“You’ve got the list?” Sean asked, as he attempted to detangle the mop of hair on his skull while checking his work in a mirror hanging up in what had apparently once been Cultivar’s bathroom.

“I’ve got the list.” Gel assured him immediately, as an eyeball attached to a crimson whip poked out of the collar of Sean’s robe to stare with him. “Inspecting my fine work? I will admit, I prefer your normal look. At least until we get some new threads. I miss how you constantly gave our enemies the whole ‘I will devour your heart’ look. Right now it looks like you want to devour their coin purses, only not in a cool way. Like you’re going to try it with bad humor and worse wares.”

“I’ll take that over the townsfolk running in terror.” Sean quipped back, before begrudgingly admitting to himself that there was no fixing whatever hairstyle this man went for. “Remember how they looked at us back in the tunnels?”

“Hah! Every single day.” Gel said wistfully. The slime’s whip-eyeball turned towards him as they headed down the stairs, the omnomicon safely tucked away in its satchel at their side. “Speaking of petrified faces though, have you checked out the ‘lair’ tab on our status pages? There’s some info in there you might want to know before we go.”

“Oh?” Sean paused at the stairs, mentally pulling up his status and discovering there was in fact a new tab. “I figured it was the same as the giant’s hilltop, so I hadn’t checked.”

“Ahhh.” Gel said, elongating the ahhh to the point where Sean felt there was some subtext to it he wasn’t catching. “Well, some of us sit around in bone cages all day so we’ve got nothing better to do when there isn’t something interesting to dissolve.”

“‘Bone cage’, huh?” Sean shot back absently, as he navigated to the new tab labeled ‘Territory Sphere: Lair’.

“Hey, you didn’t like ‘carriage’ when we first met, and ‘bone cage’ is entirely accurate! Not that you aren’t an exceptional cage and friend, of course. Actually, now that I think about it–”

Sean let Gel’s chatter fade to the background as a 3-D map of the entire city of Dervash unfolded itself in the center of his vision. Much of it was covered in the same impenetrable dark grey fog that had covered nearly the entirety of the ‘territory sphere’ before, but he did notice the streets, buildings, and shops they had visited since arriving were represented in stunning detail– as crisp and clear as if he were standing in front of them.

Damn, talk about convenient. Sean thought, marveling at the prompt’s clarity. It’s like having a mini-map in my head for the whole town, only way, way better.

Just as Sean was beginning to wonder just how real-time the map’s representation was – and noting with no small degree of disappointment that it didn’t show any people – the map zoomed in on the building they were in. Their lair. Cultivar’s Curiosities. Complete with glowing sign out front and a mini-representation of both Gel and himself, undisguised and ungeared, floating atop it.

Interesting... Sean almost reached out to touch the representation of himself, that’s how vivid it was. Then he realized he could orient the map in any direction he wanted, and spent a few seconds swirling the building around. Didn’t realize we had a back gate. Or a yard, even.

Sean squinted at the image, and the walls fell away to reveal the interior of the shop’s layout like he was playing a base-building game as the prompt responded to his intentions. There’s no door leading out there…

Which was when Sean noticed something else. The building’s layout wasn’t empty, as he had imagined it would be. It wasn’t some cookie-cutter image. It was the entire store. Every item, every cabinet, even the spices they had bought that now lined an entire wall of the kitchen– all of it was visible.

Just as the geladin was wishing there was a list of some kind, he noticed a series of tabbed options off to the side of the 3-D map. They were faint, which was probably why he hadn’t noticed them at first, but he eagerly opened each one.

Current Production: Cadeijo (1x)

Current Costs: Monthly maintenance on display cabinets (45 silver), monthly rent to the city (750 silver)

Current Employees: None

Current Output: None

Current Input: Two scheduled deliveries to arrive in four days. One scheduled delivery to arrive in eight days. Three scheduled deliveries to arrive in eighteen days.

Inventory: Cursed Pen of Solitude, Cursed Scarf of Starvation, Cursed Candle of Insomnia, Cursed Robe of Incontinence, Cursed–

Sean’s jaw slowly dropped open at the sheer amount of cursed objects listed under ‘Inventory’. There had to be at least fifty of them, maybe a hundred or more!

How long have we– a few things snapped into place for Sean at that moment. The pen he had used before that had generated a status prompt, the glass display cabinets, and then the omnomicon itself.

“So our lair is actually a high-class shop that only sells cursed items?” Sean asked Gel. “That’s pretty cool, actually. Is there a list of what any of these things actually do somewhere? In Cultivar’s memories or in a book or…”

Sean couldn’t imagine a merchant not writing down what all of his cursed inventory actually did to the buyer. At first, it sounded strange that anyone would want to buy something that was clearly and obviously cursed– but maybe they didn’t know?

The geladin’s hand found the satchel holding the omnomicon.

Or maybe the curse is worth it.

“There’s a meticulously updated list in his bedroom, and another copy in the basement for the employees to use.” Gel said after a moment of silence. “That one isn’t updated as often though.”

“Definitely worth a look then. Good call.” Sean said, before mentally scroll back up to the ‘production’ tab. “What’s a ‘Cadeijo’?”

“That’s what he called the thing he was making in the basement.” Gel said, after another moment of memory-scanning. “Still a little fuzzy on the details. I’ll let you know if more comes up, though.”

“What about you, Omnomicon?” Sean asked, bringing the cursed cookbook into the conversation. “Any details you can share on a ‘Cadeijo’?”

“I can tell you how to properly filet one.” The omnomicon’s cultured voice answered in his mind. “Its form is more spirit than meat however, so I’m afraid I only know a pair of recipes for its organs. It does have an exquisite liver however, and its eyes are exceptionally… juicy.”

There was a moment of silence as Sean shook his head, heading downstairs as the book continued. “I am positive we could come up with all sorts of creative innovations when you inevitably slay it.”

“Duly noted.” Sean paused as he reached for the door, eager to handle this quick bit of shopping and get back to finally finish MOB. If he hurried, they might be able to get back, finish the golem, and then head out to the other side of town and knock out Auntie Ta’s quest as well.

“Any other alibis before we head out?”

“Nope!” Gel said brightly. “Aside from my usual, that is.”

“I figured.” Sean said, opening the door, closing it, and locking it before promptly setting out down the road. “Good thing meat street isn’t far.”

“Would it matter if it was?”

“Nope.” Sean said with a grin. That magical alley was just as much of a treat for him as it was the slime. He was already daydreaming about what new vendors might be there, and had mentally planned in the ‘detour’ before even setting out. “Not one bit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I didn’t realize you could just buy brains.” Sean said, as he laid their purchases out on the table next to MOB’s form. He didn’t bother swatting at the few flies that had somehow found their way in to buzz around the heap of raw meat cuts stacked atop one another. Gel’s eager whip soon took care of them. “Back where I’m from, there are laws against that sort of thing.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Monster brains.” The omnomicon corrected him. “The brains of any enlightened race, despite being a true delicacy in many cases if properly aged, remain outlawed for purchase in nearly every city I have been to.”

“Because if they weren’t, they’d have to make murder legal too?” Sean guessed, grabbing a sack of stone-carved cogs that looked like they belonged in a clock. “I’m guessing these are the ‘order’ mana pieces, since they were so expensive. Where do they go?”

The omnomicon leapt out of his satchel, a feat Sean was impressed to see it accomplish without legs. It rapidly unfolded to the proper page, indicating with a curled corner to where a drawing of something that looked remarkably like what they were constructing was depicted.

“Insert each of the smaller cogs at precisely forty-five degrees from one another, in a ring around its chest.” The cursed cookbook instructed. “And be sure to keep them equidistant.”

Sean looked from the open book, to the thick slabs of meat, to the cogs in his hand.

“... So I just… shove them in there?”

There was an expansive, cultured sigh inside his head.

“No, you do not shove them in there. You must insert them at precisely the points indicated right here!” The omnomicon tapped its diagram once more. “And be certain before you strike! Without such precision, we will be here all night as you fumble haphazardly about in the meat and the mana in those cogs will begin to dissipate. Did you not see how they were aligned even in the bag?”

Sean had seen that, but had figured it was either due to magnetism or ‘magic mana stuff’ he had no idea about. He resisted the urge to roll his orbs.

“You’re saying order mana just naturally aligns whatever it’s inside into some kind of… order?” Sean guessed that made sense, but he hadn’t expected it to be so… overt. Maybe magnetism wasn’t far off.

“Exactly.” The omnomicon said, as if that were the most obvious truth in the world. “So we must follow the proper order inherent to what we are doing, else we risk a lesser end product. Something I am sure nobody here intends to risk.”

“Alright. So where do the brains come in?”

“Once the cogs are in we shall grind them into a fine powder with a small sampling of select salts, then sprinkle them over the entire creation.” The book’s mental voice took on an almost wistful vibe before it reverted back to delegating instructions. “The technique you must use for that step is on the next page, but is a variant of one you have already mastered. Be sure to note the differences.”

Sean grunted his approval, before asking Gel to translate the actual instructions for him.

Better to be safe than sorry. The geladin thought as he listened. Especially given the source.

Not an hour later, they were finished. Inserting the cogs had actually been rather simple, despite all the fuss the omnomicon had made about it. Sean had been careful about his positioning, particularly with having to stick his hand through several slabs of meat at once, but the cogs had practically set themselves in place once he had let go. Like they already knew their proper spot, and were merely settling in.

As for the salted brain powder, admittedly, that had been rather fun to make. There was just something about using a pestle and mortar that Sean enjoyed.

Definitely taking it with us when we leave. Sean thought as he carefully spread the powder in the proper technique, which required him to contort his fingers such that it dropped from two separate places at once. It felt like he was trying to make crab claws out of his hands.

When he was done salting, Sean set the pestle down and looked over at the omnomicon.

“Alright, what’s ne–woah!”

Bright purple and blue light flared off the meat-golem, and the geladin had his sword halfway unsheathed on pure reflex when the light faded away almost as suddenly as it had come. It shook itself, a gesture that made almost no noise despite the sheer amount of meat attached to it. Then its ‘head’ turned to regard the room in a full 360 degree circle before finally settling back on Sean.

Silence reigned for a long moment before Gel cackled in wild laughter.

“Haha-haaaa!” The slime bellowed into the air, his crimson whip shaking at the ceiling like a fist. “It liiives!!”

Sean waited to see if there would be a response from his instincts or his left hand at that remark, but to his surprise both were silent. There was no reaction whatsoever.

“Apparently not.”

“Hu-uh?”

“Nevermind,” Sean said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He grabbed a long slice of turtle bacon he had prepared for just this moment, then tapped both of the meat-golem’s shoulders. “I dub thee: MOB!”

“And I concur, because we need more three letter names around here.” Gel said, before turning his crimson whip-eye to look at the omnomicon. “Now, you’ve been light on the details so far book, so what all can this thing actually do? Besides not being in Sean’s belly, which it is currently doing an irritatingly good job at.”

“I have a name.” The omnomicon said, with the sort of inflection that Sean associated with turning up one’s nose at somebody. “You will be kind enough to use it when referring to me, thank you.”

“Okay, but see, you’re also a boo–”

Sean interrupted his friend, not wanting a fight to derail them here. “What can it do?”

“Anything a sous chef might normally be able to do for you.” The omnomicon’s tone sounded less irritated, and more curious now. “With the conglomeration of meats available to it, and the quality of your work, there will likely be additional functions– but those are unique to each golem and must be discovered.”

A flicker of pain shot through their bond, and Sean immediately looked at Gel’s eye. The whip looked a bit thinner than usual, which alarmed him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” The slime groaned. “Feels like that this recipe took more than it should have.”

“I only take 5%.” The omnomicon said, with an air of refined agreeability. “You should know however, that it is not five percent of what you currently have. It’s five percent of what you were when you first used me.”

“That would’ve been a helpful detail to know earlier.” Sean said with irritation, glaring at the cursed ‘book’.

“It’s fine.” Gel said, interrupting what felt like a nonchalant, mental shrug from the omnomicon. “We knew what the cost was, and I was happy to pay it. Now, what is a sous chef and how is it going to help us?”

“It’ll help speed up the meals I make.” Sean said, sparing another glance of irritation for the omnomicon before turning to regard the meat-golem with swelling pride. “I can hand prep of certain things off to it, ready certain steps for me, even handle simple dishes if I– wait a second.”

“Can it hear us?” Sean asked.

“Yes.” The omnomicon said dryly. “It is your golem, after all.”

“So I can just… tell it do whatever?”

The book nodded its top half, the gesture looking surprisingly human, and so Sean gave it a try.

Go over there. The geladin thought at it, and the meat-golem immediately obeyed him. It walked to the spot he had indicated, before turning back to face him once more.

“Alright, now that is pretty badass.” Sean stated, pleased with the performance. “Now, you’re saying it can cook, too?”

“To a rudimentary level, yes.” The omnomicon replied. “It will use your understanding to make decisions however, as you are its creator.”

“So I won’t have to explain every little thing?”

“Not unless you do not understand it.”

Double badass. Sean thought, ignoring the snark and staring the golem up and down appraisingly.

“I hate to interrupt what I think you’re going to do,” Gel began, and the slime did actually sound pained. “Because I have a feeling its cook for me– but, you did want to go handle Auntie Ta’s armoire and that is the last item on our list save for whatever Feathers needs our help with before we can get back to full-time cooking and consuming so I say we handle that right now before the shop closes.”

“Ah, true.” Sean said, sounding disappointed.

“I wonder if…”

Before Sean could ask what the slime meant, Gel reached out and tapped their storage locket against the golem. There was a soft flash of dull blue light, and then just like that– MOB was gone.

“Wha–”

Gel’s amused laughter echoed off the store’s walls. “Hah! It does still count as meat. I was curious… and now you can bring MOB with us wherever we go!”

Sean slowly turned to face the slime, impressed.

“That was brilliant, Gel.”

“I know.” The slime said, smugly. “Now, I don’t know where Feathers went so that means the only thing standing between you making me a celebration feast for this momentous event is a quick trip down the road, so… onward!”

Sean shook his head, then reached out to grab their coin pouch and stick the omnomicon back in the satchel.

“He said something about having to go talk to that bear guy.” Sean reminded the slime, as they prepared to leave. “From what you told me, it wouldn’t take long.”

“Has it been long? I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sean shrugged as he headed up the stairs to double check that there weren’t any suspicious stains lingering on his clothes somewhere.

“Eh, I’m sure he’s fine.”