98 – Chef
Impressively, Vincent only took a few seconds longer to recover. He plastered on a cool, host-like expression, and despite the events that had transpired right in front of him, he responded in an unbothered and polite voice.
“We have a standard menu if you wish to peruse individual dishes, my lady. However, for the evening, we would always recommend the Chef’s Selection. It is a five-course progression, utilizing the freshest arrivals from the morning markets. It begins with a clear pheasant soup leading into river trout poached in wine. The main roast is a Highland Stag with a savory glaze, followed by a refreshing mint sorbet to cleanse the palate before the finishing dessert. Though naturally,” Vincent said, bowing his head toward Aeris, “if the Archmage prefers to deviate from this selection, the kitchen is at your complete disposal to prepare whatever he so desires, so long as our larder permits.”
Vivi had never experienced even the modern Earth version of fine dining, so she was out of her depth more than normal. Aeris, of course, didn’t blink at anything the waiter had said. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in my years, it is that giving experts free rein will rarely lead to a disappointment. I believe our table would be more than satisfied with the Chef’s intended dining experience.” He glanced at Vivi. “Though I won’t speak for Lady Nysari or the others, of course.”
“I find that acceptable as well,” she replied, as if she had any idea what she was talking about. She looked at the other girls. Saffra shrugged, Isabella gave a polite affirmation, and Tatiana did the same.
“Very good, miss. Sir.” He bowed to them both in turn. “I apologize for the gross disservice shown to you earlier.”
“Truly, I understand,” Aeris said. “So far as I am concerned, that unpleasantness has been erased from my mind—remove it from yours as well.”
Even Vincent couldn’t help but look impressed by the Archmage’s continued good nature. He bowed deeper and then made to leave… before freezing as he remembered something, eyes turning to lock on the two starmetal coins that had been placed on the table earlier.
“You can take them,” Vivi said, a sigh in her voice.
The man hesitated before doing so, gave his effusive thanks, then disappeared through the curtain.
And so, with the waiter having left and the table’s attention turning to Vivi, she was forced to deal with the fallout of her previous actions. Rather than addressing the shortcomings that had led to the debacle they’d suffered through, she deflected. “I’m looking forward to seeing how Petra’s cooking skills have improved. I can only imagine we’re in for an experience.” She shifted in place, searching for something more. They had been interrupted almost immediately after sitting down, so more thorough introductions were still in order. “Tatiana, what year are you in, again? What classes are you taking?” The question had been intended as a deflection, but Vivi felt real interest spark. “I’m curious how the Institute’s curriculum is structured as a whole, for that matter.”
Luckily, the conversation fell into place from there. The Institute and magic more generally were inexhaustible topics for the five people present, and ones even Vivi could converse about with ease.
The first course was served in what had to have been less than ten minutes, and then eating was what occupied the bulk of everyone’s attention. As Vincent had indicated, the pheasant soup was the first dish out, and while she had already anticipated some of the best food she’d ever had, her expectations were thoroughly shattered the moment she scooped the first spoonful into her mouth. It almost seemed impossible how her taste buds exploded with pleasure.
And it probably would be impossible to make something this good, back on Earth, she thought, struggling to keep her manners in check and not shovel down mouthfuls. A world-class chef back home doesn’t have literal magic skills to help her cook. Or magical ingredients, for that matter.
After she finished devouring the best soup she’d ever tasted, bar none, she leaned back in satisfaction.
Out of curiosity, she pulled open her status screen and confirmed that no beneficial statuses had appeared. She wasn’t entirely sure how the craftsman profession of cooking had translated from game to reality, but the core concept had no doubt remained: potions were for powerful, immediate effects, and food was for long-lasting but much weaker benefits. In the game, dishes had been composed of complex sets of effects bundled together, and consuming one meal would overwrite the previous. Since only one dish could be active at a time, she assumed the main course would be the one that had the buffs layered in, if any.
That said, this might just be a mundane restaurant. Nobles were much more common here than adventurers, and adventurers were the ones who needed status effects. Surely it would be a waste of Petra’s talents to not leverage her craftsman ranks to the greatest extent possible, though. So perhaps the main dish would give day-to-day bonuses anyone could enjoy? Stamina recovery, for example—but there were any number of benefits that even non-combatants would value while going about their lives.
She wondered if the Alabaster Rose served combat-oriented dishes too. If Vivi had requested it, would the waiter have suggested a list of options? Maybe the possibility was so implied that he simply hadn’t. Or perhaps Petra had an arrangement similar to Malach, where she took commissions through the Cooking Guild and kept the Alabaster Rose separate from her adventuring-oriented business. Vivi could see it going either way.
No matter what the situation was, she was here for the food far more than any status bonuses, and the food very much passed muster.
After the second course had been served and most of the table had completed it, the inevitable happened: Vincent pushed through the curtains with another woman striding beside him. She was an older woman with brown hair hidden underneath a tall chef’s hat. Those key characteristics—chef, brown hair, older woman—made Vivi sit up straighter, because they fit Petra’s description, and Vivi had been expecting the cook’s appearance at any moment considering the metaphorical noise their party had made.
But this couldn’t be Petra. The matching traits could hardly be called unequivocally identifying: ‘brown hair’, ‘chef’, and ‘older’ were all common, and there were too many contradictory characteristics for this to be her.
Maybe she was one of the senior cooks? It felt odd for the Alabaster Rose to send out someone not at the top of the hierarchy given the extent of the insult the manager had offered, but Petra would be an absurdly busy woman, and maybe the manager hadn’t divulged the full truth of what had happened.
The woman’s eyes latched onto Vivi the moment she entered, ignoring even Archmage Aeris. Severe features shifted to surprise. That sternness even while appearing shocked again suggested that this couldn’t be Petra… she had never been a stern woman in the slightest.
“Good gods. It really is you,” the woman said. She glanced at Vincent and grimaced, as if the words had slipped from her mouth without intention. “Step outside, please, Vincent.”
The low-level staff member obeyed immediately, bowing before scurrying away. Both the authority in the woman’s voice and how quickly the other man had complied further raised Vivi’s suspicion.
But it couldn’t be. Surely not.
“I see you’re as blank-faced as always, my lady,” the chef said when Vincent had left, her gaze still only for Vivi, not paying the slightest attention to the most powerful human archmage in the mortal kingdoms.
And that was enough evidence that Vivi couldn’t deny the truth anymore. She leaned back in her seat, stunned. Every other member of Vanguard had been recognizable despite the many years that had passed. Even Malach, though a bent-over old man, she had identified without much issue.
Petra was apparently the exception. Time had changed her in a more significant way than wrinkles creasing her face.
“Petra?” Vivi couldn’t help but ask, and the sheer amount of surprise inside her managed to tinge even Vivisari’s calm voice.
“What’s so shocking?” the woman replied. “Can my own guildmaster not recognize me no matter the years that have passed?” She snorted. “I can’t imagine a single reason why.” The sarcasm was thick enough that even someone who didn’t know Petra could have picked up on it. “Yes, yes. I’m a third the size I once was. Along with a few other… changes. You’re one of very few who would remember that other me.”
Vivi hardly cared about what other people weighed, but Petra had been what a person might imagine as a ‘stereotypical cook.’ A round, rosy-cheeked woman in an apron with a motherly demeanor. It wasn’t just that her physique had taken a sharp turn, but her behavior had too—so substantially that even her resting expressions and talking habits had moved from ‘kind and nurturing’ to ‘tough and serious.’
Then again, a hundred years is more than enough time for someone’s personality to change, Vivi thought. That can happen in a month. If not a single day, given the right catalyst.
“You’re looking well,” Vivi finally struggled out.
“For a century having passed, if I was anything but bones in a graveyard I would be ‘looking well.’” Petra huffed out a breath. “But yes, thank you. I’m holding my years gracefully, I’ve been told. Did some adventuring early on to help with that, paid dividends in the long run. Never mind that. I understand my staff caused you some trouble.”
“No, that was my fault,” Vivi responded without hesitation. The manager undoubtedly could have handled the situation with more social grace, but she wasn’t remotelysomeone to go talking about ‘social grace.’ And she honestly didn’t think he’d acted beyond the pale given what he was dealing with. He must have been convinced past all reason that Vivi was some sort of troublemaker mage trying to scam a seat at his restaurant. Nobody in all the kingdoms would think Archmage Aeris had teleported to Sundermere to dine at the Alabaster Rose during a period of enormous instability, seeing how the greatest threat for a hundred years had breached the world. And that didn’t even account for the… coin debacle on Vivi’s own part.
Petra’s lips quirked. “Forgive the insolence, my lady, but I suspected from the start he couldn’t be entirely to blame, once I deduced who was causing a commotion in my restaurant. But neither can his failures be excused.” Her confident posture wilted, and she coughed into a fist. “Truth be told, the fault also falls on me. I have been overworking Layton and I’ve known it for some time. All men fray at the edges eventually. He is as crucial to the Alabaster Rose as I am, and my overreliance on him no doubt led to his actions tonight. I don’t fully understand what happened, but from what he told me, he didn’t hold himself to the standards we expect at the Alabaster Rose.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I will apologize on his behalf, yet will also stand behind him, though of course not his actions. A person should not be judged by their behavior in a single circumstance, unless truly reprehensible, which I do not believe is the case here. He has served me diligently for over a decade and I would not abandon him for one misstep. Not even for you, my lady.” She glanced at Aeris. “Or you, Honored Archmage. I hope neither of you are too offended.”
Far from upsetting Vivi, Petra’s allegiance to her staff pleased her. “I’m not offended in the slightest.” Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but after Petra had so stalwartly vouched for the man, any lingering resentment at the awfully awkward event dissipated. “As you said, he could have handled the situation better, but I don’t blame him either. Neither did Aeris, I believe.”
The old man nodded in agreement. “Yes, indeed. As I told him myself, we all make mistakes, and this one was harmless.”
Petra studied them for earnestness, then nodded in satisfaction. “You are as gracious as I’ve heard, Archmage. I cannot express how honored I am to serve you this evening.” She faced Vivi. “And though it goes without saying, you as well, my lady. But I can predict your reason for coming to me, and I suspect my response will not be what you want to hear.”
Vivi paused. She could put together the obvious implication of the statement. “If you don’t want to rejoin Vanguard, that’s your choice. We could use your expertise, but I won’t uproot your life if it goes against your wishes.”
Surprise raised Petra’s eyebrows to the point they almost crawled underneath her chef’s hat. She smoothed her expression out a moment later. “I’m… not sure you could have said something to make me doubt my decision more,” she said quietly. “But I stand resolute. If I thought my presence would alter the course of history, would save lives in great numbers, I would rejoin in a heartbeat. But Vanguard will not wither without its prior cook. I will provide you the best meals I can create, since you no doubt fight those greatest threats as always. But that does not require me to abandon the Alabaster Rose and move to Meridian. Warp to me as needed, and I will be your diligent servant. You will only need my aid once a week, after all, perhaps less.” She dipped her head, casting her eyes down. “This restaurant is my life’s work. I would only forsake it if there were no other choice.”
“The situation isn’t that dire,” Vivi said, disoriented by the nervous faith on display. Petra clearly hadn’t enjoyed delivering that small speech, nor denying her previous guildmaster. “We would benefit from having you back, but it’s not crucial in a bigger sense. You’re correct: the scale of the threat is such that only I can contain it.”
At the sudden increase in intensity of gazes from not just Petra but Aeris and the rest of the table too, Vivi realized she’d once again been a little too honest.
“So I might ask you to cook for me as needed, since you offered,” Vivi expanded with an awkwardness that, as always, didn’t intrude on her tone. “In particular, I think finding out how the various crafting disciplines interact with voidbeasts could help the world at large, and that includes cooking.”
Could voidbeasts be butchered and grilled? That seemed like a dangerous thing to experiment with, but still perhaps worth pursuing.
“Thus, there’s no need for you to return to Vanguard,” Vivi finished. “I would welcome you with open arms, but only if you yourself want it.”
Petra’s stern features took a second to return from their shock. She considered Vivi with hard eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, my lady. And yes, I’ve made my thoughts clear.” Her shoulders squared. “That said, let me assure you that I never intended to leave Vanguard without a proper cook. I have had numerous apprentices over the years, many of significant acclaim, and I have a man in mind who could serve as my replacement. A Master Cook nearing Grandmaster. He would accept a position at Vanguard with nothing short of reverence.” Petra’s lips quirked up. “Not that you would perceive his excitement, if you indeed make the offer. He is a rather stoic man. But there is not a cook in the mortal kingdoms who I would endorse more, my lady.”
Vivi couldn’t help a small smile, given the fervency this woman treated not just her current staff but previous apprentices with. “I trust your judgment then. Tell me his name and how to find him, and I’ll make the offer.”
Not getting Petra back wasn’t her first choice, but Vivi would have been shocked if every single one of the prior craftsmen had returned. It was already surprising how loyal they had remained with a hundred years having passed.
Petra relaxed. “Shel Donovan, of the White Nightingale Tavern. He’ll be expecting you. I didn’t broach this topic in explicit terms, but I’ve never been a subtle woman, and I apologize: I’m sure he understood what I was implying at the time.” She nodded to herself. “Good. I’m glad that works out. Now, there is a more important topic we must discuss.” Her gaze became nothing short of falcon-like. “Answer anything but honestly, my lady, and you will have broken my trust. I see only two courses have been served to your table so far… but what have you thought of the food?”