“Life needs to be more than just mere survival.” - Saying attributed to the Silver Maiden

“Ahhhh~! Now that hit the spot!” praised Aideen after she gulped down the ale she poured into the tankard. The local ale was made with plenty of whey, byproducts from the making of the sort of brownish, rather sweet sort of cheese the locals of the Jarldoms particularly love, and had a strong hint of milky richness as well as a bittersweetness not unlike burnt sugar from it.

Also, as odd as the concept may have sounded on paper, it was refreshing to drink some ice-cold ale in the already freezing temperatures of the Jarldom. Aideen definitely could see the appeal and understood why the locals went through the trouble to serve their ale ice-cold in the already freezing weather, at the very least.

The food she ordered also arrived in succession, one after another, owing to the different times needed to cook them properly. It was a thoughtful gesture for the proprietor to send out her food fresh from the grill, rather than wait until her whole order had finished cooking like many places would have done instead.

A steaming platter of a rather large, flat-bodied fish that had simply been butterflied and grilled until a slight char formed on the surface was served along with some boiled potatoes and a sauce that looked like a reduction of cream, flavored with herbs. The tender, white flesh of the fish was cooked just right, easily removed from its bones, flaking and crumbling apart on her tongue. The rich, herby sauce accentuated the clean taste of the fish just right, to boot.

Before she was even halfway done with the fish, a different waited brought another plate to her table, filled with half a dozen of large shrimps that had been cooked until their shell was a bright, vibrant red color, as well as a large shellfish almost as large as Aideen’s palm, the thick flesh of which was sliced into pieces as thick as her pinky finger and served simply with a drizzling of what looked like fine salt mixed with some herbs and spices on top of it.

To her surprise, the shrimps had been cooked to the point that their thin shells cracked the instant she pressed a little too hard while picking it up, yet somehow kept the flesh within from being overcooked. The combination of the crisp, shattery shells and the rich, briny tomalley contained within the heads of the shrimps formed a natural flavoring and play of textures that perfectly matched the sweet, succulent tail meats of those shrimps, and she quickly polished off the half dozen of them in moments.

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Not too many people in Alcidea had a habit of eating the shells of shrimps and smaller prawns – the orcs of the northern plains were one of the few – but in the southern continent any community near the ocean would immediately proclaim the head shell of a shrimp, roasted until it was soft and crisp enough to be eaten, was easily the best part of any shrimp, and Aideen had learned that herself over her years.

As for the large shellfish that was served directly on half of its shell – a kind that was called an abalone if she remembered right – it was served simply with just a dusting of seasoning to allow for its subtle, briny flavor to be displayed at its best, its texture a pleasant balance between chewiness and crunchiness that made her while as she munched on it.

It was right around then that the last of her order, a large spiny lobster longer than her forearm and about as thick around, was brought over by a rather burly waitress on top of a wooden plank. Unlike in most places which usually sliced the creature open prior to serving, they served it whole, the creature almost looking as if it was still alive, if not for the fact that its usually bluish-green shell had turned into a vibrant orange-red as it cooked.

They even provided a knife for her to use in case she didn’t bring one of her own.

Aideen smoothly broke the lobster in halves using her bare hands, separating its large head section from its tail. She then used the knife to split the hard shell of the head open, revealing the pooling gooey mass of yellowish head butter inside. Then she peeled the shell off the tail to reveal the plump flesh within, and carved off a portion with the knife.

After a dip and a swirl inside the head, she popped the morsel of tail meat into her mouth and hummed to herself in satisfaction as the springy, sweet flesh met the bittersweet richness of the congealed organs she used to sauce it. It was the sort of flavor that might have been a bit of an acquired taste for people who lived far away from the sea, but it was one Aideen loved regardless.

Some people avoided eating them because they thought them poisonous or distasteful-looking, and she chalked up those people as fools in her head.

While she polished off her meal, her eyes wandered a bit to check the other customers in the eatery when she noticed a sight that was rather unusual in this part of the continent. On a table almost at the other side of the eatery from her, she noticed an elf – always hard to tell their ages until they began to show it later in life, so he could be anywhere from one to five centuries – struggling with the same sort of lobster she just polished off.

What interested her was his rather characteristic snow-white hair and too-pale skin, a telltale of one blessed with Life, which meant that the stranger was likely an elf from the Forest of Shadows, and was a long way from home. Then again, travelers were common amongst them, as all sorts of fancy often took hold of the elves during their long lives.

After she watched him struggle for a while more, she stood up and walked over towards his table.