The Wielder of Death Magic

“Right,” said he, “-this dish is made specifically to show you,” pointing at Igna, “-the limits of Dungeon cooking. It’s a good concept, many chefs and I have tried to take it farther,” the hands clutched to crinkle his clothes, “-Goblin meat, the more disgusting out there, is also, the most delicious if well done. The spices are herbs we found on an expedition to various monster spawning areas. The limits are there to see, masking the taste, embracing the taste, the meat restricts culinary capabilities, and I’m ashamed to admit, has left me baffled as to where to go from here.”

The adorable sight of a mentor teaching his student played onstage. The students were amazed, the tough hardened, and heartless director they’ve grown to fear, was now, showing compassion, doubt, and love, to another. He showed his human side, not that he ever actively thought of becoming such a stone. The pressure of such a burden naturally took its course over his body.

“No,” added the second judge, “-Director, there’s something special within the boy’s dish too. Just as you treated the meat like chicken, he treated his like fish, and the result is an explosion of the sea. I don’t know-how, which leaves me baffled, my tongue has never failed to identify ingredients before. And so, in face of what this boy has shown, I tip my hat. Look at the way he’s dressed it, look at the way it appeals to the heart. I’m sincere in saying this, Igna shall have my vote!” In a twist of fate, the boy’s face glowed in ecstasy. Part of the crowd was so moved they jumped to stare blankly. Spotlights shrunk to add an air of tension, Igna and Leko’s faces were contrary to one another. A smile here, a frown there, when one frowned, the other would smile.

“I beg to differ,” voiced the third Judge, a teacher at the academy. Rose inlayed tucked up shirt above a pitch-black pair of pants running above her waist gave the illusion of a bigger chest. She’d try and not bring attention there as her face was twice as pretty. A beauty mark near her lower-lips and a famished look dowsed in seductive glances at the Director. Her hair, braided in a bun and let freed at the back, big bright golden-colored eyes held authority, “-the boy has talent, I won’t argue, but lacks refinement. My pallet isn’t accustomed to the sharp explosive taste of peasant food. What is this?” she wouldn’t even take a bit, “-the smell alone has me physically moving back.”

“Excuse you?” returned Leko, “-are you not going to taste his dish?”

“No, and that’s my right,” lifting her head to the audience, a black figure stood tall in blocking her vision, “-I don’t care, lady Aiza Tiffens, refined or not, a dish is a dish. Are you that gutsy to question what I, Chef Leko, have deemed good?”

.....

“Chef Leko,” interjected Igna, “-there’s no need for conflict,” said he rushing over. “If the lady doesn’t want to partake, we needn’t force her to do so. I only care about fulfilling the pallets of those who enjoy the rawness of my cuisine.”

“Igna,” he held his shoulder, “-you shouldn’t be so cavalier, are you not hurt?”

“I’m hurt,” said he, “-though, I’ve come to appreciate the experience. Lady Yuki has drilled the feeling of rejection into my soul, I can’t help but smile.”

“Young boy,” she slammed to a stand leaving the cutlery to vibrate, “-who is this Lady Yuki you speak of?”

“Don’t worry Igna,” said Leko stepping in, “-he’s referring to the Medusa of Cooking. Igna was once my student.”

“Once?” inquired she.

“What are they saying?”

“Can’t hear anything!” complained the crowd.

“Yes, once,” he smiled, “-the boy’s not my student. He’s my sous chef, the only one I deemed worthy. He’s trained at Loron, under the supervision of super-stars of the cooking world, and most importantly, Lady Yuki. He’s her prodigy, the reason why she returned to the kitchen. This contest was never important, I wanted him to experience the grandeur of the stage.”

“Don’t tell me,” she sat with a solemn look, “-will he be participating at Cle?”

“Yes,” he smiled.

“Are you serious?” her face flushed, “-is he the boy we’ve heard rumors about. The prodigy who had multiple Red-collared chefs vouch...”

“Damn right.” All the while they spoke, Igna made for the first chef and shared the third dish. They graciously accepted to bring an end to the competition.

“A few things are lacking,” commented the first, “-I’ll give my vote to the Director.

“I enjoyed the rawness; it spoke to me. Good job, Igna,” the second vote went to Igna.

“Whatever,” the third vote went to the Director. Congratulations flashed with confetti and loud noises. Applause from the crowd left the ‘great hall’ shaking. Such a show of power and confidence, the look of complete control on Leko inspired most of the students. Well, until the time came for the winner’s speech. Judges were off the stage, the cooking stations returned from whence they came, the energetic audience settled once more

“Greeting students,” said he over the microphone, “-the graduation of the third years are fast approaching. The contest in which me and this boy,” Igna followed his welcoming gesture, “-Igna, my friend, and sous chef, was nothing more than an exhibition. There are examples of truly talented people out there. By my side is one of them,” he covered the mic, “-is it alright if I tell the story?”

“No harm is done.”

“Good,” returned to facing those seated, “-forgive me, I didn’t mean talented. Talent itself is bountiful, though, similar to amber, if not provided with enough sustenance, the latter is bound to die. And here, the amber who limped his way to my kitchen is a raging inferno. Granted, he’s not trained at an academy and only picked up the knife around a year ago – he clawed his way up to Cle, Medusa’s prodigy. I know it’s customary for me to grant my vote to the top graduating student for when the time comes. This year will be different. Igna Haggard will be judging the dishes by my side, and don’t dare raise any question about his knowledge. He’s being backed by multiple red-collared chefs and Lady Yuki. He’s the same age if not a bit younger than most in attendance. Take him as an example and work hard.” The lights died to leave the pin-drop stupor in the mouths of many. Footsteps echoed along the stage to then disappear. Murmurs spawned into chaos. More than inspired, they were offended. A nobody who took the knife for two years and trained under a legend is participating in Cle.

“I remember now,” said the girl holding her teddy, “-it’s the same boy we saw at the capital. The one who challenged the chef and made nuggets?”

“That plebian?” he scowled, “-how dare Chef Leko refuse to acknowledge me,” the fingers laid between hair and scalp, visible irritation per the breathing, the anger boiling inside, and the disrespect felt, “-I’m going to destroy him!”

“Chill on the anger issues,” laughed the girl, “-come on, let’s go. We need to buy ingredients for the graduation.”

“Yes,” he stood to sort his tie, “-the student council has a few words to speak to administration. Come on,” upfront, three others followed.

“Chef,” ambling around the empty halls, “-was it wise to provoke them like that?”

“Provoke?” they stopped at a grey-colored intersection, “-I only said what is true. How is that provoking, I suppose, if they feel offended, one option remains, get better.”

“You’re cruder than usual,” the walk resumed after a window giving to a lovely garden.

“Well,” they stopped at the entrance, “-I have things to attend to. Igna, you a few days until Cle. Do whatever, sleeping arrangements have been made, or are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

“I get the feeling I’m not invited,” the piercing gaze of the exiting students had him gulped, “-I’ll probably head for Sunfall and look around. I’ll be back by the 29th.”

“Sure,” he smiled, “-don’t leave yet though. In an hour, some magazines are going to come for an interview about Cle. Better stick around since they’re important in the world of fine-dining. The academy has a lot to do, just wander around. Better yet, head to the trial restaurant, you’ll get to taste what the students are making.”

“You even have live-practice, talk about being grand.” The parts split towards the office and the other, unknown. Igna stayed a little to watch Leko disappear into the crowd, the faculty office felt so far away, almost out of reach.

‘Can’t believe the size of this place,’ the path went right whereupon rested a massive olden style manor. The latter being the actual school area. The size was apparent only when having a top-down look or going around the perimeter. Aside from that, the beige color and pillars added a hint of homeliness. A feeling that soon flushed as the judging gazes of the students traveled from all around. ‘éclair,’ he headed for the building mentioned earlier, ‘-can you quickly check the student’s name and affiliation?’

“Sure thing,” a scan came in form of blue lines highlighting each face.

“Oh,” opposed to names, the display changed to net worth and what company or family they were tied to. “-We got a lot of rich people here,” said he looking about, “-most are north of five million Exa.”

“Yes, reaching 500,000 Exa, by all means, is an impressive achievement. One enters the realm of richness. The 1 million exa you see are the people’s whole net worth – including assets, houses, and other various connections.” The amount fluctuated rapidly, those with one million or higher had a different air about them, an air of superiority. Those at the five-million were pompous and surrounded by others worth in the same range. Those below 1 million were ostracized into forming packs. The ladies who held money were sought after and the men who were pretty enough were prey. The reality here wasn’t far off how nobility and society worked. It became apparent that the majority were shy of 1 million, small businesses and smaller fortune.

‘Is it worth speaking to them?’ the walk carried until the hotel. Crossing the road into well-maintained grass, the training area was very much active. ‘-Why are they sitting outside?’ thought he as the net worth showed below average.

“Don’t go in there,” hailed a student.

“Excuse me?” he stopped, “-is there something the matter?”

“No, no,” said he apprehensive about speaking, “-the kitchen is being used by the student council. Going there now might bring about a problem.”

“How so?” he shrugged; “-I fail to see how it may hurt.” Ignoring the words of warning, Igna opened the tall heavy elder-wooden door. The immediate whiff of delicious food blasted the visage. Those outside cowered at the opening of said portal for they disappeared moments after. The particular situation had him weirdly intrigued, a hierarchy was about, one that was based on monetary and social status. Merit didn’t help either, as good as a chef as they could have been, there was no denying the intangible upper hand the gifted had.

‘What mystery does the trial-kitchen have.’ Inside was a beautiful exhibition of fine arts. For an academy, it was a bit much. Still, not inclined on judging, Igna followed the sweet scent of cuisine.

“Excuse me,” said a taller man, “-we’ve said the student council has taken the kitchen for the hour.”

“I do apologize,” he glanced inside, “-I’m new here. The Director said to come here if I wanted to taste good food.”

“Who is it?” came from the kitchen.

“No one, sir.”

“Kick him out then, what are you waiting for?”

“As you wish.”