Chapter 21: Spicing things up

Chapter 21: Spicing things up

“I knew it, I knew it!” Mr. Penderblast roared as he crashed through a door in the back of the room. “I told you both he would refuse even the most generous offer. Don’t get me wrong, Kid, I would have been disappointed if you’d accepted it blindly.”

“Mr. Penderblast?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him,” Mr. Chrysler admitted. “When he told me what you did last night, I had to see it for myself. He came to me after he dropped you off last night and I decided to witness your draft personally.”

“I don’t understand the ranks,” I complained. “I get it that ten is bad and one is good but what exactly is the difference?”

The woman in the funky hat sat on a leather couch and patted the seat next to her for me to sit. I took her offer and the two men sat across from us.

“Let’s start with what the other guilds offered,” she began. “A grade ten offer is like a line of credit. You’re expected to reimburse the guild for all services rendered. That means you’ll be working while you learn. They will be careful not to teach you too much so you can’t run off without paying your debt. You are also responsible for food and board while you learn. Grade one is the opposite. We pay for everything. You’ll be provided a room and lab of your very own, three square meals a day, and almost any resource you need. The middle grades are variations in between. Think of them as partial scholarships. As you can see, we really want you. Is there a reason you turned down my offer?”

“Yes,” I replied, folding my arms in defiance. “I want to learn how to make things. I know you know what I can do. That much is obvious. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how good my skill is but I want to learn all the skills. That’s why I can’t accept your offer. I feel that if I accept, I won’t get to learn any of the other skills.”

“That’s simply not true,” the woman said in a silky voice. “In the Tinkerer’s Guild, you’ll learn to-”

“He’s right, Matilda,” Mr. Penderblast cut her off. “Even if we have every good intention in the world, we can’t teach him everything. Our focus is singular. The boy wants to try everything before making his decision.”

“Are you certain this is the path you wish to walk?” Mr. Chrysler asked. “It will be difficult for a boy in your position. Do you understand that you’ll have nothing handed to you? I can’t promise you the offer will still be there should you wish to fall back on it.”

I sucked in a deep breath. It was do-or-die time. I could swallow my pride and take the easy path or I could follow my gut.

“I understand,” I said in as firm a voice as I could muster. “I think Tinkering is amazing but I want to keep my options open. At least for now.”

“Very well,” the woman said, her lips forming a thin line when she closed them. “Then my business here is concluded. “Thank you for having me today, Director.”

She gathered some documents that had been spread on the table in front of her and marched out the door, leaving me alone with Mr. Penderblast and Mr. Chrysler.

“Well then,” Mr. Penderblast said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m excited to know what you’re going to do next.”

“Breakfast!” I exclaimed, my stomach rumbling for good measure. “Definitely breakfast. I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat in over a day.”

“Goodness,” Mr. Chrysler said. “We could have waited for you to eat. You should have said something.”

“It’s not polite to put off adults,” I shot back, giving the two men a smug look. “At least that’s what Miss Havasu always says.”

Mr. Penderblast chuckled while Mr. Chrysler walked me back to the restaurant. I chided myself for being immature with the Director of the Adventurer’s Guild. It would probably do me some good to get in his good graces.

“Thank you for introducing me to everyone, Mr. Chrysler,” I said. “I’ll make sure all those delivery quests get taken care of for you.”

***

Everyone was already finished eating when I got back to the restaurant. Miss Aires had them all doing various tasks getting the restaurant ready to open for the day. A series of plates heaped with food remained on the bar.

“Help yourself,” Miss Aires said, leaning over the other side of the bar. “I’d like to get your thoughts on some of these dishes.”

“Let him get settled,” Mr. Chrysler said, taking a seat at one of the tables with Mr. Penderblast.

“I’ll be right with you,” Miss Aires called over to the men, not taking her eyes off me.

I picked up a sausage and bit into it. While it was delicious as usual, I barely bothered to chew before swallowing. My stomach demanded sustenance. I’d eaten four different things before Miss Aires managed to stop me.

“What did you think of that?” The started. “Can we make it better?”

I looked down at the empty plate. “Um, oops. Hang on, let me Analyze this one.”

Blueberry Waffles

Grade: C

Condition: 93%

Made by: Aires

Maple Syrup

Grade C

Condition: 98%

Made by: Eisenwald

Suggestion: Add Cinnamon Spiced Rum to Maple Syrup

“I can’t say that!” I said out loud before clamping my hand over my mouth. “Um, I don’t think my skill works for this one.”

“Why not?” Miss Aires asked. “What did it say?”

“Well, it wants you to add Rum,” I whispered, hoping the Director wouldn’t hear. “But that’s illegal.”

“Not in our world, it’s not!” Mr. Chrysler boomed, his voice fully animated for once. “While it’s generally a good idea to follow peasant law, some laws are just for them. This is one of those situations.”

Miss Aires had disappeared into the back while we spoke and only just returned holding a bottle of what I was sure had to be rum. “Okay, now what? Do I just pour it over the waffle?”

“I can’t drink that!” I whined. “I’m a kid.”

“Relax,” she said. “I’ll do the tasting. Just tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” I conceded, grabbing a croissant and stuffing it in my mouth before answering. “You’re going to need cinnamon. My skill didn’t say how much to add, but it suggested you add cinnamon spiced rum to the maple syrup.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, rushing off to grab cinnamon.

I did my best to polish off the rest of the food on my plate before she could return. She returned just as the angry beast that was my stomach was finally sated.

“Now what?” She asked, holding the rum and a container of what I assumed to be cinnamon. “Do I just mix them together?”

I was about to say I didn’t know when Analyze did its job.

Cinnamon Spiced Rum Maple Syrup

1 cup pure maple syrup

1/4 cup spiced rum

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Info: Mix ingredients in a small saucepan. Heat until the rum is warmed through. Allow to cool. Serve and enjoy.

Your Research skill has increased: +1 (7)

I relayed the information to Miss Aires, who grumbled about my not mentioning nutmeg before disappearing again. I noticed the two men were quiet and looked back to find them both watching me, their food forgotten.

“Did you just come up with that?” Mr. Chrysler asked. “Or is it an old family recipe?”

“He had to have come up with it,” Mr. Penderblast pointed out. “There’s no way he could have known about the flibberjublet. I’d just invented it when he ran into me. He saw the flaw just by glancing at it from a distance. I’m telling you, his skill is powerful.”

The cat was out of the bag. If the director knew about my skill, it wasn’t going to be long until the news spread like wildfire. I was going to have to leverage it to get proper training and not just be exploited.

You have gained 250 experience points.

It felt odd getting an experience message when I wasn’t the one making something. Miss Aires saved me from having to answer the director when she returned with a bowl of freshly prepared maple syrup.

Cinnamon Spiced Rum Maple Syrup

Grade: C

Condition 100%

Made by: Aires

Suggestion: Infuse with an Arcane Circle for additional benefits.

“Did I do it right?” Miss Aires asked, ignoring the fact that I’d eaten everything but the waffles.

“It looks good to me when I Analyze it,” I replied. “No errors.”

I didn’t mention the Arcane Circle. She’d probably try to commandeer it again, and I planned on selling those in the future. Rather than letting me try the sauce, she slid the waffles across the bar and poured a generous helping of syrup on them before taking a bite.

“Hmm,” she grunted in satisfaction after swallowing the first bite. “That is delicious. The rum gives it a nice kick.”

“Can we get some of that over here?” Mr. Chrysler called out from behind me.

“Hold your horses,” she shouted back before stuffing another fork full of waffles in her mouth. “We aren’t even officially open or the day yet.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Chrysler chuckled. “You never close. In fact, I have it on authority that you sleep on a cot in your kitchen.”

Leslie poked her head out of a serving counter. “It’s true. There’s a cot back here.”

“Less talking, more dishwashing,” Miss Aires snapped, polishing off the last waffle with the rest of the syrup. “Oh, darn. All out of maple syrup. You’re going to have to come back tomorrow, Mr. Director.”

“Make more!” Mr. Penderblast roared with laughter, slamming a curious-looking mug against the table like it were a drum.

Miss Aires sighed and headed to the back, calling over to me as she went. “Did you get enough to eat? I want you to look over some recipes with me when you get a chance. It shouldn’t take long. Go ahead and get your friends sorted and then come back. They have been very helpful while you were gone”

One by one, Sam, Leslie, Beth, and Gordon filed out of the kitchen and together we walked over to the quest board.

“Nobody said we had to clean the kitchen for food,” Gordon grumbled. “If I’d have known that, I would have stayed at the orphanage.”

“Relax,” Beth said, patting him on the shoulder. “You wanted to see this place just as much as I did. Besides, she let you eat that cake you said looked tasty.”

“Let’s spend some money today,” Sam whispered, giving me an eager look.

The problem was, I still wasn’t quite sure how to do that. I towed our procession back to the reception desk and asked, “Excuse me, Ma’am. Where can I find the auction hall? I’d like to spend some money?”

The girl behind the counter looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “I don’t think you can afford it. You have to give a deposit of at least one gold to get in. They return it if you don’t buy anything but that prevents people from getting in who have no intentions of making a purchase.”

“In other words, us,” Leslie said enthusiastically. “I could have told you that. The best way to attend an auction is to go with someone else. I usually accompany my grandpa.”

“How short are we?” Sam asked.

I pulled the copper coins out of my bag. “Well, considering I have thirty-four copper and one hundred makes a silver, we’re just over ninety-nine silver short.”

My news was met with a chorus of groans.

“What did we come here for again?” Gordon asked with a scowl on his face that he usually got right before dunking my head in the toilet.