The next day, Chef took his sack of foraged ingredients with him to town along with a jug of honey. If he filled one up before and then one there, he’d be able to trade for two jugs this time. Should be simple.

Once he got to the fields, Chef immediately noticed the difference. First was that the forest seemed to end sooner than he recalled, quite a few more stumps making up the tree line than before. He wasn’t exactly tracking the days and certainly wasn’t the most observant goblin of all time, but he was also sure that the pile of what looked like red rocks wasn’t there before either. Well, pretty sure at least. Maybe It could have been, though.

The people in the field were also much fewer than before, and the ones there seemed a lot more relaxed at his approach. Some of them even waved to him.

This is what I get for feeding the livestock.

He wasn’t thrilled at the sight, to the point where their smiling faces even made him a bit queasy. Forcing himself to continue forward, Chef found that chanting his mantra over and over in his head was the only thing keeping him calm.

I can always kill them later. Always. Don’t have to let them live forever. Nope.

Soon, the familiar sight of the town proper came into view through the opening that didn’t have a gate, but once again the sight was surprising. It definitely didn’t look like this last time. Piles of wet, red dirt were all over the town square, and some of the townspeople were running around, pushing a cart of the stuff towards a structure that Chef didn’t remember seeing before.

It just looked like a big gray dome with a long snout to him. He wasn’t really sure why people were so excitedly bringing the wet dirt to it. They’d then cut the dirt into blocks before stuffing them in on a big paddle. Chef couldn’t help but just stand and watch for a while, having let himself into the village proper mainly due to everyone being too busy to do or say anything about it.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

The small one had wandered up to him at some point, observing his observations. Great, another test which he was sure to fail. How was he going to possibly navigate this conversation without revealing that he knew absolutely nothing. Well, Chef realized he wasn’t.

“What is that?”

So instead, he decided to learn. Really, watching thatch dry was miserably boring and the sight before him looked about as exciting, but his life would have been considerably more complicated had he not known how to make it. So, if this or anything else could be important to him surviving or cooking, then he’d do what he had to do to learn it. Even if that meant playing the fool with this small human. Though in this case, Chef wasn’t just playing.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“It’s a kiln. Dad says that you can put stone or clay or whatever in a big dome with a longer point in the front and a little chimney on top. Then you just add in wood to make it burn super hot!”

Chef just looked at the small one before turning back to the dome in question. That was a truly terrible explanation to someone that didn’t know anything. Perhaps this was another test? He had been forced to trade for his cooking lessons and had only just recently paid for them with food. He couldn’t exactly expect them to teach him more without anything being offered. But, if he stuck around long enough, maybe he could trade something?

“Bring me to the father. We trade.”

The small one smiled up at him, agreeing readily. It was time for some more negotiations.

----------------------------------------

“Two jugs honey for two jugs empty. Lids for both. Then after you teach me kiln and clay, I give a third jug honey.”

The man was less enthusiastic than Chef had expected. Perhaps it thought the price was low or had hoped he would remain reliant on them forever, but he had no interest in that. This current lifestyle was unsustainable. Even beyond that, the quality of his meals was beginning to drop. Or, what may be more likely, the bread he had made was so good that everything since just… wasn’t good enough anymore. He needed flour, but even then his breadbox was only so big. He needed oil, but jugs were only so large and very fragile.

No, chef had to start doing more himself. The more he did, the easier it would be to live on his own when these people kicked him out. Or he ate them, whichever happened first.

“It’s just that I’m not really an expert on kilns or anything. I can trade for the jugs I’ve got right now, that’s easy. Other than that, I’d have to talk to some people.”

Chef considered what the father told him before giving a response.

“Bring me to the kiln maker. I trade directly.”

This seemed to get the man’s attention as he began to trip over himself to avoid losing the goblin’s business. The father was incredibly accommodating, assuming that it served him of course. It was easy to be nice and helpful when doing so gets you what you want. And Chef had access to so many things that were brand new for them that it was just a matter of figuring out what they did or didn’t desperately want.

That gives me an idea.

He put down the sack, opened it, and began to dig through. Most of the contents were the various things he’d picked up while foraging, but he also threw in whatever he created magically while he was wandering around, and at this point he had a pretty good surplus. And while he didn’t bring the powders or tiny rocks, he did bring the more substantial types that he had made, pulling one out for the man’s inspection.

The father inhaled, eyes going wide at the smell.

“I can’t believe it. You found garlic in the woods?”

As always, Chef appreciated learning what these things were called, especially if that meant the man knew what to do with it. This gave him all the ammunition he needed to secure this deal in his favor.

“I make. Here is deal. We trade for honey. You show how to cook garlic, and you get kiln maker to teach clay cooking. I give another jug and this garlic.”

The man thought for a little while, before shaking his head.

“If you can add in four more cloves then we have a deal.”

The man extended his hand, a strange gesture to be sure. It wasn’t that Chef was unwilling to shake the creature’s hand, nor was there a problem with the deal. Probably. No, his issue was more fundamental.

“What is clove?”

It was shaping up to be a long day.