Arek blinked.

“I’m sorry?” He asked.

“I want you to be my chef,” Ming repeated. “I’ve never tasted anything so fantastic, and the food in dungeons gets so incredibly bland that I want to die. Have you ever eaten hard tack for two weeks straight? Bleugh.”

The small woman shuddered, hugging herself tightly as she recalled the traumatic event.

“Don’t you think I might have some aspirations beyond following someone around, living purely to make food for them?” Arek asked.

It was Ming’s turn to blink in surprise. She frowned, scratching the back of her head awkwardly.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“You’d be right,” Arek continued, giving her a sharp toothed grin. “For now, at least. I’ll cook for anyone that has a stomach. But why should I work for you? I could continue as I have been and not have to worry about a boss.”

The embarrassment disappeared from the young woman’s face as she realized that the orc was messing with her.

“I’ll get you into dungeons,” Ming said immediately. “I know there are a lot of rare herbs and spices in them. Most dungeons are in human territory, so orcs can’t get in. Not to mention you need a group to safely beat a dungeon, and you’re on your own.”

Arek mulled over the Ming’s offer. She seemed honest enough, and the orc had to admit that his supply was dwindling rapidly. On top of that, it might be nice to have some polite company again. It had been years since he’d last traveled with anyone.

“I’ll consider it,” Arek said. Ming cheered, interrupting him. The orc held a finger up to get her attention back. “On some conditions.”

“What are they?”

“First, I get first pick of all the plants or herbs we find. If I take them all, they’re all mine. No complaints.”

“That’s fine,” Ming said with a shrug. She paused. “So long as they’re actually usable for cooking. If they aren’t, you’ll have to buy them from the group at the end of the dungeon.”

“That works,” Arek said, shrugging. “Second. I get the bodies of everything we kill. You can take the valuable parts, but I get the corpse.”

“We don’t take them with us anyways. Most dungeon monsters don’t taste good,” Ming said.

“That’s because you don’t know how to cook,” Arek replied with a snort. “Last – you’re going to have to pay me. If you want a personal cook, it isn’t going to be free.”

“Of course,” Ming agreed. “Ten gold a week.”

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“Plus one share in dungeon loot,” Arek added.

Ming’s eyes widened slightly. The other requests had been reasonable enough, but this was a step above them. Dungeon groups generally had four to five people in them. The ten shares were split amongst the group, with extra shares going to stronger members of the party. Arek was essentially telling her that he was on the same level of importance as a new fighter.

“That’s non-negotiable,” Arek said, noticing the shock in Ming’s eyes. “People don’t appreciate the good things in life unless there’s a cost on them, and this is mine. I am confident that my work is worth the cost, and all the money will be going back into making better food. I can also hold my own in a fight.”

Ming drummed her fingers on her knee. Her nose scrunched as she considered the orc’s offer. Finally, she rocked back, nearly falling off the cloth bundle she was sitting on.

“You drive a hard bargain, Arek. I’ll accept, tentatively. If it doesn’t work out, I reserve the option to end your employment,” Ming said.

“And I retain the same right,” Arek said, offering her his hand. It completely engulphed Ming’s as they shook on it.

“Fantastic!” Ming exclaimed. “Now, let’s go back to my camp! My team is probably wondering where I headed off to.”

It didn’t take Arek long to clean his supplies and pack up what little belongings he had. He put the two clay bowls into a thick bag, placed the bag within his cleaned wok, and tied the whole contraption to his back with a strip of heavy leather. The orc kicked dirt over the fire and ground it out with his foot. Once he had finished, Ming led him away from the campfire.

As it turned out, her group had set up tents only about an hour walk away from Arek. It was clear that they were rather successful. The huge pillar of smoke rising from their campfire made it clear that they weren’t concerned about being attacked, and the size of the tents in the camp proved that they had some sort of extradimensional space to carry them around.

“Your friends aren’t going to attack me the moment they see me, are they?” Arek asked as they approached the tents.

“Probably not,” Ming said, waving her hand dismissively. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you if they do. They’ll get used to you eventually – especially after they taste your cooking.”

Arek grunted, but didn’t say anything else. It didn’t take long for one of Ming’s party members to notice their approach. A large human man wearing spiky silver armor was crossing the camp, bringing more sticks to the firewood, when he spotted Ming energetically waving at him.

He dropped the wood on the ground beside the fire to return the wave, then froze as he saw the hulking orc standing beside her. The man groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose as he strode toward them.

“Ming, what did I tell you about picking up stray monsters as pets? They’re dangerous!”

“Don’t be rude, Belmont,” Ming snapped. “This is my chef, Arek. If you aren’t polite to him, I won’t ask him to make anything for you.”

“Ming,” Belmont said, kneeling to look her in the eyes. “This is an orc. Putting a dirty chef hat on an orc does not make it a chef. Orcs are mindless killing machines, not cooks. I don’t know how you managed to keep it so calm, but you need to get rid of it or I’ll have to kill it for the sake of camp security. Besides, orcs can’t even talk!”

Ming stomped her foot incredulously. She looked like a small child beside the large warrior. He was still a head and a half taller then her while kneeling.

“Arek isn’t just some dumb orc,” she protested. “And he sure can talk!”

The two of them glanced up at Arek. The orc tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Woof,” he said in a deadpan tone.

“You taught the orc how to imitate a dog?” Belmont asked, amusement mixed with annoyance appearing on his features. “Seriously, Ming. Grow up. It’s not funny, it’s dangerous. The monster could snap at any moment, and then who knows who could get hurt.”

Belmont rose back to his feet, drawing a long sword from its place at his side. The weapon was plain, but Arek could see the scuffs from years of combat along it.

“I’d prefer if you put that back,” Arek said.