Despite the group's enthusiasm and motivation, [Sunrise] did not, in fact, immediately re-enter the [Palace of Darkness]. They might not have been severely hurt, but that last boss did a number on them, and even with Brandy’s magic, the group was going to need a couple of days to fully heal. There seemed to be a point where the body just couldn’t take any more outside help.
Or maybe that was just what exhaustion did.
Perhaps that was a strange gap in Melia’s understanding. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand the concept of being exhausted. She spent the majority of her life in a perpetual state of aches, pains, bruises, and never having enough energy to deal with any of it. Until she logged into the game and all of that went away. And now, in this body, she really didn’t get tired, not quite like that.
The closest thing in recent memory was when she used up too much mana and created Abbyton’s leyline. But even then, she was only tired, not hurt.
Regardless, [Sunrise] returned to StoneCairne to rest and stayed there for several days. Melia spent most of her time mingling with her teammates, assisting them with whatever they needed help with or otherwise keeping them company. Y’cennia, having had her fill of adventure for the time being, went back to crafting potions. She was up to level 410 after the dungeon, and was itching to try some rank 4 recipes.
As an aside, she had only gained 7 levels from [PoD], where most of her team gained more. The discrepancy didn’t come from her lack of participation in combat. Ellesea had gained 10 levels, and she was the next highest after Y’cennia, while Al had gained 12, Jessica had gained 14, and Brandy had gained 15. The higher rank they were, the less impactful the early floors of [PoD] would be.
Melia sat and crafted with the catgirl as Jessica took Ellesea and Brandy out shopping. Al, dead to the world, was resting in his room.
The last week or so had been very busy for Y’cennia and she hadn’t done nearly as much brewing as she would have liked. She started with the basics, crafting [Mana] and [Health] potions just to get back into the swing of things. After making several 4-star potions, she felt confident enough to try one of her new recipes. Melia watched as Y’cennia took out her [Recipe Book] and started looking at some of the things the system had given her.
[Recipe Books] were fascinating to Melia since they functioned differently than they had in the game. How players were given new skills, spells, recipes, and whatnot varied slightly as the game developed. In the beginning, players needed to visit class trainers and purchase new skills or recipes, but eventually that got patched out in favor of simply awarding new things to players as they leveled up.
In this world, some recipes seemed to be granted by the system itself, while others were learned. These could be passed down from master to apprentice, researched from notes or books, or even self-taught.
But there was a limit to what the system would record in a person’s book. For instance, Melia had let Y’cennia dive as deep as she wanted into Melia’s tome, but the catgirl couldn’t understand half of it and even the parts that she did weren’t immediately added to her own book. Y’cennia lamented the fact that they didn’t, because masters rarely let their disciples so much as peek under the cover of their coveted [Recipe Books], so getting the chance to see one that was so…robust felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Melia laughed and waved Y’cennia’s fears away. She wasn’t concerned with recipe theft when [Alchemy] wasn’t her main source of income. Melia promised to show the catgirl again when she’d gained more experience and might be able to understand more. In the meantime, Y’cennia decided to try and tackle a level 400 recipe for [Paralytic Poison].
Technically it was a potion even though it wasn’t ingested. Instead, it was closer to a weapon oil, something to dip the tips of pointy objects with; she’d gotten inspiration from the silver-seller back at the dungeon outpost and decided to try her luck.
Y’cennia wasn’t familiar with poisons or venoms, other than an old saying to help tell the two apart.
If it bites you and you get sick, it’s venomous. If you bite it and you get sick, it’s poisonous.
Either way, toxins were not in her wheelhouse.
Melia watched, amused, as the catgirl squeamishly attempted to milk some liquid from an arm-sized spider fang. After dribbling a few drips into her cauldron, the cloudy grey liquid turned a sickly green and a foul odor spread through the room. Fortunately, they had a window, but both Melia and Y’cennia ended up with a coughing fit and a mild debuff simply called [Fumigated].
That batch was a failure.
Y’cennia tried several more times to marginal success, eventually scoring 5 bottles of [Paralytic Poison] at 2 stars each. They wouldn’t be too effective, but none of their team used oils anyway, so something might be better than nothing.
It did, however, make the catgirl complain loudly that potions always stunk when she made them anywhere near indoors, and her team hated the way they tasted. Sadly, there wasn’t anything Melia could do about the taste, but she could make the catgirl lunch to cheer her up.
Melia’s food suggestion had an immediate effect. Y’cennia’s ears perked up straight and her tail started swishing, even if she tried to play it cool, looking to the side and attempting to calm her voice so it didn’t sound too excited.
Melia laughed, pulled out a few salmon that were still fresh, and got to work.
Some she would make into [Smoked Salmon], which would keep indefinitely in her inventory thanks to its slowed expiration. The fish itself had been there for a little over a week…but her [Portable Refrigerator] was a large, multi-slot [Cooking] bag designed for ingredients. Perishables wouldn’t go bad easily.
To Melia’s surprise, Y’cennia was interested in more than just the end results; she was just as keen to eat the food as to see how it was made.
Melia gave the catgirl some encouraging pushing and Y’cennia exploded with questions.
How did the seasoning work?
What was the difference between baking and broiling?
Why did certain ingredients harmonize better with others?
Did the woodchips really make a difference in the taste when smoking the fish?
What happened if she cooked it too long? Or too short?
The list went on and on. Melia chuckled to herself but didn’t begrudge the girl her curiosity. Melia herself would have been intensely curious herself…if the knowledge hadn’t been given to her courtesy of her character’s efforts in the game. She also knew that, while some of the questions seemed silly, Y’cennia had a reason for asking every one of them.
Such as the under- and over- cooked question. Y’cennia knew all too well what happened when food burned. She’d seen Ellesea cook and was an old hand at identifying char. When she clarified the question, Melia understood Y’cennia was looking at [Cooking] through the lens of [Alchemy].
Melia nodded in appreciation. The two professions did have significant overlap, but there were many important differences. For one, [Alchemy] was a more strict science. To take Y’cennia’s question about timing: in [Alchemy], if she was more than a few seconds off one way or another, the whole recipe would fail. Meanwhile, Melia threw some fish into a skillet and cooked it until “it felt right.”
The same went for seasoning. A “pinch” of salt or a “squeeze” of lemon might be fine in [Cooking], but a “dash” of one ingredient too much would, again, lead [Alchemy] to failure.
On the flip side, [Alchemy] was easier to unravel, in some regards. Like a puzzle once all the pieces were laid out. Y’cennia could gather ingredients, follow instructions, and use all the equipment. So long as she followed the recipe perfectly, the result would succeed every time.
While a [Cooking] recipe would also succeed, chances are it would become bland and…same-ish, for lack of a better word. Y’cennia was intrigued by how Melia could make so many things taste so wonderful, even though each time she cooked, it was slightly different.
Melia laughed, shrugged, and pulled out a large sack of flour. One of the earliest recipes [Cooking] had was [Simple Bread], which was basically soaking pre-mixed dough into a gooey ball that could be baked. She divvied out enough for dozens of loaves, uncaring if Y’cennia burned a few or if they turned out inedible.
Besides, the inn was letting them use the kitchen, and Melia wasn’t oblivious to how several people kept walking by as she fried the fish, their appetites aroused by the smell and subtly demanding a sample. The least she could do was slip them some bread.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Y’cennia asked dubiously as she stared at the counter they were working on. Melia was standing on a stool, her funny white hat perched lopsidedly on her head, the small apron covering her body covered in white powder.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Melia smiled. “Even if it doesn’t, that’s not a reason not to try. We have plenty of ingredients and we aren’t wasting anything. Besides, people need to start somewhere. Nobody instantly starts as a master [Chef].”
Not that Y’cennia was trying to become a [Chef], and Melia understood that. But the girl’s curiosity needed to be sated, and the best way was to let her experience it herself. And since Y’cennia was a beginner when it came to cooking, not having a single level in [Cooking], they wouldn’t be using any skills.
Now, technically, Melia had never made bread in her life. This would be the first time doing it for real, and she was trusting her memories (and the system) to guide her as they’d done with everything else. So, she couldn’t necessarily say this was a true, real method of making bread, but if it came out edible, and hopefully delicious, she’d give it a thumbs up.
And once she had all the ingredients in front of her, she almost felt like she was playing with Play-Doh.
Melia set each of them up with a small bowl of [Flour] and a pitcher of water. Technically, the recipe didn’t require anything else, but her [Cookbook] said salt could be added for taste, so she brought that out, too.
She measured out the water, observing as Y’cennia expertly did the same, having used the same tools for her potions countless times. They dumped the water into the bowl, picked up a spoon, and started mixing.
And that was basically it.
Y’cennia stared down at her bowl dubiously as the mixture grew more and more gooey. If this was [Alchemy], perhaps it would have already failed, or else maybe she was simply apprehensive because she didn’t have any skills assisting her. They kneaded their dough until it gained a springy, tacky texture, and Melia added a touch of salt to hers.
Melia turned to the oven, which was already heated, and opened it up.
“Toss it in,” she grinned, having slid both of their globs onto a metal sheet. Y’cennia looked at it like it was about to become a [Dough Slime] and attack her.
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Not at all!” Melia laughed, grinning mischievously as Y’cennia’s eyes bulged. But, to her credit, the catgirl slid the dough into the oven without another word, no matter how it was going to turn out. Because they were doing this “the old-fashioned way,” Melia didn’t use any skills to make it bake faster.
Y’cennia started wringing her wrists as soon as the metal door shut. Unlike Melia’s personal crafting stations, this oven was more basic. It worked well enough to do the job, but she could already tell the heating wasn’t perfect and some spots were cooler than others. It also didn’t have a glass window, so they couldn’t track their progress.
But, after about 15 minutes, a delightful smell started permeating the kitchen (and more passersby started crossing the doorway more often). After 30 minutes, Melia’s mental timer went off, and she figured it was done.
Not stopping to consider how it might look to outsiders, Melia pulled open the metal door with her bare hands…and hopped into the oven. She heard Y’cennia squawk behind her, but she called out.
“Don’t worry! The bread’s fine! It looks like it turned out great!”
“I’m more worried about you, you big idiot!” Y’cennia wailed. “You jumped into a heated oven!”
“Oh,” Melia laughed. “I suppose I did. Sorry?”
In her defense, she knew it was hot. She also knew such pitiful heat wouldn’t even warm a normal dragon, and she was rather high level, if she did say so herself. And what was she going to do with all those levels if she couldn’t brave a simple oven? Though she made a mental note to warn the poor girl before she did it again.
Because, who was she kidding? Of course there was going to be a next time.
Melia grabbed the two trays, had Y’cennia place down some hot plates on the counter, and hopped her way back out of the oven. She put them down with a flourish and stepped back to admire their creations.
[Simple Bread]
Level: 1
Rarity: Common
Quality: 5 stars
Spend more than 15 seconds eating and regenerate 2 percent health.
Simple, yet effective.
Made by: Melia the Magnificent
[Simple Bread]
Level: 1
Rarity: Common
Quality: 3 stars
Spend more than 15 seconds eating and regenerate 1 percent health.
Simple, yet effective.
Made by: Y’cennia McKenneth
“See?!” Melia beamed. “I told you it would work!”
When she didn’t get an immediate response from the catgirl, she turned with a frown.
The [Alchemist] was staring at her loaf with wide, shocked eyes. Or perhaps it would be better said that she stared through her loaf…as she wasn’t actually looking at it.
“I gained a level,” she whispered in awe. Melia tilted her head…Y’cennia was still 410, the same as she was earlier. Then understanding hit her, just as Y'cennia explained.
“I’ve got a level in [Cooking]. It gave me a skill, too: [Basic Preparation]. I’m a [Cook].”
She seemed a bit dazed, but to Melia, that was excellent news!
“Congratulations!” She beamed.
Melia knew from Jessica’s frustrations trying to become a [Ranger] that secondary classes didn’t come easily. But by that token, there wasn’t any real downside if somebody received one. They could choose to pursue it if they wanted, or they could let it sit as proof that they had done one thing, once upon a time. If Y’cennia wanted to pursue the culinary arts, Melia would stand by her the whole way.
Melia reached forward, pulling a small knife out of her inventory, and slicing the small loaves into several pieces. She ripped off a chunk of each, tossing them one at a time into her mouth.
…she didn’t know what she expected.
The bread was…bread. Simple, she might even say. It had a mild floury taste and was warm (having come fresh from the oven), but it wasn’t anything to write home about.
Except, maybe in Y’cennia’s case, it was? Did her family need a [Baker]? No, she was [Sunrise]’s baker now, Melia’s baker.
Melia waved away the silly thoughts, brought out some butter, and slathered the rest of her piece. Much better.
Y’cennia demanded more practice, so over the course of several hours, they made a few more loaves of bread.
Brandy had to admit, spending time with fantasy coworkers was leagues better than real-life coworkers. Maybe it had something to do with being much taller in this life…oh, who was she kidding, it was a hundred percent magic. Finding a fantasy Goodwill thrift store was infinitely more amusing when she could [Identify] the crappy little crock pot they were trying to sell for 12 copper.
The fact that they had a crock pot, as in a small pot that ran on a mana stone to slow-cook her beef stew for 12 hours, was phenomenal. No need for fantasy Hamburger Helper!
Okay, so maybe Brandy was hungry. And judging from the subtle grumbles from the other girls’ bellies, she wasn’t the only one. She didn’t think they knew she heard, but her ears picked up everything. She could also probably hang her laundry from them out to dry, but then again, she had fantasy maids to help there, too.
Brandy got fewer weird looks in StoneCairne than she did anywhere else, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe, as Jessica put it, she wasn’t the only strawberry elf they’d seen? Brandy put it out of her mind most of the morning as they wandered from shop to shop, admiring the magitech aesthetic and generally lost track of time due to the lack of sun.
They stopped several times to get a snack, temporarily curing their hunger, but each time, the relief was short-lived. It seemed, no matter how tasty an appetizer or a street stall, something was determined to whet their appetite. Eventually, Brandy couldn’t take it any longer.
“Do you smell that?” She asked, angling her nose into the air and taking a deep whiff. Ellesea and Jessica did the same.
“No?” Ellesea said. Jessica shook her head.
“It smells like…fish.”
Strange. Brandy didn’t really have an opinion on fish. She didn’t often cook, for one, so she never really made it for herself, and that wasn’t the kind of meal that was offered at fast food. At least, not if it was going to be remotely any good.
And that didn’t seem to be a problem with the very faint, almost deviously understated aroma of fish invading the entire town. Brandy even smelled it when they walked into a bookstore, which shouldn’t have been possible.
“Fish?” Jessica instantly perked up and narrowed her eyes. “We talkin’ rotting, disgusting fish or most amazing thing ever fish?”
“Uh,” Brandy reeled back slightly at the girl’s intensity. She took another sniff. “More like the second, if I had to guess.”
“Ughhh,” Jessica groaned. “What’s that gnome doing this time?”
“Melia is behind this?” Brandy laughed, watching Ellesea start to drool slightly. “Well, whatever it is, at least we’ll survive. Her shenanigans aren’t deadly.”
“Tell that to my waistline,” Jessica complained, but she, too, was starting to sniff the air, likely attempting to catch the scent.
“Let’s get this over with quick; we should head back before she gets us all in trouble.”
The girls were mostly out to hang around and sightsee, but they did have one pressing matter on the agenda. They’d collected their [Sealed Coffers] and they were hoping to find somebody to pawn them off at. The first stop they tried was the guild, but the receptionist wasn’t interested. They were instructed to try City Hall, as the [Office Clerk] kept a registry and several [Historians] made their careers by discovering the secrets of ancient Whispershade.
So, it was with slightly grumbly bellies that they found their way to a large, official-looking building with (as expected) very large, very fancy gears placed all around it. Here, more than anywhere else in town, was the ingenious influence of the mysterious gears most present. At the top of the building, on the flat wall leading to the roof, was a large clock, with the hands clearly marked but the gears that operated it completely visible. Possibly more amusing to Brandy were two very cleverly placed gears, set deep into the ground, replacing the steps leading up to and away from the entrance and acting as a makeshift escalator.
The group rode the steps up to the building and found their way inside, only to see a large portrait of the Governor.
“Holy shit, it’s a grape elf,” Jessica muttered, perhaps a touch too loudly. Brandy had to stifle a laugh, looking at the portrait of the high elf on the wall, but somebody passing by threw them a peculiar look. At least that answered the question of why she wasn’t getting as many strange looks, if everybody was familiar with her race’s peculiar skin tones.
The Governor, Morrigan Lightbane, had deep purple, almost blue, skin; her hair was silverish-green, not teal like Brandy’s, but it did resemble the leaves of a particularly pale grapevine. She was dressed in a crisp suit with many frills, evoking images of captains piloting airships. Brandy didn’t think it was a new and trendy look, and had to wonder how old the painting was. For that matter, how old was the Governor? Brandy’s lore was somewhat outdated, but she remembered elves lived long lives.
Jessica was just starting to mutter about fruit salad when Ellesea gave her a sharp dig in the ribs.
When they reached the counter and inquired about their [Coffers], they were met with both good and bad news. Fortunately, yes, their [Historians] would be more than happy to take them off their hands for a reasonable reward. But unfortunately, almost everybody, including the Governor herself, had taken the afternoon off early. People started complaining about being hungry and needing to eat, and even the receptionist was about to close up shop and rush down to a tavern. Jessica groaned and dragged the girls back to their inn, determined to get to the bottom of this.
Once they reached the lane their inn was in, they found a problem. The road, which was usually quiet with little foot traffic, was packed. A huge line of people, practically making a living wall, was streaming out of their inn and disappeared around the block. People in line were tapping their feet impatiently, rubbing their bellies, but now, not even Jessica or Ellesea could deny where that smell was coming from. Brandy took a deep whiff.
Images popped up in her mind of golden-crispy, deep-fried, beer-battered fish, sizzling and popping with oil, served over a bed of fries.
She had to clamp her mouth shut before her tongue fell out and she started drooling.
Maybe with some lemon, or a bottle of vinegar…
“Hey, no cutting!” An angry voice called out. Brandy shook the images of floating fish filets out of her head just in time to see Jessica about to get into a fistfight with a guy several places back from the door.
“Who’s cutting, buddy?!” She shot back testily. “I’m staying at this inn!”
As if it should actually matter, Jessica pulled out her room key and presented it. The man had the decency to back off, but he still grumbled about waiting in line like everybody else.
Brandy and Ellesea finally caught up to the [Hunter] at the door…because they couldn’t go any further. Brandy, being tall enough to see over everybody’s heads, laughed out loud.
Somehow, some way, Melia had roped the entire inn into her mad schemes. The main entry was attached to the dining room, which had also featured a doorway to the kitchen. Inside, Brandy could just barely make out Melia. She had her ridiculous [Chef] hat on, was standing on top of a ladder directing people, and several large pots were bubbling on the stove, where every couple of seconds a new basket of fish was doled out. And, for some reason, Y’cennia was there, frantically running around tossing bread rolls whenever somebody raised their hand.
“Order up!” Melia called, though she was the only one who looked completely unfazed. In fact, it looked like she was having a blast…while an immaculately dressed gentleman, one of the inn owners, was rushing around seating people and clearing places. He had a pinched smile, likely complaining about doing a task he thought was beneath him. But it was obviously all hands on deck the way everyone else was running around, and Brandy could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. It seemed like there were only two options for the girls at this point in time, and she knew exactly what she was going to choose.
“Well, there’s only one thing for it,” Brandy said, putting her hand on her teammate’s shoulders and bracing herself. But, instead of barging forward, she spun them around. “Time to get in line.”