Must be my winning personality," I assured him, hoping it was just that and not something else. Like the fact that the orcs might sense something was different about me. If they discovered I was Morthisal's body in disguise, I wasn't sure if they would fight for me, or try to add me to a cooking pot.

"Alright, folks," I called out, clapping my hands together. "Let's see what we can scrounge up. We need more pots, some water, and anything edible you can find. Ground tubers are perfect. Potatoes and the like. Do you all know what wild onions look like?"

"Those are too small to eat," Doan grumped.

"They are. Good point, Doan. But you know what they add?"

Doan scratched his head. The others looked at each other.

"Flavor. They add flavor," I told the class.

"Good flavor, too," Caden added.

"They add something else. Bulk. And that's the name of the game right now. We must pad this stew as much as possible to keep profits high."

"Profits?" Caden asked.

"Our time and labor are worth something. But, we're already on the road. Most everything we make will be considered profit."

"Yeah," Doan said. "Unless those greenskins try to kill us after we take all of their money."

"Oh, they can try," Mira said and touched her sword hilt.

Doan had a good point there. We'd have to double the night watch after dinner. I wanted to keep an open mind, but this was a land that had been ravaged by war up until a few weeks ago. This peace between the races could go south really fast.

Caden and I headed into the woods, searching for tubers and other fillers for the stew. As we foraged, I noticed strange, luminescent mushrooms growing at the base of a gnarled tree. Their caps glowed a soft blue in the dim forest light. "Caden, what are these?" I asked, pointing at the fungi.

Stolen novel; please report.

He glanced over, his eyes widening. "Moonglow caps! Don't touch them bare-handed. They're useful for potions, but their spores can cause nasty rashes." I made a mental note to find some gloves.

I kept my eyes peeled for anything that might add flavor to our meal. Suddenly, I spotted a shrub covered in small, vibrant peppers.

"Jackpot!" I exclaimed, rushing over to the plant. I began plucking every pepper off the shrub, filling my pockets and the small sack I'd brought. These had a different shape—more pulled back, like a crinkly bell pepper—but they were yellow. I broke one open, sniffed, and took a tentative bite.

"Mother of god!"

"Good?" Caden asked.

"Try one," I offered.

Caden sniffed the half I'd handed and took a small bite. He took a step away, leaned over, and pounded his chest. "Mother of god indeed!"

His reaction was all I needed. This one was going in my medieval cookbook, for sure.

I smiled. "These are going to make our stew legendary!"

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The orcs showed up later that day, and we were almost ready. I think Doan delighted in telling them to take a seat and wait. The lead orc, I learned, was named Urzan.

Once we were ready, I asked Urzan to join me and Caden.

"Where hot stew!"

"Money first. Let's see what you got," I replied.

He pulled out his coin pouch and pushed it open. The bottom was a mass of various colored and shaped coins, some gems, and a few trinkets. He pulled out a large coin and held it up. "How much worth?"

I glanced to the side, and although Caden's head was down, his eyes widened like he'd just had an espresso triple shot.

"How much worth? One big fat steaming bowl of stew," I said.

Urzan shrugged, dropped the coin into my hand, and then claimed his stew. I called back for him to get a few extra peppers.

Urzan walked away, slurping from the bowl, picking out chunks with his bare fingers, and possibly smiling.

"That's a lot?" I asked Caden under my breath.

"My friend," he whispered back, "that just covered our entire day. That's a coin from old Drakenshire. Bloody brilliant, Varix."

"Shh," I hissed back with a grin. "Let's keep 'em coming."

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Our little camp transformed into a bustling outdoor kitchen. Even Doan did not complain about the “one meal only” after seeing the amount of coin coming our way. Our group's ten or so soldiers pitched in to help me set up a cooking area that could feed more than just our small band. Many of them grumbled, didn't like the idea, hated orcs and goblins with a passion, and otherwise groused. That's what Caden called it. Grousing. He said soldiers were the best grousers ever created. I told him he hadn't run into a bunch of Karens in a long line at a Starbucks. We repurposed every pot and pan we could find and turned them into makeshift cooking vessels.

One particularly creative soldier even offered up his metal shield. We flipped it over, removed the sweated leather hand straps, and scrubbed it with sand at a creek, hoping the little bits inside weren't dried blood. But they were probably dried blood. We used the inside as a grill to sear wild onions and potatoes before tossing them into the stew pot. The smell of roasting vegetables filled the air, making even my mouth water.

"Hey, Varix," one of the soldiers called out. "I've got some rabbit meat here. What should I do with it?"

I grinned, remembering a trick I'd seen on a cooking show once. "Slice it thin and throw it right on the hot coals," I instructed. "It'll give the meat a nice sear and add a smoky flavor to the stew."

"What about the soot?"

"It'll brush off. Besides, it's for the orc stew."

"Oh, yeah." The man grinned.

Soon, the aroma of sizzling meat joined the medley of scents wafting through our camp.

"If you guys get any fatty game, save the white chunks for me. I need it to brown the meat."

After another day passed, word spread about our little culinary operation. Soldiers from nearby camps started dropping by, offering trade goods or coins for a bowl of our now-famous stew. I found myself constantly tweaking the recipe, adding different herbs and spices I discovered in the surrounding area.

Imagine the possibilities if I ever figured out how to use some of Morthisal's old dark lord power. I could add some potent extra flavors. I almost laughed at the absurdity.

With the money we were earning, I put out the call for more ingredients, and soon we had a train of people coming in with various items to trade for stew, or just to buy a bowl and eat.

The orcs continued to come for meals and always brought game with them, from rabbits to fowl. One enterprising soul had located a bovine running wild. They'd hunted it down, providing me with as much meat as they could carry. It tasted similar to beef. It was pure luck that one of the soldiers, Mira, had learned how to butcher meat as a kid. She taught me how to carve up the bovine with a long knife.

Later that night, as we gathered by the fire to discuss the day, I said, "Mira, how did you get so good at butchering meat?"

Mira paused, staring into the fire. "I learned from my father. He was a butcher in our village," she continued, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "Every morning, before the sun even thought about rising, I'd follow him to the market. He taught me everything—how to choose the best cuts, wield a knife with precision, and most importantly, respect the animal that gave its life for our sustenance."

She smiled wistfully. "He used to say, 'Mira, every cut tells a story. It's our job to honor that story by doing it right.' I took that to heart."

I listened intently, sensing there was more to the story. "It sounds like your father is a wise man," I commented, hoping to encourage her to continue.

Mira nodded, her smile fading as she went on. "He was. But life in the village wasn't easy. Bandit raids became more frequent, and one day, those monsters attacked our home."

"Orcs?" I asked.

"Worse. Human bandits. Despicable scum." Her voice quivered, but she pressed on. "My father... he gave his life protecting us. He managed to fend them off long enough for my mother and me to escape. But we couldn’t save him."

"I'm sorry, Mira. It sounds like he was a brave man."

"He was the bravest. Once the war broke out, I knew I couldn't remain in the village while others went off to fight."

"I have a feeling he would be proud of you."

"I think he would, too."

The other soldiers around the fire had grown quiet. I sensed they all had tales to tell, but none of them offered up one. I suppose it wasn't easy for soldiers to talk like this. I couldn't pretend to understand their struggles. The worst loss I'd ever had to deal with was misreading a lottery ticket and spending the night thinking I'd won ten thousand dollars.

The bovine wasn't quite cow meat, more gamey, but it wasn't buffalo. It was also quite delicious.

During one visit from the greenskins, I noticed a familiar face had crept into the group. Lady Churl, and she looked rather pleased with herself. She approached me when I was out of earshot of some of the others.

"Lady Churl. You're looking well."

"Yeah? Yer still lookin' like a soft skin. Brought you these." She reached into her jerkin and removed a batch of long, thin green peppers.

"Ah shucks, for me? Does this mean we're going steady?"

"Like a boat? Reckon we ain't gonna be going steady with my boot up your arse!" she snapped.

I laughed. "A jest."

"Sorry, boss. S'been a rough few days, is all. The other greenskins don' like my sort 'round."

"What do you mean?"

"The big guy knows I was one for pamperin' Morthisal. Me thinks he was jealous."

"That guy was in the throne room. He had no room to complain."

"Gah. It's complicated. Yer blendin' in good, lord."

"It's Varix, remember?"

"Right. Okay, be seeings ya."

"Thanks for the peppers. You don't have to pay for stew. I'll make sure you get as much as you like," I assured Churl.

"Likes the sound of that, I do."

Churl disappeared quickly and I was left to contemplate the new peppers. They were hot as hell and would contrast the red peppers nicely.