The Wielder of Death Magic

“We’re done for today,” breathed Igna, ‘-the time is 2 o’clock. Suppose they’ll get ready for the dinner service.’

“Hey, address the students,” said Leko, “-you efficiently led a kitchen of newbies. Good effort, there’s room for improvement – nothing experience can’t fix,” a towel landed atop a hand-guard. The white door opened to the grandness of the trial-restaurant.

‘What good am I to give a talk?’ cold-water ran along the warm hands, ‘-what am I suppose to say?’ using a towel, the masses followed suit in cleaning their hands and rinsing their faces.

“Listen up,” he called, “-gather around.” Countless footsteps scurried to stand formally, they all watched in admiration, many were his age, and some were older. The latter didn’t hold much thought to pride, as for the former, the fiery natural spirit of youth. “Every single one of you did good,” said he sternly, “-mistakes were made, motions were wasted, and some dishes had to be thrown. Frankly, at this level, there’s no way any restaurant will hire you as is. Take this experience to heart and learn, fail how much you can, a learning institute is the only place that allows one to fail, do mistakes, and be your worst. Don’t get me wrong, being bad might hurt, the ego will be bruised. Still, learn, for when one master the basics, tis the basics that shall carry one to wherever the road might lead.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the time or patience to listen to someone without a background nor standing. I will not heed the words of an unknown. What if what you teach is bad, fake knowledge is worse than ignorance.” The voice cutting across the masses wasn’t of Sai, no, rather, it was a lady, a girl bearing red hair marred by locks of blue and green. The curved cheeks and ever-so pointy nose enhanced by the sharp-jawline and skinner body stature bared a resemblance to a doll as opposed to a human.

“Fair point,” nodded Igna, “-I agree. Fake knowledge is the bane to any students or lecturer for that matter. Though, I’d to say my experience isn’t based on fantasy. I trained for half-a-year, at Loron’s. Students of the culinary world must know of my teacher, the Medusa of Cooking, Lady Yuki Lordon. Thus, you may rest assured I shan’t teach anything without reason nor meaning.” The door swung as the head-chef reentered.

.....

“I second my boy, Igna’s words,” stood at his side peering over the students, “-the apprenticeship will continue for another week, after which, we shall hold the exams. Heed me well,” he glared, “-some of you are here without merit, which is fine. I’ll give a just warning, all those who do not perform adequately shall be expulsed,” he turned to Igna, “-you too,” a heavy palm grasped his shoulder, “-as the prodigy of Medusa, you are nothing but a boy holding compliment. No tangible achievements. Come up with a dish for the exam; those atop the culinary world will attend said occasion. Lord Lordon and his wife shall be present.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “-all of you, return by four, we’ll go over the preparation of meat.”

“Understood,” they stormed the backdoor laying aprons on the back-table. Silence, Igna, and Leko stood trapped by a certain feeling of inquietude.

“Chef Leko,” he broke the ice first, “-what is the test about... Didn’t you say I was welcome to stay here?”

“Listen,” leaned against the cooking station, “-I want to see you be more than an unknown cook at the adventuring academy. The skills you showed earlier were pristine. I felt the same aura of Lady Yuki, which is a massive compliment. I see, or so, I’ve realized that she has taught you everything she knows in terms of techniques and mastery.”

“What are you saying?” the head swayed in dismissal, “-I went through her grueling training to stand in the kitchen with you, chef Leko. Why this decision, I don’t understand.”

“You misunderstood. I’m not saying you ought to leave the restaurant here. Take part in the exam, work hard, and impress the judges. The certification of being a chef doesn’t come easy. You can copy and make a recipe to the letter, yet, I’ve not known how YOU truly cook. I suppose the explosive taste is a part of it, what I’m getting at is,” he paused to stare deeply, “-this is the opportunity to find who you are as a chef, what is it that makes Igna, Igna, a specialty – a thing reflecting thy soul. The examination is nothing more than a place to showcase what you can do, it’s the perfect opportunity to make a name as well as be recognized as a chef. The ribbon around my neck,” he pointed, “-chefs are assigned colors depending on their skill and prestige. It’s a ranking system, the same as adventuring and anything in our society. Mine is red, the highest rank one can get. Red, green, blue, and grey – students have white, meaning nothing.”

“Lady Yuki didn’t have a ribbon.”

“Because she doesn’t need one,” he laughed, “-the lady’s rank is far beyond what we can measure. Her exploits are detailed and recorded; none will dare argue her achievements. There are countless stories about your teacher out there, can’t believe you never heard of one.”

“She never brought up the...”

“What happened, something amiss?” asked Leko.

“Red...” he facepalmed, “-everyone I worked by wore a red collar, holy...”

“See, there’s more to the cooking world than you know. That’s why I don’t want to bind you here, go out and discover the world for yourself.”

“I get it,” the posture slouched, “-you win. I won’t argue.”

“Good, then come by the restaurant for the night service only starting today. I want you to dedicate more time to innovate, is that ok?”

“As you wish,” he removed the apron, “-one thing. What’s the date of the test?”

“Let me think, today’s the 2nd of January, the stagier ends on the 9th – graduation exams are on the 30th. This is perfect, it’s on the 2nd of February.”

“A reason why it’s independent of the 30th, I thought I was part of the exams?”

“No, I called it so for lack of a better word. The one you’re participating in is the annual Chef Ranking Competition or else referred to as Cle. It’s a massive event whereby students from all over the world gather in Hidros at the World Culinary Institute of Fine Dining to showcase their work. Access is given to only 10, and entry is only allowed when a person is backed by sufficient big names in the industry.”

“What about me, I don’t have that sort of backing.”

“Are you dumb?” he laughed, “-you have the backing of five red-collared Chefs and the Medusa of cooking. Igna, this is serious, you can’t fail at any cost. Any lackluster performance will shun the cooks who’ve granted their approval. It will reflect badly on them.”

‘Way to add pressure,’ thought he suffocating at the hurdle ahead, ‘-I’ve never made anything that substantial. I just followed recipes made by others... this is going to be hard. Ten world-class chefs coming to have their ranks assigned. Come to think of it, chef Leko must have gone through it too.’

“Chef.”

“No, I’m not going to reveal how the examination goes. It would be a waste of time; the setting is always different. One key is innovation, bring the best dish and ingredient you can find. Enough talk for today, head to the Trader Guild, lady Haru is waiting.”

So many words were spoken in the exchange it felt like an hour had passed. In reality, a mere fifteen minutes elapsed. The burden of training under masters so prestigious weighted on the shoulders. Until now, it had only been learning, following orders, and replicating. Cle came as a reawakening, a calling to show if he was made to be viewed as Medusa’s prodigy.

Out the gymnasium through the back-door, the view gave onto layers and layers of foliage. The leaves didn’t give to show the ground, not once. Hard as he glared, green of differing shades continued until the horizon. ‘Nature as far as the eye can see.’ Along the stone path, into the blockier side of the academy, after the centermost buildings, came the workshops. A two story’s high, wide monstrosity of building bearing opened gates – each individual gate hosted a mini-workplace for those in the crafting side of the academy. If not for the square shapes, one could have thought it is a beehive. The dirtied oily walls gave onto the dusty yard in front. Cars, to make-shift smithery’s, and anything in-between. Shouting and the clanging of metal elevated the cacophony.

‘Better not get involved,’ he continued on the solitary walkway opposite the workshop. Tried as he may, the curiosity of those working the forge couldn’t be forgotten so easily. Then and there, he spotted a thing of marvel, ‘-that bike,’ thought he cutting across the crowded yard, ‘-it’s the same as I rode at the capital.’ The sun bared its fiery fangs onto his back, the mind could but admire the sharp-looking vehicle.

“What is it kid?” said a man rolling from under a car-trunk, “-want something fixed?”

“No, no, I didn’t wish to intrude. It’s just that I had a bike similar to this one here.”

“Oh, look at you,” he stood and held out brick-hard hands, “-that’s the Augna Pro 22X. Or so I wish, the original thing goes for almost 75,000 Exa retail price. The rarity can have the price shot to 90,000, heck, I even saw a deal of 125,000 Exa on the grey-market.”

“It’s not the original?”

“No,” he caressed the body, “-this baby doesn’t work. It’s only the body, the engine is too expensive to build. I promised myself if I can’t buy, I’ll make it.”

“I see,” he paused to wonder, “-give me a moment,” stepped onto the yard.

“éclair, how’s the bike I crashed?”

“It’s in pieces, the motor came out more or less fine.”

“Can I have it arranged to be transported to the academy?”

“Sure, but why?”

“Look up the market prices of the bike’s engine.”

“25,000 Exa, brand new. Secondhand about 15,000 Exa.”

“Sorry for the wait,” the boy showered by the sun returned, “-I’m Igna Haggard, a member of the Trader’s Guild.”

“Cool. I’m Gayae Boham, Mechanic and engineering student,” the hard-hands reached for another grip, dark-brown skin complexion, shadowed by the deep and longing gaze. The sharp jaw grew stubby. The dark-blue cap with Y.N, in orange, fought against the pink-rimmed glasses.

“Nice to meet you. The deal is concerning an engine for the bike there,” he pointed, “-I badly crashed mine a few weeks ago. It’s in pieces, except for the engine, I must say, it’s coincidence or a twist of fate.”

“A coincidence from a member of the Trader’s Guild. I’ll believe so when pig’s fly. Anyway, what’s the price for selling the engine.”

“You give me an estimate,” he smiled.

“My budget considering the work, I can’t go above 14,000 Exa.”

“I’ll sell it for 13,000 under the condition that you take all the pieces, body included. I won’t vouch for the workability of the parts. Here,” he showed a photo, “-tis the state of what I’m selling. If you can make a body, reviving a dead bike may be child’s play.”

“I like how you think, kid. Bring me the wreck first, I’ll have the money readied by then, is that agreeable?”

“Deal. Nice doing business with you, Boham.”

“Call me Gayae, I’m the friendly neighbor mechanic.”