Rob chopped food slowly, feeling those around him all staring. The competition for the royal family's banquet was fierce this year, yet Rob felt no pressure.
Recently he felt himself to be capable of more than ever before. Normally as a non Cultivator he found his talent to be unrivaled against any and all mortal chefs, even when they had more experience than himself, but…
“How is he doing that?” Rob heard one of the nearby Cultivator chefs say.
“It's got to be a mana infused knife, it’s the only thing I can think of,” said another. Rob wanted to feign ignorance to what the murmurs around him were discussing blatantly; the accusations being pointed in his direction nothing less than out right insults.
Wish I knew how I was doing this, but I don’t know either…
Rob wasn’t a Cultivator, but for unknown reasons over the last few days, he’d experienced what he believed to be a miracle.
Nearly every dish he’d completed was not only unique and inspired from fathomless origins, they’d all contained mana. Not mana in small amounts like all food across the middling realms held by being grown in mana enriched environments, but bountiful levels of energy more commonly found in ambrosia.
Rob not only was creating dishes he’d never cooked before, but working from recipes that he’d never tried, completing them all with an absolute perfection. Every dish tasted by judges was considered to be cuisine made for the highest of HonorBorn nobles; delicacies so fine that even the judges felt immoral eating foods that only the most powerful of Cultivators should be graced with the pleasure of experiencing.
The grumbles of displeasure from his competitors grew as the smells coming from Rob’s area of the contest hall he cooked in bloomed, overwhelming the senses of all around.
“He must be using pre cooked ingredients from a master chef,” came a voice behind Rob. He snickered and slowly shook his head, continuing to cook slowly to ensure he was not thought to be cheating or using anything but his own skill and talent.
Maybe the gods are blessing me for my love of cooking, ever think of that?
The anger grew around him, and before long a chef literally walked out of the competition area and went to grab the officials that both judged the chefs, and examined all cooking ingredients and materials for potentially illegal substances.
“Excuse me, young man, but may I ask you a few questions,” said a voice directly beside Rob. Rob, not looking away from his task simply nodded and continued to chop ingredients.
“May I see the knife you are using currently,” asked the same voice. Rob assumed a judge had approached and was now trying to determine if he was using equipment made to improve a chef's ability. Such as a legacy item that stored cooking knowledge, giving its wielder a distinctive edge, or relics filled with mana that bled energy made to purify or enhance products through touch alone.
In one smooth motion, Rob set down the knife he used, slid it in the voice's direction, and pulled free and identical sharpened blade from the belt at his waistline, chopping his next set of ingredients as if he hadn’t been bothered in the slightest.
Out the corner of his vision, Rob saw a pair of hands going to chop ingredients he’d already prepared perfectly for the dish he was cooking, and raised a hand to stop the individual. Still not looking in the person’s direction, Rob picked up a set of vegetables in one hand, and offered them to the person beside him.
“I’ve already cut those as I need them precisely, if you need to test my equipment please handle these with a brunoise cut, I won’t turn down the pair of extra hands.”
The man chuckled, and before Rob knew what was happening, the sound of chopping vegetables was being echoed beside him. Rob set down his favorite pan and began to add the ingredients one by one, and the man continued to ask questions while Rob pressed on, completely unfazed by being prompted to answer the man’s inquiries with each step Rob took.
“Why not add that spice over there, isn’t it explicitly required for this step of the sauce you are making?”
“You could if you wanted to, and I’d like to just say that I don’t like to, but am I to assume that isn’t sufficient enough of an answer for you?”
“Ha, why yes young man you are correct, that isn’t nearly enough of a reason for me,” said the man laughing. Rob shrugged, but decided to answer the original question.
“This seasoning is called dragon’s bane, which I presume you know. It normally has a slightly acidic quality when heated, while this ingredient is called Depths Lilly, which when added to a meal adds a salty and savory undertone, normally these two ingredients are added to this dish in reverse because a chef is trying to bring out the qualities of the Depth’s Lilly, when the salt from the Lilly is actually the perfect tool to make the tart that comes with the extended cooking of the Dragon’s Bane a non factor, causing the taste of the Dragon’s Bane to be delicate, as it won’t have been cooked as long,” Rob explained, adding the ingredients as he saw fit. The smells that rolled off the surface of the pan unknowing to Rob already making the man's mouth water subtly.
“Why are you pulling that bird out this early, isn’t it supposed to cook for a while longer?”
Rob rolled his eyes, doing as he pleased with the tender bird, moving it from the oven he used and placed it into a preheated smoker on the opposing side of his station, before taking the entire contents of the sauce he worked on and pouring it around the bird.
“You remember that acidic quality I spoke of, if I shift the meal into the smoker for its remaining cook time, that same acid will help push the sauce throughout the bird, and the smoke will—“
Rob finally looked up at the man cutting vegetables and his mouth hung open, his explanation vanishing from his mind entirely.
“Ah, I see, the smoke counteracts any power the acid has on the flavor, you have a keen sense for these details,” said Edwin BladeHand, one of the realm’s most distinguished chefs.
“Don’t look at me like that, you have a meal to finish, boy, and I have many more questions for you…”
The rest of the competition continued this way. Rob cooked assisted by one of the realms most recognized culinary masters, the far more experienced man asking him questions the entire time.
“No, child, don’t do that it will ruin the—“
Rob cut the master off, "Try this before you say that old man.”
Rob dipped a piece of seasoned bread into a sweetened butter and slightly seared it on both sides, cut the finish bird, and set a single thin slice of the finished product on the bread and handed it to the man who looked at it strangely in distrust.
“If this over-seasoned entree that you swear doesn’t need any cheese—“
Rob pushed the man’s hand up, forcing him to stop talking and stuff the food into his own mouth. The audience around him had been oddly silent since Rob had been approached by Edwin originally, and as the master chef chewed a new level of silence filled the area. The only thing heard, bubbling pots, and the steady sound of chopping.
“Wow…” The crowd exclaimed in collective shock, gasping in surprised at the smile that stretched across the master chef’s features.
“That is by far the best Sword Feather sauce I have had in my entire life,” Chef Edwin proclaimed. The man yelled for some of his colleagues to come closer and try the dish, and Rob grew nervous. The entire panel of judges was now casually eating his food, and conversing in whispers, the only person speaking normally Chef Edwin.
“No no no, the knives aren’t special, I used them myself. What... no, the ingredients aren’t from a Cultivation garden. What do you mean stolen ingredients, you idiot? Those seasonings were brought by us, did you steal the ingredients? No? Then no, they are all regulation, you buffoon.”
The other chefs stopped cooking completely to take in the spectacle, and Rob grew tense at all the ridiculous insinuations being tossed around by the judges. He eventually set his own knife down, and shook his head. He’d rather cook for a low quality restaurant than be ridiculed by people who doubted his talents without proof.
Even cooking for my brothers and sisters was better than this, I’m out of here…
Rob walked away and the crowd began to murmur in confusion. It wasn’t until he made it to the door that Chef Edwin yelled for him to stop. Rob looked over his shoulder to see the man walking toward him, the crowd once more going silent at the scene in front of them. All surprised by what they were witnessing being done for a mortal chef.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. Tired of being called a cheater by people who have lest skill for this than I do in my left hand…”
“Hmm, are you sure that is what you want to do? I won’t stop you. I don’t accept quitters into my academy,” Chef Edwin said shrugging. Rob’s brow scrunched, and he looked around before pointing at himself, unbelieving that the master chef was speaking about him.
“Yes, you. Are you going to finish or not, young man. I don’t have all day.”
…
Arson woke up to hear a discussion between River and Stream. The words felt spoken in a foreign language at first, but then the strange speech unfolded to him as the conversation of the giants had as he watched the wild tribe before.
Is this the same dialect as those giants?
Arson continued to listen. His mind naturally converting soft whistles and clicks into spoken words fluent as the father and son spoke casually to one another.
“How long until the other council members arrive?”
Sparks if it wasn’t for the depth of River’s voice I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between him and Stream…
“I ran to all of their homes as fast as I could. I believe they will arrive shortly,” responded Stream. Arson’s mind continued to listen to the conversation, but split immediately to begin a handful of other tasks.
“Anastasia,” Arson whispered, lifting his wrist to talk to his AI.
“Yes,” Anastasia said aloud, not realizing he needed her to be quiet until Arson lifted a finger to his lips. She nodded back at him and Arson continued.
“What happened while I was unconscious, for some reason I can remember everything in this moment, and don’t know why. Was something done to me?”
“Yes,” Anastasia said with a nod.
“Acu found some sort of apple and fed it to you, from what I could tell, your body's natural abilities returned in a flash, and you healed yourself.”
Arson glanced at the father son duo; still listening to their conversation as he had one of his own. Apparently a group of the strongest fighters within the city of palaces was coming to speak about the use of the very apples Anastasia just mentioned to him; the conversation letting Arson know that the group had no plans of letting Arson keep any of the apples himself. Apples he now felt vital to his completion of the trial of infallible memories.
“I need you to do something for me,” Arson said, raising his free hand and allowing for various mana types to leak free of his pores.
“What would you have me do? Just name it, I don’t want to be stuck here either, you know.”
“Teach me, not as I am now, but as I will be. I can already feel my memories slipping away rapidly, but if you can show me how to pack more of a punch I may be able to do more,” Arson said, his mana forming images of himself shooting a bow.
Anastasia nodded once more, watching the flickering images as they sped by. Some showed various types of arrows. Others showed different stances and even melee combat skills that the bow could be used to accomplish incredible amounts of damage, but all were fearsome by design.
“A lot of this I forgot you learned while in Endless, you use a scythe so much I often forget your love for the bow exceeds all other weaponry.”
“Still trying to get over the trials mentally, and the bow comes with a lot of memories I don’t enjoy thinking about, but at this point I don’t have a choice…”
“I think they know you're awake, buddy, you’ve got incoming, but check your Overlay before you forget how to use it again.”
Arson closed his eyes and lowered both his hands back to his sides. He processed the conversation that he’d simultaneously listened to as Stream peeked into the room Arson had been laid down in.
“He’s still asleep father, should I wake him?”
“No, let him rest, he’s going to need it.”
Arson continued to act asleep, but the more of the conversation that unfolded in his mind, the more and more nervous at the details being shared by father and son Arson became.
Things are about to get very interesting around here…