Melia was a little confused as to why the Post Office in Horizon had so many high-level people working behind the counter. It seemed a little disproportionate to the area, and maybe just a little overkill. All the other common businesses she’d encountered so far had people ranging from the 200s to the early 400s, and if a particular store had a master in their craft, they might go up to 500.
Not a single person at the Horizon Post Office looked under 40 years old, and every single one of them was above level 450. The lowest level person Melia saw was a [Courier] in his late 30s who was also carrying a sword.
She didn’t know what traumatized these people, but they were prepared for something.
Fortunately, retrieving her payment from the auction house was as simple as waiting in line at the counter and plastering her hand on one of those system-integrated identification slates. The buff old guy behind the counter then brought out a small deposit box, which turned out to be a connected inventory. She slid the money directly from the box into her inventory entirely through the system, without ever physically touching it. Very cool, very secure, and…more than a little weird to see a bunch of bodybuilder-type people with rolled-up sleeves literally flexing on each other as they went about their business. Melia shook her head and fled.
Melia shivered slightly once she was back outside, though it obviously had nothing to do with the weather. Jessica gave her a strange look even as she picked her up.
“Anybody else find that…weird?” Melia asked.
“It’s the Post Office,” Jessica chucked. “They’ve seen some shit.”
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The group’s next stop wasn’t very far away, but regardless of the distance they wouldn’t have walked, because they were traveling into the Nobles’ District. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t illegal for a commoner to walk through any street in Horizon, but nobody wanted to offend a noble, and the nobility was somewhat infamous for their short tempers and double standards. Of course, not all nobles were “bad”, but as with most things, the negative tended to stand out more than the positive in people’s minds.
Back in the carriage, Melia watched one impressive mansion after another roll by, all the while the group began fidgeting self-consciously at the sight of their dusty pants and simple tunics. Halfway down a nondescript street full of noble homes, the carriage stopped and the party got out.
This wasn’t a street Melia was familiar with, as it wasn’t one that existed in the game. The developers didn’t include many frivolous filler streets to pad out their capital cities; they felt it would unnecessarily make their world feel hollow. Several streets and alleys were included that didn’t have anything a player could interact with, but that was the exception, not the rule.
Melia would never have guessed the building in front of her was a restaurant just by looking at it. It was nearly identical to the mansion on either side, or rather, built in the same style, likely by the same builder or architect, and did not stand out in the least. The only reason Melia knew something was different about it was due to the small plaque embedded in the front gate fence post, and the fact that some very wonderful smells were wafting her way on the wind.
The guards at the front gate stared at them as they clumped together on the road, peering through, but they didn’t stop them as they started walking forward.
Inside the tall brick gate was a sprawling lawn with a large pavilion on each side of the walk, each hosting several dining tables. Several workers buzzed about, some [Gardeners] trimmed the flowering bushes and manicured the lawns while servers adjusted tablecloths and place settings. Melia could see complex spellwork built into the gazebos of the pavilions, suggesting that eating outside was viable in any weather, as well as sound-muffling and wind-reducing enchantments for uninterrupted dining.
An aging butler awaited their approach by the double doors at the top of the steps, but his crisp black suit and slicked back grey hair made him look more like a silver fox than a man desperate for retirement. He, too, seemed unfazed at a group of shoddy adventurers coming to visit.
“Welcome to Penny’s” was all he said as he took a bow. Behind him, the doors mysteriously swung open all on their own.
“Butlers are so cool,” Y’cennia whispered in awe as they filed inside. Jessica gave a firm nod of approval while Ellesea rolled her eyes.
“Not that I’m disagreeing with you,” she said, “But [Automatic Entry] is a pretty standard [Porter] skill. Most [Footmen] and other domestic staff that need to get in and out quickly, or be able to make their lord or lady feel important have it.”
Once again, Melia found herself fascinated by an entire side of the world she had never known about. Her musings were cut short, as despite their grand entry, they didn’t have far to go. Once inside the building, they were quickly stopped at the host’s desk. There, an equally impressive lady with a tight bun and wire-rimmed glasses greeted them politely, then shook her head.
“Welcome. If you’re here to make a reservation, I’m afraid we’re booked six months in advance. The earliest we can accommodate you is the week before Winter Veil. I also regret to inform you that the waitstaff positions have been filled. In the event of a cancellation, walk-ins will be taken on a first-come, first-served basis, starting 15 minutes after the scheduled reservation time has elapsed. Our doors open at 5 in the afternoon, and lining up beforehand is not allowed. I’ll warn you now, cancellations are very rare.”
The woman took a deep breath after what was certainly a very practiced speech, and the rest of the party felt winded themselves.
“Now, if you are here on other business, we will do our best to accommodate you. How may I serve?”
“Wow,” Jessica mumbled. She had never been to a place half as fancy as this, and she’d heard horror stories of how snooty fancy people could be. The guards, the butler, and this hostess lady smashed all her expectations and she was left speechless.
That being said, she knew when she was out-classed.
“I’ll be honest, we were just looking around. We tasted some good food the other day, and, well, you wouldn’t care about the details, but this place came up, and one of our party members expressed a desire to see it. That’s all.”
The woman smiled at her in a grandmotherly sort of way.
“You’d be surprised. A good many of the finest [Chefs] around have started in much the same way. The kitchens are off limits, but we can show you around our various halls. We are proud to boast of our indoor capacity, which can serve up to 750 people in the Gallery, Mezzanine, Greathall, or Refectory. Outdoor seating is available seasonally on request.”
“And you just…let people walk around the place?” Jessica asked skeptically. Melia could easily picture the [Hunter] imagining some little rascal making off with pillowcases full of expensive silverware. The lady said nothing in response but rang a small bell. The silvery sound echoed through the hall and was almost immediately answered by a nearby door opening.
“You rang?”
A younger man, not much older than anybody in [Sunrise], crisply approached. He was dressed much like the butler, but his mannerisms were not quite as polished.
“Please show these guests on a tour around the premises.”
“As you wish.”
“Unless there were any other questions…?”
The lady turned her attention back to Jessica, but she shook her head. At first, Melia had thought about asking to see a menu, partly because she’d always heard about super upscale restaurants having menus without prices, and she wanted to see if that was true. One of those “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it” sort of scenarios. But after she thought about it, she technically didn’t know if menus even existed in this world or if everything was explained personally by the waiter once a party was seated. Heck, for all she knew, they gave you what they were cooking that evening and you were going to like it.
She settled for a bright and cheery, “Thank you!” to the hostess as she passed. She didn’t want to hold up the party.
A loud gasp stopped them in their tracks.
“A gnome.”
Melia turned, shoulders stiff with apprehension. Now, she’d heard those two words several times since waking up in this world with varying degrees of emotion. From utter delight when squealed by the children in the abbey, to cautious acknowledgment by various merchants and coachmen, to outright distrust bordering on disgust by several dwarves. Never with something approaching awed reverence.
“I deeply apologize, but it seems I was incorrect. I must retract my earlier statement.”
“Wait,” Jessica instantly spoke up defensively. “Don’t tell me you’re going to change your mind just because we have a gnome in our party.”
“Yes,” the lady beamed, “But almost certainly not how you might be imagining. You see, the owner has a, shall we say, particular fondness for gnomes. We have a table specially set aside for gnomes and their parties. It cannot be reserved nor taken over by anybody who is not a gnome or dining alongside one.”
“Really?” Jessica asked skeptically. “I have a hard time believing certain nobles agree to that.”
“They have to,” the lady smiled, “If they don’t want to be asked to leave.”
The group stared at the hostess, incredulous. Jessica summed it up best.
“What the hell kind of nut job runs a business like that?”
Okay, so perhaps she said it a touch crassly. Ellesea groaned while Y’cennia elbowed her in the ribs.
“[Master Chef] Penelope Dracodottir, level 997 [Culinarian].”
“Oh.”
Jessica’s stunned face spoke more than her words ever could. She never imagined somebody who wasn’t a combat class could ever soar so high. The highest level craftsman she had ever heard of was a [Leatherworker] in the 650s, and even getting a chance to consult with him was considered an achievement in and of itself. Not only was his gear touted as “legendary” (in a facetious sense, not actual system-grade), but he was incredibly stubborn and picky about who he’d work with. “Exclusive” didn’t begin to describe it.
“So wait,” Jessica paused. “If there’s always a table open for a gnome and their party, why isn’t it filled with a gnome and their party every day?”
The server smiled knowingly.
“Just because they have a standing invitation does not mean they eat for free. And I think you might be overestimating the size of the local gnomish population. We hardly see them in the city, and when we do, it isn’t the type who would choose to spend a dozen gold on the appetizer and soup courses alone. The types of nobles who would choose to stoop so low as associating with such…poor folk, especially to keep up token appearances, are not as common as you might think.”
Jessica fell silent while Ellesea agreed with a subtle nod of her head. The younger man seemed awkwardly stuck in place, unsure whether he was still needed or not. Melia, however, stood with a finger on her chin and a faraway look in her eyes.
“I used to know a little orphan named Penny,” she eventually said, drawing everybody’s eyes down to her. “But that was a long, long time ago. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it’s coincidence, or if maybe your Penelope is different from the girl I knew. On the off chance that she is the same person, I doubt she remembers me, but it’s nice to know her dreams came true. She always did want to make great food, and it looks like she succeeded.”
Melia brought up her inventory screen and searched for something that was never designed by the developers to be a physical item. Yet sure enough, there it was, next to the rest of her currencies.
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[Blue Ribbon]
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Awarded to those skilled in the culinary arts.
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The only thing that can tie completely random things together, like ice cream, prize hogs, and booze.
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The ribbon was much larger than Melia’s hands, as if it really did belong on a giant pumpkin taking first place in a county fair. She spared it another glance as the nostalgia of years’ worth of dailies washed over her, and she shook her head with a chuckle. The irony of her giving a quest reward to an npc was not lost.
“If it’s not too much to ask, can you give this to her? If she’s working in the kitchen, she’s probably really busy and I don’t want to bother her.”
The hostess bent low and cradled the ribbon as if it were a precious Faberge egg.
“I will deliver this personally! Please, wait right here!”
And without another word, she was off. The group turned toward the young man who was supposed to be showing them around. He gave a big shrug, decided this was no longer his problem, and left.
Jessica stuck her hands on her hips and glowered down at Melia.
“What did you do this time?” she sassed.
“How should I know? You’ve been here the whole time. How do you like it? Jessica, what did you do this time?”
“How is any of this my fault?”
“Aren’t you the one who brought up this restaurant in the first place?”
“Well, no, maybe, but that’s when you were making fish for Cennie! It’s her fault!”
Y’cennia bristled and her tail shot out straight.
“Don’t you bring me into this!” she hissed.
“What even is this?” Ellesea muttered. Beside her, Alastair shook his head. “I have no idea.”
They didn’t have long to wait. After only a handful of minutes standing awkwardly alone in the lobby area, a door opened at the other side of the hall from where they were about to be guided. And from it…barged an impressively large woman.
She was overweight, clearly, but in the sturdy, meaty sort of way some people get who love life as much as they love food. And yet, despite her size, being at least double that of the poor hostess trailing behind her, she wasn’t winded in the slightest. In fact, it was the hostess who nearly doubled over, out of breath and panting.
The woman was clearly a [Chef], of that, there could be no doubt. Her clothing was all white, except for the shiny black shoes, and the gold ring around an incredibly tall, stiff, cylindrical toque. Her coat was double-breasted, asymmetrically folded over the left side of her chest, and her white pants were straight, with the slightest hint of delicate embroidery along the seam.
Her silver hair was gathered into a low braided ponytail and she had countless laugh lines etched into her round, soft face. She was clearly no stranger to mirth, and her crinkled eyes held the light of somebody full of contentment and joy.
She looked to be in her late 50s, and if someone told Melia she was a doting grandmother who “only worked because she wanted something to do,” she’d believe them in a second.
The interesting thing about the woman was how she didn’t bother looking at the others. Most people Melia met so far in this world generally found their way to her last; their eyes naturally gravitated toward the rest of her party, as they were all taller and closer in height. This woman was looking at the floor the second she burst through the door, and she didn’t stop moving until she was crouched down directly in front of Melia, her brown eyes moistening with tears.
Melia stared at the woman, with whom she should have no familiarity, whom she should have never met before today, and felt her breath hitch. But there was recognition, if only just hints of a fragmented memory. Like looking at a childhood friend she hadn’t seen since they were kids, only now they were grown up and old. Beneath the softness of her cheeks and roundness of her body, Melia could mentally rewind the years to drop a couple of decades, only to find a thin stick of a girl in patchwork clothes, scavenging through the gutters, searching for morsels to keep the gnawing hunger at bay.
Melia didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know the woman…but she knew the woman. So she did the first thing that came naturally to her.
“Hi,” she said with a bright, slightly hesitant smile, raising her arm to give a small wave. The woman let out a choked cry and pulled Melia forward in a crushing hug.
“Lady Meliastraza, it really is you,” she said in a cracked and wavering voice. “You’ve returned.”
Melia was glad to be entirely hidden inside the woman’s comforting embrace, because once again she was shocked to find someone recognizing her in this world. This time, however, it was more than happenstance or coincidence, more than a one-sided recognition from an unrelated party.
This was a person who knew Melia quite well. To be honest, Melia feared this moment. Not meeting Penny, because before a day or two ago Melia didn’t know she was alive, but meeting somebody who knew her. Really knew her, like she was when she was playing the game.
All her quirks, all her foibles, all her cringe-laden messiness.
Whenever she considered what someone might think of her, especially since she really didn’t know how this world portrayed or remembered her, she was nearly paralyzed with fright. It terrified her to think she might be discovered as a sham, a pretender, a lie. Because that’s how she saw herself. She wasn’t a dragon, not really, not fearsome and ferocious or hell-bent on destroying the world or setting herself up to rule over everybody.
And here was somebody who clearly didn’t see her that way, hugging her without a care in the world.
Suddenly, Melia felt like her earlier worries were rather silly. She found she didn’t care about the small details of how characters from a video game translated into real life: this was the closest thing to a grandmother’s embrace she’d ever felt.
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It was easy for her to forget that, technically, she was the older one.
The hug lasted longer than it ever should have for two strangers meeting for the first time. Penny must have had a lifetime of feelings bottled up, as evidenced by her refusal to release Melia from her smothering clutches and by her whole body trembling with emotion. At least it was warm and comforting, if a little dark. And very soft.
Eventually, Penny drew Melia out to arm’s reach, burning the image into her memory. Melia, gnome that she was, spoke the first thing that came to mind.
“Wow…you got really big!”
Penny gave a warm chuckle and rolled her eyes.
“That’s what taste testing a lot of food does to you, my dear.”
“No, I mean, like, that too, I guess, but you grew up!”
This time the nod was more understanding. The last time they’d seen each other, Penny was a child. They were also much closer in height.
“That’s what time does to you, my dear.”
Perhaps that was an understatement. Melia was reminded of Jonathan at the bank, who looked as positively ancient as one should after living for more than a hundred years.
Penny looked like her aging had been cut in half. She didn’t have any of the hallmarks of frailty stricken upon the elderly by time, like small shakes here or there, or thin, pale skin with web-like veins running close to the surface. If anything, she was very much the opposite, and if her grip was any indication, she was quite strong.
Penny eventually had her fill of visually drinking Melia in, as she put the gnome down and rose to a very respectful bow.
“Welcome back, mistress.”
Melia found a huge grin spreading over her face. All of those quests paid off in a way, she supposed. They must have really left a deep impression on the young orphan in more ways than one, especially if she managed to actually raise a class because of it.
“Mistress?” the hostess muttered behind them, and suddenly Melia remembered that they weren’t alone. She turned to find the rest of her party glancing at her curiously.
“Everybody learns from somewhere,” Penny said, standing up straight. “Even self-taught people need a base to start from. Did you think I built all of this entirely from scratch?” she asked, raising her hands to indicate the massive restaurant. She shook her head. “Actually, yes, but I had a much better start than most people know. Allow me to introduce you to my teacher, mentor, and dear friend: Lady Meliastraza Obsidianheart, [Grandmaster Chef]. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “And dragon.”
Her teammates spluttered behind her while Melia grinned. She did like to boast about that, didn’t she? Especially back in the game, when she was the only one, even if it was a matter of time before more players unlocked it. She double checked her system tab to make sure she had the right title: [Chef Melia].
“Hi,” she waved back to the hostess with a cheesy grin. The lady looked like she probably needed to sit down.
“So,” Penny turned back to Melia, “While I’m overjoyed that you’ve returned to Horizon after your long absence, you must have done so for a reason. I’m dying to know where you’ve been and what you were up to, but the details can wait. You were about to take a tour of my restaurant, weren’t you? Allow me to escort you.”
“Aren’t you busy?” Melia blurted out. “Don’t you have work in the kitchen to do?”
“That can wait,” Penny waved a hand impatiently. “I have waited half a century for this. Did you think it was easy, crawling my way up to rank 9? Knowing you, you probably did. Of course I want to show off. But now that you mention it, why not kill two birds with one stone? Follow me, to the kitchen!”
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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“Didn’t the host lady say the kitchen was off limits?” Y’cennia hissed to the others as they stood awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Kitchen.”
She had been in many kitchens and cooked many meals, but she had never seen anything like this.
Ellesea had never seen anything like this, and she was a noble, with a noble’s kitchen and staff.
Before them was a room that looked ready to wage war.
There was certainly enough metal scattered around for it.
Unlike the normal kitchens and cook-rooms common to taverns, inns, and even most large estates, there was hardly any ornate stonework. Instead, nearly all the gleaming surfaces were some sort of silver-white metal. A hybrid of steel, perhaps, clearly infused with something magically attuned. Nobody would have guessed this was an ordinary kitchen, with ordinary appliances, and that was painfully apparent the moment they first walked in. The group was horrendously lost, and none of them recognized anything, save a towering pile of pots and pans.
For one thing, there didn’t seem to be any fire anywhere. How were they supposed to cook?
The answer came swiftly as [Chef] Penelope quickly took charge. As soon as she entered the room, the entire staff snapped to attention. Nearly two dozen people, each immaculately dressed in white, all pivoted toward her and gave her their full attention. She surveyed them like a general might gaze over her troops, nodded, and promptly ignored them. She turned toward the gnome, and to the group’s surprise, them too.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. Such a loaded question. They were standing in the very heart of the most prestigious restaurant in the entire kingdom. Assaulted by the smells of a majestic feast in the making.
It would be a flat-out lie and an insult to her craft to insinuate otherwise.
“Dinner is still a few hours off, but I can whip up a quick lunch.”
Y’cennia didn’t have time to process the fact that they were being offered lunch, and not charged for lunch, before a pan was slammed down onto one of those shiny metallic surfaces and a golden-orange ring began glowing beneath it. Some sort of touch-based heating? Y’cennia was intrigued. She wondered what powered it and if it was affordable. She shook her head. This restaurant likely didn’t need to consider the cost of upkeep and maintenance.
Penelope barked out several instructions and various crew members began scuttling around, setting things up and retrieving ingredients. [Sunrise] did their best to huddle together in a corner, out of the way.
“It’s her kitchen,” Melia commented toward the group from where she was standing on a tall stool at the counter. She was answering Y’cennia’s question about them being allowed. “If she says you can stay, you can stay.”
“I forget that you can hear across rooms,” Y’cennia groaned. Penelope smiled from where she was adding tomatoes to a pot, looking incredibly pleased with the world.
“So long as you aren’t near the burners or the ovens, you’ll be fine.”
“So…what is for lunch?” Jessica asked. Leave it to the [Hunter] to ignore the fact that they were standing in the kitchen of a rank 9 [Chef], somebody theoretically on equal footing with low nobility.
“I’m feeling very nostalgic,” Penelope said. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
Y’cennia looked a bit surprised and Jessica gave a fake pout.
“Is that really on the menu? In a fancy place like this?”
“Never underestimate the power of simple cooking,” Penelope said with confidence. “But no, I suppose you’re right.”
The hostess from earlier, who had followed them into the kitchen, handed each of them a menu. Y’cennia felt compelled to scan it, and once she did, she wished she hadn’t. This wasn’t quite the sort of place that didn’t list their prices, and she wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
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[Braised Lamb over Rice] 22 G
[Pork Belly Au Gratin] 31 G
[Wine Duck Flambé] 29 G
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Y’cennia closed her eyes. She couldn’t look further. That duck dish probably came on a plate the size of her cupped hands and cost more than she made last year.
Ellesea, on the other hand, raised an appreciative brow.
“The [Pork Belly] sounds quite reasonable,” she mused.
“Who orders pork from a 5-star restaurant?” Jessica scoffed. Ellesea shook her head.
“You only find it in a place where somebody really knows their business. Besides, didn’t you hear what she said? Don’t underestimate simple. We should be incredibly honored to taste the product of a rank 9 [Chef].”
“Have you sampled any of Lady Meliastraza’s cooking?” Penelope asked. “If so, you’ve eaten far better than mine. Her [Cooking] is superior to rank 10.”
The girls glanced at each other as a bizarre thought struck them. Were they perhaps…becoming food snobs?
Y’cennia turned her attention to the counter now that all the ingredients were assembled.
For all that the Master [Chef] claimed this was a simple recipe, it was very much not basic.
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[Artisanal Brioche].
[10-Year Cheddar].
[Lorenthal Tilsiter].
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That was just the bread and cheese. Penelope cut the loaf into slices, spreading a generous amount of [Truffle Oil Butter] on the outside of the sandwich, then pressing it down onto the pan.
A delicious aroma permeated the kitchen and Y’cennia’s mouth began to water. She found her tail swishing behind her impatiently as her eyes darted between the pan, the pot of bubbling soup, and the plates. Before she knew it, though it felt like an agonizing eternity, she was ushered to a standing table where her lunch was presented before her. As a finishing touch, Penelope pressed the blade of the spatula into each of the sandwiches, cutting them into triangular halves, nudging them aside gently to let the melted cheese ooze onto the plate artfully. The bread was golden brown, with darker seared spots to add flavor and texture, and a tiny sprig of parsley sat decoratively next to each slice. Overall, the entire presentation looked well deserving of the restaurant’s reputation.
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[Grilled Cheese and Tomato Bisque]
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Level: 175
Rarity: Common
Quality: 5-stars
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On consumption: gain 1% of your primary stat for the next 2 hours.
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Y’cennia couldn’t believe her eyes. An honest-to-goodness 5-star result, and she was eating it for lunch. The only other 5-star results she had seen were all made by Melia…and Y’cennia put her in a category of her own. She wasn’t normal and her crafting wasn’t normal either. But here was a real person, and honest-to-goodness [Master Chef] who dedicated their life to the profession.
She took a bite.
The crunch of the crispy bread crackled in her ears as the tangy, gooey cheese tantalized her taste buds. Flavor burst in her mouth, wrapping her tongue in a warm, comforting blanket, and she found herself reluctant to swallow. Once she did, though, her hands acted on their own accord, and before she knew it, the entire sandwich was gone.
She stared at her plate remorsefully. She didn’t take the proper time to savor it.
She didn’t seem to be the only one, as Jessica was unashamedly licking the edges of the bowl for any missed droplets of soup.
Clearly, this was the work of a master…perhaps those prices on the menu were warranted.
“Not bad,” she heard a high-pitched voice say. She also thought she heard glass shattering, perhaps the world breaking down itself. She looked over at the gnome, appalled.
Not bad? As if there could ever be any other descriptor for this godly sandwich besides “divine?”
What sort of uncivilized barbarian was she?
“As expected,” Penelope said proudly, as if her exceptional cooking hadn’t just been insulted. “Would you be willing to demonstrate true skill?”
The gnome patted her stomach, which Y’cennia was starting to suspect might be a dimension storage all on its own, and nodded.
“I suppose I could go for round two.”
Y’cennia didn’t know what to say. Not that anybody was asking for her opinion, but was she the odd woman out? Did they not just eat a 5-star masterpiece created by a world-famous [Chef]? If that wasn’t true skill, what was? What would her meager cooking be called if this dish were considered subpar?
She glanced over at Ellesea, who seemed to notice she was being judged and met Y’cennia’s eyes with narrowed ones of her own.
…no. Things could always be worse.
Lady Meliastraza pulled out her [Changing Room] and swapped out her black outfit for something much more…white?
Either [Chefs] had a very peculiar dress code, or Penny’s restaurant based their uniforms on the gnome’s.
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[Imperial Chef’s Whites]
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Level: 1000
Rarity: Epic
Quality: 5-stars
Made by: Melia the Magnificent
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Set Bonus: 5 / 5 (active)
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On equip: mana consumption of [Cooking] skills reduced by 25% and quality increased by 50%
On equip: risk of failure decreased by 10% per ingredient star quality over 3, maximum of 90% decrease.
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Observe the mark of a good [Chef]: messy apron, clean sleeves.
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The uniform was spotless and the gold accents glistened under the kitchen’s magical lighting, but Y’cennia had to stop herself from laughing. Looking at the uniform on somebody like Penelope gave one the impression of a professional, accomplished [Chef].
The gnome looked like a child playing dress-up, especially with the giant hat on her already larger-than-human head.
She pulled out ingredients of her own, and at first glance, they couldn’t be more different from what they’d just eaten.
Three things.
Three very simple things.
Which, Y’cennia recalled, was the entire point of this lunch in the first place.
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[White Bread]
[Melty Cheese]
[Butter]
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All of them were 5-stars, but otherwise, Y’cennia would never have given them a second look. White bread was for the poor; mass-produced, bland, and devoid of nutrition. “Melty Cheese” wasn’t even considered real cheese by some. And butter? Well, butter was butter, she supposed, and maybe there wasn’t much somebody could do about that.
The process was nearly identical. The bread was sliced, though Y’cennia was impressed with how thin the slices were on the surprisingly fluffy bread. Butter was spread in generous slabs, and the cheese was layered inside. In a matter of seconds, probably due to some [Cooking] skill, the sandwiches were done.
Unlike the previous version, these sandwiches weren’t instantly plated up before them. Y’cennia could feel the impatience of her colleagues growing next to her, but she caught a glimpse of Lady Meliastraza’s face.
She had a very complicated, conflicted look as she cut the sandwiches into triangles, staring at the finished product like she was disappointed with it.
It couldn’t be defective. Y’cennia watched the whole thing and even she, without a single level in [Cooking], could tell it was excellent. Even though she’d just eaten a sandwich and a bowl of soup, the smell was doing things to her belly that made her want to pounce on the small gnome and steal her goodies.
Penelope pulled one of the plated sandwiches closer to her and let out a loud gasp.
“It has an effect! Oh, mistress, please teach me this recipe! What skills did you use, in what order? We could add this to the special menu!”
“Special menu?” Y’cennia muttered under her breath. Ellesea heard her and leaned in close to whisper.
“Did you think the one we saw earlier was their entire offering? Most high nobles have a [Chef] or two that could replicate most of those dishes. No, what sets this place truly apart are dishes with special effects.”
“Such as?” Y’cennia prodded.
“Outside of boosting one or two stats…it could be anything. I don’t know, I’ve never tried any. But I’ve heard. Like [Dragonbreath Chili]. Supposedly makes you breathe fire.”
“Must be great on cold nights,” Jessica drawled, but Y’cennia knew without a shred of doubt that the [Hunter] would eat it at any time of the year. The chance to breathe fire? One hundred percent.
…and then she’d likely set their rooms on fire.
Y’cennia turned her attention back to the food, since the smell (without being allowed to eat) was becoming intolerable.
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[Nostalgia’s Embrace]
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Level: 150
Rarity: Epic
Quality: 5-stars
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On consumption: gain 2% of your primary stat for the next 4 hours.
On consumption: gain [Nostalgia]. Lasts 30 minutes.
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Y’cennia turned her attention to the effect, [Nostalgia].
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[Nostalgia]
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Relive your childhood memories.
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Heed the words of the [Scholar], o reckless [Chronomage]: Do not seek to remake the past from faded memories. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited. ~C.S.L.
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Y’cennia didn’t know exactly what that meant, but system effects could sometimes be very powerful. At a glance, it sounded innocent enough, but the description made it feel almost ominous.
Her mind went back to a carriage ride a week ago, when the gnome drank a weird fizzy drink and turned into a skeleton. She repressed a shudder. She wasn’t the only one lost in thought.
“I don’t know if I really want to eat this,” Lady Meliastraza said at length, pushing her own sandwich away from her.
Y’cennia realized just then that she didn’t know much about the dragon. Hardly anything at all, actually, since she was coming to realize the horrendous rumors and stories she had assumed about the Destroyer of Worlds were wildly inaccurate.
Did Lady Meliastraza have a traumatic childhood? What was growing up even like for a dragon?
She didn’t have time to dwell on it. [Chef] Penelope divided the rest of the food up between everyone present and began to dig in. [Sunrise], likewise, couldn’t wait a second longer either.
Y’cennia hesitated only slightly before her hunger won. Somehow, this second sandwich was even better than the first. Despite her initial hunger being satisfied and her tastes no longer having that particular benefit of seasoning. At this point, she was at a loss for words; she couldn’t explain exactly how to describe the very surreal experience she was feeling.
Two 5-star dishes, in such close proximity to each other, seemed laughable to her. She was on the verge of being spoiled, and, with a jolt of panic, she imagined a world where she would never get to sample anything so delicious again, left only with the memory of euphoria.
…but maybe it wasn’t only her brain going down weird rabbit trails giving her that odd feeling?
Something was physically happening to her body.
At that moment, she remembered the sandwich she was eating was made by a legendary dragon, a system-titled [Chef], that contained, not just buffs, but an effect. And she recalled the very brief description, which she glossed over in favor of the lengthy flavor text.
Relive your childhood.
Warmth spread throughout her body as her fingers and toes began to tingle. She felt a slight pressure in her chest and her ears, like she was trying to dive into too-deep water. But before she could try and pop her ears to unclog the congested feeling, she squinted her eyes…and let out a surprised cry as she was suddenly engulfed by a cloud of pink smoke. She gagged, coughed, and waved her hands in front of her face to get rid of the cloyingly sweet-smelling smoke, but something felt off.
Her voice had a weird, nasally tint to it and her head felt strangely heavy. Thankfully, the smoke vanished nearly as rapidly as it came.
What she saw did not fill her with relief.
In front of her, the table she was standing at, the one she was just leaning on, now stood at her eye level. Glancing around, the [Chefs] in the background that she mostly looked in the eye now felt like giants.
She looked at her hands, which had turned small and soft, and the years of callouses and burns were washed away.
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Relive your childhood memories.
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Childhood. The sandwich turned her into a child!
And it wasn’t just her, as identical puffs of pink smoke erupted from two other people. Ellesea and Penelope had eagerly devoured theirs, too.
The [Mage], strangely, did not shrink much shorter, but she still looked like a child of 8 or 9 summers. Their clothes had changed along with them, but Ellesea’s hat in particular looked absolutely mammoth. The biggest change was, of course, Penelope. Where once stood a hefty, aging woman, a frail little stick of a girl stared back at them, a mass of reddish-brown freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose, with a gigantic smile and a face brighter than the sun.
Y’cennia’s hand wandered instinctively up to her ears, and she realized why her head felt so strange. She’d forgotten, or rather put it out of her mind entirely, how huge her ears had been growing up.
Movement to the side caused her to twitch and shift, and immediately she was met by Jessica’s massive, grinning face.
The [Hunter] said nothing, but as she stood to her full height (leaving Y’cennia eye level with her chest), she wore a very thoughtful look. She glanced at the three little girls, at her own sandwich, and finally, Al.
Y’cennia could practically hear the gears turning. Jessica always complained about wrangling kids around the abbey, and yet she always volunteered to mind them. Now, she had the opportunity to shove that responsibility onto somebody else, and she got to be the problem!
Jessica stuffed the remainder of the sandwich into her face, and moments later, after an explosion of pink smoke, she too was reduced in size. Her signature red hair was no longer in a long ponytail, but two puffs scrunched to the side of her head. She stared down at her youthful, rejuvenated body, patting it down as if to see if it was really real. Once she was satisfied, she donned her trademark mischievous grin, threw her hands in the air, and let out a shrill squeal of glee.
“Wheeeeeee!”
It was high, piercing, and clearly untouched by puberty. All the telltale signs of a truant rebel in the making. Oh, the pain she must have caused her poor parents.
But…Y’cennia found she really couldn’t find the energy to care. All she really wanted to do was join in. And with the head boss of the kitchen transformed, and maybe a third of the [Chefs] having eaten the sandwiches too, clearly, no work was going to get done. A spontaneous game of tag was already breaking out, and to the side, Alastair had placed Lady Meliastraza onto the counter so he could sit tiredly on the stool. He looked haggard.
And the best part was?
They had 30 whole minutes of this. Adulting could wait.
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