Garry leaned back, let out a monstrous burp, and relished in the warmth that spread throughout his body. “That been the best broth I ’ave e’er ’ad!” He paused and then smacked himself. “Talk proper! Like the land folk. Ahem…” He coughed awkwardly and looked around the empty inn. It was rather large but lacked that dirt and grime needed to give a tavern that certain feel. Instead, everything was too new and clean that it was somewhat stifling.

“Well, that will soon change! Once the people learn about this soup, they will come running from across the continent!” He nodded to himself as he reverted back to the proper accent. None of that pirate jargon he was so used to spouting on the high seas. After another burp, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up. “Now what?”

Garry froze as he realized he had no idea what to do. I am in the cursed forest…in a town nobody has ever heard of, where there are talking undead. He sighed and picked up the empty bowl. He might as well clean up after himself.

“Mister Pirate?”

Garry turned to the voice and saw another short person. Ah geez, another one. What’s with this place and child labor or dwarfs? But he had learned his lesson and kept his mouth shut about that.

“Name’s Garry.” Rule one of being a pirate on land, let nobody know you are a pirate. Keep it lowkey. Otherwise, the land dwellers hurled obscenities.

“Mister Garry,” the short man, which looked oddly similar to the one that smacked him with a shovel, repeated and bowed slightly. “Please follow me. The mayor wishes to speak with you.”

That was music to Garry’s ears. Surely the mayor would be somewhat normal and be able to help him out. “Excellent. Take me to your mayor.”

Garry gathered himself and followed after the helpful person. Just for good measure, he also brought his cart filled with clothes. Even though nobody’s around, you can never be too careful…

The man led him down a gravel path through the center of the town…or was it a village? It was hard to tell. Garry examined the architecture. Most buildings here were log cabins with signs suggesting they were inns or taverns. The architecture was nothing impressive and gave him the idea that this town was aiming to be a rest stop for weary travelers rather than a place to live. At least for now.

After a few minutes, Garry turned a corner and saw a massive clearing. In the center of the town was a large palace constructed of white stone. It was relatively simple and wouldn’t be that impressive back in the Empire or even Eshnar, but the fact it was the only stone building surrounded by many wooden buildings made it stand out a lot more.

Even the pathway from the edge of the clearing to the building’s entrance was cobbled stone rather than gravel. Garry marveled at how his cartwheels glided across the smooth surface as he walked past a basic but well-kept garden.

“Welcome to the mayor’s residence. He awaits you inside.” The man gestured to the foreboding doors and added, “Good luck.” As the man walked away, Garry caught a glimpse of the man’s skull face hidden under the hood he was wearing.

Garry scowled at the undead’s back as it walked off. He would get revenge for the massive bruise on his forehead some other time. For now, he needed to focus on his meeting with the mayor. He cooled his nerves, making sure to keep his accent in check. “You got this…just like talking to the captain.”

Pushing on the doors, Garry held his breath as the surprisingly heavy wooden door swung open with a creek. Inside was dark, with the only lighting from the sun behind him and a few well-placed dim lights lining the walls. Gripping the handles of his cart till his old fingers went white, he strode forward with fake confidence.

Garry winced as every step he took echoed through the dark room. A good few steps away, on the far side of the room, was another door guarded by an ogre. This one held an actual mace in its muscular arm rather than a piece of tree. He got cold feet under the ogre’s questioning glare. Its head moved ever so slightly with every step he took forward as if waiting for him to get in range so it could smack him down.

To Garry’s surprise, the ogre did not smash him into meat paste and instead kindly opened the door for him and gave him an ugly but reassuring smile.

They passed through the smaller door that was inlaid with some gold and other metals that appeared haphazardly attached to the door, as if an amateur had been given far more wealth than they needed and had no idea what to do with it. Garry ignored the blatant attempt to flaunt wealth and pushed forward.

Passing the door revealed a marble-floored room with nothing but a vast throne. Garry’s entire body seized up as something massive moved on the darkened throne. The dim lighting made it hard to see, but Garry was certain a large mass of something was relaxing on the throne.

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A wet, squelching sound accompanied the thing as it rolled over to face him. He was met with two gray eyes and a mouth far too wide—it was ear-splitting.

“Welcome, man named Garry, to Necron. We require a chef as our chef quit due to your blabbering.”

The thing spoke, and Garry was terrified. Was this some horror show? Was this all some fucked-up, twisted dream? The creature upon the throne was so far from human, yet so eerily close, his brain struggled to categorize it. Was it a man or a monster?

“So.” Its frog-like face grinned at him with no teeth, and Garry’s blood ran cold. “You will be the new chef from now on. Good luck.”

Garry was baffled. He had been the chef onboard his ship and had a hearty appetite, but he was no professional land chef. Nobody would want to be served by a pirate. “But I ’ave ne’er cooked proper restaurant meals before!” He was feeling stressed, so he let his pirate ways slip out. “Pardon me speech…I just speak like this here when I be nervous—”

The creature raised a stubby hand that had an odd look to it as if it was slightly translucent yet also ended in claws. “I have decided, and therefore it shall be so. You will be the new chef.” The thing reached over and grabbed something from a bowl; it squealed in the mayor’s hand, but the mayor simply opened his enormous mouth like a whale and chucked it in. “Ahem, as I was saying. The Rock will teach you how to cook. The meals don’t have to be that high quality anyway. We will hire more people soon enough.”

Garry felt more relieved knowing someone would teach him and there would be more people coming. But he had to ask, “Do I have a choice?” Although he was a terrible merchant, he still enjoyed traveling, so being tied down to this bizarre town seemed like it would age him faster than anything else.

There was a stifling silence, and Garry wondered if he had said something wrong. Then, finally, after Garry was getting worried, the creature rolled off the throne with a sickening squelch and began its way over to him. Garry slowly backed away one step at a time as the thing rose to its full height. Even in the darkness, the mere outline of the thing nearly reached the ceiling.

The thing was slow, like lard moving at a glacier’s pace, and Garry could outrun it by crawling, but that was not the problem. Instead, the hardwood pressing against his back made the old pirate curse his life.

The door was closed, and it refused to budge.

With nowhere to run, Garry tried to plead with the creature as it slowly approached. With every lurch forward, he felt his life coming closer to an end. Finally, the beast was so close he could see every detail, including the small rodent dissolving inside the slimy monster’s stomach. Black bubbles rose through the gray slime as the rodent’s flesh was devoured.

The creature was at least four times his height, and its head alone was the size of him. As it leaned in, Garry almost felt his legs give out, and in a last-ditch attempt, he blurted out, “I would be ’onored to become yer esteemed chef, me lord! Please give me the job!” He avoided spitting in disgust. Never in his life had he felt so pathetic.

“Goooood.” The creature smiled and licked its lips. It then reached out with its stubby hand and reached into his pocket. Garry froze as the claws gripped the paper bag filled with jerky. Then, to his horror, the creature ate all his travel rations, bag included, in one gulp. “Off with you, then,” the creature grumbled as it began its long journey back to its throne. “The goblins will lead you back.”

“T-the goblins?” Garry asked in confusion as he felt the door behind him suddenly open. He stumbled backward, and the door slammed in his face. He turned on his heel, and sure enough, the little bastard wearing the hood was waiting for him. Seeing the smug skeleton, he decided to unleash his built-up frustration. “You fucker—”

***

“This is Rock. He will be teaching you from now on.”

Garry listened to the goblin’s words with a terrible frown and a rapidly darkening second bruise on his head. But the sight of a golem, covered in enough gems to fund a kingdom lording over a cauldron behind Bob’s inn, was a sight to behold.

“That sparkling rock is going to teach me to cook?” Garry asked skeptically. The thing looked big enough to smash through a castle wall, let alone manage a stove.

The goblin shrugged and walked off. “No idea. Good luck.”

“Good luck,” Garry spat. Every time he heard that phrase today, he had the opposite of anything good or lucky. “Soooo,” he said as he strolled toward the cauldron. “What are you cooking?”

“BROTH,” the golem thundered, and Garry covered his ears as his world shook.

“What the ’ell, ye big oaf?” Garry shouted. “Speak quietly, or ye will make me deaf!” He had had enough of being shitted on today, and it was time for him to take charge. He was a pirate, for Pete’s sake.

The golem visibly sagged. “SORRY,” he attempted to whisper.

Garry sighed. It had been the most hectic and long day of his life, and it wasn’t even dinner time! But he had to admit whatever was being cooked in the pot smelled darn good. Looking over, he felt the broth looked familiar… “Wait. You made my lunch?”