The room that Richard was provided for free as per the agreement with Old Man Willum was technically a room by strict definition. It had the enclosure of four walls, a door, and even a small palm-sized hole that if one stretched out the definition far enough, could be considered a window. Old man Willum had provided him with the lid of a pot that fit perfectly in the hole as a cover.
The room was just large enough for an average adult male to lie down. It could barely fit someone the size of Volkar. Inside, there was an old mattress that was starting to smell of mold, a pillow made out of a small sack filled with straws, and an old rug that Old Man Willum insisted was a blanket.
Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll have to make do with this for the time being.
If there was any consolation, it was that Willum was a fantastic cook and the food he made was extremely delicious. Just getting to eat three full meals of that food made staying in that dingy room a little more bearable for Richard. There was a reason why the inn was packed with guest all day.
Richard thought about his first day in this new world where he was reborn as a young kid. He met an untimely death and then he met Death untimely on the same day. He also met a runner by the name of Billy Carrot who introduced him to a new job and worked his ass off from the first day.
He was trying to ignore the burning sensations in his calf muscles in the hopes that it would go away if he didn’t acknowledge it. It was a very eventful day.
Tomorrow I should try to find out how I can learn magic. Grandma Holly talked about a magic school so I might have to go there. But can anyone learn magic?
Richard was worried about whether he could learn magic. In most of the fantasy stories he had consumed, the main character who is transported to another world usually gets tested for their magic aptitude. Barring some exceptions, they all usually end up learning magic or some other unique skill.
If one has to have a magic aptitude to learn magic in this world, then will he have the chance to become a wizard? From what Grandma Holly said, it seemed easier for women to become witches instead.
She said that wizards have to go to school and study theories and math. Is it like those stories where the nerd uses his math and science skills to become an op mage? I’m not too bad at math and science. I should be better than most medieval people, right?
Richard’s mind was occupied with the thought of learning magic. The convenience and whimsical nature of magic were part of the reason but deep down, Richard was just afraid. For a man who had died and was reborn in a new world, he didn’t want to die a vain death again. And what is better to protect yourself than magic?
If I want to live a long and prosperous life, I need to become a wizard.
Richard fell into slumber after a long and agonizing time of worrying about his future. He didn’t know how his future was going to pan out but he was hopeful for a better life than the one he had left behind.
……..
Knock! Knock!
“Get up already! There is a lot to prepare.” Old Man Willum’s gruff voice woke Richard up from deep sleep. He lazily got up and tried to stretch but instead let out a short scream. His whole body was aching from his sore neck to his swollen feet.
Old Man Willum knocked again. Richard answered before the old man shouted again, “I’m up. I’ll come down right away.”
After barely getting up, Richard went down while moaning in pain and sucking in cold air with every step he took. It was still dark outside so Willum had lighted a few candles in the corridor and on the stairs. When Richard got to the kitchen, it was illuminated with the fires under the pots and inside the oven.
The entire kitchen was washed with the red and yellow glow of the dancing flames. It wasn’t very bright but there was enough light to see everything in the kitchen clearly.
“You’re here. Wash up and come help me butcher the meat. There is a lot to get through.” Willum pointed to a bucket of water near the back door of the kitchen. Richard had seen the backyard in the evening yesterday. There wasn’t anything there other than an outhouse, a vegetable garden, and a well.
The outhouse had a foul smell that had fermented to turn sour. It stung your nose like a spice that you would never want to taste in your life or your death. But Richard was thankful that the stench was momentarily overpowering all his senses and keeping his mind too occupied to realize that his muscles were screaming in pain.
When he returned to the kitchen while moaning, Willum clicked his tongue, “Tsk. How can you work at the inn with that weak body? You need to train yourself from today. Sit over there and cut all these vegetables, for now, I can’t trust you with a cleaver.”
Willum pointed to the side where there was a wooden barrel and a low table with a lot of onions, potatoes, and other vegetables that Richard had never seen. Willum seemed to have prepared a cutting station specifically for Richard who had a small body.
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And so, a melody of Richard’s knife rhythmically hitting the wooden board and Willum’s cleaver cutting through flesh and bones permeated the entire inn. Although it hurt quite a lot, Richard felt at peace at that moment. The glow of the fire, the sounds, and the chirping of insects helped to calm his mind and take his mind off of the pain.
After a grueling few hours, just when the sun had started to peek through the horizon, Willum threw together some offcuts and vegetables in a small pan with some spices and prepared a stir-fried meat dish. The smell of the dish was hypnotizing.
The two of them ate the entire dish with some of the leftover bread from the day before. Although the bread was tough, soaking it in the flavorful fat pooled at the bottom of the bowl made it the tastiest bread that Richard had ever had in his life.
He wasn’t sure if it was because of the hunger, the pain, or just the food but Richard felt like he would remember this meal for the rest of his life. He gorged down on three stale breads with the dish, surprising Willum. “Hey, kid. Take it easy. I will feed you more later after breakfast service, you don’t have to eat now for the whole day.”
Richard barely stopped himself from reaching for the fourth bread and got back to work with some disappointment. Old Man Willum saw that look on Richard’s face and smiled by himself with his back turned to Richard.
The sun had already risen high when the preparation was done. Richard stood by the side and observed Willum while he cooked. In a good mood, Willum also explained the process to Richard while he was cooking.
“The first dish to go out every day is sugar plum soup for Grandma Holly. She always arrives at the same time so we have to prepare her soup to be served right when she arrives.” Willum explained while cutting up some green plums and throwing them in the pot.
“Now this is the main ingredient. The star of the dish.” Willum spoke as he brought out something from the pile of offcuts. No matter how he looked at it, Richard couldn’t think of anything else so he asked, “Isn’t that bull testi-“
Willum cut Richard off sternly, “Sugar plums. These are sugar plums. Grandma Holly calls them that and we will do the same.” After cutting off Richard mid-sentence, Willum then went on to cut off the bull testicles that were euphemistically called sugar plums.
In a daze, Richard didn’t understand what mafic Willum did to the dish but after adding a few ingredients, the soup started turning a viscous bright green and started bubbling away. Richard wondered if the aesthetics of the soup were made to suit a witch’s tastes.
“Do you want to taste it? Although I am the cook, I can’t help but praise its taste. It is one of my masterpieces.” Willum held a wooden spoon full of the green ‘soup’ to Richard.
Although conflicted by the visuals of the green soup and the thought of the bull testicles that went into the dish, Richard gritted his teeth and gathered the will to taste the dish. He closed his eyes, only focused on the delicious smell, and took a sip.
Ever since mankind discovered metaphors and similes, they have been writing poetry about tasting colors, smelling sounds, and hearing flavor. Writers and poets have been devising all kinds of tools to describe the nonexistent feelings for thousands of years.
But even if you put all of those poets and writers in the same room, they wouldn’t be able to come up with any words to describe the feeling that Richard was having at the moment as the green soup assaulted his taste buds.
Richard wasn’t sure how but he could hear the color green, smell the sound of the big bang, and taste the first thought of the universe. No matter what anyone said, he wouldn’t believe that the soup wasn’t magical. There was no way magic wasn’t involved in making this dish.
“How is it? What do you think?” Old man Willum asked with unconcealed pride in his voice. He had a satisfied smile on his face while looking at Richard’s expression.
Breaking out of the trance, Richard asked, “Did you add magic to the dish? How can it taste like that? It is indescribable. I think people would agree to give you all their wealth and even their life just to have a taste of this soup.”
Richard wasn’t exaggerating. His eyes were already drawn toward the bubbling, green soup. If it looked like disgusting swamp water just a moment ago, now it had started to look like a precious emerald treasure to Richard. Love is said to be blind. Obsession made you lose all your senses. And Richard’s senses were hanging by a hair-thin thread of reason.
“I didn’t add any magic but there are some magical ingredients sent specially by Grandma Holly. There are the Sage of sages, Thyme of time, Sacred Basil of the ancients, and a few more. But they are such strong herbs that even though I put just a tiny grain of each in one pot of soup, the soup becomes too strong. Normal people can’t have any more than a sip or two before they lose their minds.”
When he heard the final sentence, the sanity left in Richard’s brain immediately became swole, gained extra muscles, and began pulling his senses back in place by the hair-thin thread of reason. A look of disappointment flashed on his face.
“So you have to be a witch or a wizard to eat this soup?” Richard asked with wary eyes. The soup felt like the One Ring of Sauron, beckoning him to taste it and become its Gollum.
Willum nodded and let out a dispirited sigh, “Yeah. If you can’t control magic, the soup will turn you into an idiot. I have tried recreating it with normal ingredients but I just can’t get it right. I would be happy if the normal version was even one-tenth as good as the one with magical ingredients.”
“Can’t we find a less potent type of the magical herbs with a similar taste? I will help you too. We can work together to recreate the normal version of this soup.” Richard spoke with an excited tone. Although he spoke of helping, he didn’t even know how to cook properly. The only thought in his mind was that he could taste more of the soup if he helped.
“Help is good but don’t get fixated on the sugar plum soup or try to taste it behind my back. You seem like a smart, hard-working kid, I don’t want to have to find a new person to help me at the inn again.” Willum warned Richard.
That answered the mystery in Richard’s mind about why there weren’t any other servers working at the inn besides himself and Volkar when there was such delicious food for free. His predecessors have probably all been turned into idiots by the soup.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. They didn’t need to look outside to know who had arrived, the atmosphere inside the inn had changed entirely to announce the new arrival.
“Grandma Holly is here. Take this soup to her and don’t annoy her like yesterday.” Willum handed the tray with the bubbling pot of soup to Richard.