5: Sickness and Friends
Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye. By now, I was helping during the evening rush—bringing empty mugs back to the bar and taking dirty plates to the kitchen. I still went to the market with Geo each morning. As before, only my Knifework skill had increased, while the others remained stagnant.
Knifework
Level: 4
Experience: 328/1056
And as I’d figured out by now, I was getting one experience point for each item I cut from start to finish. After some trial and error with Geo, we discovered I wouldn’t gain any experience if he pre-peeled or prepared the vegetables, or cut them himself.
It was my fourteenth day—the day Larry had agreed would be my day off. More importantly, it was payday, which I received without any fuss. I was now the proud owner of 24 coppers!
I sat in the inn having lunch when four adventurers walked through the door. That wasn’t unusual, but what caught my attention was the boy trailing behind them.
"Lukas!" I called out, spotting my friend for the first time since we left the academy. I waved, but Lukas only glanced over at me before turning away, following the group to a table without saying a word.
Just as I was about to get up and go over, I heard the older adventurer at the front ask Lukas,
"You know him, kid?"
"No," Lukas replied.
His answer made me sink back into my seat, confused and unsettled. Did he not want me to meet the adventurers? Or was he in trouble? He didn’t look like it—he was well dressed, with an iron sword hanging from his belt.
I stared in Lukas’s direction, but he made no eye contact with me. Micca, having watched the whole thing unfold, came over to my table, still holding a mug.
“You know him?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah. We went to the academy together for ten years. We were best friends… but he’s pretending not to know me?” I said, still in disbelief.
“Ouch. It’s not uncommon—lots of adventurers see themselves above what they call the servant class and don’t usually interact much outside of business. But I wouldn’t have expected that from a friend,” she said, her tone clearly disapproving.
I honestly didn’t know what to make of this, or how to respond. Should I go over there and confront him? Or should I let it slide? Maybe he was worried that if he talked to me, the others would treat him differently. Maybe he’d slip away at some point and come see me when he got the chance.
Conflicted and unsure, I just sat there, confused and a little upset, when Micca came past again. She leant down and whispered, “Geo gave ’em stale bread and extra salt in their stew. He said Nobody upsets Trev.” She winked at me before carrying the bowls to their table.
After a short while, they finished eating, most of their bread rolls left untouched. I guess Geo really had given them stale bread. Then they left the inn, Lukas still avoiding my gaze and practically hiding behind the other adventurers. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.
Lost in my thoughts, I was pulled back to how I’d felt in those first few days—unsure about my future. I had struggled through and found something I enjoyed, and people I got along with. But now, do I just leave my past behind and pretend it never happened?
That was one of my closest friends at the academy. And I wasn’t likely to see George again after he joined the military.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around the market area with no real purpose in mind.
Eventually, I found myself back at the inn, talking with Geo in the kitchen. I may have even helped a little, despite it being my day off, before finally retiring early for the night—or at least, I tried to sleep.
Another two weeks passed with no change. I didn’t see Lukas again, and his group never returned to the inn.
During lunch at the inn, I noticed Larry serving at the bar instead of Micca. Since it had been her fourteenth day off yesterday, I questioned Larry as he walked past.
"Where’s Micca today?"
"Says she’s sick and can’t work," Larry replied in an upset tone before carrying two bowls out to a table. When he came back, I asked,
"Is she okay?"
There was concern in my voice. I’d gotten close to Micca after the day she’d arranged the stale bread for Lukas and his party. She always had my back and was quick with a bit of cheerful advice when I needed it.
"Trevor, if she’s not dying, she could be at work. So I don’t care," Larry huffed, heading behind the bar.
That worried me. She wasn’t actually dying, was she? No, Larry was just mad she wasn’t here. Right?
Knowing I wouldn’t get much more from Larry, I slipped into the kitchen, where Geo was hard at work.
"Geo, I don’t suppose you know where Micca lives? I want to check on her," I asked.
Geo looked a little concerned. "It’s for the best if you do. I fear if she’s not back tomorrow, she won’t have a job anymore," he said, coming over to me.
"She lives at the Carlye Residence, a small house on the opposite side of the markets where we usually enter. You’ll see a sign on the wall. Now run along before Larry spots you in here and puts you to work on your day off."
I quickly left the inn, heading across the market, and scanning the signs on the houses. The Carlye Residence sounded fancy, but I’d never actually asked about Micca’s living arrangements. Did she share the house with family? Or maybe with someone else?
After a short time searching, I finally found the one I was looking for. It was far more run-down than the surrounding houses and clearly in need of repairs.
I pushed through the gate and approached the door, hesitating before knocking. Was it really okay for me to just show up like this?
Micca was a friend—one of the only ones I had left. With that thought, I steeled myself and knocked loudly on the door.
And nothing.
No one answered the door. "Micca, it’s Trevor. Are you home?" I called out, knocking again.
With concern rising, I stepped back and double-checked the sign outside. I had the right place. Returning to the door, I tried the handle. It opened easily. Inside, everything was dark and more than a little dusty.
"Micca, it’s Trevor. Are you home?" I called from the doorway.
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Silence. I was about to close the door when I heard a faint cough coming from somewhere deeper in the house.
I couldn’t leave now. What if she wasn’t okay?
Steeling myself, I stepped inside and followed the sound of the coughing. Opening the door to a small room, I saw Micca lying on a bed. She was incredibly pale, her clothes soaked with sweat. She looked like death itself.
"Oh, that’s not good," I muttered. "Micca, it’s Trevor. Can I come in?" I asked from the doorway.
There was no response. She barely turned her head toward me before her eyes slid closed again.
Ah, damn, this is not good. At the academy, when kids got the fever, they’d put a cloth soaked in cold water on their heads. Yes, that’s it. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll get cold water and a cloth, I thought.
Easier said than done, since I did not know where to get water here—or even where to find a bucket, let alone a cloth.
Leaving her room, I searched the house, quickly finding a very dusty, unused kitchen. At least there was a bucket.
Through the rear entrance, I spotted a pump outside. Perfect. I filled the bucket, then carried it back to her room. While scanning for anything else useful, I noticed what looked suspiciously like one of the rags we used at the inn to clean mugs.
"That’ll do," I muttered, grabbing it and soaking it in cold water before carefully laying it across her forehead.
Desperately, I tried to think back to what else they’d done at the academy when someone was sick. Then I remembered—they always made a simple chicken soup.
I could do that. I’d seen Geo start countless soups and stews. Surely I could manage one.
Quickly wiping the excess sweat from Micca’s face, I rinsed the cloth and placed it back on her forehead. I felt like I was on a mission now. I knew what I had to do to try and help.
Leaving the residence, I was thankful the market was so close. I quickly found what I needed, paying four coppers for onions, potatoes, celery, and garlic. I added a small pouch of tuber starch and some salt for two more coppers.
Finally, I headed to the poultry farmer’s stall—though this was the part I was dreading. It was late in the day, and there was little chance of finding prepared chicken pieces ready to go.
Sure enough, my fears were confirmed. I still bought a whole chicken, but it had only just been dispatched by the farmer, its feathers untouched. I would need to pluck it myself.
With another three coppers down, I returned to Micca’s house with the vegetables and the chicken in hand. Stepping back inside, I called out again, just in case she had woken.
"Hello, Micca, it’s Trevor again," I called.
There was no response.
Leaving the vegetables and chicken in the kitchen, I went back to her room to check on her and change the water. She looked the same as before. After refreshing the cloth on her forehead, I stepped outside to see if she had any wood for a fire.
Unlike those with the cook class, I couldn’t heat coals directly—but that was fine. I’d make do.
After a brief search, I found a small woodpile that clearly hadn’t been touched in years. Grabbing an armful, I went back inside and headed to the stove, starting a fire just as Martin had shown me back at the temple. Once the flames caught, I grabbed the largest pot I could find and carried it outside to the pump, filling it halfway with water.
When the fire was burning strongly, I set the pot beside it to heat. I’d never tried this before, but Martin had told me that if you dipped a chicken in hot water briefly, the feathers would almost fall out on their own, saving you the struggle of plucking it by hand.
While the water heated, I cleared a dusty space in the kitchen and started preparing the vegetables. Halfway through, I paused and went back to Micca’s room to change the cloth on her forehead. Her breathing was shallow.
This was not good at all.
What if I hadn’t shown up today? Would she really have died?
Back in the kitchen, the water was now hot to the touch. I carefully placed the whole headless chicken into the pot, letting it sit briefly before pulling it out. Much to my surprise, it was true—the feathers came off easily, just like Martin had said. I felt a twinge of guilt for doubting him, but I was still amazed at how simple it was.
I discarded the dirty water outside, then placed the now-empty pot back on the fire. Next, I cooked the vegetables as I had seen both Martin and Geo do.
When preparing the chicken, I removed the guts and other unwanted parts, throwing them away before cutting the bird into quarters and adding them to the pot.
Swearing quietly to myself, I realised I couldn’t find another bucket to carry water. I took off my tunic and used it to carry the hot pot back outside to the pump. I filled it halfway with water, then brought it back inside and returned it to the heat.
Once again, I checked on Micca and changed the cloth, pacing impatiently between her room and the kitchen. What felt like forever—though realistically was about an hour—passed. When the potatoes in the soup were finally tender, I added some salt for flavour. Grabbing a large ladle, I crushed some of the potatoes and stirred in the tuber starch to thicken the soup.
Removing the pot from the heat, I searched through the cupboards for a bowl and spoon. Both were covered in dust.
I made a mental note to lecture Micca about that when she was well again. Why was everything so neglected?
Running outside to the pump, I washed the bowl and spoon thoroughly. I made sure to set one aside for myself—I didn’t want to be running around in the dark later. Besides, I had no idea how she lit the place; there weren’t any candles in sight. I noticed some lanterns hanging on the walls, but I had no clue how they worked.
Serving up a bowl and making sure it wasn’t too hot, I returned to Micca’s room and sat beside her bed.
“I’m going to try to give you some food. Just swallow what you can, okay?” I said softly. Micca’s eyes were barely open.
I took a spoonful of soup and slowly fed it to her. Over time, I managed to get through half the bowl before she muttered her first words to me.
“Water,” she whispered.
I remembered seeing cups earlier, so I quickly left the room and grabbed one. Once again, I had to go outside to the pump to fill it. Returning, I saw Micca with her eyes open, still sweating but looking less pale than before.
“Here’s your water,” I said, passing her the cup and gently helping her sit up a little.
“Thank you,” Micca said softly, taking a drink before the reality of where she was and what was happening began to sink in.
“Trevor?” she asked, her voice confused.
“Yes?” I replied, equally puzzled.
“What are you doing here? Did you heal me?” she asked, still trying to make sense of it all.
“No, I just put a cold cloth on your head and made you some soup,” I said, nodding toward the half-eaten bowl on the floor beside the bed.
She looked at me, confused for a long moment.
“And you didn’t add a healing potion or a poultice or anything?” she asked, clearly scanning her status screen.
“No, nothing except ingredients I got from the market. Why?” I replied, equally puzzled.
“My health is regenerating—much faster than normal. I can see it ticking up,” she said firmly.
At that, I was taken aback. Pulling up my own status screen, I dropped to the floor from my kneeling position, stunned.
Notifications:
You have earned 25 experience for making an enjoyable meal
You have earned 50 bonus experience for healing someone with your meal
Pulling up my full status screen, I was stunned into silence.
Name: Trevor
Class: Arcane Chef
Rarity: Rare
Level: 1
Experience: 75/100
Hit points: 140/140
Mana: 45/50
Stamina: 90/140
Basic Meal Prep
Level: 1
Experience: 25/100
Butchery
Level: 1
Experience: 25/100
Knifework
Level: 4
Experience: 642/1056
"I... I earned experience!" I practically yelled. "I gained experience in my main skill!"
While I was still on the floor, Micca picked up the bowl and kept eating, letting me celebrate.
"It said I earned 25 experience for making a meal and 50 experience for healing someone with my meal!"
The celebration quickly turned to confusion.
"I also got experience in Basic Meal Prep and Butchery, but this makes no sense. I’ve been making meals and butchering stuff for weeks." I sat there puzzled for a long while.
"Well, I don’t know what you did, but this soup’s great. If it’s healing me too, it might be the best dish I’ve ever had," she said, finishing her bowl.
Then, suspiciously, she asked, "Wait, how did you even get here?"
"Uh, yeah, sorry—I let myself in. Geo told me where you lived when you didn’t come to work. He was worried Larry would fire you if you didn’t come back," I said sheepishly.
"Oh, Geo was worried, was he? Not you?" She said, smiling with a small laugh.
"Thank you for coming and helping. I fear I wouldn’t have made it if that fever had gone on much longer. I was at 34 hit points when I noticed it ticking up, so I don’t even know how low it got."
It was then that she seemed to realise just how bad her condition had been. Still soaked in sweat and looking an absolute mess, she muttered, “Right, out of my room. I need to clean up and get out of these clothes.”
Just like that, I was promptly expelled from the room.
I headed back to the kitchen, finally taking a bowl of soup for myself. Sitting on a nearby chair, I ate while scanning my status screen, searching for any clue as to why this time had been different.
Clearly, the bonus experience was for healing—it said as much. But today, I had used mana during cooking. I’d never used mana before.
And I’d gained experience in Butchery and Basic Meal Prep, too. What was different?
That’s when it all clicked.
This was the first time I’d made a dish entirely by myself, from start to finish. And once the bird had been killed, no one else had touched the butchering. Geo and I had already figured out that if he cut or prepped any vegetables before I finished them, I wouldn’t get Knifework experience.
It made sense, then, that I needed to handle the entire cooking process myself.
Also, the wording of that notification was odd. I earned experience for making an enjoyable meal—not just a meal. So, if I made something someone didn’t like, would I still get experience?
And lastly, I noticed I didn’t gain any experience when I ate the soup myself. So was it only one batch of experience per meal, no matter how much I cooked? Or was I simply not counted?
So many questions. So much to test.