Encyclopedia Entry #142: Fries of Freedoms

The wound of the mind, if left unattended, will fester and infect, leaving it vulnerable to suggestions and tricks.

To remedy, I have developed a special kind of dish made specifically to destroy any ailments targeted at the Animo.

I call it the Fries of Freedoms. Here are the ingredients:

- Doubloon Potatoes, grown in the voids underneath Madinat Khaliah. Located in the Murukhali Region. The emptiness of where it's grown helps clear the mind of anyone consuming it, to the point of them losing their minds.

- Stangor oil, a type of natural oil created from Stangor rays, can be found in the Reef of the Forgotten. It is known to help wake people from comas, and is a natural counter to the Doubloon Potatoes.

- Tomatoes. Ordinary ripe tomatoes. Used to create the sauce. No fries can do without the proper sauce!

This recipe can be practised by any chef so long as they know how to make decent fries. This is to prevent ordinary people from having to search for a chef of my pedigree to cook it for them.

I hope you can cure what ails you, and I hope this old man can be of some help.

Signed, Chef Jacques J. Gefoux.

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"So, mind tell me again why we have to look for these... Coin Potatoes?" Sitting inside a populated and rambunctiously loud outdoor restaurant, Mariya found herself in the unenviable position of having to justify fighting a giant scorpion in exchange for a few golden potatoes...

"They're Doubloon Potatoes, and for the record, they're the easiest option in the book," She sat across from Sima and Malkov, who both looked at her like she was crazy(which, to be perfectly honest, she also thought the same thing when she learned what she needed to do to get these potatoes).

Sima blew raspberries at her, "Need I remind you of the, oh I don't know, giant quartz scorpion guarding these precious little spuds?"

Mariya sighed. She didn't exactly love the idea of it either, but she'd rather do that than any of the other options written in that evil little booklet. And if you think it can't be that bad, one absolutely delightful suggestion written by what she could only guess was a psychopath told her to remove a part of her brain, and as much as she wanted the curse out of her head, scooping a chunk of it out like ice cream isn't on the top of her to-do list just yet.

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Malkov picked up from where Sima left off, "Not to mention Stangor rays were overhunted to near-extinction. How are we going to find them even if we got the potatoes?"

She rolled her eyes, "We'll burn that bridge when we get there,"

Getting up, she moved to walk out of the building, only to be blocked by Sima. She ignored them and tried to get through, but he was unrelentless.

"Oh no you don't. Just cause you're fucking Connor doesn't mean you can act like him. We work as a team, especially when we're dealing with a scorpion the size of a house," He shook his head and said, arms now in the air lie it was supposed to stop her from going under him.

She raised an eyebrow while putting one hand on her waist, clearly unimpressed, "Yeah, because barring me from exiting is really good teamwork. Also, that insult was uncalled for, Connor would be hurt,"

"He can't get hurt if he's not here,"

She smirked. He had a point, but that didn't negate from her other argument.

"In fact, I'd wager Connor would be even more stalwart in his refusal to take the risk," Malkov added, "He'd say something like—"

"I can't risk your lives in exchange for uncertainty. Yeah, he would say that," She crossed her arms smugly, "But if I remember correctly, Sima said something along the lines of, 'he won't know if he's not here',"

Sima choked, making her look even smugger, and as she was going to continue, Mariya felt a light tug against her shirt. Looking down, she found a young child staring at her with big, brown eyes. From his tattered clothing, she figured he was probably a beggar.

"U-Um, a nice wady wanted to tawk to you," He started, slurring his words from nervousness as he continued to pull her shirt.

"Mariya, we aren't finished. Get the kid outta here," She didn't reply, just responding with a glare that would shut him up for a good while before her eyes fell back down to the child.

He was a curious boy, looking both identical to the stereotypical pauper, yet carrying an innocence unfit for someone in his position. Others might be oblivious, but she knew that— even as a child, you have to harden your heart in the slums.

Her tone softened as she smiled, "Where is she, hun?"

The boy pointed at an alleyway, "T-Thewe... with my momma and poppa,"

That was a strange detail. She frowned inwardly. So her mother isn't the nice lady, and if so, who is? In a snap, dozens of probabilities ran through her mind, every single one telling her one thing.

Something was amiss.

'What if this nice lady isn't as nice as he thinks...'

Putting up the nicest smile she could under such a terrifying thought, she began, "Dear, I need you to answer me honestly, okay?"

His eyes glazed over, maybe confused as to why she was asking him for this, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Who..." She stared straight into his pupils, as if they could somehow reveal to her if a lie was going to be uttered, "Who is the nice lady?"

Abruptly, the wind seemed to pick up. It was slow at first, only strong enough to move clumps of dust and small blades of grass. However, just as suddenly as it started, the light breeze erupted into gales of air that whipped throughout the building, forcing everyone to cover their faces lest they get hit with something larger than a particle of dust.

"Uh... Mariya, I think we have an answer to who our 'nice' lady is,"

She swivelled around at Malkov's prompting, her eyes squinting as she forced herself to stare at the figure rooted firmly on the street amid the chaos. They were hidden under a full-body cloak that fluttered wildly with the wind, but as bad as it got, the cowl never shook hard enough for Mariya to get a glimpse under them.

"You... who are you!?" She bellowed, straining her throat to its extremes just to overpower the racket of air cracking through her cape like whips.

"I'm—" Whatever they said next were obscured by the booming crash of thunder, with Mariya's only reprieve being able to see her face for a brief moment as the light flashed angrily.

Indeed, it was a her, but that still didn't help things, since Mariya didn't recognize anyone with those sharp eyebrows, or her golden nose-rings, and certainly not the lush locks of auburn-brown hair colouring her otherwise dull cloak.

Luckily, although her face didn't ring any bells, it did for another person:

"Wait... Sans-Culotte?!" She barely heard Malkov whisper, and strangely, it seems she heard him as well if the grin on her face was anything to go by.

"Heya darlin', so sorry I'm so late!"