"Hah, that was one heck of a battle."
"Agh…"
Groans filled the air as members of The Order wearily collected their scattered weapons, the aftermath of a grueling fight.
"Good job, soldiers! That was a good fight," Grandov's booming voice echoed across the battlefield, a strange sense of satisfaction in his tone.
A good fight?
I wiped the blood dripping from my broken nose and down my chin, the metallic taste lingering in my mouth. My tongue explored the inside of my mouth, revealing a loose molar and a throbbing ache.
Surveying the scene, everyone else in The Order was in similarly awful shape. My eyes settled on our eternally optimistic leader, realizing for the first time that he was in the worst shape of us all.
"Grandov, your left arm... it's gone," I stammered, disbelief washing over me.
"This?" He chuckled. "This is but a flesh wound."
He produced a milky white pain-relieving potion nonchalantly, downing it in one swift gulp.
Fuck. And I thought working with Kleave was a job for lunatics.
Quickly following suit, I downed a pain-relieving potion of my own.
It was 785 and one year after Grandov discovered me drowning my sorrows over Kleave's death in a dingy bar deep within East Genise. Joining The Order seemed like a dignified path compared to the depravity I had engaged in before. That is, until Grandov took me off the training grounds for the first time today and into battle. It was a bloodbath. Just my luck, Adovoria, which had enjoyed relative peace for so long, was suddenly besieged by relentless marauders—secret troops, as Grandov claimed, dispatched by the Kobar Empire to probe Adovoria's defenses.
"Those of you with injuries that can be healed with a potion or some bandages, return to headquarters," Grandov declared, his voice carrying a tone of authority. "The rest of you who have lost flesh, tonight we feast at Arnold's."
"Hurrah!" A woman who had lost an eye bellowed, and her fellow soldiers echoed her spirited cheer.
"I don't see how a meal will help," I muttered.
"Heh, that's because you've never tasted Arnold's cuisine," an elderly man quipped, giving my shoulder a friendly pat.
I winced, realizing that the gesture had likely dislocated or worsened my injury.
Damn it, and that was my last potion.
"Do they have any pain relieving potions?" I asked the man.
"Even better," Grandov materialized by my side, his severed arm draped over my shoulder.
I grimaced, trying not to stare at the gruesome sight.
"Arnold's food is a culinary experience like no other," Grandov proclaimed, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and anticipation.
***
[ Level 2 Random Character Check in progress for Arnold Bumblefudge ]
No matter how different the man before me was from the one I knew five years into the future, there was no way I would ever forget someone with the family name Bumblefudge.
I had grown accustomed to the Random Character Checker displaying information about the people around me. It came twice a day, but it was often entirely useless bits of information. However, now and then, it would offer up some important information, which was why I did not disable the Skill.
The slot-like blue screen rolled through before stopping on the piece of information it had decided to reveal to me.
[ Quirk: Culinary Alchemy in Progress (5% Completion) ]
[ Arnold Bumblefudge possesses a unique talent for improvising recipes. Unfortunately, this often leads to questionable ingredient substitutions, unusual cooking methods, and culinary experiments, leaving even the bravest taste testers in disbelief. ]
I scrutinized the hulking figure before me.
Huh. I guess a lot can change in five years.
The Arnold Bumblefudge I knew sported a clean-shaven face adorned with a pair of twirly whiskers. The current Arnold Bumblefudge, however, looked as though he had hacked at his beard with an axe and had just emerged victorious from a wrestling match with a bear.
Yet, the disparity didn't end there. The contrast extended to the quality of his cooking, which was worlds apart from what I remembered.
My gaze fell upon the misshapen carrots strewn across the worn wooden cutting board.
"Young master Luca?" A woman's voice sounded. "What are you doing back here?"
An elderly woman donning a green apron emerged from the pantry downstairs, her voice filled with warmth.
“Ah,” Arnold stammered. "I didn't realize who you were…"
"No trouble at all," I reassured him. "I'm the one who barged in unannounced."
"Oh! You shouldn't be cutting the carrots like that," the woman scurried over to Arnold. "What are you thinking? You'll end up slicing off your fingers at this rate."
"Ah, I thought the shape would be more interesting this way," Arnold mumbled, sheepish.
"Forgive my sonny here." The woman smiled up at me. "He's still in training. Now, what can I get for you, dear?"
"A snack. Anything will do, but preferably nothing too rich, something I can eat without experiencing discomfort later," I said.
The woman began rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out various containers and dishes. She presented a plate of delicate pastries, a bowl of fresh fruit salad, and a tray of bite-sized sandwiches. Yet, amidst the offerings, my attention was captivated by a porridge resting on the counter beside Arnold.
Curiosity piqued, I inspected the dish, and as if on cue, a blue screen materialized before me.
[ Item: Arnold's Mind Soothing Porridge ]
[ Description: When consumed, the Mind Soothing Porridge alleviates mental fatigue, providing a rejuvenating effect. It grants a temporary boost of clarity and focus, allowing for quick thinking and enhanced cognitive abilities with a temporary gain of 5 points to Perception. The porridge's unique blend of ingredients also promotes relaxation and well-being, allowing for restful sleep and providing +20 HP. ]
"May I have this?" I pointed at the dish, directing my request to the elderly woman.
Her eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment. "But, dear, that's a dish Arnold made. You see, he's still in training and not yet a fully competent cook."
Arnold shuffled nervously, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I apologize, young master Luca. That is something I made for myself."
"Ah, that's your food. I didn't mean to take your meal away," I said.
“Oh no,” Arnold perked up. "There's plenty more in the pot. It's nothing fancy, however. It's just a simple porridge."
Simple porridge my foot. I rarely had blue notification screens appear for porridge, suggesting they could do beyond satiating hunger. And this was the type of food I knew was more in line with Arnold Bumblefudge's fare.
"Then may I have some as well?" I asked him. I turned to the woman. "As I recall, Arnold's food was presented in the morning. If it was good enough for my grandmother, it's good enough for me."
The woman winced. "You see, young master, it happened by chance. Your grandmother, Madame Ruth, happened to taste one of Arnold's dishes. Since then, she insists on having it served for breakfast every morning even though he's still inexperienced."
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Could it be that my grandmother had recognized Arnold's latent talents even before he fully blossomed? I pondered this thought, wondering if she possessed an uncanny ability to spot hidden potential.
The woman's voice interrupted my musings. "You must understand, young master Luca, Arnold is still finding his way. He has much to learn and refine."
I nodded, acknowledging her words. While Arnold's present skills may be questionable, the future Arnold I knew possessed the prowess of an alchemist, brewing soups capable of reattaching Grandov's dismembered arm. Perhaps, just perhaps, my grandmother had sensed his burgeoning talent, a talent that had yet to fully mature.
"If my grandmother eats his cooking, so can I," I replied. "Arnold, if you'd please give me a bowl of porridge."
"Sure thing!" Arnold smiled, and his large frame bounced over toward a pot and plopped some hot porridge in a new bowl for me.
I pocked my Wobbly Pepple and accepted the bowl from Arnold. I sat down in the kitchen, feeling reminiscent of how I used to eat breakfast in Fiona's kitchen in the past.
I took in the scent wafting up from the bowl. I found myself captivated by its inviting aroma, evoking warm memories of days long gone before my life had taken its unfortunate twist.
The creamy texture glided effortlessly across my tongue as I brought the spoonful of porridge to my lips. Its warmth spread through my mouth, filling every nook and cranny with a delicate blend of flavors. The sweetness of cinnamon danced with the earthy notes of nutmeg, while a hint of honey added a subtle, lingering touch. Each spoonful felt like a gentle caress, soothing and nurturing.
Despite his current training status, I couldn't help but marvel at how Arnold had managed to recreate a taste that held power to stir such deep emotions within me. It was as if he had tapped into the essence of my past, bringing forth flavors that resonated with my soul.
As I ate, Arnold continued to chop away at the carrots in the background.
He may have only mastered making porridge, but soon enough, he'll be brewing food that will work better than most healing potions.
It was quite lucky for Grandov to have found Arnold as well, and surprising that his talent wasn't scooped up by any single organization or syndicate to work for them exclusively.
I frowned.
How and where was Grandov today?
Natalia Ashford told me he was the last to hear a misfortune from the Misfortune Sisters before they upped and left the city.
Just what sort of misfortune did he hear, I wonder?
I scooped up the last of my porridge, feeling refreshed.
Once I'm back in Genise, I'll go about finding Grandov. If there's one person I can count on to help tackle this Kobar invasion, it's him.
"Big news!" A servant burst into the kitchen, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as he rushed in. The sudden intrusion caused him to skid to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise at my sight.
"Young master Luca...!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with shock and concern.
"What is it?" the woman demanded.
The servant hesitated, his gaze shifting between myself and the woman as if searching for the right words.
"I'm sorry to say, but Madame Ruth has just passed away," he finally uttered.
There were audible gasps from Arnold and the woman. However, as for me, I only sighed. It was my third time losing my grandmother.
It wasn't any easier, but it did feel heavier. I pulled the Wobbly Pepple from my pocket and grasped the strange rock within my palm.
I handed the bowl back to Arnold. The porridge had momentarily provided respite, but now it seemed insignificant in the face of this new loss. Or perhaps it helped soften the inevitable blow.
"My condolences," Arnold mumbled.
"I'm going to try and get some sleep before the funeral tomorrow," I announced.
Leaving the kitchen behind, I walked through the dimly lit corridors, each step accompanied by the hushed murmurs of the grieving servants who had awakened to the news. Their eyes, filled with sympathy, met mine, offering condolences that echoed through the air like whispered prayers.
In the solitude of my room, I collapsed in bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep, but despite the dark day that was to come, I slept soundly, thanks to Arnold's porridge.
***
Knock. Knock.
"Yes, please enter," I called out.
Early morning light entered through the folds of my curtains. Unlike the previous round, I felt more refreshed.
"Young master Luca, I offer my condolences," Ben said, rolling a trolley over to my bedside. "Your family has arrived."
"Thank you, Ben. Condolences to you as well," I replied.
I had lost my grandmother, but Ben and the people working at her villa knew her for many years, having spent nearly every day with her.
"I will set up your bath," the short maid that entered with Ben announced.
"Thank you." I sat up in bed and picked up a cup of hot tea.
"Everyone except your father has arrived," Ben explained. “They are currently getting refreshed from their travels. The burial ceremony will take place in a few hours."
Ben showed me the black outfit for the funeral, the maid announced the bath was ready, and the two exited my quarters upon my request. I was merely going through the motions as in the round prior.
"Peep!"
How are you feeling?
Leona, who was awake through the whole process, piped in.
I responded.
I picked up one of the misshapen carrot tarts served with the tea. It was one of Arnold's failed creations.
It's a shame his abilities aren't at the level they are five years into the future. If they had been, could his cooking have helped my grandmother as it did in helping reattach Grandov's left arm?
AlekAundra
I wouldn't mind some of that porridge myself. Woke up at 5:30 AM today. But for now, I suppose tea will do.
"Hah, that was one heck of a battle."
"Agh…"
Groans filled the air as members of The Order wearily collected their scattered weapons, the aftermath of a grueling fight.
"Good job, soldiers! That was a good fight," Grandov's booming voice echoed across the battlefield, a strange sense of satisfaction in his tone.
A good fight?
I wiped the blood dripping from my broken nose and down my chin, the metallic taste lingering in my mouth. My tongue explored the inside of my mouth, revealing a loose molar and a throbbing ache.
Surveying the scene, everyone else in The Order was in similarly awful shape. My eyes settled on our eternally optimistic leader, realizing for the first time that he was in the worst shape of us all.
"Grandov, your left arm... it's gone," I stammered, disbelief washing over me.
"This?" He chuckled. "This is but a flesh wound."
He produced a milky white pain-relieving potion nonchalantly, downing it in one swift gulp.
Fuck. And I thought working with Kleave was a job for lunatics.
Quickly following suit, I downed a pain-relieving potion of my own.
It was 785 and one year after Grandov discovered me drowning my sorrows over Kleave's death in a dingy bar deep within East Genise. Joining The Order seemed like a dignified path compared to the depravity I had engaged in before. That is, until Grandov took me off the training grounds for the first time today and into battle. It was a bloodbath. Just my luck, Adovoria, which had enjoyed relative peace for so long, was suddenly besieged by relentless marauders—secret troops, as Grandov claimed, dispatched by the Kobar Empire to probe Adovoria's defenses.
"Those of you with injuries that can be healed with a potion or some bandages, return to headquarters," Grandov declared, his voice carrying a tone of authority. "The rest of you who have lost flesh, tonight we feast at Arnold's."
"Hurrah!" A woman who had lost an eye bellowed, and her fellow soldiers echoed her spirited cheer.
"I don't see how a meal will help," I muttered.
"Heh, that's because you've never tasted Arnold's cuisine," an elderly man quipped, giving my shoulder a friendly pat.
I winced, realizing that the gesture had likely dislocated or worsened my injury.
Damn it, and that was my last potion.
"Do they have any pain relieving potions?" I asked the man.
"Even better," Grandov materialized by my side, his severed arm draped over my shoulder.
I grimaced, trying not to stare at the gruesome sight.
"Arnold's food is a culinary experience like no other," Grandov proclaimed, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and anticipation.
***
[ Level 2 Random Character Check in progress for Arnold Bumblefudge ]
No matter how different the man before me was from the one I knew five years into the future, there was no way I would ever forget someone with the family name Bumblefudge.
I had grown accustomed to the Random Character Checker displaying information about the people around me. It came twice a day, but it was often entirely useless bits of information. However, now and then, it would offer up some important information, which was why I did not disable the Skill.
The slot-like blue screen rolled through before stopping on the piece of information it had decided to reveal to me.
[ Quirk: Culinary Alchemy in Progress (5% Completion) ]
[ Arnold Bumblefudge possesses a unique talent for improvising recipes. Unfortunately, this often leads to questionable ingredient substitutions, unusual cooking methods, and culinary experiments, leaving even the bravest taste testers in disbelief. ]
I scrutinized the hulking figure before me.
Huh. I guess a lot can change in five years.
The Arnold Bumblefudge I knew sported a clean-shaven face adorned with a pair of twirly whiskers. The current Arnold Bumblefudge, however, looked as though he had hacked at his beard with an axe and had just emerged victorious from a wrestling match with a bear.
Yet, the disparity didn't end there. The contrast extended to the quality of his cooking, which was worlds apart from what I remembered.
My gaze fell upon the misshapen carrots strewn across the worn wooden cutting board.
"Young master Luca?" A woman's voice sounded. "What are you doing back here?"
An elderly woman donning a green apron emerged from the pantry downstairs, her voice filled with warmth.
“Ah,” Arnold stammered. "I didn't realize who you were…"
"No trouble at all," I reassured him. "I'm the one who barged in unannounced."
"Oh! You shouldn't be cutting the carrots like that," the woman scurried over to Arnold. "What are you thinking? You'll end up slicing off your fingers at this rate."
"Ah, I thought the shape would be more interesting this way," Arnold mumbled, sheepish.
"Forgive my sonny here." The woman smiled up at me. "He's still in training. Now, what can I get for you, dear?"
"A snack. Anything will do, but preferably nothing too rich, something I can eat without experiencing discomfort later," I said.
The woman began rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out various containers and dishes. She presented a plate of delicate pastries, a bowl of fresh fruit salad, and a tray of bite-sized sandwiches. Yet, amidst the offerings, my attention was captivated by a porridge resting on the counter beside Arnold.
Curiosity piqued, I inspected the dish, and as if on cue, a blue screen materialized before me.
[ Item: Arnold's Mind Soothing Porridge ]
[ Description: When consumed, the Mind Soothing Porridge alleviates mental fatigue, providing a rejuvenating effect. It grants a temporary boost of clarity and focus, allowing for quick thinking and enhanced cognitive abilities with a temporary gain of 5 points to Perception. The porridge's unique blend of ingredients also promotes relaxation and well-being, allowing for restful sleep and providing +20 HP. ]
"May I have this?" I pointed at the dish, directing my request to the elderly woman.
Her eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment. "But, dear, that's a dish Arnold made. You see, he's still in training and not yet a fully competent cook."
Arnold shuffled nervously, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I apologize, young master Luca. That is something I made for myself."
"Ah, that's your food. I didn't mean to take your meal away," I said.
“Oh no,” Arnold perked up. "There's plenty more in the pot. It's nothing fancy, however. It's just a simple porridge."
Simple porridge my foot. I rarely had blue notification screens appear for porridge, suggesting they could do beyond satiating hunger. And this was the type of food I knew was more in line with Arnold Bumblefudge's fare.
"Then may I have some as well?" I asked him. I turned to the woman. "As I recall, Arnold's food was presented in the morning. If it was good enough for my grandmother, it's good enough for me."
The woman winced. "You see, young master, it happened by chance. Your grandmother, Madame Ruth, happened to taste one of Arnold's dishes. Since then, she insists on having it served for breakfast every morning even though he's still inexperienced."
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Could it be that my grandmother had recognized Arnold's latent talents even before he fully blossomed? I pondered this thought, wondering if she possessed an uncanny ability to spot hidden potential.
The woman's voice interrupted my musings. "You must understand, young master Luca, Arnold is still finding his way. He has much to learn and refine."
I nodded, acknowledging her words. While Arnold's present skills may be questionable, the future Arnold I knew possessed the prowess of an alchemist, brewing soups capable of reattaching Grandov's dismembered arm. Perhaps, just perhaps, my grandmother had sensed his burgeoning talent, a talent that had yet to fully mature.
"If my grandmother eats his cooking, so can I," I replied. "Arnold, if you'd please give me a bowl of porridge."
"Sure thing!" Arnold smiled, and his large frame bounced over toward a pot and plopped some hot porridge in a new bowl for me.
I pocked my Wobbly Pepple and accepted the bowl from Arnold. I sat down in the kitchen, feeling reminiscent of how I used to eat breakfast in Fiona's kitchen in the past.
I took in the scent wafting up from the bowl. I found myself captivated by its inviting aroma, evoking warm memories of days long gone before my life had taken its unfortunate twist.
The creamy texture glided effortlessly across my tongue as I brought the spoonful of porridge to my lips. Its warmth spread through my mouth, filling every nook and cranny with a delicate blend of flavors. The sweetness of cinnamon danced with the earthy notes of nutmeg, while a hint of honey added a subtle, lingering touch. Each spoonful felt like a gentle caress, soothing and nurturing.
Despite his current training status, I couldn't help but marvel at how Arnold had managed to recreate a taste that held power to stir such deep emotions within me. It was as if he had tapped into the essence of my past, bringing forth flavors that resonated with my soul.
As I ate, Arnold continued to chop away at the carrots in the background.
He may have only mastered making porridge, but soon enough, he'll be brewing food that will work better than most healing potions.
It was quite lucky for Grandov to have found Arnold as well, and surprising that his talent wasn't scooped up by any single organization or syndicate to work for them exclusively.
I frowned.
How and where was Grandov today?
Natalia Ashford told me he was the last to hear a misfortune from the Misfortune Sisters before they upped and left the city.
Just what sort of misfortune did he hear, I wonder?
I scooped up the last of my porridge, feeling refreshed.
Once I'm back in Genise, I'll go about finding Grandov. If there's one person I can count on to help tackle this Kobar invasion, it's him.
"Big news!" A servant burst into the kitchen, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as he rushed in. The sudden intrusion caused him to skid to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise at my sight.
"Young master Luca...!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with shock and concern.
"What is it?" the woman demanded.
The servant hesitated, his gaze shifting between myself and the woman as if searching for the right words.
"I'm sorry to say, but Madame Ruth has just passed away," he finally uttered.
There were audible gasps from Arnold and the woman. However, as for me, I only sighed. It was my third time losing my grandmother.
It wasn't any easier, but it did feel heavier. I pulled the Wobbly Pepple from my pocket and grasped the strange rock within my palm.
I handed the bowl back to Arnold. The porridge had momentarily provided respite, but now it seemed insignificant in the face of this new loss. Or perhaps it helped soften the inevitable blow.
"My condolences," Arnold mumbled.
"I'm going to try and get some sleep before the funeral tomorrow," I announced.
Leaving the kitchen behind, I walked through the dimly lit corridors, each step accompanied by the hushed murmurs of the grieving servants who had awakened to the news. Their eyes, filled with sympathy, met mine, offering condolences that echoed through the air like whispered prayers.
In the solitude of my room, I collapsed in bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep, but despite the dark day that was to come, I slept soundly, thanks to Arnold's porridge.
***
Knock. Knock.
"Yes, please enter," I called out.
Early morning light entered through the folds of my curtains. Unlike the previous round, I felt more refreshed.
"Young master Luca, I offer my condolences," Ben said, rolling a trolley over to my bedside. "Your family has arrived."
"Thank you, Ben. Condolences to you as well," I replied.
I had lost my grandmother, but Ben and the people working at her villa knew her for many years, having spent nearly every day with her.
"I will set up your bath," the short maid that entered with Ben announced.
"Thank you." I sat up in bed and picked up a cup of hot tea.
"Everyone except your father has arrived," Ben explained. “They are currently getting refreshed from their travels. The burial ceremony will take place in a few hours."
Ben showed me the black outfit for the funeral, the maid announced the bath was ready, and the two exited my quarters upon my request. I was merely going through the motions as in the round prior.
"Peep!"
How are you feeling?
Leona, who was awake through the whole process, piped in.
I responded.
I picked up one of the misshapen carrot tarts served with the tea. It was one of Arnold's failed creations.
It's a shame his abilities aren't at the level they are five years into the future. If they had been, could his cooking have helped my grandmother as it did in helping reattach Grandov's left arm?
AlekAundra
I wouldn't mind some of that porridge myself. Woke up at 5:30 AM today. But for now, I suppose tea will do.
