《Salt Fat Acid Magic [Food-Themed Progression Fantasy]》


 Chapter 1 - The Festival of Ambrosia

    Book 1: The Academy of Ambrosia


    Part I: Festivities


    Archie peered into the shifting fog within the crystal ball, desperate for confirmation that his dream would become his reality.


    ¡°Do you believe in predestination?¡± the Blue Jacket Chef, doubling as a waiter, asked Archie.


    Archie¡¯s eyes flicked to his father and then back to the waiter. ¡°What¡¯s predestination?¡±


    Arty, Archie¡¯s father, stifled a laugh.


    For his twelfth birthday, Archie had begged his father to take him to Clairvoyance, a Red Jacket Restaurant in the heart of Ambrosia City. Despite living a full day¡¯s ride north of Ambrosia City, Archie stayed up to date with all the latest news from Restaurant Row by stealing his neighbor¡¯s monthly newsletter.


    But despite the childlike wonder on Archie¡¯s face, Arty showed nothing but skepticism. His fingers slid up his stubbled chin and pressed his lips closed so that he wouldn¡¯t interrupt the experience.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s like destiny,¡± the Blue Jacket explained, leaning in to avoid Arty¡¯s squinting eyes. ¡°It¡¯s the belief that Ambrosia has a plan for you. That the moment you¡¯re born, she determines the events of your life.¡±


    A fuzzy warmth grew in Archie¡¯s chest as he thought of the god of their land, the original Chef, plotting his course. Surely in her generosity, she would fulfill Archie¡¯s dream. He wanted to say yes, yes, I believe. But when he glanced at his father, he felt like maybe he should say no, people control their own lives.


    Arty stared at his son with the complex expression of an inquisitive father. Serious, but not stern. Comforting, but not lacking in importance. Intense. Alert. Narrowed eyebrows that compelled Archie toward risk, but a slight smile that told Archie that his father would be there if he failed.


    Archie had seen the expression many times, yet it still gave him pause. It made him believe that the question had an importance that he couldn¡¯t yet understand.


    Archie couldn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s too heavy of a question for a child,¡± Arty remarked.


    The Blue Jacket chuckled. ¡°Maybe. Well¡­I believe. Our Executive Chef, Sage, believes. And he¡¯s found a way for us to see our destiny.¡±


    The Blue Jacket placed a small golden mallet, hardly bigger than a spoon, onto the table in front of Archie.


    ¡°Give it a small tap to crack it, then breathe in the smoke. You will see your destiny.¡±


    He bowed, took one wayward glance at Arty, and exited.


    Archie eyed the mallet. Even just looking at it excited him. Goosebumps. Hairs prickling up. Heartbeat. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. His adrenaline reduced the chatter of the other guests from coherent conversations to mumbled words to an indistinguishable collage to total silence. Everything faded except for the crystal ball. His destiny, soon to be made clear. Purpose. Knowledge. Direction. Everything a young boy needed. His hand moved forward and reached¡ª


    ¡ªand was stopped by Arty¡¯s sudden movement. Archie barely saw it happen, but his hand was now held in his father¡¯s.


    ¡°Archie. What do you think you¡¯ll see?¡± He still wore his signature expression, but something in it changed. An extra wrinkle around the eyebrows. Worry? Or anger?


    ¡°My future.¡± Archie did not want to elaborate. Putting his destiny into words could change it.


    Arty sighed. ¡°My guess is¡­you¡¯ll see what you want most. They can¡¯t tell you your future, but they can exploit your desires. If they show you what you want to see, you¡¯ll never say it¡¯s just a trick.¡±


    Archie started to withdraw his hand, satisfied that the conversation had run its course. But Arty¡¯s hand gripped harder. Too hard. ¡°Why isn¡¯t your name Arty?¡±


    Arty, short for Artichoke, keeping with the traditional belief that naming a child after a food or plant increased the odds of them becoming a Chef. The name had been applied to their entire branch¡ªthe last remaining branch on the Kent family tree. Arty Kent, his father. Arty Kent, his father¡¯s father. Arty Kent, great grandfather, so on and so on.


    And then Archie. Vaguely respectful of heritage, but also a daring rebellion against their memory.


    Archie shrugged and looked down. Even if he knew the answer, the intensity of the conversation would have left him mute.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not me. You¡¯re not an Arty Kent. You¡¯re not any Kent that came before you. Their legacies do not define you. You¡¯re Archie. You will make your own legacy. And it is yours to make. Your choices.¡± Arty released Archie¡¯s hand. ¡°Your future is yet to be determined, and it is you who will determine it. It can¡¯t be found in a magic trick.¡±


    Archie¡¯s hand rested next to the mallet, but did not grab it. It didn¡¯t feel appropriate. Part of him wanted to leave and go home, but that¡¯d make their expensive trip a waste¡ªand even at twelve, Archie knew his family couldn¡¯t afford to waste anything.


    Finally, he looked back up at his father, who nodded to the mallet. Archie picked it up. A surge went from his hand into his belly, turning his stomach over twice before returning back to the mallet. The surge went back and forth from the mallet to his hand, quickly, all at once, a yo-yo going in both directions. It took a deliberate thought for Archie to raise his hand and hold it over the crystal ball.


    He took a deep breath in. A deep breath out. His heart demanded that he breathe faster, but he took another breath to slow the world back down. Then he let the weight of the mallet fall.


    Vapor spilled from a small crack in the crystal ball. It swirled around the air until it found Archie¡¯s nose, rushing into it. Archie breathed in. The vapor seemed alive, worming its way to his brain. As he breathed, the vapor poured forward, opening the crack until the entire orb split in two and released a cloud that washed over Archie.


    He looked up, but Arty had disappeared.


    In his father¡¯s place, a dirt path led to a building covered in haze. Archie focused, both in eye and brain, and the details became clear. The dirt road transformed to stone. A plaza grew out of the path. A building formed from nothing.


    He saw a sign that said Petrichor, the name of his family¡¯s restaurant. But while the Petrichor that Archie knew had failed under his father, this Petrichor teemed with life. Chairs that Archie had only ever seen empty were now filled with energized guests that raved over the food and asked question after question to any Chef or waiter that wandered near. The whole town outside the restaurant buzzed with excitement. A revival had taken place.


    Archie focused on the restaurant, his mind¡¯s eye moving him closer through the dream. Through a window, Archie saw two familiar figures.


    A man he had seen everyday, now a little older. Brown hair that folded over itself, beaten back just a bit further by that receding hairline. A masculine, boxy face with a wide chin. Blue eyes that had become a little silver with age. A little more narrow. More wrinkles. Deeper wrinkles, especially the one that ran from the corner of his eye down toward his ear. All the Kent men had that line. Even Archie had it at twelve.


    A woman, just as familiar. Blonde hair coming down to her shoulders in poofy waves. Big, puffy cheeks, made even more prominent by the deep wrinkles in her smile lines. She had a longer face¡ªone that she had given to Archie.


    Archie¡¯s vision fogged again. He focused, but nothing changed. Then he realized that this haze was different. It wasn¡¯t the haze of the magic crystal ball. It was his joy and sadness. He wiped tears from his eyes.


    His mother and father sat, not as Chefs, but as diners, eating, happy, happier than Archie had ever seen. A White Jacket Chef, the pinnacle rank of culinary society, approached with their food. The Chef looked familiar too. Mostly like his father, but with a touch of softness from his mother. Brown hair that went blonde at the temples and curled up into awkward waves. That same Kent line from the eyes.


    Archie had to shake the eerie feeling of impossibility before accepting that he was watching himself serve his parents. He looked older, and where he walked, people turned to look.


    The haze returned. Archie rubbed his eyes, but the haze only got worse. Fuzzier and fuzzier. Then clearer. Clearer. Petrichor faded and faded, replaced by the broken crystal ball in front of him. The chatter of Clairvoyance returned. Arty returned.


    His father had never looked away. Arty blinked and blinked and blinked, keeping the tears in. Archie¡¯s tears, on the other hand, had flown freely. At least that part had been real.


    ¡°Dad, I¡ª¡±


    Arty raised a hand to stop him. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me. That dream is yours. It¡¯s for you. Now come on, let¡¯s get you back to your mother.¡± Arty rose and Archie followed.


    ¡°But dad!¡± Archie protested. ¡°You didn¡¯t do one!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Arty assured Archie as he scooped him into a hug. ¡°I got everything I ever wanted right here.¡±


    Archie smiled and thought of his vision. Petrichor restored. The Kent name restored. The Blue Jacket said the crystal ball contained destiny. His father said it just contained a dream.


    While Archie believed his father to be correct about everything in the world, he desperately hoped that his father was wrong just this one time.


    The night before the Festival of Ambrosia, two nights before his eighteenth birthday, Archie wished the vision of Petrichor would come to him again. But he couldn¡¯t sleep, so he couldn¡¯t dream. He managed a drowsy wink here or there, but his nerves never let him rest long.


    The world celebrated Ambrosia in many ways¡ªthey named the continent after her, they named their capital after her, and when the five kingdoms entered into an alliance, there were no protests about being called United Ambrosia. But of all the ways they celebrated their god, nothing compared to the Festival of Ambrosia.


    As the first Chef, Ambrosia used her magic to cook, to grow crops, to speak to animals. She sated hunger and performed miracles. She established a home for mankind, beating away the wild evils that had ruled the earth for millenia. Her food healed better than any doctor. It comforted better than any priest. It warmed better than any fire. Fields of rock sprouted into rows of crops. Dragons gave her riches in exchange for her cooking. Thunder clouds drooped down to her doorstep to be gathered in a vial, eager to be included in her magic as one of her ingredients. And in her final, most miraculous act, she created one final meal. One final gift. She fed her body to the earth.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    In turn, the earth changed. Her essence spread across the continent, serving as the foundation for miracles. Ambrosia¡¯s children shared her abilities, and soon, that essence turned a lucky few into new Chefs. With each passing year, Ambrosia¡¯s gift found its way across the land. Over the course of a few generations, Chefs went from creatures of mythology to a natural part of society.


    When Ambrosia fed herself to the earth, she used her magic to create two rules to inheriting her power.


    First, to preserve the innocence of childhood, she prevented anyone under eighteen from being able to utilize her power.


    Second, the first rule would be broken one day a year¡ªthe day that Ambrosia sacrificed herself. The Festival of Ambrosia.


    On this day, the youth would cook for festivals across the five kingdoms. Even if they had no skills in the kitchen, the children and teenagers would know how to produce intricate meals as if Ambrosia herself whispered instructions in their ear. And for about one in every thousand people, an amateur cook would manifest the abilities of Ambrosia, signaling their future as a Chef and earning them an invite to one of the five culinary academies. Those that reached eighteen without manifesting would never be capable of Ambrosia¡¯s magic.


    At first, Arty had prevented his son from participating in the festival. The first time, Archie was three and wanted to make a ham sandwich. Arty stopped him. At five, Archie gathered all the ingredients to make a stew, but Arty stopped him again. Finally, at seven, Archie¡¯s wits had sharpened and he managed to sneak his way into participating, making a grilled cheese at home and slipping it onto one of the serving tables in the town square. He watched and waited until someone scooped up the sandwich and took a bite. Nothing happened. No magic. Just a satisfied nod and a second bite. Archie cried and cried and cried until Arty figured out what had happened.


    Archie was not reprimanded. Instead, his father looked at him with that signature, intense expression for the first time. ¡°Do you want to do this?¡± he had asked. Archie said yes. The next year, Archie was given free reign of Petrichor¡¯s kitchen for the festival.


    Eight, nine, ten years old. A soup, a bread, a cake. Nothing happened. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. A cookie, a scone, an ice cream. Nothing. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. A chicken, a pasta, a pie. Nothing.


    Now, seventeen. One last chance. If that crystal ball had truly revealed his destiny, this would be the day that Archie¡¯s magic finally manifested. Otherwise, Archie would never become a Chef. He would never be able to help restore Petrichor and the Kent name.


    Sleep eluded Archie. The dream never came, but he could still feel it. He could always feel it. That obsession. The restoration of legacy. It isolated him from the other kids his age. He¡¯d be a Chef, and they wouldn¡¯t, and he¡¯d go to the Academy of Ambrosia. He¡¯d rather spend his time in Petrichor¡¯s kitchen than with those he¡¯d leave behind.


    The break of dawn gave Archie the excuse he needed to leave bed. But something made him wonder if he should stay in bed all day. Some strange thought, prompted by so many years of failure, pinned him down. He couldn¡¯t fail if he didn¡¯t try. He shook the thought off of him along with his covers and stumbled downstairs into the kitchen of Petrichor.


    ¡°You should still be asleep,¡± his mother, Adeline, said from a small table in the corner of the kitchen. Archie jumped. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the red eyes and wet cheeks of his mother. ¡°Sit,¡± she said.


    Archie sat. He looked down at his mother¡¯s outstretched hand, overcame a moment of teenage reluctance, and took it in his own.


    ¡°You could stay home today,¡± she said. Somehow she had sensed his thoughts. Cooking was just one magic in the world. Mothers had the rest.


    A heaviness in Archie¡¯s chest kept him from responding. They sat in silence for a while.


    ¡°Sometimes I wonder¡­¡± Adeline looked down at Archie¡¯s palm. ¡°Would your father have been happier if he had never manifested?¡±


    Archie scoffed. At seven, his father had made a raspberry tart that made people see their lost loved ones as clear as day. It had been one of the greatest pieces of magic ever performed¡ªand at such a young age.


    ¡°He was a genius,¡± Archie said.


    ¡°And he never knew happiness until he met me,¡± she responded.


    Archie had never thought of this before, but he did not struggle to accept it as fact. He knew the tragic story. Each year, young Arty performed another piece of magic. But each year, the magic was less impressive. Miracles became forgettable parlor tricks. By eighteen, pushed on by his prodigy reputation, he stumbled into the Academy of Ambrosia and was spit out two years later.


    In his brief time at the Academy, he met Adeline, a fellow student. She supported him as he failed to support Petrichor and the reputation of the Kent name dwindled into obscurity. Then, three years later, despite still running the failing Petrichor, Arty had happiness and a new purpose in life in the form of a little bundle that he named Archie.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± Adeline said. ¡°Let¡¯s take a carriage out of here, just the three of us. Stay in another town for a night.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Archie said. ¡°I¡¯m doing this.¡± He stood up, nowhere to go, but too full of purpose to be still.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Archie returned to his bed, gripped a small glass bottle underneath his pillow, and managed to sleep at last.


    A raspberry tart.


    That was the secret.


    That¡¯s how Arty had manifested. Archie would replicate the dish and finally manifest.


    The festival lasted all day, but Archie wanted his meal to be served at dinner. No one had done an extensive study, but superstition said more magic happened at dinner than at lunch. Superstition also said that naming a child after a food increased their chance of becoming a chef. Being named Archibald did him no favors, so he hoped serving at dinner would cancel out the bad luck.


    Archie wanted his tart to be a surprise, so instead of cooking in Petrichor¡¯s kitchen, he went to the community kitchen, a little building with three brick ovens and stoves.


    Archie didn¡¯t particularly feel the community of the community kitchen. Within minutes, he made sure everyone knew that the kitchen belonged to him. He snapped at a twelve year-old to clear space. He snatched a bowl from a hoarding nine year-old. They¡¯d have another chance to manifest. For Archie, this was it.


    He got started.


    Butter and sugar. Mixed. For how long? Could it be over-stirred? If Ambrosia guided him, why could he not hear her?


    No matter. He just had to trust in Ambrosia. As he stirred, confidence came over him. After all, he had a secret ingredient.


    He pulled the glass bottle from his pocket. This would be the difference maker.


    Eight months ago, Archie had used all of his savings to purchase two vanilla beans and a small vial of nearly pure alcohol. Put together in a vial, protected, loved, cared for, and shaken gently once per week, the combination had aged into the finest vanilla extract for miles around.


    It had all the makings of a magical catalyst. Expensive, rare ingredients. Months of tending. And of course, as any Chef would say, the most important ingredient: love and care.


    Archie poured it into his mixture and stirred until the bowl was full of dough. He dumped it onto a flour-dusted table and worked it into a nine-inch disk. He mashed raspberries, creating a base of fruit before putting whole raspberries on top. He tossed it into a baking tin, turned, and¡ª


    Wham!


    A kid ran into his side. The world slowed down. The tin drooped, dough leaping out of the corner and threatening to fall onto the ground. A split second from ruin.


    But not today.


    Archie maneuvered the tin to recapture the dough. With his dream nearly splattered on the ground, Archie turned and said something that made the kid cry.


    Archie put his hand near the oven. Satisfied with the warmth, he put the tin in. It¡¯d take one hour, so Archie decided to step out and see the festival.


    The festival had seemed grander when Archie was a kid. Sadly, it wasn¡¯t just Archie¡¯s loss of childlike wonder. Sain was a village in decline. Twenty years ago, Archie¡¯s grandfather had committed the cardinal sin of salting the fields around Sain. On top of preventing growth, he also managed to prevent Ambrosial essence from taking root, leading to a yearly decline in the culinary scene, population, and spirit of Sain.


    The new Kent legacy.


    The people of Sain tried to fight the decline, and during the Festival of Ambrosia, they did their best to put on the shows of old.


    In the center of town, people crowded around the buffet stands that lined the streets. Dancers performed in a march. A large paper dragon, needing twelve people to hold, wiggled and floated its way down the street, representing the fable of Ambrosia taming a dragon.


    But where once there had been many Chefs performing magic, Sain only had a few left. One conjured 10-foot noodles that waved through the air. Another transformed into an eight-foot tall wheel of cheese, barrelling past the dancers that dove away at the last second. The crowd roared with laughter.


    Archie laughed with them, but missed the days when a dozen Chefs would perform their magic. He absent-mindedly grabbed a rice cake from the nearby table and sat on the dirt. The performances never ended. A blistering hot summer day did little to deter the theatrics. Theater actors wheeled by on a float as they reenacted Ambrosia¡¯s death by performing The Final Gift. A group of zealots waved their tomes in the air as they warned the masses of the rise of Gluttony.


    After a while, Archie returned to the kitchen. A rare, odd silence filled the room. No children ran around. They had all cleared out as if having fled the scene of a crime. He looked at the oven, but it was empty.


    The reflection of the setting sun came off the ground. A shiny piece of tin had been flattened onto the floor. A footprint on the metal. A sunburst pattern of mushy red surrounding it.


    His dream had been splattered and crushed.


    Archie fell to the ground and sobbed. The world turned into a haze of undropped tears. So many years. So many attempts. And this was it. His last chance, his best chance, squandered. A little bit of hooliganism to officially kick off the life of a disappointment.


    The sound of shuffled footsteps.


    Archie looked up and rubbed his eyes, clearing away tears. A young woman stood in the doorway. Or was she old? She had a mystifying quality that made her age impossible to guess. Honey blonde hair, made even more beautiful by the orange sky, curled down onto her chest. A white dress, billowing in the breeze. She looked at Archie, then at the destroyed tart. She offered a small smile. One of knowing and consolation, not happiness.


    ¡°What¡¯ll you do?¡± she asked in a voice that reminded Archie of honey and stained glass.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Archie said, his voice clearer than he expected. Just a moment ago he had felt his spirit bleeding out of him. The woman¡¯s presence had plugged the wound. ¡°I guess this is it for me.¡±


    He let out a heavy sigh. He thought back to that crystal ball. It was just a dream. Not destiny. His destiny was nothing so grand.


    ¡°My dad is always working so hard during these things,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll just bring him some water and try to enjoy the show.¡±


    The woman smiled. Happiness, this time. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. Here.¡± Her hand disappeared for a moment in the folds of her dress and produced a lemon half. ¡°It¡¯ll make it more refreshing.¡± She smiled again, placed the lemon down on the counter, and left without saying goodbye.


    Archie collected himself from the ground, grabbed a cup and tossed the lemon into a glass pitcher of water.


    He found his father and burst into tears again as he ran to him. ¡°Someone destroyed it,¡± he managed to get out between sobs as he clung to his father. The pitcher dangled from his hand, pouring out a steady stream of water onto the road.


    Arty repeated, ¡°it¡¯s okay,¡± as he patted Archie¡¯s back. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll be good for you. There¡¯s a lot to be accomplished in this world. You don¡¯t need to be a Chef to do it.¡±


    ¡°I just¡­¡± Archie broke down into another sob. As his body shook, the water sloshed out of the pitcher and splashed their shins.


    ¡°I know.¡± Arty¡¯s heart broke for his son. He picked up his tone, trying to change the mood and subject. ¡°Now, I see you brought water. How about a glass? I¡¯m thirsty.¡±


    Archie took a few deep breaths before breaking the hug. He realized that the water had spilled out into a puddle and nearly sobbed again¡ªbut then he realized that the pitcher still had plenty of water left. Arty reassured him again and took the cup. Archie poured from the pitcher. Arty drank it all in two swallows.


    ¡°You know, Petrichor hasn¡¯t been very busy. I think it does better in the spring. Your mom and I were talking about maybe taking a little sabbatical. Maybe go to Uroko for the fall. Labrusca for the winter. What do you think?¡± Arty held up the glass for another pour, and Archie obliged.


    Archie couldn¡¯t think of the future. He couldn¡¯t think beyond this moment. He couldn¡¯t think of tomorrow. He couldn¡¯t think of what had been in that crystal ball. Still, he knew what to say. ¡°Yeah, dad. I think that could be nice.¡±


    Arty finished drinking and let out a refreshed sigh. ¡°Good. Now gimme one more glass and then I gotta get back to work. Gotta move some tables into the square for the finale.¡±


    Archie looked down. The pitcher should have been empty, but it seemed near full, the lemon bobbing around at the top. A tingle went up his spine.


    He held the pitcher up to assess its fullness, poured the cup, then lifted the pitcher again.


    The water level remained the same.


    Magic!


    Arty came to the realization at the same time. He used his spare hand to tilt Archie¡¯s, causing a steady stream of water to pour from the pitcher. Water splashed onto the dirt. Pooled. Started to stream down the road. They righted the pitcher. Still full.


    Archie looked up at Arty, whose intense, thoughtful expression was nowhere to be found.


    Instead, he had the biggest smile that Archie had ever seen.

 Chapter 2 - A Birthday of Magic

    I¡¯m going to be a Chef.


    It was the last thought to go through Archie¡¯s mind as he fell asleep and the first thought that struck him when he woke up.


    And then, a terrible thought. Had it been real? He reached under his pillow. No vanilla extract. Had it ever existed? But wait, it wasn¡¯t the tart that was magic. It was the water. The lemon! He snapped up and shielded his eyes from the noon sun that poured through the window. His excitement had kept him up late, but for the first time in weeks, he had managed to sleep in.


    He bounded down the stairs to the kitchen one step, two steps, three steps at a time. He jumped across the last few and landed in an unfamiliar scene. Anastas and Boyan, two of Arty¡¯s friends that weren¡¯t Chefs but made for decent cooks, chopped ingredients with a focus that kept them from looking up at Archie.


    Petrichor rarely pulled a crowd that required their help, so Archie had never spent much time with the two. It took a second for him to squeak out an, ¡°Um?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Anastas responded with a gruff voice, too rushed by his work to be bothered. But that didn¡¯t make sense to Archie¡ªfor Anastas to be busy, Petrichor had to be busy, and Petrichor was never busy.


    ¡°Have you seen a glass pitcher? It had a lemon in it.¡±


    The two looked up with a smile. ¡°Oh yes,¡± Boyan said. ¡°You¡¯ll find it out there.¡± He nodded toward the dining area.


    Archie skipped toward the swinging door just as it slammed open in his direction. Arty came barrelling through the door, stopping just in front of Archie. Archie looked up at his father with great excitement, expecting a congratulations or a happy birthday, but Arty looked past Archie and into the kitchen.


    ¡°Duck!¡± Arty yelled.


    Anastas flinched. Boyan hit the deck.


    ¡°No!¡± Arty yelled again. At another time, he might have laughed. ¡°Duck! There should be some in the freezer.¡±


    Boyan, already low to the ground, slid over to the freezer, a small metallic box that was cooled by some Khalyan magic. When Archie was a child, they had a much larger freezer, nearly ten feet tall. He would have nightmares of getting trapped inside. But as Petrichor took on debts, they got rid of the behemoth and replaced it with one that matched Petrichor¡¯s diminished stature.


    Boyan pulled the latch and peeked inside, careful to not let too much of the cold mist out. ¡°Yeah, you got enough for a few meals.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stretch it. What else is left?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Okay. The potatoes?¡± Arty turned to Anastas, who responded with a nod and gave the pot a stir. ¡°Okay. Fry them in vegetable oil. Rosemary and garlic. I think I have a couple of figs in the pantry. I¡¯ll grab them. Archie¡ª¡±


    Archie¡¯s heart raced. He ached to talk about becoming a Chef.


    ¡°¡ªgo grab my jacket. You know where it is.¡±


    Archie gasped with excitement and stormed up the stairs and into his parents¡¯ room. He fished his father¡¯s Chef jacket from a cabinet as he had done so many times before. For years, Archie had slipped on his father¡¯s jacket, hoping the sand-colored kalypo fibers would transform into the vibrant blues or reds or whites that marked a true Chef. Archie imagined it changing colors as he ran downstairs, even though it wouldn¡¯t transform until he was an official student of the culinary academies.


    Arty never wore his jacket. He was ashamed that when he put it on, it transformed into a fiery orange, the lowest rank in culinary society.


    But on this day, Arty only had pride. He took the jacket from Archie, the fibers turning orange where his hand touched. He threw it around himself, the jacket turning orange as he pulled the slanted right breast down to his lower left ribs and attached it with a little bronze buckle.


    ¡°Okay, Archie. You go serve water. I¡¯ve never seen people so thirsty.¡± Arty waited for no response, running into the pantry and stepping up on the lowest shelf to reach the highest.


    Archie looked around for something to serve water with. Every cup, container, and pitcher had been repurposed for the frenzied cooking of Anastas and Boyan. ¡°I need a pitcher.¡±


    Arty leaned back into view, his hands gripping the shelves to keep himself from falling. ¡°Use yours. I left it out there!¡±


    A wave of nervous excitement hit Archie. He looked to Anastas and Boyan for a reaction, but they were already back to work, Boyan setting the duck out and Anastas pulling a vial of rosemary from the herb rack.


    Nothing left to do but do it.


    Archie pushed through the swinging door and stepped into something he had never seen before.


    A crowd in Petrichor.


    Eight tables lined three walls at Petrichor, two chairs apiece. All taken. Two large tables, each twelve feet long and four feet across, occupied the middle of the room. Benches ran along the tables, each meant to seat eight, each seating ten. Finally, the fourth wall, the kitchen wall, consisted of a great stone oven, the hearth of the room, ten feet long, four feet deep, stretching up to the ceiling, the fire heating a waist-high slab of stone that jutted out towards the center of the room. The last relic of Kent greatness, too large and heavy to be sold off to make ends meet.


    On a cool corner of stone away from the fire, Archie found his pitcher. The lemon remained, unshriveled, unemptied. It bobbed at the top of the water, still just as high as the night before. Archie grabbed its handle. A tingling sensation crept up his arm. Had he felt that the day before?


    His eyes followed the sensation as it moved into his chest. It stayed there a moment, a warm feeling swimming in circles around his heart. Finally, it returned down his arm and into the pitcher. He smiled. The magic was still there. Then, he looked up.


    Fifty people looked back at him, another twenty peering through the windows. Almost none of them had food. But all of them had cups.


    Archie froze.


    But then Arty came from the kitchen, more comfortable than ever in his orange jacket, holding a platter of duck in one hand and slapping Archie¡¯s back with the other. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°The people are thirsty!¡±


    A cheer from the crowd stirred Archie into motion. He walked through the dining area, filling cup after cup. After each group, he¡¯d lift the pitcher up to see that it hadn¡¯t emptied at all. Eventually, this became a cue to the crowd that cheered every time.


    Meanwhile, Arty worked at the oven. Archie loved to watch him work, but rarely got the opportunity. Arty and Adeline were both Academy dropouts, but Arty wore his failure around his neck like an albatross. He only cooked when Adeline couldn¡¯t.


    But not this day. On this day, Arty performed magic at a quality that Archie had never seen. He slid a large clay tray, several times too large for the food he carried, into the oven. He placed sliced duck over a bed of figs and fried potatoes. The meal suited three, maybe four diners, occupying only a tenth of the clay tray. Arty tapped his fingertips on the stone slab a few times and the fire roared, grabbing the attention of the crowd. Then came the real magic.


    His hands hovered over the food. Then, slowly, they moved in either direction along the tray. For each inch his hands moved, the food multiplied to occupy another foot of tray. Eventually, the entire ten-foot tray was filled, each bite looking as delicious as the last.


    People clapped. Such advanced magic hadn¡¯t been seen in Petrichor in decades¡ªand certainly shouldn¡¯t have been achievable by an Orange Jacket.


    Archie had abandoned his cupbearer duties to stare in awe at his father¡¯s magic. A nearby patron shook his cup, goading Archie back into action.


    Arty pushed the tray further into the fire and placed his hands flat on the stone slab. The fire grew, no longer wisps of flame but a wave that curled down into the tray. It receded back deep into the oven, then grew again, crashing into the tray again and again like the tides.


    Sometime during the cooking, Adeline, wearing an identical orange jacket as her husband, had slipped into the dining area with a stack of plates borrowed from all over town¡ªthey had sold their extra plates over the years. She put the stack down and started scooping the food onto plates, balancing speed and presentation.


    The first plate went out, then the second, then the third. Archie hurried to match with water. By the time the fifth plate was served, the first person to have received a plate, some woman that Archie didn¡¯t recognize, reached out to rub his forearm affectionately. The second diner stopped eating to watch Archie with a warm expression. The third started telling stories about Archie as a boy. As they ate, the people looked at Archie with love.


    Twenty plates had gone out before Arty stopped Archie.


    ¡°Here, you haven¡¯t eaten yet,¡± Arty said as exchanged a plate of food for Archie¡¯s pitcher. ¡°Go ahead, sit down.¡±


    A man at the end of a bench pulled Archie down to sit next to him, scooting over and creating a domino effect that would result in someone falling off the other end of the crowded bench. They watched Archie lift the food to his mouth, waiting for him to understand.


    As Archie chewed, warmth spread throughout his body. He swallowed, and he felt something. Pride, as intense as the sun. Pride of himself, but not produced from vanity. From love. A great, parental thing, something a teenage boy would be incapable of feeling if not for magic.


    So that was it¡ªtoday¡¯s secret ingredient. Archie looked into the crowd for his father, who spared one moment to look back and smile before filling another cup.


    For hours, people dined at Petrichor. It became the talk of the town, the other Chefs of Sain closing down for the day and bringing cuts of meat and fruits over to cook with Arty and Adeline. When Arty offered payment to the other Chefs, they refused. One explained, ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you cook again, Arty. To really cook. The town is more full for that.¡±


    A piece of paper went around the room, accumulating signatures before returning to Arty¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Excuse me!¡± he announced, silencing the guests. ¡°Thank you all for coming and celebrating this wonderful day. We still have some Chefs working, so stick around, but please excuse my son and I¡­¡±


    He grinned at Archie.


    ¡°...while we go send his letter to the Academy!¡±


    The guests cheered and jumped up with their mugs of ale¡ªit was a fortunate miracle that Archie had produced infinite water to slow their descent into drunkenness.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the Academy like?¡± Archie asked his father as they walked through Sain. Archie had always steered his curiosity about the Academy to his mother, but with Arty wearing his orange jacket for the first time in years, Archie felt like he could finally have the conversation he always wanted with his father.


    ¡°It¡¯s, uh¡­¡± Arty squinted as he looked up into the sky. ¡°You¡¯ll have a great time. You¡¯ll make friends. You¡¯ll learn so much.¡±


    Archie frowned. He knew his father had a rough time in the Academy, but had hoped for more detail.


    ¡°What will I learn in my first year?¡± Archie asked, giving his father a clear direction for the conversation.


    ¡°Well¡­It¡¯s been a while, but if they do it the same way, you¡¯ll start with farming, then cooking. By the end of the first semester, you should have a grasp on your own essence¡ªbut it¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t! You just turned eighteen, you haven¡¯t had as long to feel out your own essence.¡±


    ¡°What about fighting?¡± Archie asked as he punched the air. He had always dreamed of seeing two Chefs fight in one of Ambrosia City¡¯s tournaments.


    ¡°Second semester.¡±


    ¡°Really?!¡±


    Arty laughed. ¡°Well, technically you learn conjuration, not combat, in your second semester. But it¡¯s taught by Tarragon. Do you know who Tarragon is?¡±


    ¡°Like¡­war hero Tarragon?¡± It had been thirty years since the last war¡ªthe Unification War. Still, Archie knew many names and stories from the battles, and no names stuck in his mind quite like the two that were credited for ending the war. The first was easy enough to remember¡ªthey called him Grand King Flamb¨¦ these days. The other, Tarragon, hadn¡¯t risen to any political office, but was still the subject of admiration for all the boys of Ambrosia that dreamed themselves a fighter.


    ¡°Yep. So when a war hero teaches conjuration, it inevitably becomes combat training.¡±


    ¡°Cool.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get some history lessons thrown in, so it won¡¯t be all exciting. And then you¡¯ll get tested.¡± Arty looked at the two black stripes that wrapped around the sleeve of his jacket. ¡°You¡¯ll get advancement stripes or¡­if you do really well, you¡¯ll get promoted to a yellow jacket.¡±


    Archie pursed his lips to keep his excitement from bubbling out. It didn¡¯t seem appropriate to wish for a higher rank than his parents.


    But then Archie received another reason for excitement as a tall stone tower came into view. Growing up, Archie¡¯s favorite place was always Petrichor¡¯s kitchen, but the rookery was a close second.


    Midnight kestrels perched in the windows, watching Archie and his father approach. While most children were frightened by the birds, Archie had always found them fascinating.


    They were from another time¡ªthe pre-Ambrosia time¡ªwhen terrifying creatures ruled the earth. While most of the creatures perished with the rise of Chefs, some were integrated into society¡ªperhaps none as important as the midnight kestrel.


    By consuming a single piece of grain, the midnight kestrel could carry a letter to the place that the grain had been grown. But no one had ever witnessed their cross-country flight. From beak to talon, the birds were as blue or as gray or as purple as that night¡¯s midnight, perfectly camouflaging them as they delivered letters by night.


    Archie had once heard it described that the midnight kestrels were strokes of paint that joined the great painting of the night sky, leaving existence until they jumped out from the painting again at their destination.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a letter for the Academy,¡± Arty announced to the birdkeeper. ¡°Witness statement from¡­¡± He looked at the letter. ¡°Our Lord Mayor and about fifty other people.¡±


    The birdkeeper, a gruff man that preferred the company of birds over humans, slapped Archie on the back and laughed. Archie couldn¡¯t be sure if the man was proud or just happy that the kid that always snuck into the rookery would finally be out of his thinning hair.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Arty said as he examined the letter closer. ¡°We¡¯re missing one signature.¡±


    ¡°Whose?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Yours.¡±


    Arty handed over the parchment and scooped a feather off the ground¡ªon top of their ability to deliver messages, midnight kestrels also provided feathers loaded with their midnight blue color. Archie used the stones of the tower to support the parchment as he signed.


    The birdkeeper took the letter, bound it to a bird¡¯s talons, fed it a grain from a bag labeled ¡°Academy,¡± and smiled. ¡°All set.¡±


    Archie¡¯s balled up fists shook with excitement. ¡°How long will it take?¡±


    ¡°One night to get there,¡± the birdkeeper answered. ¡°Then they¡¯ll send someone up to verify the claim. So probably¡­three days.¡±


    Archie grinned at his father.


    ¡°Three more days,¡± Arty said, ¡°and you¡¯ll be invited to the Ambrosial Summit.¡±

 Chapter 3 - A Late Arrival

    Three days passed without an invite.


    News came that the southbound road had been shut down after a horse had been chased down and dragged away by a licerte, a monstrous lizard from the ancient times.


    Three more days passed. No invite.


    Adeline tried to occupy her son¡¯s mind with cooking lessons, but he could never go long without wondering when he¡¯d receive his invite. Archie received a letter stating that they were trying to find a way to send a representative to verify his claim.


    Three more days. No invite. No representative. The Ambrosial Summit had started, all of the kingdoms sending representatives and royalty and prospective first-years to Ambrosia City. Archie considered stealing a horse but knew that he¡¯d be caught on the road.


    The villagers of Sain came to Petrichor day after day to drink Archie¡¯s water and distract him, staying even after the food ran out¡ªwhich it often did around sunset.


    But then one day, after the last straggler left late in the night, the Kents received an unusual visitor.


    A man of unusual proportion walked into Petrichor, having to open both doors in order to squeeze through. His green velvet shirt and golden furs gave away his nobility. Buttons of bone lined the center of his shirt, threatening to shoot out due to the tremendous task of containing his gut. A head of wispy hair rested like a small ball that rested underneath¡ªnot above¡ªan enormous shelf of raised shoulders.


    A Glutton.


    With Ambrosian culture being so centered around food, being overweight wasn¡¯t uncommon. But that wasn¡¯t Gluttony. Gluttony was a wickedness. An evil. It transformed their bodies, ironing out their roundness. Their torsos widened into big square blocks. Their shoulders extended a foot above their head, serving as a backdrop for their faces. Their legs tapered down from tree trunks to blocky ankles. Their arms grew longer to match their new size.


    They were all consuming. Only consuming. Addicted. Magically stunted, incapable of performing any of Ambrosia¡¯s miracles but entirely dependent on consuming them. Where Ambrosia gave, Gluttons took.


    They were the stuff of nightmares. Scary stories that adults told their kids to get them to eat their vegetables. The only solace for frightened children was that they knew that even the smallest Glutton was too big to hide under the bed.


    Arty had never resorted to such stories. He told no stories of Gluttons and entertained none. With every fiber of his being, Arty hated Gluttons.


    Archie had seen a Glutton before. About once a year, one would find their way to Sain and waddle up to Petrichor, their mind having been appetized by wondrous tales of the past. Arty would shoo them away, saying that the restaurant was closed. Since the place was usually empty, the lie worked. Sometimes, in months of scarcity, Adeline would rush after them, inviting them to spend their money in Petrichor and correcting her husband. A prerequisite to being a Glutton was being able to afford indulgence, so there were no poor Gluttons. Adeline would cook and cook and they¡¯d eat and eat and pay and pay, and Arty would go upstairs and wouldn¡¯t speak to his wife for days after.


    Gluttons were one of the most polarizing things in the land of Ambrosia. Some people treated them with ambivalence. Some were uncaring. Some viewed them with respect, believing that their heightened need for magical food was due to a closer connection to Ambrosia. Others despised them, accusing them of some sort of blasphemy for only consuming, never creating.


    Chefs typically fell into the latter category, horrified by the thought of the love and spirit of their food being consumed so voraciously and without intention.


    But some Chefs loved Gluttons¡ªsaw them as walking piggy banks. Some restaurants catered exclusively to Gluttons, taking only one reservation per night, whole kitchens of Chefs churning out food as fast as it could be eaten (which in the case of a Glutton was very, very fast).


    Archie had heard a rumor of a cabal of Gluttons, meeting in secret with plans of taking over the production of food in Ambrosia. Archie didn¡¯t believe the rumor, but it didn¡¯t seem totally unfounded. By nature of needing to sate their great need, Gluttons tended to be high-ranking and well-off members of society. Even the king¡¯s son was a Glutton.


    And now this Glutton stood in Petrichor and waved his hand¡ªif it could even be called a wave. His pudgy arm tucked into his side, his raised sausage fingers wiggling a greeting.


    The lingering heat of the oven reached Archie from one side of the room. From the other, he swore he felt cold emanating from his father.


    ¡°Hallo!¡± the Glutton cheered. Despite his enormity, he seemed to bounce as he stepped in, his oversized torso bobbing up and down. He looked around the empty dining hall. ¡°Oh my, tell me I haven¡¯t missed the feast!¡±


    Archie looked at his unmoving father. Adeline came to the rescue.


    ¡°Oh, just barely!¡± she said with a laugh. ¡°We were just cleaning up.¡± She grabbed Archie¡¯s everflowing pitcher and a couple of plates, shoving them into Archie¡¯s belly. ¡°In the kitchen,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Ah! Well, you wouldn¡¯t mind if I polished off any leftovers, would you?¡± The Glutton did not wait for a response that did not come. He moved to the bench¡ªnone of their chairs would hold him¡ªand moved it away from the table to accommodate his size. He plopped down, his weight lifting the other end of the bench a few inches off the ground. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have any moondrop wine?¡±


    ¡°Fresh out,¡± Arty growled. Adeline gave Archie a push toward the kitchen.


    ¡°Ah, a shame. Good that I should bring my own.¡± The Glutton shifted to one side, threatening to tip the bench over, his monstrous hand digging into a pocket. Three crystal vials came out between his fingers. With no grace, he shook his hand to free two of them from the wedges of his fingers. He opened the remaining one and put it to his lips, a pale green liquid following the same path as so much food and drink before it. Archie took one last look before entering the kitchen. The bench stabilized, the far end returning back onto the ground. The Glutton sat up taller as if he had relieved himself from the burden of his own weight.


    ¡°Ah, much better,¡± he said. ¡°Now, tell me. I heard Petrichor has been the place to be this week. I heard people waited hours to get in. What marvelous meals did you create to attract such a crowd?¡± He noticed a crumb on the table in front of him. He planted his finger on it and brought the crumb back up to his mouth, sucking half his finger in the process. ¡°Mmm, garlic. Rosemary. Potatoes. Oh, the potatoes. Grown from Thistled Pastures, no?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Adeline said with a smile as she moved between the Glutton and Arty. ¡°Quite the taste buds to pick that out. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯ve had them. They only started growing potatoes last year.¡±


    In the kitchen, Archie put the pitcher down and peeked through the crack of the swinging door.


    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Ah, ah, ah. It preceded nearly every statement. As if his lungs needed to rev up to get a voice through that quadruple chin. ¡°Since you¡¯ve had their potatoes, I assume you¡¯ve had the milk for which they are famous. Such a fascinating flavor, and shall I add, a delight to discuss.¡± At no point did he leave enough space in the discussion for it to be two-way. ¡°Milk from cows that eat milk thistles.¡± His fingers poked the air with each word. ¡°Hm! Such a nicely bookended beverage. I buy half a cow¡¯s worth of their stock each year.¡±


    He finally paused, lips pursed together in a proud smile.


    ¡°What¡¯s that, a gallon a day?¡± Adeline asked, passing off her disgust as awe in a marvelous feat of willpower.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯d be a poor cow indeed! No, nearly two gallons. Some days I lay off a bit, but others I have as many as five gallons. Ah, I love it! Plus, between you and me, I¡¯ve developed a bit of a taste for¡­deathcap.¡±


    Adeline¡¯s eyebrows raised in a surprise that she didn¡¯t have to fake. The Glutton tilted his head down, proud of his own daring adventures in consumption.


    ¡°Yes, yes, a dangerous desire, I know. At your size, half a cap would put you six feet under in a week. I have a cap nearly every night. But even at my size, I need thistled milk to counteract the poison. A gallon or two usually cuts most of the negative side effects. Three gallons eliminates them entirely, but then I lose the taste of the deathcap and have to eat another! Ah!¡±


    Adeline laughed. To Archie, it sounded genuine, but perhaps more as a product of disbelief than humor.


    ¡°Now,¡± the Glutton said as his fingertips danced on the table. ¡°Now, now, now.¡± The music left his voice. His cheeks fell from his eyes, drooping off his face. He stared at Arty. ¡°There was an undoubtedly delicious dish. But my question remains unanswered. What marvel brought everyone here? Surely there was¡­something else.¡±


    Even from the kitchen, Archie felt the atmosphere shift. Everything before had been garnish. Now they were in the meat. The Glutton leaned back to look at Arty, demanding an answer.


    ¡°Pork,¡± Arty said. He still hadn¡¯t taken a step since the Glutton arrived.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the Glutton mused, waiting for elaboration.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Covered in a blackberry glaze. Whole blueberries sprinkled on. We¡¯d have served it with bread, but we didn¡¯t have any.¡±


    ¡°Hm, what a shame. I¡¯m sure that would have really brought it together. Where was the pork from?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What kind of cook doesn¡¯t know where his ingredients come from?¡± the Glutton asked with a laugh. He looked around the empty restaurant as if there were an audience that could laugh with him.


    Archie¡¯s hand blindly searched the counter and found a spatula, gripping it until his knuckles turned white.


    What am I doing? Am I going to run out and slap him with a spatula? Why would I even do that? No one is in danger here, right? Right?


    ¡°Frempe brought it over. He runs The Rolling Trumpeter on the other side of town.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, yes, I know Frempe well. I don¡¯t come north of the capital often¡ªmy adventures usually take me southwest to Labrusca or east to Uroko¡ªbut when I do, I usually stop by Frempe¡¯s for a quick meal or two. Just to take the edge off a day of travel.¡± He leaned back and spoke with smugness. ¡°From what I understand, everyone in Sain goes to The Rolling Trumpeter. Exclusively. Maybe because the only other restaurant in town doesn¡¯t know where a piece of pork came from, even after cooking it.¡±


    ¡°It came from Simeon¡¯s. He has a sty. This one was a dead harvest. Died of old age.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the best harvest, from old age. Shame there isn¡¯t a way to speed up that clock sometimes.¡± The Glutton squinted his eyes. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right. I¡¯m remembering you now. You left the Academy of Ambrosia in your second year. After your father died.¡± The Glutton¡¯s words rang out with malice, each sentence heavily punctuated, each statement sharp and piercing.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°So tell me, Chef. What marvel occurred here to draw such a crowd?¡±


    ¡°Like I told you. We served pork.¡±


    ¡°Yes, like you told me. But not like I heard.¡± A pause. A final chance. ¡°What marvel occurred here?¡±


    Archie¡¯s heart climbed into his throat.


    ¡°My son manifested during the Festival of Ambrosia.¡±


    ¡°Ahahah! Is that so?¡± The Glutton slammed a palm down on the table, shaking the entire thing, laughing and grinning as if he had been told he was going to be a father. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful! Just wonderful! You might look at me and think nothing brings me more joy than food, but the truth is, nothing brings me more joy than knowing there will be another Chef in the world. Because that means more food!¡± He roared with laughter. ¡°Boy! Boy! Get out here! It¡¯s you, isn¡¯t it? The Chef-to-be!¡±


    Archie turned to stone.


    Can he see me through the crack? Should I come out? What do I do?


    Arty turned, finally breaking his stillness, and motioned for Archie to come out. Archie emerged, spatula in hand.


    ¡°Oh! Were you making something for me?¡± the Glutton asked. ¡°Nevermind, nevermind, there¡¯ll be time for that later! Much time for you! Much cooking! Come, sit!¡± That hammer of a palm slapped the spot on the bench next to him.


    Archie considered rejecting the invitation, or even skirting it by sitting across from the Glutton. But something about the man¡¯s command made Archie comply. He sat next to the Glutton, the two of them taking up nearly half the bench. The Glutton rested a paw on Archie¡¯s shoulder. Archie couldn¡¯t see his father but could still sense his discomfort.


    ¡°Young Kent, I take it,¡± the Glutton said. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Ah-Archie.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Archie!¡± Archie couldn¡¯t tell if the Glutton was mocking the stutter. He laughed and turned to Adeline. ¡°Dear, Mrs. Kent? Could you see if there was anything in that kitchen for me?¡± Adeline retreated to the kitchen. The Glutton returned his attention to Archie. ¡°Manifested the day before your eighteenth birthday, eh?¡±


    ¡°How did you know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tell me, Archie. How did your magic manifest? Was it a cake? A pasta? Oh, please tell me it was seafood. Every other year I go to Uroko¡¯s biggest festival. All those young Chefs-to-be manifesting their magic in crab legs and sea urchins and sushi. There¡¯s something about someone¡¯s first magical meal. A taste that can¡¯t be replicated.¡± He leaned in, his breath heavy. ¡°I can¡¯t get enough,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°It was lemon water,¡± Archie said.


    ¡°Ha!¡± The Glutton released Archie, turning to look at Arty, expecting him to join him in laughter. ¡°Lemon water!¡±


    Archie managed to turn enough to see Arty¡¯s face, pale and bloodless.


    With a single oversized finger, the Glutton pushed Archie¡¯s shoulder, turning him back around. ¡°Water?¡± the Glutton asked in a way that begged for confirmation.


    ¡°With lemon.¡±


    ¡°Water¡­with lemon,¡± the Glutton nodded. The laughter had gone, replaced by impatience. An outburst seemed to bubble deep beneath that blubberous skin. He wrapped his arm around Archie, the weight of it crushing the boy¡¯s spine. Archie felt the Glutton¡¯s hunger. ¡°And what was so special about this water¡­with lemon?¡±


    ¡°It¡­it never emptied.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    The Glutton¡¯s face went blank. His eyes unfocused, wondrous possibilities bouncing around behind them. Infinite essence waiting to be consumed.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said again. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something I¡¯d like to see.¡±


    ¡°It ran out,¡± Arty blurted before Archie could respond. ¡°Just earlier today.¡±


    ¡°Ah, such a shame.¡± The Glutton bumped his fist on the table in disappointment, a casual gesture, but with his weight, still enough to produce a sizable boom. ¡°I would have very much liked to see that.¡± He let out a tsk-tsk-tsk, pondering what to do next.


    Adeline emerged from the kitchen carrying the last plate of pork and placing it before the Glutton. ¡°Here you go, sir. It¡¯s the last one. I was saving it for my dinner later tonight, but I had so much potato, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll manage. Help yourself.¡±


    The Glutton¡¯s face lit up at the sight of the food. His tongue pushed through his lips, covering them in drool. ¡°Ah,¡± he said to Archie, leaning over and whispering, ¡°A mother¡¯s sacrifice. Nothing like it.¡± He straightened up in his seat, addressing Adeline. ¡°Thank you so much. I¡¯ll be sure to enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°Let me get you a fork¡ª¡±


    ¡°No need.¡±


    One arm still draped around Archie, the Glutton stretched his other arm out and took the entire piece of meat off the plate with one swipe of his hand. His neck craned back, hand hovering over his mouth, dropping all of it in one smooth motion down his throat. Gone in a moment. He chewed on air, savoring the taste of magic as it filled his belly. ¡°Delicious,¡± he moaned.


    His chin dropped back down and turned to face Arty. ¡°It¡¯s a shame you had to leave the Academy. You could have really flourished. I can taste the potential. I might have even taken you as one of my personal Chefs.¡±


    It took all of Arty¡¯s willpower to force a whisper of a smile.


    ¡°Ah, delicious, delicious. If only I had some water to wash it down with,¡± the Glutton said, his voice hardening. He tilted his head down to Archie and his arm squeezed around the boy. ¡°If only¡­say, this¡­never-emptying pitcher of water. It wouldn¡¯t happen to be the one that you took into that kitchen when I first got here, would it?¡±


    Archie¡¯s heartbeat went into his ears. Every second felt like a lifetime. Now he understood why his mother had made him take the pitcher away. Dividing and duplicating food, as Arty had done with the duck, came at the expense of diluting the magical essence in each bite. For the first time that Archie had heard of, this was not the case with his pitcher of water. Each gulp contained the full, pure essence of untampered magic. It was a miracle. An everlasting shrine to the realization of Archie¡¯s dream. And this man sought to devour it. After all, what more could a Glutton want than infinite essence?


    What would a Glutton do to have it?


    ¡°It was just regular water, that¡¯s all,¡± Archie said. ¡°I can pour you a glass if you¡¯d like.¡±


    The Glutton¡¯s face, carrying a bastardized, ruinous version of Arty¡¯s signature stare, peered into Archie¡¯s, searching for the truth. Archie forgot to breathe. His heart seemed to climb his chest. If he spoke, it would leap from his mouth and into the Glutton¡¯s, going down without a single chew. But just before that happened, the Glutton smiled, leaned back, and released Archie, who instinctively slid away.


    ¡°Well, normal water just doesn¡¯t do it for me anymore.¡± His hand went into his pocket again, past the moondrop wine, retrieving a vial filled with white liquid. ¡°A cup, please.¡±


    Adeline scrambled to grab the nearest cup, walking behind the Glutton and out of sight. She swung the cup at the ground to get rid of any residual drop of the sacred water that had filled it, not wanting the Glutton to taste its essence. She placed the cup in front of the Glutton, who nodded in thanks.


    He poured from the vial, filling the cup with milk. ¡°Thistled milk,¡± he said as he raised the cup. His chin went up again and the milk went down.


    The Glutton poured another cup from the same vial. Archie leaned in to look. The vial shouldn¡¯t have been able to fill the cup up once, let alone twice. Yet only a quarter of it had been emptied out. The Glutton caught his gaze.


    ¡°Not quite neverending, I¡¯m afraid. The vial was made special-order by a genius friend of mine from Khala. Condenses whatever you pour in, multiplies whatever you pour out. Only loses a small percentage of its essence each way. Not perfect, but still cutting edge.¡±


    He drank again. As he poured a third cup, his free hand reached into another pocket, producing a mushroom cap. He winked at Archie, whispering, ¡°you don¡¯t want this one.¡± He popped the cap into his mouth and chased it with the milk. ¡°Ah, delicious,¡± he moaned. He sat for a few seconds, fighting the urge to vomit the poison up, before saying to himself, ¡°one more cup.¡± He poured and drank again.


    ¡°The Induction Ceremony for the Academies is in a few days. Have you packed your things?¡± the Glutton asked Archie.


    ¡°Um¡­not yet. I haven¡¯t received an invitation, actually. The road¡¯s closed. They can¡¯t send anyone up to confirm my claim.¡±


    ¡°Ah. So I heard.¡± The Glutton dug into his pocket one last time, producing an envelope that he tapped on the table.


    Archie¡¯s eyes widened. He sat up and leaned forward, examining the ¡°A¡± on the envelope¡¯s wax seal. ¡°Is that?¡±


    ¡°Prince Waldorf heard about your miracle and the road closure that was keeping you from getting your invitation. So he broke the blockade to send me. He looks forward to meeting you when you arrive in Ambrosia City.¡±


    The thought of meeting the prince made Archie more nervous than excited. While everyone adored the grand king, nasty rumors swirled around his son. Archie reached for the envelope, but the Glutton pulled it away.


    ¡°I would have liked to confirm your claim firsthand,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯ve already spoken to your Lord Mayor and gotten his confirmation.¡±


    He put the envelope back within Archie¡¯s reach and let him take it.


    ¡°The Induction Ceremony begins in three days,¡± the Glutton said.


    ¡°I understand. But the road closures¡­¡±


    The Glutton laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve already arranged for transport. That friend of mine, the one up in Khala? He has a nephew your age. Every festival for five festivals now, that nephew has manifested. I¡¯ve sent for him to be brought down by carriage¡ªa gift to his uncle for all his hard work. Sain is hardly out of the way, I¡¯ll have him make a detour. He¡¯ll arrive in two days'' time at dawn. Meet him at the stables.¡±


    ¡°Th-thank you,¡± Archie said.


    ¡°And if you ever manage to do that trick with the water, you¡¯ll let me know, won¡¯t you? I simply must have it.¡± The Glutton turned to the door, took one step, and then wheeled around on the spot. ¡°Ah! I¡¯ve nearly left without paying for that delicious pork.¡±


    He put a gold coin on the table, five times what he owed. Then he put a second gold coin down. Then he put a third disk down, this one white and bulbous.


    ¡°A deathcap,¡± he said just before leaving, looking at Adeline. ¡°Should you acquire a taste.¡±

 Chapter 4 - The Last Day in Sain

    The Culinary Academies invite you to attend the Ambrosial Summit in Ambrosia City.


    By receiving this invitation, your potential as a Chef has been recognized and the Culinary Academies welcome you to apply.


    If you choose to attend the Academy of Ambrosia, you require sponsorship of 100 gold per annum from a Jacketed Restaurant, for whom you shall serve as an apprentice. If you would like to attend any of the other Culinary Academies, you will be given the chance to speak to a representative during the Ambrosial Summit.


    Upon acceptance to a Culinary Academy, you shall earn the title of Chef.


    Signed,


    Academy of Ambrosia


    Uroko Institute


    Lyceum Labrusca


    Khaldeer Monastery


    College of Pitmasters


    Archie read and reread and reread the letter late into the night until the flickering, dancing flame of his candle went out. He read it so many times that when he slept, he saw it perfectly in his dreams, recreating every little curl and smear of the midnight ink.


    He awoke with the invitation still in his hand. He read it again to make sure it was real. Then he read it again. And again.


    He would have stayed in bed all day reading that letter if he could, but today was his last day in Sain. And he had a hundred things he needed to do before he left.


    He decided to start with breakfast.


    Archie rubbed his eyes as he descended into Petrichor¡¯s kitchen. His mother smiled from her usual table. His father was nowhere to be found. Adeline picked up on Archie¡¯s unasked question.


    ¡°He went out,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯ll be back before dinner.¡±


    Dinner? That¡¯s halfway between now and leaving.


    ¡°What¡¯s for breakfast?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Eggs. Any way you¡¯d like them.¡±


    ¡°Poached?¡±


    ¡°Poached it is. But it¡¯s gonna cost you.¡± Adeline rose from her chair and approached Archie.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta give your mom a hug first,¡± she said as she embraced him.


    Archie usually hugged back lightly, just draping his arms around his mother in a non-committal teenage fashion. But on this day, his last day, he squeezed her close and thought about how much he would miss her.


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan for today?¡± she asked without letting go.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Archie wriggled his way out of the hug¡ªa teenage boy could only take so much parental affection at a time.


    ¡°Good. You can take our trash over to Simeon¡¯s pigs.¡±


    The woven bin banged against Archie¡¯s knees as he lugged it across town. The trash at the top of the bin wasn¡¯t too bad¡ªthe remains of a corn cob, fatty chunks of pork, a piece of burnt bread¡ªbut a black liquid seeped out from the bottom of the bin, threatening to drip onto Archie¡¯s shoes and leave them with a stink that couldn¡¯t be washed out.


    But Archie didn¡¯t mind too much. Simeon was one of the few Chefs remaining in Sain and the only one that Archie hadn¡¯t spoken to since manifesting. With his father out, Archie was desperate to tell the story to someone and talk about the invitation.


    Simeon wasn¡¯t much of a cook, but he was an expert at an essential piece of magic to the village¡ªextraction. Archie arrived just in time to witness it. The man seemed much older than the last time Archie saw him¡ªbut maybe that was just all the dirt on his face. Simeon put one hand against a pig¡¯s shoulder and his other hand against a large square stone.


    ¡°Hi Si¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sh!¡±


    Simeon clenched his eyes, brow furrowed, effort plain to the world. The pig stood still¡ªan intentional stillness¡ªand jawed mindlessly at some root it had pulled. The stone¡¯s rough edges started to smoothen and take shape. Some of the gray stone shifted to red. Other parts turned into white streaks. Soon, the stone no longer resembled a stone at all. The red glistened with blood and plasma. The white streaks clumped up into fatty marbling. Finally, Simeon sighed and dropped his arms to his side. The pig happily trotted off, unbothered.


    ¡°I extracted from this one last week,¡± Simeon explained, ¡°so the meat isn¡¯t quite up to my standard. But I just had a sow die on me last week, so I¡¯m having to stretch it. Times ain¡¯t so good around now.¡±


    ¡°I had some of it yesterday. Frempe brought it over and we had a feast.¡±


    ¡°At Petrichor, I heard, I heard. Shame I couldn¡¯t make it.¡±


    ¡°I got invited to the Culinary Academies,¡± Archie blurted out. He put the bin on the ground and pulled the letter from his pocket.


    ¡°Oh! Been a while since I¡¯ve seen one of those. No one in Sain has been invited in¡­what, five, six years? Bring it here, let¡¯s see.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Archie and Simeon spoke for hours. Archie talked about the pitcher of water and his dad cooking while Simeon dumped the trash into the pig sty. The story of the Glutton¡¯s visit made Simeon lean in and sweat. Eventually, they made their way to all the questions that had built up in Archie about academy life.


    For every ten questions Archie had, Simeon had half an answer, but the two still spent over an hour speculating and daydreaming. Finally, the rumble of Archie¡¯s stomach signaled the time to leave. He bought some broccoli, potatoes, and even had enough money leftover¡ªwith Simeon¡¯s generous discount¡ªfor a healthy slice of the newly extracted pork shoulder.


    When Archie returned to Petrichor, he set the heavy bag of food down and peeked out into the dining area. No one. He turned to the stairs.


    ¡°He¡¯s still not back,¡± Adeline said from the pantry. ¡°Now let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve brought.¡±


    They prepared the food together in a corner of the oven. Adeline showed off, resting a finger on a potato to make it split perfectly in two. Some hopeful diners wandered in, but Adeline turned them away. ¡°We¡¯re still cleaned out from yesterday. Arty is getting some stuff and we¡¯ll be open again tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you become a Chef, mom?¡± Archie had heard the story a dozen times before, but he was desperate to speak about anything related to his own upcoming journey.


    ¡°Well, I was a bit of a late bloomer like you. I was sixteen when I manifested. My magic wasn¡¯t as special as yours¡ªI made a batch of candied apples that tasted exactly like scrambled eggs.¡± Adeline pressed her finger into the potato half and it disassembled into neat squares. Her skill was beyond that of an orange jacket, but she had never returned to the Academy to take their test¡ªArchie assumed she did so out of solidarity with her husband.


    ¡°It got me noticed, but people obviously weren¡¯t happy about the flavor switch. Can you imagine?¡± She giggled, and Archie joined her until he became acutely aware of how little time they would have left together to giggle.


    ¡°I got my invitation and found myself trying to learn how to stop making steaks taste like fish and pies taste like coffee¡ªalthough people really didn¡¯t mind that last one.¡± She poked a finger into the fire and pulled it back to the potatoes, a thin tendril of flame following the motion.


    ¡°I met your father my first week in Ambrosia City. We ended up apprenticing at the same place, this little pastry shop¡ª¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t apprentice here?¡±


    ¡°No. Too far away. Plus, Petrichor was¡­going through some changes.¡± A shadow tainted her expression, but she shook it off with a smile. ¡°Anyway, one day after your father¡¯s shift ended, he stuck around and made a raspberry tart for me. It was the most magical meal I ever ate. I remember how he¡­¡±


    After they ate, Adeline and Archie packed up his things. ¡°Nighttime is no time for packing,¡± Adeline had said. They stuffed clothes and old recipe books down into a trunk. Adeline fetched a spare set of utensils, stabbing tongs and ladles and forks and knives down into his clothes.


    ¡°The Academies should provide you with pots and pans, but it¡¯s always good to have your own set when you can,¡± Adeline explained. ¡°So, with you getting there late, you¡¯re not gonna have much time to decide on where you want to go. Have you thought about which academy you¡¯ll attend?¡±


    Archie had been waiting for someone to ask. ¡°The Academy of Ambrosia. Like dad.¡±


    Adeline nodded. ¡°What about Lyceum Labrusca? You love pasta¡ªyou¡¯ll never learn how to make it better than there.¡±


    Archie shrugged.


    ¡°I thought about going to Uroko Institute,¡± Adeline said. ¡°I used to have a stash of Urokan seafood recipes growing up.¡±


    Archie shrugged again.


    ¡°Well what kind of Chef do you want to be?¡± Adeline asked.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s all kinds of Chefs. You could be a cook. Or a fighter¡ªone of the Acorn Guard. Or maybe you could study to be a Veratore and become a healer. Or¡ª¡±


    ¡°A cook,¡± Archie answered. ¡°So that I can come back here and¡­¡±


    Archie trailed off, thinking of his vision in the crystal ball.


    ¡°So¡­you wanted to make seafood. What about dad? What did he want to make?¡±


    Adeline looked down. ¡°Well, he wasn¡¯t sure. He had a natural knack for fire, but things¡­weren¡¯t easy for him. People didn¡¯t like him.¡±


    ¡°Because of his dad?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So when the time came, he didn¡¯t know what we wanted to make. He just wanted to bring Petrichor back to life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I want, too.¡±


    Archie expected his mother to look proud. Instead, she let a little wince show in her smile.


    ¡°Archie¡­listen to me. You¡¯re going to Ambrosia City. You¡¯re going to apprentice at some great restaurant. You¡¯ll attend the Academy of Ambrosia. The whole world is yours, Archie. So do me a favor and don¡¯t worry about Petrichor or me or your dad. There¡¯s a great life out there, and it¡­might not be at Petrichor.¡±


    ¡°Mom¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± Arty shouted from downstairs. Archie barely managed to stand before Arty came barreling in.


    ¡°Dad! Where have you been?¡±


    ¡°Haggling,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Have you already packed?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Any room left?¡±


    Archie noticed that Arty¡¯s hands were hidden behind his back. ¡°A bit.¡±


    ¡°Good! I got a gift for you.¡± Arty whipped out his hand, revealing¡­a handle. A normal, metal and resin handle attached to¡­nothing. Nothing but a handle. ¡°Tada!¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°This, Archie, is an omnihandle. There¡¯s only one like it in Sain, and I just bought it.¡±


    ¡°With what money?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that!¡± He rushed over and pushed the handle into Archie¡¯s palm. ¡°Come on, try it!¡±


    Archie looked down at the handle. ¡°Try¡­what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, here.¡± Arty took the handle back and flicked his wrist. Metal sprouted from the handle, flattening and then curling up at the lips into a frying pan. ¡°Like that!¡± He flicked his wrist again and the pan slipped back into the handle. Arty gave the handle to Archie, who lifted it up to inspect. Arty shifted around impatiently. ¡°Archie, it¡¯s magic! Just try it!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how! I haven¡¯t learned that yet!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re eighteen now, you should be able to perform some magic. Just¡­do it!¡±


    Archie flicked his wrist. Nothing.


    ¡°Again, try again!¡±


    Another flick. This time, splinters of wood grew from the handle, forming a sharp array of points.


    ¡°Oh, nearly there!¡± Arty exclaimed. ¡°That looks like the beginnings of a cutting board!¡±


    Truthfully, it looked more like a collection of toothpicks.


    Archie raised an eyebrow. Before he could ask, Arty answered. ¡°The handle can extend into all sorts of cooking tools. Pots, pans, ladles, spatulas¡ªall sorts! Now, it¡¯ll get outperformed by a mastercraft in any of those forms, but the flexibility cannot be undervalued. You learn how to shape essence and this¡¯ll help you tremendously.¡±


    ¡°Cool.¡± Archie rotated the handle around, watching as the splinters returned into the handle. He felt a lump grow in his throat. ¡°Dad, I¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you,¡± Arty said. ¡°But I¡¯m so excited for you. You¡¯ll have to write all the time. I can¡¯t wait to hear your story.¡±


    Archie buried his face in his father¡¯s shoulder, hiding the tears.

 Chapter 5 - Arriving in Ambrosia City

    The next morning, Arty woke Archie up with a plate of bacon and took him to the stables. They thought much and spoke little, watching the breaking sun melt away the morning fog as they waited for the carriage. Once it arrived, Arty helped the driver, a short, mustached man with a working man¡¯s disposition, put Archie¡¯s trunk in the back, and then ran back to give Archie one last hug.


    Archie barely kept his tears in.


    He opened the door and stepped into the dark carriage with its closed curtains. The carriage was small, meant for a group of four that didn¡¯t mind getting to know each other. From the last bit of light from the closing door, Archie saw his travel companion, another boy his age, tucked into the corner. The boy didn¡¯t react to Archie. Instead, he just adjusted his head against the wall, brushing his bronze hair down for cushioning.


    The door clicked shut, the light going with it as Archie¡¯s eyes tried to adjust.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± a voice said in the dark.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m Archie.¡±


    ¡°No. You don¡¯t know me.¡± Even less of a question than the first time.


    Sain was a day or two north of Ambrosia City, technically part of The Platter, the same kingdom as the capital, but it sat in a weird spot of nothing between the plains of Kuutsu Nuna and the mountains of Khala. It saw little traffic from anywhere. It wasn¡¯t a destination. Not since Petrichor fell out of favor. As such, Archie rarely interacted with people from outside of Sain. He wasn¡¯t going to start with this one.


    He rode in the dark, sneaking small peeks out of the curtain, all silent but for the bum-bum-bum-bum of the carriage wheels. At first, the carriage felt like a coffin, the motion making him nauseous. But once the initial excitement of travel wore off, the motion became familiar. Soothing. His eyes drooped¡­


    ¡­and opened to a flood of light. The driver stood in the open doorway.


    ¡°¡®Ey, thought it betta to wake ya up now. Gots a rough bit of path ahead of us. Been some trouble on the road recently. Some giant lizards or somethings. Gonna use the last bit of movemash to get chrew it. Mind yourselves.¡±


    A jolt of excitement shot through Archie.


    Movemash!


    Archie pulled the curtain open and stuck his head out the window. The driver hand-fed the horses some pale pemmican-looking mixture.


    Movemash!


    ¡°Ey!¡± the driver yelled back at Archie. ¡°All heads and limbs and such things in the carriage at all times. I ¡®on¡¯t get paid if you ¡®on¡¯t make it!¡± The driver fixed a carrot-and-a-stick to one of the horses and hustled to his seat. ¡°Hold on to something back there,¡± he hollered. ¡°The start can be a bit bumpeeeeeee¡ª¡±


    The carriage lurched into motion, reaching top speed in a second. And still it accelerated. The sudden change sent the other boy flying across the carriage and into Archie. They detangled themselves, an extra shove from the boy being put into Archie¡¯s ribs for good measure.


    Archie winced and looked out the window. A mosaic of greens and yellows went by in a blur. Forests turned to blobs, bushes smudged into nothingness. Archie¡¯s stomach turned and his chest heaved involuntarily.


    Better to look forward.


    Movemash was a staple of Ambrosia¡ªthe fuel of the trade economy. From one corner to another, it could take a horse weeks to travel across Ambrosia in good conditions. Depending on the grade of movemash, that trip could be cut down to a matter of days. Of course, such a tool didn¡¯t come cheap, and some of the largest guilds in Ambrosia made nothing but different grades of the fuel.


    Archie didn¡¯t know how it worked or how it was made, but he knew that it was expensive and that horses needed to be trained to use it. Supposedly, the movemash made them able to pass through other carriages without collision, but again, Archie didn¡¯t know how that worked.


    He just knew it made them go really, really fast.


    After an hour at high speeds, the carriage slowed down to its regular pace. Archie peeked out the window again, amazed that the horses didn¡¯t seem tired. A sixth sense hit the driver, who looked back and shouted, ¡°Getcher head in! Gots an hour left. Should make it in time for a late lunch.¡±


    Yellowed grass turned into fields of green speckled with homes. Stretches of trees became plots of dirt, wheat and corn sticking up into the sky. Homesteads multiplied into communities. Roads branched in every direction. Long, narrow strips of farms ran perpendicular to the road. A massive stone guardhouse stood upon a hill.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the Roots,¡± Archie observed with a giddy smile. The other boy in the carriage grunted to show how much he cared.


    Over a thousand years ago, Ambrosia settled on a mesa just a few miles from the sea. Decades later, when the first overhead map was created, it was noticed that the mesa had the vague shape of a tree. Over the years, the people made names for three distinct sections.


    At the top end of the slope, just before the steep cliffs, the land widened like branches from a tree. The people took to calling the widened section the Crown¡ªthe Royal Keep¡¯s presence helped to make the name seem even more appropriate. Some of Ambrosia¡¯s finest attractions were found in the Crown¡ªthe Royal Keep, the Academy, Caviar Court, Labruscella, Restaurant Row, and more.


    The thin, long section that rose from the grounds below up to the Crown was dubbed the Trunk. The Trunk served as Ambrosia City¡¯s heart, pumping people up to the higher restaurants during the day and pumping them back down at night.


    Finally, this left the flat area around the mesa where the rivers ran through¡ªthe Roots. Ambrosia City seemed to spill out from its mesa into a patchwork mixture of dense city and sparse farm fields.


    Of the half million that called Ambrosia City home, the Roots contained most. And above them all, the Royal Keep¡¯s bright blue stones could be seen towering tall.


    Archie tried to pick out the Academy of Ambrosia to no success.


    They made their way through the Roots and reached the large stone wall at the base of the mesa. Guards in padded Chef jackets and loosely fitted metal shoulders, the king¡¯s standing army known as the Acorn Guard, waved the carriage through with no fuss. Thirty years of peace had made them complacent.


    The white clay brick buildings made a maze of the Trunk. People packed into crowds in the winding streets while the birds had free reign of the red barrel tile roofing above. Vendors pushed carts of colorful fruit on ice through the crowds. Young boys jumped out into traffic, waving signs to push people to the wooden baking stands that lined the road. A flurry of people swarmed around in every direction.


    And the noise! Nothing like Sain! A dozen conversations on every corner, just waiting for Archie to tune in:


    ¡°My reservation got canceled last week. Prince Waldorf booked the whole restaurant!¡±


    ¡°I heard Blue Orchards is working on apricots.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m rooting for Tataki today!¡±


    ¡°Have you been to Regal Rose? They call you ¡®m¡¯lord¡¯ and at the end of it give you this rose that contains every flavor you ate that night.¡±


    ¡°They called it violin stew. Each time I took a bite, I could hear another violin. By the end, there was a full orchestra!¡±


    Archie felt the excitement of a million stories unfolding before him. The carriage rumbled and stumbled through the crowd, getting slower as it got further into the city.


    ¡°¡®Ey, you¡¯re getting out here,¡± the driver shouted back at the carriage. ¡°Can¡¯t get through this bleedin¡¯ crowd. Must be a tournament day.¡±


    Archie stepped out into the crowd. With feet on the ground, he joined the mass of countless others in walking the streets of Ambrosia¡¯s prized city. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The other boy stepped out behind Archie, cutting in front of him to retrieve his bags. ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± he said again before slipping away.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone,¡± Archie said with wonder as he looked around at all the unfamiliar faces.


    The driver started to turn the carriage around.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Archie yelled. ¡°What was that about a tournament?¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t you ever heard of the IKC?¡±


    ¡°Wait, the IKC? Like, THE IKC? Like the Interkingdom Circuit IKC?¡±


    ¡°Like, has a match here nearly every week,¡± the driver said in a mocking voice. ¡°Welcome to the city, kid.¡±


    The driver waited for no goodbyes, shouting at people to clear out of the road as he whipped his reins.


    Archie pushed through the crowd, grateful for the omnihandle in his trunk that had kept him from packing heavy pots and pans. A trunk of clothes and odd knicknacks was much easier to carry than a heavy one full of metal. Still, the amount of people overwhelmed Archie. There wasn¡¯t even a restaurant in sight and still this corner held as many people as the busiest road in Sain during the busiest time of the year.


    ¡°Oi, you. You look hungry.¡±


    Archie turned to the voice. A bald, overweight man worked at a stand displaying crates of fruit. He moved with city speed, faster than people in Sain. While still looking at Archie, he never stopped transacting. He reached his hand out to his side to collect a few bronze coins from a woman that grabbed a large bulbous blue fruit. The man shuffled the coins in his hands like dice, counting them just by shaking them. ¡°Comon,¡± he called to Archie.


    ¡°Seen you get off the carriage,¡± he continued as Archie approached. ¡°Must be hungry. All that travel. Where you come from?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ªSain.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a day north, eh?¡±


    Archie nodded and looked at the fruit. All different shapes, resembling fruits he had seen before, but¡­different. ¡°They¡¯re all blue,¡± Archie observed.


    ¡°The real blue. Blue Orchards blue. Not like those cheap knock-offs.¡±


    Archie looked from the fruit to the vendor, not understanding.


    ¡°You mean to tell me you never had Blue Orchards?¡± The man shook his head. Such a crazy notion. ¡°Tell you what, first timer discount. An apple for five coppas.¡±


    Archie pulled out five copper coins from his pocket and hesitated in front of the fruit. He thought it¡¯d be easy to tell the difference, but staring at baskets of blue, Archie wondered which one was the apple. He started to grab one.


    ¡°Oi, that¡¯s an orange. That¡¯s eight coppa. Can¡¯t you tell by the stem?¡± The man already moved on to face the next customer. As he spoke to the new customer, he blindly grabbed an apple and exchanged it with Archie¡¯s coins.


    ¡°Oi, you there, haven¡¯t seen you since last week!¡± he called out to another passerby. ¡°Special offer for a returning customer¡ªan apple for five coppas!¡±


    Archie hustled out of the way as more people lined up at the stand. He looked back at the sign hanging over the stand. Barney¡¯s Basket - selling certified Blue Orchards!


    Archie bit into the apple. The skin was blue, but the inside looked like any other apple. Tasted like any other apple, too¡ªmaybe with just a little more tang.


    ¡°Hey, where¡¯s the IKC?¡± he asked the vendor.


    ¡°You buying more?¡± the vendor replied, shooing him away.


    ¡°You looking for the IKC?¡± another man asked. Archie nodded. ¡°It¡¯s at The Serving Bowl.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s that?¡±


    Having to answer a second question made the man¡¯s impatience match the vendor¡¯s. City speed. ¡°You some kind of hick?¡± He stabbed a finger up the Trunk. ¡°Go that way until you see a building that could seat your whole backwater town.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Archie muttered under his breath while cursing in his head. Sain was a perfectly respectable size. Of course, perfectly respectable also meant it would take a hundred Sains to fill Ambrosia City.


    Archie lugged his bags up the road. The roads weren¡¯t that hard to navigate, but the stairs were murder, two or three steps for every hundred feet. It was said that while you¡¯d almost never have to walk uphill to ascend the Trunk, you would have to walk up three hundred steps¡ªbut never more than five at a time.


    But there was another way up the Trunk.


    Archie spotted it and grinned with excitement.


    A raised road¡ªtall enough to have tunneled walkways running beneath it¡ªran along the main road of the Trunk. Every twenty feet, a metal frame extended another fifteen feet above the pathway, a bundle of little yellow ropes running on top of all of the frames.


    But they weren¡¯t ropes.


    They were noodles that contracted and lengthened to maneuver Ambrosia City¡¯s legendary tram system.


    Archie heard the clunkclunk-clunkclunk-clunkclunk of the tramcar as it came up the Trunk, splendid with its green wooden base and domed cloth canopy. He rushed to the stairs leading up to the raised platform just as the tramcar arrived. He slipped past some waiting people and made it up one step before he was yanked back by his collar.


    ¡°No free rides,¡± the Acorn Guard stated. ¡°One silver.¡±


    Another pedestrian put a silver in the guard¡¯s hand and went up to the tramcar.


    ¡°Does it go to The Serving Bowl?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Yes. Three stops from here.¡±


    Archie dug into his pockets. One gold, six silver, and a couple copper. Only enough for a couple of meals and a night¡¯s stay.


    But Archie would only ever have one first day in Ambrosia City. And his luggage kept banging his knees. And this way he wouldn¡¯t get lost. And he could rest his legs.


    Archie put the silver in the guard¡¯s hand and went up the stairs. Archie found his seat in the rows of benches amongst thirty others, the tramcar having enough space to accommodate thirty more.


    The guard walked up the stairs and tugged a noodle that ran from one of the corner pillars of the tramcar all the way up, up, up the tracks and out of sight.


    ¡°Have a pleasant ride,¡± the guard said as the tram jerked into motion.


    It started slow, but Archie didn¡¯t mind. From up high on the raised road, he had the best view. When he had walked on the lower road, the buildings seemed random and squished together. But from up high, he could see the design of the city. The winding alleys and the sky bridges between buildings and the way that the higher the tram went, the cleaner the city got, the whiter the walls, the fewer roof tiles missing.


    They made their first stop at a food market. Their second stop at a church. And then they turned a corner and he saw The Serving Bowl.


    A massive arena had been built on a rock outcropping that came back toward the bottom of the mesa, causing the lower access of the arena to be blocked by cliffs. The tramcar stopped and Archie ran down the stairs into a massive plaza full of people. Above the crowd, two rows of champions looked over the masses, their likeness having been carved into massive stone statues.


    Made of concrete, travertine stone, and flourishes of marble, The Serving Bowl stretched over a hundred feet into the air. Exterior archways lined three floors as the building curved into an oval. On the far end, toward the bottom of the Trunk, a sixty-foot marble statue of Ambrosia looked down on benches that seated twenty thousand, standing room that could host thirty thousand, and an assortment of private suites that lined the middle ring of the arena.


    Archie zigzagged through the crowd and up to the arena. He stepped through a large open iron gate and was yanked back by a gloved hand. Archie looked up at a tall, grisled guard. The gate guards protecting the capital from invaders? Easygoing. But the guards in charge of protecting commercial interests? Archie quickly learned that they were not to be crossed.


    ¡°Ticket!¡± the guard shouted down into Archie¡¯s face.


    ¡°I uh¡ªI don¡¯t have one?¡±


    The guard sent Archie tumbling back into the plaza. He wondered where to get tickets, but he didn¡¯t have to wonder for long.


    ¡°Tickets, get your tickets!¡± a woman shouted. Archie gathered himself and approached her.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Two gold for the lower deck, one gold for the upper,¡± she chimed. Then, just to cover her bases, she kept going in a skeptical voice, ¡°and twenty for the suites. No refunds.¡±


    Archie shoved his hand into his pocket, feeling his dwindling supply of coins. He tried to think of a way to attend the fight without ending up on the street that night. He could¡ª


    ¡°Hurry up, it¡¯s starting soon!¡± the woman yelled. City speed.


    He could figure it out later.


    Archie exchanged a gold coin for a little paper ticket. He stepped through the gate and was yanked back again.


    ¡°You can¡¯t bring that!¡± the guard yelled, nodding at Archie¡¯s bags. ¡°Get a temporary locker round the corner.¡±


    ¡°How much do they cost?¡±


    ¡°Oversized? Two silver for the match.¡±


    That¡¯d mean skipping dinner. But he was in for a gold already, so why not?


    After depositing his luggage, Archie stepped through the iron gate and found a stairway marked by the number on his ticket.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats, we are about to begin!¡± a voice boomed from somewhere in the stadium. The words echoed across the plaza, louder than thunder.


    Archie bounded up the stairs two at a time, nearly knocking someone over. He emerged near the top of the arena, a full but distant view of the arena floor on display. He squeezed into a small gap in the crowd, taking in the sight. The voice started again. Archie placed it from a tall, muscled man standing on the arena floor.


    ¡°Your attention please,¡± the man started. He wrung out every drip of drama from some words, breezing past others. ¡°I am your host, Clover Albrecht, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to The Serving Bowl for this IKC matchup! Now, who¡¯s ready?¡±


    The crowd roared.


    ¡°Put your hands together! It¡¯s time foooooooooor¡ª¡±

 Chapter 6 - Tataki vs. Pepper Ivy

    ¡°Now who¡¯s here for their first ever IKC competition?¡± Clover asked, his voice booming through The Serving Bowl at an unnatural volume.


    A roar went through the crowd. Archie was too in awe to whoop with the other spectators.


    ¡°Alright, well let me explain it to you! The Interkingdom Circuit¡ªwhich is celebrating its thirtieth anniversary¡ªhappens like this. Chefs from all over United Ambrosia compete in the IKC, fighting their way through the ranks. Each match is a spectacle, but¡­well folks, you¡¯re about to witness¡­the pinnacle of competition! A Division One match! That means you¡¯re seeing a top twenty match-up!¡±


    Another roar from the crowd. Clover took a swig from a vial and continued, even louder than before.


    ¡°Today, our Chefs will compete in a little something that we call¡­culinaryyyyyy combaaaaat!¡±


    A deafening cheer.


    ¡°Theeeeese two fierce fighters, theeeeese two culinary champions, theeeeese two phenomenons of few equals shall put their skills to the test in a fight to the near-death! And today¡¯s match is a special one, as we¡¯ve been graced by the royal family!¡±


    Clover gestured toward a raised platform on the edge of the arena floor. A man rose and waved to the crowd. Sharing his suite were a host of advisors and the largest man Archie had ever seen.


    ¡°And today¡¯s matchup is crucial! We¡¯re fully underway with the season, and our contestants find themselves on opposite ends of the table. Currently sitting in 19th place and facing the threat of relegation¡ªshe needs a win and she needs it bad¡ªit¡¯s the girl from The Platter who makes the boys chatter¡ªPepper Ivy!¡±


    Thunderous applause echoed as a woman rose from a trapdoor in the center of the arena. From up high, Archie could only make out her vibrant orange hair.


    ¡°And her opponent, currently in 2nd and looking to move into 1st¡­hailing from the far islands of Uroko¡ªfeared by all from this kingdom to the next¡ªthe monster¡ªthe terror¡ªthe legend¡ªTataki!¡±


    A tall, well-built Urokan man appeared next to Pepper Ivy. The crowd erupted into chants of ¡°ta-ta-kee, ta-ta-kee.¡± He raised a fist into the air to an amplified cheer.


    ¡°Now, our contestants shall drink of Competitive Spirit,¡± Clover continued, ¡°which will keep their magic confined to the fighting floor and prevent them from doing fatal damage to one another. But don¡¯t be fooled! Their bodies are still on the line!¡±


    Clover handed a vial to Pepper Ivy, who drank and passed it to Tataki.


    ¡°Scopes, getcha scopes!¡± a man cried out as he walked up the stands waving sticks of gum. ¡°Don¡¯t miss any of the action! Two silva!¡±


    Without thinking, Archie hailed the vendor and exchanged some of his rapidly disappearing coin for the gum. He had heard of scopes, but never tried one. He thought he would be able to handle the sensation when he popped it in his mouth and started chewing.


    He was wrong.


    His vision magnified tenfold, focusing in on some blob of green. He turned his head, a sea of shapes and colors passing by in an instant, twisting his stomach into knots. Dizziness struck him like a club over the head, making him reach out to either side to grab people for support. He closed his eyes to keep himself from spewing up the Blue Orchards apple he had eaten earlier.


    ¡°You gotta zoom out,¡± the man next to him explained.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m trying.¡±


    The man laughed and shook Archie¡¯s hand off. Archie exhaled a minty breath and slowed his chewing. Unseen by Archie, Clover cleared away from the arena floor.


    ¡°Alright, now whooooooooo¡¯s ready?! Count it down with me! 3¡­¡±


    Archie opened his eyes.


    ¡°2¡­¡±


    Chew. Slower.


    ¡°1¡­¡±


    His vision zoomed out, allowing him to see both contestants.


    ¡°Fight!¡± the entire crowd chanted at once.


    The combatants wasted no time. Archie¡¯s eyes moved fast, but Tataki moved faster. The Urokan lunged forward, his arm transforming into a monstrous lobster claw that could fit three of Pepper Ivy in its grasp.


    ¡°Here he goes! It¡¯s the claw!¡± Clover yelled in excitement.


    ¡°The claaaaaaaaaw!¡± the people sang in a deep chorus.


    Pepper Ivy put her hands together and pushed forward, sending a wall of pepper spray at her assailant. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°A defensive spray!¡±


    In a split second, the lobster claw transformed into a clam shell that served as a shield, allowing Tataki to charge through the pepper spray unphased.


    In that same split second, Pepper Ivy lived up to the second part of her namesake. She slammed her palm into the ground, spawning a path of ivy twenty feet in front of her. The ivy lifted off the ground just enough to catch Tataki¡¯s feet, sending him stumbling.


    ¡°He¡¯s tangled!¡±


    As he fell, he brought his shell-arm back into himself. A second shell manifested around him, creating a full clamshell that encased him and let him roll through the fall. After doing a full somersault, he came out of the clamshell, his second arm transforming into a twenty-foot long octopus tentacle that lashed out. Pepper Ivy tried to jump away. Too late. The suction cups latched onto her leg, pulling her in. The shell-arm warped back into a lobster claw, pincers coming down on the helpless Pepper Ivy.


    Archie screamed in a mixture of delight and terror. For eighteen years, the best piece of magic he had seen outside of the kitchen was Frempe¡¯s noodle drawings. In just a few seconds, he had already seen several things that he hadn¡¯t known were even possible. These weren¡¯t fighters. They were gods.


    And Archie would soon join their ranks.


    Will I learn to do that?


    ¡°Pep¡¯s in trouble!¡±


    She embraced the pull of the tentacle, using its momentum to flip upside down as she was drawn in. Her hands went forward again, this time producing thousands of tiny bubbles. The fizz grew, obscuring both of them as it formed a massive dome in the middle of the arena.


    ¡°Oh! A desperate move by Pep, but did it work? What¡¯s going on in there! Is it over?¡±


    Pepper Ivy crawled out from one side of the dome. She coughed as she dragged herself across the dirt, leaving behind a small trail of blood from where the suction cups had attached to her leg. A couple of seconds later, Tataki emerged on the opposite side, blindly swinging his animalistic appendages.


    ¡°They¡¯re out!¡±


    Tataki wasted no time, dashing along the outside of the dome in search of his prey. As he came into view of Pepper Ivy, she swung her arms from the ground, sending the dome of bubbles spilling over to envelop the half-man, half-crustacean monster. He emerged from the bubbles with a rageful shout, but Pepper Ivy had already rolled around to the other side of the dome of bubbles.


    Tataki continued his pursuit, Pepper Ivy countering by moving the dome of bubbles again. But with each movement, the dome diminished, the bubbles popping. Her defense wouldn¡¯t last.


    ¡°Pep is doing great to stay in it, but she won¡¯t win like this!¡±


    Tataki had enough. His arms transformed back to normal, but as he planted them onto the ground and swung his legs into the air, he performed an even greater piece of transformation. His legs fused together and grew into a whale¡¯s tail, swinging through the dome of bubbles and sending them scattering into the air. With nothing left between him and Pepper Ivy, his legs transformed back and¡ª


    He fell.


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    One hand hit the ground to catch himself. The other raised up to his forehead. He whipped his arm to the side, transforming it into an odd-looking lobster claw. Archie chewed faster to zoom in on the claw. The color was washed out and pincers were wrong, top switched with bottom. Tataki held the claw up, moving the pincers to observe his own error.


    ¡°What¡¯s this! Tataki¡¯s transformation messed up!¡±


    He lurched forward but fell again.


    ¡°Is Tataki¡­drunk?!¡±


    Pepper Ivy used the opportunity to get up and dust herself off. She took a deep breath, collecting herself before sending a steady stream of bubbles that sprayed into Tataki¡¯s face. In a moment of shock, he took a deep breath in, inhaling the bubbles. His head wobbled around on his neck.


    ¡°Pep is doing it!¡±


    In a last ditch effort, Tataki transformed his arms into tentacles, slamming them into the ground to propel himself at Pepper Ivy. She pointed her palms down at the ground, adjusting her bubble stream and intensifying it. Instead of using the stream as a weapon, she used it to propel herself, launching herself off the ground and sideways out of harm¡¯s way.


    Tataki¡¯s tentacles missed and he slid face-first across the ground.


    Pepper Ivy snapped her fingers, sprouting a single vine near Tataki that stretched across him to hold him down. With his limp tentacles scattered around his body, Tataki muttered something.


    ¡°And that¡¯s it! Tataki concedes!¡±


    Archie could only hear his own thumping heart as a stunned silence took hold of the crowd.


    Then the chants started.


    ¡°Pep! Pep! Pep! Pep!¡±


    Archie joined in, pumping his fists in the air as he cheered. A chill ran down his spine as he considered that one day he might be capable of something so extraordinary.


    ¡°Oh my, what a match! The heavy favorite, Tataki, taken down by Pepper Ivy! A massive upset! Well, in Tataki¡¯s defense, she certainly is intoxicating.¡±


    Archie felt the scope losing its magic and chewed in one last desperate zoom-in on Pepper Ivy. Now that she wasn¡¯t jumping around, he managed to see her clearly¡ªand understood why she was so popular amongst the men. Looking at her in that moment made him a fan for life.


    ¡°Alright! Well let us tend to our contestants and then we¡¯ll resume with the amateur circuit! And don¡¯t forget, folks! Pepper Ivy isn¡¯t just a fighter! She¡¯s a Purple Jacket Chef here in Ambrosia City! Be sure to visit her at Peppered Roux!¡±


    Archie stopped chewing to allow his vision to return to normal, giving his eyes a rest. He looked around the arena. The match had been so engrossing that he had forgotten where he was. Ambrosia City. The place of dreams.


    I¡¯m watching the IKC live. I¡¯m going to eat at an Ambrosia City restaurant. I¡¯m going to WORK at an Ambrosia City restaurant. I¡¯m going to live at the Academy! I¡¯m going to be a Chef!


    ¡°Now a word from today¡¯s sponsor: Thyme¡¯s Bottles and Bites!¡±


    Archie left the arena and collected his things as the sun set. He wandered around for a while, taking in the majesty of the city, until his stomach forced him into an inn. He showed the innkeeper his last two silvers, asking for food and a room.


    ¡°That won¡¯t get you nothin¡¯ here,¡± the innkeeper told him. But Archie¡¯s downtrodden expression made the innkeeper sigh. ¡°Eh, give me that. You do the dishes for me tonight and I¡¯ll get you a room and a piece of bread. You can eat whatever scraps are left on the plates.¡±


    After hours of scrubbing, Archie¡¯s fingers were raw and his body ached for a bed¡ªeven the room¡¯s hard straw mattress felt like a cloud that provided great relief. The hard work ended up being a blessing¡ªit was only through his great fatigue that Archie could quiet his excitement and get to sleep. And as he drifted toward sleep, he reflected on the lesson of the day.


    Ambrosia City was the place of dreams. But dreams were expensive.

 Chapter 7 - New Friends

    The next day, Archie stayed in bed as long as he could. He held his omnihandle up in the air as he tried to figure it out. Different warped shapes came out of the handle as he struggled. A ball of metal. A Y-shaped wood. A flattened spoon. Or was it a fork with no gaps? The closest he got to something useful was a single point that could be used as a skewer.


    Finally, the innkeeper came to kick him out. ¡°¡ªunless you wanna be doing dishes all day!¡±


    Archie gathered his things with the innkeeper in the door, exchanged his last few coppers for another piece of bread, and went back out into the chaos of the city.


    Archie looked up at a large clock tower. One hour until the ceremony. Perhaps a long time, but Archie had no sense of scale for such a massive urban maze. He made his way up the Trunk, passing dozens of statues that only grew taller as he ascended the city. While the statues were made of a variety of stones and bronze and ivory, almost all of them depicted the same subject¡ªAmbrosia. It was said that if someone ever forgot what city they were in, they only needed to look at the nearest epigraph.


    Archie lugged his bags and groaned at every little set of stairs. He made a paradise of his agony by retreating into his mind, imagining what feats he would achieve that would prompt the citizens of Ambrosia City to make a statue of him. There would be one of him in Sain, of course, awarded to him after he brought prosperity back to his hometown.


    Finally, long after he had cursed himself for not saving enough money for the tram, he found his way to a thick set of walls that separated the highest point of Ambrosia City. Beyond the walls, big, blocky buildings and spires of cerulean stone rose up, up, up and blended in with the blue sky.


    As he walked through the gate, he wondered which parts of the keep belonged to the Academy.


    And then a gloved hand yanked him back and sent him tumbling across the ground. A guard, not a Chef, but with wild eyes that made him just as intimidating, pointed a spear down at Archie.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you,¡± he growled, more bear than man. Tight black curls spilled out from his helmet. Thick, dark stubble covered his face, stretching from his neck to his eyes. Somehow, Archie felt like it had grown that much since the guard¡¯s morning shave.


    ¡°I¡¯m Archie! Archie Kent.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to mean something to me?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­Yeah, no. Uh¡ªI¡¯m going to be a Chef. I was invited!¡±


    The guard lifted the spear point away. ¡°Oh, well congratulations.¡± He faked a smile before sticking the spear point back down at Archie. ¡°But this ain¡¯t the Academy!¡±


    Archie scooted on the ground away from the spear, his butt sore from all the times he had been thrown around by the guards that week. ¡°Alright, well just tell me that, then!¡±


    The guard responded to the insolence with a menacing step forward.


    ¡°Alright, alright! Sorry.¡± Archie tried to reset the conversation. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Guard. Sometimes it¡¯s You There. Sometimes it¡¯s Stop Him. Sometimes it¡¯s Stab Him.¡±


    Archie looked at the point of the spear, then the guard, then did his best to smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to stay optimistic and go with Stop Him. So Stop Him, which way is the Academy?¡±


    ¡°Not telling.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Not. Telling!¡± The whiny exclamation made the guard seem less like a soldier and more like a petulant child. Of course, this child had a spear and no reservations in pointing it at Archie.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Why should I tell a little brat like you,¡± he took a step forward, causing Archie to scoot back even more. ¡°Who don¡¯t know where he¡¯s going,¡± another step, ¡°who don¡¯t show no respect,¡± another step, this time with a shake of the spear, ¡°who ain¡¯t worth my time,¡± another step, ¡°where the Academy is?¡±


    ¡°Wait! I¡¯ll cook you something! I was accepted into the Academies, yeah?¡±


    ¡°You was invited. Acceptin¡¯ ain¡¯t happen yet.¡±


    Oddly astute. Archie reconsidered his impression of the man¡¯s intelligence.


    ¡°Well, I was invited for a reason. I¡¯ll make you something!¡±


    ¡°Something magical?¡±


    ¡°Something magical!¡±


    The guard¡¯s anger cooled, but his skepticism still burned bright. ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­what¡¯s today, Wednesday? I¡¯ll bring you something on Sunday.¡±


    The guard¡¯s demeanor sharpened. ¡°Sunday¡¯s me day off!¡±


    ¡°Saturday, then!¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t¡­¡± Stop Him tapped his fingers on his spear. ¡°Well, I know where you¡¯re gonna live. What¡¯ll you bring me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet!¡±


    ¡°Well, nothing too spicy. I love it, but me tummy don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Okay, something spicy.¡±


    ¡°Nothing spicy!¡±


    ¡°Nothing spicy!¡± Archie finally managed to collect himself enough to stand. The two stared at each other for a moment. ¡°So uh¡­where¡¯s the Academy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s there,¡± the guard said dismissively. He nodded back down the road at a single-story building that looked more like a barn than an academy.


    ¡°Behind that building?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s it. See that building there? The Academy of Ambrosia awaits, oh noble Chef-to-be.¡±


    Archie turned to look down the road. The entrance to the building was smeared with horse manure. ¡°No, that can¡¯t be it. Maybe you didn¡¯t understand. I¡¯m looking for THE Academy of Ambrosia. Like¡­it¡¯ll be big.¡±


    The guard stepped forward again. ¡°Yeah, because I don¡¯t know what the Academy is when I spend all day standing here in the sun just a spear¡¯s throw away from it.¡±


    Archie looked down the road. The building couldn¡¯t be the Academy. But if it was¡­Archie eyeballed the distance. One hundred, maybe two hundred feet away. ¡°You can throw a spear that far?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The guard took a bashful step back. ¡°Well, not my spear¡¯s throw. Never been much of a thrower, really. But someone else¡¯s throw, sure.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you become a keep guard if you can¡¯t throw a spear?¡±


    The guard took an aggressive step forward, spearpoint down again. ¡°Because I¡¯m really good at stabbing with ¡®em! Now get out of here!¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s not the¡ª¡±


    Stop Him started laughing and rested his spear at his side. Archie stared at him in confusion.


    ¡°Almost gotcha!¡± the guard roared. He laughed harder than he had any right to. Harder than anyone ever had any right to.


    Archie sighed. ¡°So where is it?¡±


    ¡°Follow the wall that way around the bend. There¡¯ll be some little steps that go down into a plaza. Everything there is Academy.¡±


    Archie considered saying thanks, but decided the guard hadn¡¯t earned it.


    Archie walked along the wall. As the path got squeezed down to a narrow walkway, he wondered if the guard was having another laugh. But then the stairs appeared behind a curve in the wall, leading down to a well-kept plaza.


    The buildings that squared the plaza were small but remarkable. The central building had massive windows that lined the white walls, the gaps between them adorned with statues. A massive portico came out into the plaza, supported by granite columns.


    But still. Archie had heard that over fifty students lived in the Academy. This was just a big restaurant.


    Maybe it¡¯s bigger from the other side?


    Archie stepped through the large open doors to the main building. No gloved hand yanked him back. A good start. His eyes adjusted to the bronze lanterns that lit the interior of the great hall. In a way, it resembled Petrichor¡ªif Petrichor could seat one hundred people and had been made by master craftsmen. Smaller tables and chairs along the walls, massive tables and benches filling the middle of the room. At the end of the room, a set of stone steps led up to a raised stage that hosted the head table, forty feet long and seating a dozen adults that looked down on a sea of nearly one hundred eighteen-year-old hopefuls.


    Archie only recognized one person, and just barely. Sitting off-center at the main table, the absurdly large man from the arena studied the students with hungry eyes. Even the Glutton that had visited Petrichor would seem normal next to this behemoth.


    Archie walked past the crowded far end of the bench where the nervous kids sat. Up ahead, the most excited and distinguished prospective students filled up the section closest to the main table. Archie made eye contact with the boy from the carriage, who immediately looked away.


    That left the middle of the table. The loveable, blend into the crowd, middle. But even finding a space there proved difficult.


    ¡°Over here,¡± a dark-skinned girl said to Archie from one of the benches. ¡°Scoot over,¡± she grunted as she put her shoulder into the boy next to her. Her coiled hair fell around her face like a willow tree, bouncing as she shoved the boy again.


    Archie set his bags down and stepped over the bench.


    ¡°I¡¯m Cress,¡± the girl said with her hand out before Archie could even sit. He shook it.


    ¡°I¡¯m Archie Kent.¡±


    ¡°Hi Archie!¡± She pointed across Archie¡¯s body. ¡°That¡¯s Sutton. Took a minute to get a peep out of him, but¡ªlovely guy.¡±


    Archie turned to Sutton, nodding. The short, brown-haired boy shrunk away, pushing up his glasses as he winced out a smile.


    ¡°Aaand over here,¡± Cress continued, pointing across the table, ¡°we have Oliver¡­¡±


    A dirty blonde with a mischievous smile.


    ¡°Blanche¡­¡±


    Long, straight brown hair and bangs. Red lips protruding from a pale backdrop. A forgettable face that said, ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± and nothing more.


    ¡°Aaaaand¡­Uh¡­¡±


    A girl. Pure black hair. Eyes with monolids near the nose and hooded lids near the edges. A little line beneath her protruding bottom lip. Slightly tan. Pretty. ¡°Nori,¡± the girl said, finishing Cress¡¯s introduction without a smile.


    ¡°Nori!¡± Cress echoed.


    Archie nodded at Nori. Nori turned to look at the stage.


    ¡°Lots of names,¡± Cress continued with a wave of her hand. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, we don¡¯t need to know them all yet.¡±


    ¡°And uh,¡± Archie settled into his seat and pointed up at the Glutton on the stage. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±


    Oliver leaned over the table, his voice hushed and coated with trouble. ¡°Oh, you mean the normal-looking woman dressed in browns? Or the man next to her? He¡¯s wearing a hat indoors, you must mean him.¡±


    Cress giggled.


    ¡°No, I mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, the man taking up five seats? The man that you¡¯re dying to know how he managed to get up those steps?¡± Blanche joined Cress in laughter. Sutton shushed Oliver. Nori stayed facing away. ¡°The man that could take little Sutton here, roll him up in his palm, and pop him into his mouth like a mint?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Sutton hissed. ¡°If you really knew who he was, you wouldn¡¯t be making jokes so loudly.¡±


    ¡°Of course I know who he is. I¡¯m from Labrusca and I still know who he is. Only one person he could be. The big. Great. Huge. Massive. Uh¡­other words for fat...¡± The girls tried to stifle their laughter. Sutton reached over to pinch Oliver¡¯s arm. ¡°Prince Waldorf!¡±


    Archie looked up at the stage. Prince Waldorf looked back, sending a chill down his spine. There was no way that the Glutton had heard them, but Archie still felt caught.


    ¡°That¡¯s Prince Waldorf?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Of course it is. No one bigger in Ambrosia. You know how he got that way?¡±


    Archie shook his head.


    Oliver leaned to his side, putting his elbow on the table and his back against Sutton. ¡°Archie, either of your parents Chefs?¡±


    ¡°Both,¡± Archie said. Then he realized his chance to start getting his family name back out there. ¡°I¡¯m a Kent, actually.¡±


    Oliver puffed air into his closed lips, ballooning them. He blew out the air with a pop. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know what that means.¡±


    Archie started to explain the significance of the Kent name, but fortunately for the rest of the group, Oliver powered through with his explanation of Prince Waldorf.


    ¡°Anyways¡­They ever make you stuff your face with enhanced meals? Jam all sorts of magics down your throat?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, some Chefs make their kids do that. Not mine. But others. Make ¡®em eat all kinds of stuff. Eating all the time. They think if they put enough magic down your throat, something magic will come out the other end.¡±


    The joke broke through Archie¡¯s nerves, prompting him to snort in laughter with the rest of them.


    ¡°They think that the best Chefs are the ones that grew up eating magic. Well, when our lovely grand king married into the royal line, he was worried that his heir wouldn¡¯t be a Chef. So he thought he would cheat the pregnancy a bit. So before he porked the grand queen¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oliver!¡± Blanche hit him, but he was undeterred.


    ¡°¡ªhe stuffed her full of pork. Then, when she gave birth to a boy, he didn¡¯t stop. Magic breastmilk, he wanted. Actually, come to think of it, I wouldn¡¯t mind a bit of that myself.¡±


    Oliver leaned back to laugh, catching a slap on the chest from Blanche. Sutton shook his head in disapproval. Cress laughed. Nori continued to look away.


    ¡°Anyways,¡± Oliver continued, ¡°then he started feeding little baby Wally as much magic food as he could get his hands on. This was just after the unification, so he had the authority to call Chefs from all over Ambrosia to come to the capital and make meals for his little boy. Didn¡¯t care if he was hungry or not.¡±


    Archie pictured a child, already grown to the limits of his clothing and bursting at the buttons, waving his hands in protest of another plate being pushed in front of him. A dark shadow of a father hovered over him, only showing affection once all the crumbs were gone.


    ¡°And then year after year, the Festival of Ambrosia came and went without a peep of magic from the little prince piggy. The king spent a fortune on the best ingredients, the best cookware, the best tutors. And then, when the prince stepped up to the stove, he could hardly make a piece of toast worth eating. Now nearly 30 years on, Prince Waldorf hasn¡¯t shown a whiff of magic. But he hasn¡¯t stopped trying. Still eats as much in one meal as the rest of us in a week. Oh, Great Glutton.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call him that!¡± Sutton said. ¡°You can¡¯t call him that!¡±


    ¡°Oh, why not?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± Sutton pushed up his glasses, ashamed to even speak the lie that had been pushed across the kingdom by supporters of the Glutton prince. ¡°He could still manifest. He could just be a late bloomer.¡±


    Oliver laughed incredulously. ¡°Yeah, just needs to eat everything in the ocean first. He¡¯s a disgrace.¡± For the first time, Oliver¡¯s voice hardened and his face turned into a scowl. ¡°Gluttons shouldn¡¯t be allowed to exist. They¡¯re monsters that ruin the magic that Ambrosia gave us.¡±


    ¡°Wow, Oliver,¡± Cress said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were so serious about it all.¡±


    Oliver took a deep breath. ¡°Sorry. I just don¡¯t think there is a worse fate for a Chef than having all your creations devoured by a Glutton. They have no appreciation for any of it. They just consume mindlessly.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s he doing here?¡± Archie asked.


    Oliver nodded to Sutton, prompting him to answer.


    ¡°You know how we all have to apprentice somewhere?¡± Sutton said. ¡°Well¡­he¡¯s here to snatch up any of us that he can.¡±

 Chapter 8 - The Induction Ceremony

    ¡°What do you mean he¡¯s gonna snatch us up?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Here¡¯s what is going to happen,¡± Sutton started, ¡°first, the arbiter is going to judge your magic potential. Essentially, they check to make sure you¡¯re not a fraud. Then, they¡¯ll figure out your affinity. Then, sponsors will be allowed to bid on you.¡±


    ¡°Like an auction?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. They can¡¯t raise their bid. It stays at a hundred gold for the year.¡±


    Oliver whistled. ¡°Lotta money.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re smart, like I happen to be, you already have someone lined up.¡± Sutton tilted his head toward one of the small tables near the wall. A middle-aged man had his face down in a book, totally oblivious to the ceremony surrounding him.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Oliver asked.


    ¡°My ticket,¡± Sutton answered. ¡°Mr. Hodgens. Of the Ambrosial Archive.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Blanche said. ¡°You¡¯ve arranged sponsorship from¡­a librarian? Is that even allowed?¡±


    ¡°Technically, Mr. Hodgens is a Chef. He runs a Blue Jacket Cafe in the library, making him eligible to be a sponsor.¡±


    While Archie still had much to learn about Chef society, the ranking of Chefs was something his ambition had driven him to learn at a young age. There were eight main ranks of Chefs, each denoted by a colored jacket. The lowest rank started at an orange jacket then moved along the color wheel, being promoted to yellow, then green, blue, purple, red, black, and finally, white.


    Mr. Hodgens being a Blue Jacket put his abilities right in the middle of the Chef population. The ranks of Chefs formed a bell curve with the highest ranks being extraordinarily rare. Of the estimated five thousand Chefs in the world, there were fewer than one hundred Black Jackets. White Jackets were even more rare, their ranks not even reaching ten members.


    And yet, as Archie looked around the room full of potential sponsors, he spotted three White Jackets. He imagined what kind of doors would unlock if one of them chose to sponsor Archie. He¡¯d be on the fast track to restoring the family name.


    ¡°I happen to have a passion for rare ingredients,¡± Sutton said. ¡°I¡¯ve already helped Mr. Hodgens with his work. Now I¡¯ll do it in a professional capacity.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you help him with?¡±


    Sutton¡¯s smarter-than-thou demeanor transformed into one of boyish excitement. ¡°I helped him decipher one of Ambrosia¡¯s own recipes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He found an ancient recipe. I overheard him talking about it while in the library. ¡®It asks for gercolla.¡¯ He thought it was some extinct herb. But I figured out that it was an old word from Khala that refers to dragon feces.¡± He leaned back, proud of himself.


    ¡°But like, what does that accomplish?¡± Blanche asked. ¡°If no one¡¯s seen a dragon for hundreds of years¡­¡±


    ¡°The recipe didn¡¯t call for dragons, though,¡± Sutton said. ¡°Petrified dragon feces can still be found all over Ambrosia.¡±


    ¡°What kind of recipe uses dragon turds?¡± Oliver asked with disgust.


    ¡°It was medicinal.¡± Sutton turned to Archie. ¡°Anyway, Prince Waldorf bids on everyone and employs them as personal Chefs. See how few bidders have come? Rumor has it if someone in Ambrosia City steals away a potential apprentice, the prince has ways of making life difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯ll eat your restaurant, bricks and all,¡± Oliver chimed.


    Sutton ignored him. ¡°Sponsors from the other kingdoms will take away most of this year¡¯s students. But for the rest¡­the prince runs things around here. Even Mr. Hodgens was hesitant to enter the ceremony. But after some convincing, he figured his position outside of food and inside the government would shield him.¡±


    Archie looked at Prince Waldorf again. The Glutton had dressed all in black, but Archie didn¡¯t see the signature buttons of a Chef¡¯s jacket.


    ¡°Gluttons can¡¯t be Chefs, right? And you have to be a Chef to sponsor a student. So why is he allowed to bid?¡±


    ¡°He bids on behalf of the Chef that runs his restaurant,¡± Sutton explained.


    ¡°Prince Waldorf owns a restaurant?¡±


    ¡°From a strictly legal sense, yes.¡± Sutton had difficulty hiding his disapproval. ¡°It operates in his own private section of the keep and only exists to serve the prince and his friends.¡±


    A loud, rich voice cut through the crowd.


    ¡°If I could have your attention,¡± the voice boomed.


    ¡°Clover!¡± someone yelled with excitement.


    Archie turned to the doors. Clover Albrecht, the announcer from the day before, entered with a confident stride.


    ¡°As a proud alumnus of the Academy of Ambrosia, it is my honor to host this year¡¯s Induction Ceremony. If you¡¯ll all have a seat, we¡¯ll get started with the rules¡­¡±


    Clover cantered up to the stage and reminded everyone of the rules of sponsorship.


    ¡°...and with that, I believe we are ready to begin! First, perhaps a word from your Chancellor of Culinary Arts!¡± Clover swung his arms toward an old bespectacled man seated at the center of the table.


    The old man looked around, grumbling. The woman beside him leaned in and whispered something that seemed to wake the geezer up. The old man rose, halfway to standing, and croaked out a half-hearted, ¡°let¡¯s begin.¡±


    Clover pursed his lips. ¡°Oooookay then. You heard the man! Let¡¯s see, who do we have first?¡± He grabbed a list of names from the presentation table. ¡°Oh! Julienne Allard from The Platter, and if I¡¯m not mistaken, the heir apparent to Cafe Julienne.¡±


    A boy with cascading waves of dark hair stood at the front of the assembly. He waited for no further explanation, striding up to the table.


    The woman that had nudged the Chancellor reached to a small table behind her, coming back with a bowl. ¡°Put your finger inside, dear.¡±


    Julienne dipped his finger into the bowl and then pulled it out. The woman, who Archie had figured to be the aforementioned arbiter, spooned some opaque goo from the bowl into her mouth.


    ¡°Mmm, yes indeed! Tremendous potential,¡± she crowed. ¡°Now, if you would place your hands beneath the bowl and apply heat.¡±


    Julienne cupped the bowl. Archie couldn¡¯t see what happened inside the bowl, but the arbiter seemed pleased. ¡°Oh!¡± she exclaimed as she dipped her hand into the bowl, pulling out a sturdy block of cheese and a dried apricot. ¡°Multiple affinities already at this age. Such promise.¡±


    She put the food back into the bowl and slid it down to the next person who slid it down to the next person who slid it down to Prince Waldorf who slid it down his throat.


    ¡°Alright, you heard her,¡± Clover said. ¡°Who is willing to step forward to sponsor Julienne Allard?¡±


    A White Jacket stood up. He looked like an older version of Julienne¡ªraven-haired, sharp cheekbones. Beautiful. Behind him, a similarly beautiful woman in her sixties shifted around in her seat, adjusting her white jacket. ¡°Cafe Julienne will,¡± the man declared.


    Prince Waldorf raised his hand a few inches off the table in a pessimistic bid.


    ¡°I accept Cafe Julienne¡¯s sponsorship,¡± Julienne said before any other bidders could speak.


    ¡°Best restaurant in Ambrosia City,¡± Sutton explained. ¡°Maybe the world. Run by his uncle, another Julienne.¡±


    ¡°Alright, we have nearly a hundred students to get through, so let¡¯s get to it,¡± Clover said.


    Cafe Julienne took two more. Yarrow, the boy from the carriage, turned the goop into an acid so powerful that it ate through the bowl. Even Prince Waldorf didn¡¯t try to eat it. Another girl, Mindy, the definition of blonde beauty, produced a sour fizz. Prince Waldorf slammed a fist on the table when she was stolen away.


    Sutton went to the Ambrosial Archive.


    Blanche went to Blue Orchards along with a boy named Benedict that pushed his way to sit next to Blanche when they returned to their seats.


    Cress, having already arranged her sponsor, went with a boy named Akando to Kuutsu Kaana, one of the premier Kuutsu Nunan restaurants in Ambrosia City.


    Oliver went to Ivory Pasta. When he made his choice, someone with a Labruscan accent cursed in the crowd.


    Then¡­


    ¡°Archibald?¡± Clover asked rather than announced. Going through over fifty students had robbed him of his energy.


    Archie jumped up, nearly tripping on the bench as he got up. He couldn¡¯t believe Clover had called him so nonchalantly. Didn¡¯t the host know this was a big moment in the Chef world? The return of the Kents!


    Archie strode up to Clover, not the arbiter, and hissed under his breath. ¡°Kent.¡±


    Clover recoiled at the confrontation. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Archibald Kent.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Clover raised his eyebrows in surprise. ¡°Alright then.¡± He resumed his announcing voice. ¡°Archibald Kent, everyone!¡±


    ¡°Kent?¡± the chancellor echoed, grumbling something to the woman next to him.


    Satisfied, Archie walked over to the head table.


    ¡°The Kent boy.¡±


    Archie turned to face the voice and his heart dropped. Prince Waldorf pursed his lips into a tight smile, the mounds of his cheeks protruding from his face. His voice had a strange, modulated intonation¡ªit warbled dramatically up and down like a circus ringleader speaking through a broken megaphone.


    ¡°I¡¯m so glad that you got my invitation.¡±


    His invitation. Up close, Archie found the Glutton even more repulsive.


    ¡°I know all about your family history,¡± Prince Waldorf said. ¡°All of your family history. I hope we can bring your name back into the good graces of the people. Together.¡±


    They were the words Archie was desperate to hear. Validation of his family¡¯s legacy. A promise¡ªfrom a prince no less¡ªto restore the name. But as Archie heard the words, alarm bells sounded from within. He knew that Prince Waldorf would lead to his doom with the same certainty of prey watching the approaching predator.


    ¡°Finger in,¡± the arbiter commanded.


    Archie looked into the bowl. Opaque, brown goo. Surely not tasty. But that didn¡¯t matter. This was the moment when everyone would see the potential of a Kent. He dipped his finger in as a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead. Nothing seemed to change.


    The arbiter spooned some into her mouth.


    ¡°Hmmm. Some potential, yes. A decent amount. Now, apply heat.¡±


    Archie lowered his voice to a whisper. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Put your hands around the bowl and apply heat.¡±


    ¡°I uh¡­I don¡¯t know how to do that.¡±


    The arbiter took a deep breath. ¡°You don¡¯t have to. Just do it.¡±


    Archie cupped the bowl and felt it suck an energy out of his hands. The goo started to fold in on itself and transform, cycling through a variety of foods¡ªan apple, a carrot, an onion, a cracker, and finally, a thin noodle with a large spherical lump stuck inside.


    The arbiter pinched the noodle with the edges of her fingertips and lifted it, letting it dangle like a snake that had eaten too large of a meal. The ball inside slumped toward the end and a fist-sized mint spilled out in a burst of fizz.


    Then it hit the table, and the minty exterior cracked away to reveal an orange that rolled down the table. It split apart of its own accord, revealing six slices of cheese with an orange rind. One of the Head Chefs grabbed a slice and popped it in his mouth.


    ¡°Sweet¡­and spicy,¡± he said.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°It means,¡± Prince Waldorf said as he boxed out the other guests and scooped up the remaining slices. ¡°You¡¯ll make for an interesting Chef.¡±


    Archie¡¯s heart dropped to the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take him,¡± the prince said.


    Archie¡¯s heart rolled into the street and got run over by a horse.


    ¡°Alright, anyone else care to bid?¡± Clover asked. Prince Waldorf growled at Clover, who stepped away and muttered under his breath, ¡°juuuuust doing my due diligence.¡±


    Please.


    ¡°Well, looks like no one.¡±


    Please.


    ¡°Alright, Archibald Kent, you are¡ª


    Please.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    A voice echoed from the opposite corner of the Great Hall, offering to put Archie¡¯s heart back together.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Clover asked, searching the crowd.


    ¡°Rowan Knapp,¡± the man replied. He stepped into a space in the crowd. Archie gasped. The man wore a black jacket¡ªArchie could be taught by one of the best. ¡°I¡¯ll bid on the boy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a surprise! Swooping in at the last second. Well, Archibald, what¡¯ll it be?¡±


    The prince¡¯s breathing grew heavy. Guttural. Ominous. Archie kept his back to him, afraid to acknowledge him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with uh¡­him.¡± Archie pointed at Rowan Knapp.


    The prince let out a weighty harrumph.


    ¡°Alright¡­off you go,¡± Clover said with the fatigue of a man that regretted volunteering to announce so many names.


    Archie walked through the crowd to his savior and the next name was called out. ¡°Hello¡ªhi. Thank you for¡­I¡¯m Archie Kent.¡±


    ¡°Rowan,¡± he said with a velvety voice that stuck to Archie¡¯s ears like maple syrup. The man looked to be about sixty, tight white curls sitting atop his long, rectangular head. Deep set wrinkles accentuated his large nose, but there was something youthful to him. His age gave him the look of wisdom without robbing him of his natural energy, his charisma shining through in just a single word and a smile. Archie felt like they were already halfway through a conversation.


    They shook hands.


    ¡°What¡¯s your restaurant called?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°The Gift.¡±


    Archie¡¯s face scrunched up in thought. With only a dozen or so Black Jacket Restaurants in Ambrosia City, he expected to have heard of them all. But The Gift rang no bells.


    Rowan laughed at Archie¡¯s obvious confusion. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you haven¡¯t heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh¡ªI¡ªI mean,¡± Archie stuttered through the sentence, fearing he had offended one of the highest ranking members of Chef society. ¡°I grew up poor, so I never went to any Black Jacket Restaurants.¡±


    Something in Archie¡¯s response made Rowan twist his oversized mouth and chew the side of his gums. A briefly troubled mind. He moved his lips back into place with a click. ¡°Being poor doesn¡¯t matter to The Gift. I don¡¯t charge anything.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Archie recoiled at the thought. A Black Jacket Restaurant could charge a gold for a meal and call it a bargain. ¡°How can you afford anything?¡±


    ¡°I opened The Gift to make food for people that deserved it. Before that, I ran a restaurant that made food for people that could afford it. I¡­corrected my ways.¡± Rowan sucked his lips into his mouth as if he debated elaborating. ¡°But that¡¯s a story for another time.¡±


    ¡°So you had a lot of money before?¡±


    Rowan seemed put off by the prolonged focus on money. ¡°Yeah. By now, I¡¯ve given most of it away.¡± He laughed to himself. ¡°I¡¯m old enough now that I can start planning backwards from the end. I might have to move some things around, but I should be able to sponsor you through four years. If that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Archie said with no hesitation. He didn¡¯t need any more convincing beyond the man¡¯s rank and smile to sign away four years of his life. During the height of the Kents, half of them were White Jackets, the other half Black Jackets, but that had been over fifty years ago. Now Archie had a Black Jacket ready to teach him. Archie¡¯s dream started to feel a bit more like reality.


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t hold you to that answer just yet,¡± Rowan said with a laugh. ¡°Now, I¡¯d like to leave the ceremony, but apparently it¡¯s bad decorum. Would you sit with me?¡±


    ¡°Um¡ª¡± Archie looked back at the rest of the great hall.


    ¡°Oh, of course, please, go sit with your friends.¡±


    Archie looked around. Cress had already cozied up to a new group. Oliver was being chewed out by an older man. Blanche was being talked at, not talked to, by Benedict. Sutton and Mr. Hodgens passed a stack of pamphlets back and forth. Nori was¡­where was Nori?


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll sit with you.¡±


    They sat at a small table off to the side. Rowan pulled a small piece of bread wrapped in cloth, pushing it across the table. ¡°You look hungry. I made this this morning.¡±


    Archie smiled. He took a bite with high expectations¡ªbut not high enough. Fluffy bread. Crunchy crust. Fragrant rosemary. The bread looked dry, but tasted as if it had just been dipped in olive oil. It was, without exaggeration, the greatest piece of bread he had ever eaten. He took another bite and another and another, stuffing his mouth.


    ¡°Nori Harper,¡± Clover called.


    ¡°Off to Uroko,¡± Rowan said to himself.


    ¡°Mmm?¡± Archie managed through the bread.


    ¡°This year¡¯s class had two headliners. Julienne. Once per generation, that family produces a Julienne, and this one seems to be as good as any. And then we have Miss Nori. Like Julienne, her destiny was written by others long ago. Outside of royalty, the Harper family is the most powerful family east of Ambrosia City. And unlike royalty, they didn¡¯t get that power through lineage, which tells you all you need to know about what they¡¯re capable of. How dangerous they can be.¡±


    Archie wanted to protest¡ªto claim that there were three headliners¡ªthe Julienne, the Harper, and the Kent, but he couldn¡¯t get a word out of his bread-stuffed mouth. He just watched as Nori performed the initiation rites with the arbiter.


    ¡°A natural at seafood!¡± Clover announced. ¡°Now, who will be her sponsor?¡±


    Prince Waldorf raised his hand.


    ¡°I will,¡± a White Jacket said as he stood. The similarities to Nori were too great to be coincidence. A father? An uncle?


    Nori looked at the man. Then at the prince. Then at the man. What should have been an easy choice had been replaced by five seconds of silence as she bit her bottom lip.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± the White Jacket scolded. ¡°Come, Nori.¡±


    Nori looked back at the prince. Clover sighed impatiently.


    ¡°Nori,¡± the White Jacket growled through clenched teeth.


    A low, guttural chuckle came from deep in Prince Waldorf¡¯s throat.


    Nori scanned the room for another bidder. For a moment, she locked eyes with Archie. As he looked at her desperate expression, he knew what he had to do.


    But he had too much bread in his mouth to do it.


    ¡°Mmm!¡± Archie muttered to Rowan. Rowan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Mmm!¡± Archie pointed at Nori.


    ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°Mmm!¡± More pointing. He chewed and chewed and chewed, but couldn¡¯t get the bread down.


    ¡°You want me to bid on her?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm!¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? After I just explained how dangerous her family is? And I¡¯ve already incurred some level of wrath from Prince Waldorf by taking you.¡±


    ¡°Mmm!¡±


    ¡°How will I pay for her? My money has been accounted for, and I¡¯m not about to start charging for my cooking.¡±


    ¡°Mmm! Mmm!¡± Archie pointed at himself.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for her? With what money?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­mmm?¡± Searching for an answer. Searching. ¡°Mmm!¡± Archie mimicked cooking, his hand stirring an invisible spoon in an invisible pot.


    ¡°Alright, Nori, you have to choose,¡± Clover announced. This charity job was becoming a nightmare for him.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Nori croaked.


    The White Jacket clenched his fist, an aura of frustration radiating out from him. Even from afar, Archie could sense his anger.


    ¡°Mmm!¡± Archie let out one final plea.


    ¡°Fine! Fine. I¡¯ll sponsor her. But if they want to fight for her, you¡¯re going to have to do it.¡± Rowan stood and raised his hand. ¡°Rowan Knapp!¡± he declared, entering the auction.


    The White Jacket turned and glared at their table, triggering a fight-or-flight response in Archie. Prince Waldorf hit his fist on the table in disappointment.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­¡± Nori looked at the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll go with Rowan Knapp.¡±


    From halfway across the room, Archie could still hear the sharp intake of air through the White Jacket¡¯s nose. Before Nori could take a step, the man was halfway to the exit, a small group of Urokan Chefs following him.


    Archie finally managed to swallow. ¡°Thank you,¡± he told Rowan.


    ¡°You realize you just said you¡¯d pay for her, right? That¡¯s a hundred gold. I can front the money, but if you don¡¯t pay me back, she¡¯s gone this time next year. That¡¯s your responsibility.¡±


    Archie¡¯s chin cramped with stress. ¡°Yeah, I know. I¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    Rowan¡¯s features softened. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯ve already been inspired by my spirit of charity.¡±


    Nori walked to the opposite side of the great hall from Rowan and Archie, sitting at an empty table with her face in her hands.


    ¡°Should I go get her?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. She¡¯s going through something that neither of us can understand just yet.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Like a Sleepover

    ¡°Your restaurant is in the Roots?¡±


    Archie stared slack-jawed at Rowan.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    Archie blinked and blinked and blinked again. Rowan¡¯s black jacket made him one of the top hundred Chefs in the world. A Black Jacket Restaurant would put Sain back on the map. And yet Rowan owned a restaurant¡­in the Roots. Not in the Crown. Not even in the Trunk. The Roots. Archie couldn¡¯t believe it.


    ¡°It might be a little hard to find because it¡¯s in one of the residential districts¡­¡±


    He owned a restaurant in the residential districts of the Roots. Archie waited for Rowan to laugh. To say it was all a joke. But the man continued with his genuine candor.


    ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ll come get you the first couple of times. It¡¯ll be good exercise having to walk up the Trunk. And they say I get you for Fridays and Saturdays. For now, I¡¯ll just take you on Fridays. On Saturdays, you can figure out how to come up with a hundred gold.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Two days from now. Don¡¯t forget.¡±


    And one day before I need to get Stop Him his food. Don¡¯t forget that, either.


    ¡°As for Nori,¡± Rowan continued, ¡°just make sure she doesn¡¯t run away.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Or get kidnapped.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Rowan waved his hand to dismiss Archie¡¯s panic.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ll be fine. Just tell her I¡¯ll get her on Friday and then let her go at her own pace from there.¡± He took a step away, then hesitated. ¡°And Archie¡­let her go at her own pace.¡±


    Rowan left once the placements were finished. Of the students staying in the Academy of Ambrosia, only two were snatched up by Prince Waldorf, a fact that he was very upset with.


    As Prince Waldorf ranted to the Chancellor, Archie approached Nori. She stared at the ground with red eyes, oblivious to the world around her. A sob slipped through her pouting lips, stopping Archie in his tracks.


    At her own pace.


    He found somewhere else to sit.


    They brought out large platters of food and the celebrations began. Desperate for a full meal, Archie ate his fill while a girl named Hyssop threw a fit to him about how she had hoped to have an affinity for sweets, not seafood, and now she would have to cook for Prince Waldorf. Archie hardly responded, but that was fine by Hyssop. She just needed to rant.


    As dinner wrapped up, a tanned, middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard stood up on the stage. His side-swept hair was silver in a way that made him seem distinguished, not old. Sunken eyes with little pools of brown within. A sort of carefree nature captured in his posture. Many of the female students had already taken notice of him. He adjusted his red jacket and smiled.


    ¡°Good evening, everyone,¡± he said. His voice was charming and velvety. ¡°For those of you that will be attending The Academy of Ambrosia, I am your headmaster, Aubergine. It is my pleasure to welcome you to this prestigious academy. We¡¯d like to go ahead and get you situated. Head Chefs Pomona and Colby will guide you to your rooms.¡±


    Aubergine gestured at two of the Head Chefs, who rose at their mention.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Pomona,¡± the woman repeated to each student as they approached. She offered each of them a unique warm smile. When she smiled at Archie, he blushed. She was a sharp-featured woman with enough beauty to distract from her oversized head, her honey blonde hair shining as it draped over her red jacket.


    The other Head Chef, a man in a black jacket, lacked Pomona¡¯s charm. He didn¡¯t introduce himself, relying on the simple deduction that if she was Pomona, he was Colby. He ran a hand through his short red-brown hair as he counted the students. Stress seemed as natural to him as breathing¡ªit had already marked its claim on his face with sharp wrinkles etched around his eyes.


    The Academy students followed the Head Chefs through an archway to the left of the stage.


    ¡°This is the main kitchen,¡± Pomona explained.


    Archie nearly fell to his knees.


    The room was bigger than the entirety of Petrichor. Eight ovens lined one wall, each as big as Petrichor¡¯s, but with even finer details¡ªevery bit of stone had been chiseled into a beautiful work of art. Nearly fifty individual cooking setups filled the room in neat rows, each with their own wood-powered stove and cabinetry.


    Refrigerators lined another wall. Archie didn¡¯t need to get close to see that the magic powering them was of a different league than the one in Petrichor. On the far wall, above the cabinets and spice racks, a row of arched windows let in the starry light of the night sky.


    ¡°Head Chef Colby and I usually teach in the lower kitchens, so this one is always open for student use. Over there is the door that wraps around to that other building you walked past on your way in. That¡¯s the main pantry. It also has a freezer, but do be careful not to lock yourself in. And this way is the way down. If you¡¯d follow me¡­¡±


    Pomona walked toward a door, but no one followed. Instead, the students fanned out through the kitchen, admiring the craftsmanship and scale. They marveled at the carvings and commented on the number of spices and lifted the heavy cast iron pans.


    Colby¡¯s harsh whistle pierced through their blissful veil of awe. ¡°Hey! Let¡¯s go,¡± he barked.


    The students followed him through the door to an outside path. Archie gasped at the view.


    No more city squares. No more crowds. The ground fell away a hundred feet down the mountainside to the flat land and massive lake below. A little shoulder-high stone wall lined the path as it wound around and descended to one final building on the edge of the mesa. As they walked down the stairs of the path, Archie alternated between looking at the scenery and trying to find Nori in the crowd of students.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°The Academy is split into two major buildings. Above, the great hall, main kitchen, pantry, and staff quarters,¡± Pomona explained.


    ¡°Staff quarters being off limits,¡± Colby added.


    ¡°Below, we have the lower kitchens and student quarters. Far, far below, the lake, fields, and orchards are all owned by the Academy. Common misconception, they are not owned by the crown, nor is the Academy itself. Not directly, anyway.¡±


    They rounded a corner to see the second building, a multi-story, castle-like stone structure that had been built nearly halfway down the steep mountain slope.


    ¡°Colby and I are two of your five Head Chefs. That¡¯s not counting Headmaster Aubergine. I am in charge of this year¡¯s girls,¡± she said with excitement.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll be in charge of the boys,¡± he said with disdain.


    ¡°Of course, come to any of us with any questions. After tonight, that is, because you probably have too many right now for us to deal with.¡± She laughed at her own joke with a little chipmunk giggle.


    They passed through the doors of the lower building, entering a lounge with fireplaces and couches and big pillows set up in circles on sitting rugs. The room stretched to the other end of the building, ending in a large balcony overlooking the lake below.


    ¡°The two floors above us are the lower kitchens, of which there are four. The two floors below us belong to students, of which we have four years. Boys and girls floors are separate and we like to keep it that way.¡±


    The students cooed with thoughts of romance.


    ¡°There will be no relationship drama,¡± Colby decreed. ¡°If any of you start crying in my class because your boyfriend is slipping off to someone else¡¯s room and not yours, I¡¯ll throw a pan at you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen him do it,¡± Pomona added. ¡°Tomorrow, you¡¯ll join Headmaster Aubergine down by the lake for an introductory class. While he outlines the year for you, us Head Chefs will be carrying out a little tradition that we are so excited about. Every year, the Head Chefs prepare a feast for our new students. So when dinner time comes around¡­Expect. Some. Magic.¡±


    Pomona laughed to herself again. By now, half the boys were smitten enough to laugh with her.


    ¡°Now, girls, if you¡¯ll come with me. Boys, with Head Chef Colby. Goodnight boys!¡±


    ¡°Goodnight Head Chef Pomona,¡± a few boys chimed back lovingly. A few of the girls shot them nasty looks. Archie craned his neck to get one last look at Nori. She walked with the group like a zombie, wavering from side to side, unaware of her surroundings.


    ¡°Alright, you bunch with me,¡± Colby said as he started downstairs and into a long hallway. Somehow his voice had even less affection now that the girls were gone. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t know any of your names.¡± He looked at Julienne and sighed. ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t know most of your names. Let¡¯s see¡­there¡¯s eight of you? Perfect. I¡¯ll make it easy for you. You, you, you, you.¡± He pointed.


    ¡°Julienne.¡±


    ¡°Yarrow.¡±


    ¡°Akando.¡±


    ¡°Suh¡ªSutton.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Colby said. You four are in the first room on the left. Now, you four. Sound off.¡±


    ¡°Oliver.¡±


    ¡°Benedict.¡±


    ¡°Barley.¡±


    ¡°Archie Kent.¡±


    ¡°Great. You¡¯ll be in the second room. Bathroom down the hall. Now this might come as a shock, but eighteen-year-olds away from home for the first time have an uncanny knack for finding trouble. You¡¯re Chefs of the Academy of Ambrosia. You need to act that way. And to be sure you act that way, there¡¯s a little policy for first-years¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say curfew,¡± Oliver pleaded.


    ¡°There¡¯s a curfew,¡± Colby said with glee. The boys all moaned. ¡°Ten o¡¯clock every night.¡±


    ¡°Even weekends?¡±


    ¡°Even weekends. Can¡¯t have you out partying, getting hungover, and then failing to keep your obligation to your sponsor. If you need to stay out late, get permission first. Now it¡¯s the first night, so go to your rooms and don¡¯t cause any trouble.¡±


    Colby trotted off toward the stairs.


    ¡°Byyyye,¡± Oliver called out sarcastically after Colby, who answered with a dismissive wave.


    The boys looked at each other for a moment, dead still. Then, like dogs moments before play, they burst down into squats and dashed into their rooms. Archie joined into the excitement a moment too late, trailing behind.


    ¡°Top bunk!¡± Oliver called out from inside the room.


    ¡°Me too,¡± Benedict said.


    ¡°I would have given it to you if you asked,¡± Barley stated flatly, not buying into all of the excitement.


    ¡°Well of course you would!¡± Oliver asked. ¡°You¡¯re not sleeping over me, you¡¯re massive!¡±


    It was true. But Barley was a different kind of big than the Gluttons. A healthier big. It was all in his structure. It¡¯d be hard to even say he was really overweight. He was just a large person.


    Benedict threw his trunk up on top of a bed, and Barley sat beneath him. Oliver abandoned his trunk altogether and jumped up onto his bed. That left only one.


    ¡°You¡¯re under me!¡± Oliver said to Archie. He had a grin that could only mean trouble. ¡°We can pass notes about ol¡¯ Benny here.¡±


    Archie plopped down in his bed. The straw-stuffed mattress was lumpy, the covers were coarse, and Oliver threatened to fidget overhead all night. But it was already home.


    The four of them talked long into the night¡ªif Barley¡¯s silent listening counted as talking.


    It took only minutes for the topic to turn to the girls.


    ¡°What do you guys think of Blanche?¡± Benedict asked.


    ¡°What do YOU think of Blanche?¡± Oliver echoed. ¡°Hey Archie, you gonna try to swoop in on Cress? She¡¯s cute. I think she has a bit of a thing for you. She really wanted you to sit with us. And then she was all over you.¡±


    Archie blushed and played the events back in his head to determine if Oliver exaggerated, but everytime he thought of that great hall, he thought of that desperate look that Nori had given him. Help me.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± Archie said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen more people in the last day than I have in my entire life.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± Oliver said. ¡°Trying to figure out how you can play the field.¡±


    Archie wanted to ask them about Nori but knew the context of the conversation would give them the wrong idea. So he waited. The conversation shifted to this topic and that topic, but still Archie thought of Nori. Finally, when they were all in bed, speaking in whispers and wondering if the others had fallen asleep, they started talking about their sponsors. Archie found his opportunity.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna be working with that girl¡­Nori? What¡¯s her deal?¡±


    ¡°I was sitting next to her the whole ceremony¡ªshe barely said a word.¡± Oliver said.


    Then, for the first time in an hour, Barley spoke. His words were laced with heavy thoughts. ¡°She¡¯s like me,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s not from here, and she wasn¡¯t supposed to stay here.¡±


    For a moment spent in silence, the boys remembered that this was not a familiar place. Eventually, they could all call it home, but for now, in that moment in the dark in a new place, they all thought of what they had left behind. The events of the day tumbled around in their minds, waiting to be processed. Barley¡¯s statement hung in the air, bringing the lighthearted nature of their conversation to a close.


    Not that Oliver could be stopped.


    ¡°Are they all as big as you where you come from?¡± he asked.


    The four boys¡ªeven Barley¡ªlaughed.

 Chapter 10 - Ambrosial Essence

    ¡°Hey! Get up!¡±


    Archie snapped up from his bed, nearly hitting his head on the top bunk. A boy in a green Chef¡¯s jacket leaned in from the doorway.


    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± Oliver croaked.


    ¡°Baker. I¡¯m a fourth-year. Head Chef Colby caught me late last night and made it my responsibility to make sure you lot don¡¯t oversleep. Now get up! There¡¯s breakfast. Mace had a nervous breakdown and has been making omelets for three hours now.¡±


    Baker left, and after much dragging of the feet, the boys got dressed and made their way to one of the kitchens upstairs, finding an older student in a yellow jacket muttering to himself amongst a graveyard of eggshells and a countertop full of omelets.


    ¡°It¡¯s not right, it¡¯s not right,¡± the boy muttered.


    ¡°Uh¡ªMace, is it? Do you mind if we grab some of these?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°But¡ªbut they¡¯re not right.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with them?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t¡­fluff!¡± Mace whipped the spatula above his head, sending a bit of partially cooked egg onto the ceiling.


    ¡°Have you tried¡ª¡±


    Mace brought the spatula down toward Archie. ¡°I¡¯ve been here since sunrise. I¡¯ve tried! I¡¯ve tried! Nothing you could suggest is something I haven¡¯t tried!¡±


    Barley tugged at the back of Archie¡¯s shirt, pulling him away. Oliver and Benedict grabbed their plates, rushing as to not spend an extra second in the presence of the crazed omelet-maker.


    They went down to the lounge, found a table, and ate in relative silence. They had stayed up too late talking and now paid the price, nursing headaches and rubbing tired eyes. As they started to wake up and finish their breakfast, Aubergine popped into the lounge and walked over to Archie¡¯s table.


    ¡°Hey boys!¡± Aubergine said with a manic excitement. ¡°You been down to the lake yet? Class starts down there in about fifteen. I¡¯m excited! Are you excited?¡±


    Aubergine pointed at Archie, putting an unbearably bright spotlight on him. All he could manage to do was nod. And then just like that, Aubergine was off.


    ¡°Wait, fifteen minutes?¡± Archie asked. ¡°We gotta go!¡± He stood up and started to walk¡­nowhere. ¡°Wait, how do we get down to the lake?¡±


    The other boys shrugged. ¡°Which way did Aubergine go?¡±


    Archie looked around and spotted the boy who had woken them up. ¡°Hey¡­Baker! How do we get down to the lake?¡±


    Baker looked down at his unfinished breakfast and sighed. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    The boys followed Baker down the hall like ducklings in a single file line.


    ¡°There¡¯s the stairs,¡± he said, pointing out a little alcove with a spiral staircase going down. ¡°But you don¡¯t want to take those.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Have you seen how high up we are? Spinning around those stairs, you¡¯ll puke halfway down. What you want is the elevator¡­here.¡±


    They turned the corner and arrived at a thin wire door that separated them from the empty elevator shaft. Baker pointed at a wheel that had been mounted near the gates. Archie sized up the hefty wood and long handles, wondering if he could even turn it.


    ¡°Turn that to pull the elevator up,¡± Baker said. ¡°And yes, it¡¯s as hard as it looks. But, once you guys learn a thing or two, you¡¯ll be able to do this.¡±


    He reached through the wire gate and strummed his finger across a large beige strand that stretched up and down the shaft. Archie stepped up for a closer look.


    ¡°Is that¡­a noodle?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Like the tram!¡±


    The noodle contracted, producing a grating noise further down the shaft. As it contracted, it pulled up a large wooden platform with its own turning wheel and metal guardrails. Baker opened the wire gate and stepped onto the platform.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said.


    The boys piled on. Even with Barley, they all fit comfortably. The older student touched the noodle again, causing it to expand and send the platform down.


    The boys stared up in wonder as the top of the elevator shaft disappeared.


    ¡°How¡¯d you do that?¡± Archie asked.


    Baker grinned. ¡°What is it, your first day or something?¡±


    The platform slowed as it approached the bottom floor where a large tunnel with wooden supports ended in the bright light of the outdoors.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You¡¯re meeting Aubergine, right?¡± Baker asked. ¡°Oof. He¡¯s tough. Real tough. You do NOT want to be late.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯ll he do?¡±


    Baker squinted. ¡°If I were you, I would have already started running so I wouldn¡¯t find out.¡±


    The boys looked at each other. First, they replicated the previous night¡¯s stillness. Then they recreated the chaos.


    ¡°See ya!¡± Oliver said as he broke into a sprint down the tunnel. Benedict stomped after him, followed by Archie, followed by Barley.


    ¡°Thanks!¡± Archie yelled back as he picked up speed. He passed Barley with ease, then Benedict. Archie was of average height and a little skinny, but his wiry strength was made for running.


    He looked behind him. Barley had already slowed to a brisk walk, taking heaving breaths between each step.


    ¡°We lost Barley!¡± Archie said.


    ¡°We¡¯re not gonna make it!¡± Benedict yelled.


    ¡°Every man for himself!¡± Oliver yelled.


    No complaints from Archie. He hit top speed, closing in on Oliver. They rubbed shoulders and bumped each other, Oliver refusing to let him pass, before Archie finally managed to break away. He ran past a few other first-years, who walked casually and exchanged confused looks as Archie zoomed by.


    Archie¡¯s lungs caught fire and burned as he spilled out of the tunnel and onto a dirt path that cut through grassy fields. As he ran, he looked around. Students were sprinkled around the fields, none seeming to be in any sort of rush. To the left, a massive orchard hosted a variety of farm animals between its rows of trees, goats and cows foraging for fallen fruits. To the right, older students worked fields of crops and attended a row of stone greenhouses.


    Ahead, a massive lake, over a mile wide, was fed by two rivers, one from the northwest and one from the north. Water exited the lake in a single, massive river that went south around the mesa, running through the Roots before continuing toward the ocean twenty miles away. Archie¡¯s feet thundered on the wooden bridge that spanned the river.


    Finally, Archie arrived at Aubergine. The Red Jacket headmaster sat on a stump at the edge of a forest that spread for miles in each direction, chatting away with a few students that had already arrived¡ªCress, Sutton, and some other kids that Archie hadn¡¯t met.


    Aubergine looked at Archie with a puzzled expression. ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡±


    Oliver and Benedict came running neck-in-neck. Half a mile back, Barley stepped out of the tunnel.


    ¡°You¡­told¡­us¡­fifteen¡­minutes,¡± Archie panted.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Aubergine laughed and looked around at the other students to get them in on the joke. ¡°Archie, right? I just wanted to put a little fire under your pots! We¡¯re not starting for another ten or so.¡±


    Archie laid down on his back and fought the nausea, taking controlled breaths to keep from vomiting. Oliver lost his fight, prompting a chorus of screams from the girls as he keeled over and puked.


    Aubergine laughed. ¡°You boys need to work on your fitness! Tell you what, I take a run out here every day right when the sun comes up. It¡¯s about five miles around the lake, perfect for a morning jog.¡±


    He¡¯s crazy.


    The rest of the class arrived in regular, not-elbowing-each-other-to-get-by fashion and sat in the grass around Aubergine. Yarrow followed Julienne around like a puppy. Cress made new friends. Barley¡¯s face remained pale for ten minutes, and even once the color returned, he still struggled to find his breath.


    And finally, last of all the students and arriving just before Aubergine began, Nori appeared. Archie locked eyes with her for a moment, hoping she¡¯d come sit with him. She did not.


    ¡°Alright, I think that¡¯s everyone,¡± Aubergine said. He turned his head to each student with a quick snap, looking into their eyes. ¡°Yep, we¡¯re ready. We look ready.¡±


    He clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright! So, just a reminder, I¡¯m your headmaster, Aubergine. Aubey to my wife, Aubergine to my peers, and to you¡­well¡­I¡¯m Headmaster Aubergine.¡± He chuckled to himself.


    His jokes were poorly executed. His movements were goofy and exaggerated. Even his most serious remarks had trouble rising out of the muck of his inherent silliness.


    Archie liked him.


    ¡°So, you are now officially students of the Academy of Ambrosia. And this is officially your first lesson. Next week, you¡¯ll begin regular classes. But before we get to that, it¡¯s important that you understand exactly what it is that you are learning here.¡±


    He reached into his pocket, pinched fingers pulling out a seed.


    ¡°Ambrosial essence,¡± he explained. ¡°Oh¡ªnot this. This is just a seed. But through manipulation of Ambrosial essence¡­¡±


    The seed cracked and a sprout grew three inches in a second. Then another three inches. A bud formed. Another three inches. The bud sprouted into a hibiscus flower. Ooo¡¯s and aaah¡¯s and little claps came from the students.


    ¡°When Ambrosia died, she gave her magic to the world in the form of something we call Ambrosial essence. It can be found in the ground, in the sea, in the air. In you. When it comes to Ambrosial essence, we are all porous things.


    ¡°Now, I just used my essence to open up the ¡®pores¡¯ of this seed. It has essence in it, and I¡¯ve added my own. That essence can be used in a great many ways. Just now, I used up that essence to grow the seed unnaturally fast.¡±


    He pulled another seed from his pocket. ¡°Whereas I am now loading essence into this seed with the intention to nourish, but not to grow. ¡± He was silent for a moment, eyes focused on the second seed. ¡°No discernible change. However, I have put just as much essence into this seed as I have this flower.


    ¡°The flower has consumed that essence in order to grow. When it dies, it will decompose, producing enough essence to bring equilibrium to the process. Just as you all will when you die. Just as Ambrosia did.


    ¡°The seed, on the other hand, has retained that essence, rationing it. The flower, having been asked to grow so quickly, used the essence all at once and rather inefficiently. The seed will use the essence as it grows¡ªnot to enhance its speed, but its quality.


    ¡°Even just this one extra moment of care that I have given the seed will show in the results. If I were to make a tea from the quickly grown flower, it would pale in comparison to tea produced by the seed when it eventually grows.


    ¡°That enhanced tea would be more nourishing. It would be easier to infuse with other magics. When we perform our magic, we convert the essence into effect. So if I turned the fast flower, with its lesser quality, into a tea that helped people catch their breath, I might be able to relieve Barley enough so that I might be heard over his panting.¡±


    Everyone laughed but Barley, who continued to suck in air in ragged breaths.


    ¡°Whereas if this seed bloomed into a higher quality flower and I made the same tea, Barley might not have run out of breath in the first place.


    ¡°As I hinted at, the process for these events started with me. A bit of the Ambrosial essence within myself was consumed to catalyze the essence around me. Now for me, this was a minor cost. But for an amateur student such as yourself, just one of these acts might be all you can manage.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just a matter of me having more essence than you. It¡¯s about efficiency. Mastery. You can make a flame with a log. I can make a bonfire with a twig.


    ¡°That mastery is what you are here to learn. Your Head Chefs will ask you to perform acts that will drain you. And while your essence will replenish itself naturally over time, that recovery can be aided through consuming foods infused with essence.


    ¡°As such, I would advise you not to skip meals. Should you feel like you are on the verge of passing out, please let your Head Chefs know. And snacks are highly encouraged.¡±

 Chapter 11 - The First-Year Feast

    The rest of Aubergine¡¯s ¡°lesson¡± consisted of him getting to know the students. Fortunately for them, the headmaster had the grace to not force them into some contrived icebreaker. Instead, he managed to lead a conversation that didn¡¯t feel led. A few minutes in, they were all speaking freely as if they had been friends for years. Archie wondered if that was some other form of magic.


    Archie learned a lot about his classmates that day. Cress and Akando had come from Kuutsu Nuna, where they spent the last summer following the Kuutsu, a sacred herd of invisible buffalo that roamed in an uninterruptible path. Blanche had a sister who had risen six ranks in six years, a feat that hadn¡¯t been accomplished in nearly twenty years. Benedict was the first Chef in his family¡¯s history.


    No one knew if or when the lesson ended. At some point, Aubergine got up and started walking around the lake. Unprompted, everyone followed. Someone expressed hunger, to which Aubergine said not to worry.


    The group came upon a picnic area next to the lake, complete with a grill and fishing rods. They cast out a few lines while Aubergine, much to everyone¡¯s wonder, tossed some seeds onto the ground that sprouted into a variety of vegetables in a matter of minutes.


    ¡°I always carry around seeds. I love the potential of them. And they¡¯re great for occasions just like this one. And this works as a teaching moment¡ªI already loaded these seeds with essence, and I convert that essence to rapid growth. They use up a lot of their essence in the process, so performing further magic with them would be difficult, but they still have their use in quieting a rumbling tummy.¡±


    Aubergine put a freshly caught walleye on the grill along with some asparagus and carrots. Before long, Benedict caught a bass to add to the meal. Aubergine split the meal in two, setting one half aside. With the other half, he waved his hands to duplicate the food the same way Archie had seen his father do the other day¡ªbut with a much greater degree of expertise.


    As plates were served, Aubergine put one bite from the unduplicated meal onto each plate. ¡°Furthering the lesson,¡± he said. ¡°The duplicated dish has had its essence consumed in that process of duplication. In contrast, you¡¯ll find the other unaltered bite to be much more potent. See if you can tell the difference.¡±


    Archie could, but he wasn¡¯t sure if it was just because Aubergine had pointed it out beforehand.


    They continued around the lake. They spoke about their hometowns as they watched a heron stalk the swampy shore. They recalled their favorite meals as birds chirped a backing tune. Aubergine told stories about his days as a student and then a Head Chef as squirrels danced and played in a flowery meadow.


    Every so often, Archie looked up at the mesa that held Ambrosia City, admiring all the different angles of the cerulean keep that poked over the ridgeline. The summer sun warmed his skin, and the conversation warmed his spirit. His shoulders relaxed. City speed and rocky carriage rides became things of the past. He breathed easily, the crisp breeze hitting the drops of sweat in his hairline with an icy chill. After a couple of hours, they were back where they started, having completed an entire lap around the lake.


    Tricked into exercise.


    ¡°Five miles, see?¡± Aubergine said. ¡°Not so bad. The Head Chefs tasked me with making sure you¡¯re hungry for tonight¡¯s feast.¡±


    Aubergine laughed. Barley, drenched in sweat, didn¡¯t laugh back.


    ¡°Now, go ahead and wash up and put on your best clothes for tonight¡¯s feast. It will be one to remember!¡±


    On the way back, Archie managed to slip through the other students to Nori, who walked alone in front of the others.


    ¡°Hey, hi, Nori?¡± Archie jogged up beside her.


    Nori gave him an uninviting look.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Archie. We¡¯re uh¡ªwe¡¯re gonna be working together for Rowan.¡±


    Nori looked straight ahead.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you really got the chance to meet him. He¡¯s uh¡­it¡¯ll be¡ª¡±


    Nori turned back to Archie. ¡°Look, can we talk about this later?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ªsure.¡±


    She quickened her step, leaving Archie behind. He stopped walking, raising his hands in confusion.


    What the¡­


    An arm wrapped around Archie¡¯s shoulders, pushing him back into motion.


    ¡°Ooo, ooo. Struck out,¡± Oliver said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get another chance tonight¡­once we get you looking right¡­¡±


    Looking right didn¡¯t come easily for Archie.


    ¡°You¡¯re wearing this?!¡± Oliver asked, grabbing a giant white button-up shirt from Archie¡¯s trunk. Benedict struggled to contain his giggling. ¡°This is your best shirt? It¡¯s way too big! What is it, your dads?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Archie said. Benedict¡¯s composure broke and he roared with laughter. Archie snatched the shirt away. ¡°He gave it to me before I left!¡±


    ¡°Should have given you some proper shoulders to go with it,¡± Oliver said. ¡°Go on, put it on.¡±


    Archie put on the shirt and held his arms out to show it off. The fabric billowed and draped from his skinny body.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Oliver said, holding in a laugh.


    ¡°Whatever!¡± Archie snapped. ¡°We¡¯ll get our jackets soon and I¡¯ll just be wearing that.¡±


    ¡°You look like a cloud,¡± Barley said with a deep chuckle. The other two cackled and grabbed each other for support, thrilled that Barley had joined in.


    ¡°Barley!¡± Archie said. ¡°I expect that from those two. But you?¡±


    ¡°What? It¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Archie Archie Archie,¡± Benedict tried to contain his laughter. ¡°I have a vest you can use. It barely fits me, but it might be good for you. Maybe it can help contain the cloud.¡±


    The black vest fit tightly around Archie, hiding the loose fabric around his torso. The arms, however, still puffed out into little clouds.


    ¡°Well?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Hm, it¡¯s a little awkward, but it¡¯s an improvement. Now it looks like a stylistic choice rather than just something that doesn¡¯t fit. You just have to wear it right,¡± Benedict said.


    ¡°What do you mean, wear it right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know,¡± Oliver interrupted. ¡°When you wear it, don¡¯t say whatever you said to Nori earlier that made her leave you in the dust. That¡¯s how you do it right.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    When the first-years entered the great hall, they screamed with delight. Platters of delicious food lined the long tables from end to end. Quarters of stag and civets of hares and mounds of sugar plums and berry pies and all sorts of wonderful treats filled the hall with an aroma that could not be matched.


    Archie rushed to claim a large section of a bench, shooing away others in order to save room for Nori to sit beside him. When she entered, their eyes met again, but she did not approach. Instead, she wedged her way between two other students.


    Archie¡¯s worry started to turn into annoyance.


    ¡°Hello, first-years!¡± Aubergine¡¯s voice boomed through the hall. ¡°I hope none of you have snuck a bite in yet. I¡¯d like to get some words in. Before we begin, a round of applause to all our Head Chefs who have been in the kitchen all afternoon. And a special thanks to Head Chef Quince for letting us use his own personal inventory of amazingly grown ingredients.¡±


    The students¡¯ claps echoed through the hall.


    ¡°After my speech, you¡¯ll be free to help yourself to as much food as you¡¯d like. As for the drinks¡­¡±


    Oliver offered a ¡°woo!¡± that no one else joined in on.


    ¡°Head Chef Colby will be coming around to serve one cup of wine to each of you.¡± Some students cheered. ¡°Just the one cup,¡± Aubergine said with a playfully stern wag of the finger. ¡°I¡¯m sure you are hungry, so I¡¯ll make this speech short. When I see you all, I see such a bright future. It reminds me of¡­¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The students salivated at the food as Aubergine spent several minutes giving a definitively not short speech that covered his time as a student, his experience as a headmaster, and an odd tangent about a clam he had found in the lake last week that never quite wrapped up to any meaningful point. Finally, the topic turned to something of Archie¡¯s interest.


    ¡°Now I would like to draw everyone¡¯s attention to the little bowls of orange pudding that you see scattered about the tables. Tomorrow, you will receive your jackets, but in order for the kalypo fibers to change, your essence must first be ¡®colored.¡¯ If you would, please go ahead and eat the pudding. That is what will prompt the color change.¡±


    Archie snatched a bowl before anyone else could. Colored kalypo cloth was the undeniable designation of a Chef. In just a few bites, Archie¡¯s potential would be recognizable for all the world to see. He spooned the pudding into his mouth, hardly swallowing the previous bite before adding another. There was a slight medicinal taste to the pudding, but Archie didn¡¯t mind. It could have been the worst taste in the world and Archie still would¡¯ve finished before anyone else got halfway through.


    Once he was satisfied that everyone had eaten the pudding, Aubergine opened the floodgates. ¡°Let us feast!¡±


    The students broke into a hungry frenzy. Archie snatched a giant crab leg before anyone else could get to it. With one hand hovering over the crab leg to prevent anyone else from stealing it, Archie used his other hand to scoop a big heap of creamy pasta onto his plate.


    By the time Colby came around with the wine, the crab leg was in splinters and a second helping of pasta was down Archie¡¯s throat. He gulped down the wine. Sweet and airy with a touch of sour.


    OIiver snuck from one end of the table to the other, holding up a freshly emptied cup for Head Chef Colby to fill.


    ¡°Now, I swear I¡¯ve already given you wine,¡± Colby said. ¡°When you were sitting right over there.¡±


    ¡°No, see, there¡¯s another guy around here that looks like me. He¡¯s uh¡­where¡¯d he go? Must be in the bathroom.¡±


    ¡°You know what?¡± Colby leaned down and whispered. ¡°I think you¡¯re right. Here. But it¡¯s good wine, so make sure you drink every last drop.¡± He filled the cup with a grin. Oliver considered its contents carefully before taking a sip.


    The students moved around the hall in a drunken haze, taking little bites and admiring all of the different food. Archie saw a spot next to Nori clear and ran to take it. When he sat, she looked at him with a soft expression and a sigh. Weariness, not annoyance.


    Archie, on the other hand, was annoyed.


    ¡°Hey, you keep avoiding me.¡± His voice came out harsher than he intended. ¡°Don¡¯t you think you should, I don¡¯t know, thank me?¡±


    Her weariness flipped to disbelief. She assessed Archie with a gaze so steely that it could cut through his vest. ¡°Thank you? For what?¡±


    ¡°I saved you from whatever that was during the ceremony. You¡ªyou were stuck between Prince Waldorf and¡­your dad? Whoever it was, you wanted neither of them. You looked at me for help. I convinced Rowan to sponsor you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well thaaaank you.¡± She gave him a piercing stare, but couldn¡¯t hold it long. She looked down at her food. Her walls cracked. Her lip trembled. Her eyes watered. Her sudden vulnerability washed away Archie¡¯s impatience.


    Archie looked at her with softer eyes. She hadn¡¯t eaten much. She hadn¡¯t touched her wine. Her blue gown fit her worse than Archie¡¯s shirt fit him¡ªit clearly wasn¡¯t hers. No one around them seemed to pay her much mind. No one else was from Uroko. She sat in a room with nearly twenty kids her age, but she was alone.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Archie said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ve just¡­I¡¯ve just been eager to talk to you. We¡¯re going to be working together. And Rowan told me to tell you some things.¡±


    Nori turned her face away as if it would prevent Archie from seeing her wipe her tears. A sniffle. Then she looked at Archie, all business except for her pursed lips and the quivering voice she couldn¡¯t overcome.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s been a¡­tough couple of days. What did Mr. Rowan wish to convey?¡±


    Archie felt bad enough for her not to make fun of the overly formal tone of her statement.


    ¡°He¡ªuh. Well, you know we¡¯re supposed to work for him on Fridays and Saturdays.¡± Archie paused, considering his next words very carefully. She didn¡¯t need to know about the gold he owed. Not yet. She had enough going on. ¡°He¡¯ll come get us tomorrow. And he said we can have our Saturdays to ourselves.¡±


    ¡°So what are we supposed to do on Saturdays?¡±


    As Archie stalled to think of an answer, he grabbed a noodle that dangled off a nearby serving platter. He kept pulling, realizing the entire heap of pasta was just the one noodle. ¡°I guess just¡­you know. Relax. Take it easy.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡± They sat in an awkward silence that Nori broke with a bashful voice. ¡°So¡­what are you going to do to relax?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think¡ªuh. I think I¡¯ll get a job.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well¡ª¡±


    She stopped and looked at her wine. A drop crawled up onto the lip of the cup and then separated, floating up into the air. Archie watched with her as the rest of the wine floated up in a big pale green blob.


    Then the chaos started.


    Someone screamed.


    Archie jumped to his feet and looked for the source of the scream. Oliver floated upside down, drifting up and grabbing Cress¡¯s arm to stay tethered to the ground.


    ¡°Help me!¡± he screamed.


    Cress¡¯s heels started to leave the ground. ¡°You¡¯re on your own!¡± she said as she let go of Oliver.


    ¡°Cress!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a ceiling, you¡¯ll be fine!¡±


    ¡°Cress!¡± The hall erupted with laughter. Even Nori laughed. Oliver floated up and up, narrowly missing a chandelier before bouncing off the ceiling. ¡°Creeeeeess!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want me to do now, you¡¯re way too fa¡ª¡± Cress looked down at her own feet with alarm. They had left the ground. She screamed with a combination of fear and excitement as she rose. Unlike Oliver, she embraced her newfound floatiness, tucking her knees to do a flip.


    Then Blanche started to float. Benedict jumped after her, but he never came back down.


    Sutton latched onto Barley, but the pair soon rose to join the others.


    One by one, the students floated up to the ceiling.


    Archie felt his stomach rise up to his throat. The feeling of water surrounded him, suspending him. He looked down at Nori, who stood ten feet below.


    ¡°Oh¡ªoh no, no, no,¡± he stammered. He still held onto the noodle that now trailed like the string to a balloon. Archie hit the ceiling with a soft bounce. He looked around at his fellow students. Some of them adjusted to their reversed gravity, bouncing and dancing on the ceiling. Others curled into balls, paralyzed with fear. Below, only the laughing Head Chefs and Nori remained.


    ¡°Hm, barely an improvement,¡± Head Chef Anise noted. From above, Archie could see the hunch in her back as her head rested too far forward.


    Aubergine, still seated, laughed. ¡°Moondrop wine,¡± he explained. ¡°A very valuable substance, but it comes with quite a few difficulties. It lessens the effects of gravity. So much so that the wine itself will float off into the sky if it isn¡¯t contained. And even then, if the container isn¡¯t heavy enough, as it would appear none of you are, that container will also float.¡±


    Another chorus of laughter came from the staff.


    ¡°Head Chef Anise has been working on a solution that can be added to moondrop wine to temporarily negate its effects to make it easier for transport. This particular version lasted¡­¡±


    ¡°Two hours,¡± Anise interjected. ¡°And I do want to thank all of you for being valuable test subjects. I have very little data on its effects after consumption, so this will be most helpful.¡±


    ¡°When does it wear off?¡± Oliver shouted.


    Colby answered with a grin. ¡°I poured enough to last about an hour. So for you, I guess that¡¯ll be two hours.¡±


    Anise set down a pitcher of murky brown liquid. ¡°A sip of this should counteract it. Shame, it¡¯s all the way down here.¡±


    ¡°What! Comon! Hey, Nori? Nori! Do something,¡± Oliver pleaded.


    Nori beamed as she laughed up at her classmates. Her smile, beautiful and sparkling, had finally escaped its tormented cage.


    ¡°Nori,¡± Archie called out. ¡°Pull me down.¡± He wiggled the noodle in his hand, the other end dangling a few feet above Nori¡¯s head.


    She covered her mouth in a failed attempt to contain her giggling. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself and stepped up onto the bench, reaching up and giving the noodle the faintest of pulls.


    ¡°It¡¯ll break,¡± she said.


    Archie searched the room for another solution. A broom, five times too small. Maybe he could jump off the ceiling to grab it? He looked to the Head Chefs. They all laughed except for Aubergine, who wore a knowing, closed-lip smile and tapped a seed repeatedly against the table.


    That¡¯s it!


    ¡°Nori! We can make it stronger!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It has essence, right? We can convert it into strength. If a noodle can pull a tramcar, surely it could pull me.¡±


    Archie looked to Aubergine, whose smile had grown, his pearly white teeth shining in contrast to his tan skin.


    I¡¯m right!


    ¡°Archie, I don¡¯t know how.¡±


    ¡°But you have to try. Come on, we¡¯ll do it together.¡±


    Archie focused his mind into a singular thought. He envisioned the noodle turning into a rope. Sturdy. Unbreaking. Nothing.


    A surging sensation traveled from Nori¡¯s hands up the noodle. Even without pulling, Archie could tell something had changed.


    She¡¯s done it.


    The sensation felt to his hands like a foreign word feels to an ear. Another surge came from Nori. This time it felt familiar. He knew the pronunciation. He recreated the sensation in his mind and something invisible moved through him and into the noodle.


    It worked.


    Nori knew it, too. She pulled. The noodle held strong. Nori pulled him down and took his hand, yanking it down so that he could grab the table for weight.


    ¡°Stay there,¡± she said. She grabbed the pitcher and gave it to Archie.


    Archie started to raise the pitcher to his lips but stopped. ¡°Hold on,¡± he said. ¡°We have to get the others first. Let me up slow.¡±


    He put the noodle back in Nori¡¯s hand and grabbed the end. She used both hands to feed the noodle up, letting Archie rise like a kite. Once Archie reached the ceiling, Nori jumped onto the table and walked across it, dragging him from one classmate to the next. One by one, they took a sip from the pitcher and slowly sank back down to the ground.


    Finally, just Archie and Oliver remained. Archie looked into the pitcher.


    ¡°Uh oh. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough for both of us,¡± he said.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Oliver asked.


    ¡°Yeah, I probably should drink first and then give you the rest.¡±


    ¡°Wait, Archie!¡±


    Archie drank from the pitcher. He felt a weight drop into his stomach and the spaces between his bones condense. Just as he started to sink, he handed the pitcher up to Oliver and then hovered down. His feet touched the ground and the returning gravity settled his stomach.


    Oliver drank desperately and shook the empty pitcher. A moment passed, but still he floated, pinned to the ceiling.


    ¡°Hey! There wasn¡¯t enough!¡±


    The students laughed and went back to eating. Archie shrugged up at Oliver.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have double dipped!¡±


    For the next hour, as everyone got back to eating and Oliver hurled insults from above, Archie ate and laughed with Nori, who seemed to have forgotten about her bad week.

 Chapter 12 - The Orange Jacket

    Part II - The Family Name


    The next morning, while the older students slept, the first-years gathered in the great hall for their jackets and an early breakfast. Archie¡¯s excitement caused him to toss and turn through the night until the softest light coming through the window gave him an excuse to get up. He wandered around the lower building for a while, marveling at the kitchenware. He peeked out the window and saw someone jogging around the lake.


    Finally, once more students woke up, they made their way up to the great hall. Archie looked for Nori but didn¡¯t find her. Instead, he hovered awkwardly around Oliver, hoping to draft off the boy¡¯s natural charisma in order to make new friends. After a few fruitless minutes, a much-needed jolt of energy dashed into the room.


    ¡°Who¡¯s ready to be a Chef?!¡± Aubergine called out as he jogged in from the kitchen. Each step sent a drizzle of sweat from his shirt onto the stone floor. ¡°Let me just wash up real quick and I¡¯ll grab your jackets.¡±


    Aubergine jogged through the great hall and out toward his quarters, giving little nods and hellos to the students as he passed.


    Archie wished the headmaster would run faster. Archie had waited for this moment for years. As a kid, his favorite shirt was a bright orange one that had fake buttons sewn onto it to make it look like his parents¡¯ jackets. He¡¯d wear it when his parents let him cook, although since they never had food to waste, that wasn¡¯t as often as he would have liked. During lean months, he¡¯d go out to a swampy ditch to make mudpies and demanded that the other kids call him ¡°Chef Kent.¡±


    Several nervous minutes passed before Aubergine finally returned in his red jacket, carrying a stack of sand-colored, unaltered kalypo jackets.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see here.¡± Aubergine stopped at one of the long tables, setting out stacks of jackets by size. ¡°We should have one in everyone¡¯s size. Small ones down there, big ones here.¡±


    Aubergine set the last stack of jackets down near Barley, who grabbed one and raised it to his chest. The sleeves barely reached his elbows and the lower hem rested near his bottom rib. It would never fit as a jacket, but it¡¯d make a decent bib.


    Aubergine made a popping sound with his lips. ¡°Alright, big ones down there, small ones here.¡±


    Barley set the jacket back down, revealing orange fibers where his hands had touched. This color faded as Archie¡¯s excitement intensified. He scrambled forward, pushing someone else aside. He grabbed from two stacks, comparing their sizes and making everyone else wait before putting one back. He stepped away to savor the moment, holding the jacket up high.


    Color spread from his hands to the rest of the jacket, turning it into an orange that was more autumn leaf than pumpkin. Archie slipped into it, pulling the overlapping flap across his chest and clicking the single line of buttons that went down the side of his ribs. Archie adjusted the jacket and smiled as it turned into a uniform orange. A perfect fit¡ªalthough a little hot for the summer. He rolled up the sleeves and secured them in place with a button.


    He didn¡¯t watch anyone else grab their jackets. He was too busy looking down at his own. He thought back to the orange shirt of his childhood and the way he¡¯d always put on his father¡¯s jacket and imagine it changing colors.


    This was it. His dream. Only a couple of advancement stripes separated his orange jacket from his parents¡¯. And even while proud of his orange, he thought of how he¡¯d wear yellow and green and red and white. All the colors that he would achieve. He¡¯d be the first Kent in three generations to wear the white jacket. He just knew it.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Aubergine said to them all. ¡°You¡¯re officially Chefs.¡±


    The students laughed and celebrated as they donned their jackets. Nori still had not shown up. Archie grabbed a small jacket, holding onto it for her. The other students went to the main kitchen to make their breakfasts, grinning and laughing and ¡°yes Chef-ing¡± each other as they celebrated their new identities. Archie waited alone for Nori as the spare jackets were taken away.


    Cress returned with a spare plate for Archie, and Akando joined them, turning the conversation onto their homeland of Kuutsu Nuna.


    ¡°So¡­the Kuutsu is like an invisible herd of buffalo?¡± Archie asked the pair.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know if invisible is exactly right. They¡¯re like¡­¡± Cress hesitated.


    ¡°Unseen,¡± Akando finished.


    ¡°Yeah, unseen.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Archie said. ¡°What¡¯s the difference between invisible and unseen?¡±


    ¡°To see an invisible thing, it must be made visible,¡± Akando explained. ¡°That is a change. We do not change the Kuutsu.¡±


    Cress continued. ¡°If the Kuutsu are unseen, it is us that must change to see them. It¡¯s like¡­a big thing. The Kuutsu are godly. They cannot be changed.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, can¡¯t be changed?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t move them,¡± Akando said. ¡°You can¡¯t stop them. They have followed the same path since the dawn of time. Time is the only force that can best them.¡±


    ¡°So in Kuutsu Nuna,¡± Cress said, ¡°all of our towns are built around the migration of the Kuutsu but not in their way. They follow the same migration path every year. If you were to build a town in their path, they wouldn¡¯t change their pattern. They would simply trample your town back into dust. So we build around them.¡±


    ¡°They cannot be changed,¡± Akando reiterated.


    ¡°So how do you¡­see¡­them?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°There is an herb,¡± Akando answered. ¡°Sunagrass. Suna, meaning seeing. It grows where the hair of the Kuutsu falls. In a sacred ritual, we smoke this sunagrass and it allows us to see for a time.¡±


    ¡°It is a rite of adulthood to spend a summer following the Kuutsu,¡± Cress said. ¡°You aren¡¯t considered an adult until you¡¯ve done it. So technically, Akando and I are talking to a child.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Archie mimicked a frown. Cress laughed.


    ¡°There is a tribe that follows the Kuutsu year-round,¡± Akando said. ¡°They collect the dead Kuutsu. It is only when the Kuutsu die that they can be changed. We celebrate them by ensuring nothing of their bodies go to waste. We make hides, tools¡ª¡±


    ¡°And the best damn brisket in the world,¡± Cress added.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Akando, a hint of laughter slipping into his steely voice. ¡°The best damn brisket in the world. Cress and I were chosen to come to the Academy and apprentice at Kuutsu Kaana.¡±


    ¡°We receive shipments of Kuutsu meat and prepare it for the people of Ambrosia City. It¡¯s our way of spreading our culture.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± Archie said. As a child, Archie¡¯s world extended about ten miles around Sain, and occasionally another ten or so for his occasional visits to Ambrosia City. The thought of a world beyond that excited him. For a brief, flickering moment, he daydreamed not of being Chef Kent of Sain, but of exploring the world. But then Petrichor made its way back in his mind, bringing along a little pang of guilt that he had dreamt of anything else, even if only for a moment.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a lot more to the story of the Kuutsu whenever you want it,¡± Cress said. ¡°And maybe in the summer you can go follow the Kuutsu. If you¡¯re ready to stop being a kid. I make the ceremonial smoke with a¡­little something extra.¡± She laughed and got up to leave.


    Akando shook his head in lighthearted disapproval, rising with Cress.


    Just as they left, Nori sat down with a plate of eggs.


    ¡°We got our jackets?¡± she asked as she looked around at the other students. Her loose-fitting white long-sleeved shirt and tight-fitting leather pants made her stand out in the crowd of orange jackets. She looked at Archie as she spooned eggs into her mouth. ¡°Yours looks good on you.¡±


    Archie stared at her, wondering how she could seem more preoccupied with her food than the unknown state of her jacket.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know where yours is?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Nori chewed through a piece of bread. ¡°I¡¯m sure it''s around here somewhere.¡±


    Archie had put her jacket on the bench next to him. He grabbed it and tossed it in a heap onto the table.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Nori seemed pleased but hardly thankful. ¡°You held onto it for me. Thanks.¡±


    She picked it up just to fold it with one hand, setting it back down on the table and taking another bite.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to put it on?¡±


    ¡°After breakfast, sure.¡±


    Archie couldn¡¯t believe it. For years, he had fantasized about this day. For Nori, it wasn¡¯t even as important as breakfast.


    Nori noticed Archie¡¯s confusion. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I mean¡ªit¡ªit¡¯s¡­¡± Archie struggled to put such a fundamental truth into words. ¡°It¡¯s a big deal. Getting a jacket.¡±


    Nori watched him as if expecting him to say something to strengthen his point. When he didn¡¯t, she raised her eyebrows and took another bite. ¡°I guess. It¡¯s just an orange jacket.¡±


    The words slapped Archie across the face, sending him into a momentary daze. Nori continued eating in blissful ignorance.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Archie sneered. ¡°It just means that you¡¯re a Chef. You know, just like one in every what¡­one, two thousand people? How unexceptional.¡±


    Nori leaned back, stiffening her neck in an exaggerated movement. ¡°Saaaaah-ree.¡± She returned to eating with a nonchalance that matched her tone. ¡°Being a Chef is cool, yeah. But like, being an Orange Jacket Chef is whatever. It¡¯s¡­the bare minimum.¡±


    Another slap.


    ¡°My parents are Orange Jackets.¡±


    Nori scrunched up her face in momentary confusion. ¡°I thought you said you were from some big family of Chefs.¡±


    Slap slap.


    ¡°They dropped out of the Academy when my grandfather died.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Sorry. But I mean, they could have still tested for a higher rank. Was your grandfather a Chef? What rank was he?¡±


    Archie sucked on his teeth. He knew little of his grandfather. Arty had never been in the mood to talk about him. Archie only knew two things about the man¡ªhe graduated from the Academy still an Orange Jacket and he started the long, slow process of turning Sain into a ghost town by ruining the area with magically infused salt.


    Archie had to force the word out of his mouth. ¡°Orange. But his father was a White Jacket.¡±


    Nori shrugged. ¡°Oh. Okay. I can see why it¡¯s a big deal to you, then.¡±


    Slap slap slap.


    ¡°So what, your family is just full of White Jackets, then?¡±


    Nori spoke through her full mouth. ¡°My dad¡¯s a White Jacket. My mom¡¯s a Black Jacket, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll ever let her be a White Jacket. Not that she¡¯s not good enough. And I have some other Black Jacket cousins. I guess that¡¯s why it¡¯s not a big deal to me. I¡¯ve known since I was three that I was going to get an orange jacket. It¡¯s the colors that come after that matter.¡±


    Archie exhaled through his nose. ¡°You manifested at three years old?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. When did you?¡±


    ¡°Last week,¡± Archie said flatly.


    Nori nearly spit out her food as she contained a laugh. Archie glared at her as she coughed.


    Slap slap slap slap.


    ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s just¡­¡± She cleared her throat and swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s dramatic. You must have been nervous.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Archie spoke with the accumulated bitterness of so many failed festivals that had ended with him crying. ¡°A little nervous. You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to go your whole life not knowing if you¡¯d be a Chef or not.¡±


    Nori seemed unbothered.


    ¡°You mean your whole life so far. You get to go the rest of it knowing, so that¡¯s nice. And since your parents are just Orange Jackets, it¡¯ll be easy to make them proud. At least you have that going for you. I¡¯ve already disappointed them by staying here. They¡¯d have me killed if I stalled out anywhere before a Black Jacket.¡±


    Just Orange Jackets.


    Slap slap slap slap slap.


    Archie embraced his rising bitterness and used it to sharpen his voice into a point at Nori. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s nice to have all the pressure of the family name riding on me. Otherwise I might have become an entitled brat and show up late just to have someone else hand me my jacket.¡±


    Nori seemed bothered.


    She set down her fork, took a deep breath, and looked Archie in the eyes. ¡°Yes, Archie, you¡¯re the only one with problems. Tell you what, at the end of the school year, when they give me my yellow jacket, I¡¯ll be sure to be on time. Try not to drop out by then.¡±


    Knockout punch.


    Archie jumped up and stormed off. He wanted nothing to do with Nori, spoiled brat that she was, but only managed to get two steps away before the cruel irony of destiny strode through the door.


    ¡°Archie!¡± Rowan said as he entered the great hall. ¡°And you must be Nori. I¡¯m Rowan. I hope you two are ready to spend the year together!¡±

 Chapter 13 - The Gift

    Of all the wonderful restaurants that Archie had seen, The Gift was certainly not one of them.


    Rowan led them on a long walk down the Trunk, commenting on the countless statues of Ambrosia that they passed as Archie begged to take the tram. They made their way all the way down to the Roots, navigating its winding alleyways until finally arriving at a row of houses.


    ¡°And here we are,¡± Rowan said, pointing at one of the homes. It was a small, rectangular building jammed between two other small, rectangular buildings that were jammed between two other small, rectangular buildings and so on and so on. But while the rest were sheer walls of white stone brick with plain windows, this one had character.


    From the street below, the tops of plants and small trees could be seen on the rooftop. Vines stretched from inside the windows and over the walls, making them more green than white. There were no drapes on the ground floor windows. Instead, they offered an open view to a serving room stuffed with tables. In the back of the room, a half-wall separated the dining area from a modest kitchen.


    Usually, restaurants advertised their rank¡ªparticularly high ranks¡ªwith large signs that protruded into the street. But Rowan, despite owning one of the hundred highest ranked restaurants in the world, opted for something smaller.


    A small plaque, just a few inches wide, had been bolted into the outside wall near the door. Its black background denoted its rank as a Black Jacket Restaurant, the gold etching on it reading, The Gift.


    The ¡®closed¡¯ sign that hung above it was bigger.


    ¡°Normally I¡¯ll ask you two to help me out during the afternoons,¡± Rowan said as he led them inside and spun around. He had the natural showmanship and charm of a tour guide. He gestured widely with his hands, clapping a closed fist to an open palm to emphasize his points. ¡°It¡¯s when I open the doors to everyone. I spend the afternoon cooking and serving and meeting new people. Sometimes, I find someone interesting and invite them to come back for a private dinner that night. I¡¯ll handle those myselves.¡±


    Archie would have expected a Black Jacket Restaurant to have priceless artwork hanging on its walls. But The Gift had a map of Ambrosia that had been made almost unrecognizable by countless ink blotches and pins.


    Archie would have expected a Red Jacket Restaurant to have a masterclass kitchen. Even a Purple Jacket Restaurant would be stocked with some state-of-the-art stove. But beyond its little half-wall partition, The Gift had a simple setup with room for maybe three Chefs, the oven unengraved, the stove ordinary, the cookware splotched with stains and age.


    Archie would have expected a Blue Jacket Restaurant to have mastered a sense of atmosphere. At least a Green Jacket Restaurant would have some ambiance. But The Gift seemed like street food with a roof over it.


    Archie would have expected a Yellow Jacket Restaurant to have new furniture. But The Gift had chairs that seemed ready to collapse and tables with splinters sticking out of the legs.


    Archie would have expected an Orange Jacket Restaurant to have ample seating. At least The Gift had that in abundance¡ªperhaps too much abundance. The chairs filled every gap between tables, having no rhyme or reason for their placement.


    ¡°You¡¯re impressed, I know,¡± Rowan said as he nodded. He laughed at the shock on Archie¡¯s face. Nori¡¯s tempered politeness and noble upbringing did everything they could to hide her disappointment. Rowan decided to poke at her composure. ¡°So Nori. How does this compare to your dad¡¯s place?¡±


    Nori¡¯s mouth stayed flat and thin, but her breath betrayed her. Little snorts of laughter came out of her nose, crescendoing until she could hold it no longer. She broke into a laughing smile. ¡°If my dad saw me cooking in a place like this, he¡¯d have a heart attack.¡± She laughed again, harder, pleased at her daydream. ¡°It¡¯s dreadful.¡±


    ¡°Nori!¡± Archie scolded.


    Rowan laughed and held out his hand for Archie to stop. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine. She¡¯s right. I¡¯ve known some Yellow Jackets that would be ashamed to call this place theirs. Chefs get it in their mind that presentation is everything. I get it, I was that way at my old restaurant.¡±


    ¡°What was your old restaurant?¡± Nori asked.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Rowan dismissed her with a wave. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have heard of it. But I was like a lot of Chefs. Rank obsessed. It worked out for me for a while.¡± He made a point of tugging at the collar of his black jacket. ¡°Until it didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Archie asked.


    Rowan scrunched his face into the same expression he had the last time Archie asked about the old restaurant. ¡°A story for another time. Long story short, I realized that food was more about the human connection than prestige. I didn¡¯t want to cook for reviews. I wanted to cook for people that deserved cooking for. So I opened The Gift. And of course, you can¡¯t get demoted, so I got to keep this fancy black jacket.¡±


    Rowan spurred them into motion with a clap and led them to the stairs. ¡°Come on, let me show you the rest.¡±


    As Rowan led them to the rooftops, Archie snuck a glance at the second floor¡ªa single room of chaos with a small bed tucked into the only space not occupied by potted plants or sacks of seeds or tables of books. A swarm of bees buzzed around the flowers near the open windows.


    The rooftop was much more organized. Rectangular planters with a variety of crops made rows to walk through. A small fruit tree, just a few feet tall, grew from a large square planter in the middle of the rooftop. Each thin branch bore a different fruit¡ªlemons, apples, plums, pears, oranges, all from the same tree. Archie counted over ten kinds of fruits before moving on to catch up with the others.


    The area must have only been twenty feet by thirty feet, but the wheat and corn and bushes obscured their surroundings, making Archie feel like he had stepped into a distant farmland. The plants muted the sounds of the city, replacing them with the gentle whooshing of leaves in the wind.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°I grow all kinds of stuff up here. Just a little bit of everything so that I can always make what I want. I have a meat guy¡ªa butcher up the street. I tried raising chickens up here once. I lasted two weeks. The clucking drove me crazy.¡± He laughed. ¡°First I could hear it when I slept. Then I could hear it while I cooked. Soon, I could hear it even when I was halfway up the Trunk.¡±


    He put a hand flat onto the soil. He smiled, satisfied with whatever he felt. ¡°I¡¯ve been traveling the world for these last twenty years. I like to bring back seeds from wherever I go. The memories of these places, their food¡ªthey hit me when I least expect it. Sometimes I have to have Khalyan barley, or a Labruscan artichoke, or a Kuutsan squash.¡±


    Archie imagined himself going from kingdom to kingdom with Rowan as his tour guide. ¡°Have you ever followed the Kuutsu?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. Twice. First time out of curiosity, second time because I was getting fat. You wouldn¡¯t believe how much weight you can lose walking across those plains for a summer.¡± They all laughed. ¡°That was one of the best experiences of my life. You two should do it sometime.¡±


    As long as I don¡¯t have to go with her.


    Archie entertained the daydream for a moment before wiping it clean and making room for the original daydream¡ªrestoring Petrichor and the Kent name. Everything else could wait.


    ¡°That sounds fun,¡± Nori said as she examined a flower. ¡°We used to go on vacations¡ªwell, my aunt would take me. My dad always had to work. We went to Khala and The Platter and Labrusca, but never Kuutsu Nuna.¡±


    ¡°Did you live with your dad on the main island?¡± Rowan asked.


    ¡°Yeah. How¡¯d you know he was on the main island?¡±


    ¡°Nori!¡± Rowan feigned disappointment. ¡°I said I¡¯ve been all around the world and you don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been to Shilkai?¡±


    Nori laughed. ¡°I guess that¡¯d be ridiculous. You probably saw me. My dad always made me wait tables.¡±


    Rowan grinned. ¡°Well, I went just a few years ago. I remember a teenage waitress that mocked me for ordering red wine with my fish.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it was mackerel or herring, you deserved it. Everything ends up tasting like metal when you have those with red wine.¡±


    They laughed.


    Jealousy flared up in Archie as he worried that the two had just developed some kind of inside joke that he would never be a part of. ¡°Shilkai?¡±


    Rowan¡¯s presence didn¡¯t stop Nori from displaying some of her snobbish mockery from earlier. ¡°I thought you were obsessed with this Chef stuff. You don¡¯t know the best restaurant in Uroko?¡±


    Archie felt uncultured, and feeling uncultured made him feel angry. ¡°I guess it¡¯s not as big of a deal as you think,¡± he chirped.


    Rowan scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s a pretty big deal. I¡¯d give Cafe Julienne the edge in terms of world fame, but it¡¯s up there. Think Petrichor at its peak.¡±


    The mention of Petrichor delighted Archie, putting wind back in his sails. ¡°Have you ever been to Petrichor?¡± he asked, hijacking the conversation.


    Rowan pulled in his lips and squinted. Archie tried to figure out if the man was annoyed or just trying to remember. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°But that was a long time ago. I should go back sometime.¡±


    Nori shot Archie an annoyed look.


    Rowan clapped them into motion again. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you two cooking. Either of you good with bread?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nori said.


    Archie frowned. He was just alright with bread, but he wasn¡¯t about to admit to being worse than Nori. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Great. You two can work together on it. Make a few loaves. There¡¯s some rye flour in the cabinet. Add some caraway seeds, too. Everything you need will be exactly where you¡¯d expect to find it. I can¡¯t tell you how, but when you open a cabinet expecting to see it, there it¡¯ll be.¡±


    Rowan laughed. Archie wondered if the man was having a laugh or if he had some kind of magic cabinet.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ll serve it with a little pottage. I¡¯ll pick some beans and onions while you two get started.¡±


    Pottage. At a Black Jacket Restaurant. Archie shook his head. As he descended to the kitchen with Nori, he caught another glimpse of Rowan¡¯s bedroom. A pair of squirrels were ransacking the room, digging around in blankets and bags.


    ¡°You can just take it easy. I can handle it,¡± Nori said as they stepped into the kitchen.


    Archie¡¯s temper flared. He took a deep breath to dissipate his anger, trying to find a diplomatic way to take Nori down a peg. ¡°I can handle it, too.¡±


    Nori rolled her eyes. She found the rye flour and measured out a cup into a bowl. ¡°Can you get the yeast?¡± she asked as she measured salt.


    Can YOU get the yeast?


    Archie sulked as he opened a cabinet, angry at himself for letting Nori take the lead. He found a stack of sealed jars of yeast and handed one to Nori.


    Nori measured some out and added it with a handful of caraway seeds. ¡°I need honey,¡± she said as she whisked.


    ¡°You need sugar,¡± Archie countered. ¡°And you can get it yourself.¡±


    Nori took a deep breath. ¡°Honey will add a little caramel flavor. And it¡¯ll help the color. It¡¯s a rye bread, it¡¯s better with honey.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a rye bread, it doesn¡¯t need the extra flavor.¡± Archie plopped a bag of sugar on the counter.


    They stared each other down. ¡°Make a couple of each,¡± Rowan said as he came down the stairs. ¡°We¡¯ll taste test.¡±


    Archie snatched one of the spare bowls away from Nori and started on his own loaf. They channeled their frustrations into their whisking, hardly listening to Rowan as he recounted his first time in Kuutsu Nuna. Their frustration continued into their kneading¡ªthey both would have overworked their dough if Rowan hadn¡¯t stopped them.


    Archie and Nori spent the rest of the morning cleaning dishes and wiping down tables while competing for Rowan¡¯s attention. Rowan let them bicker, letting nature run its course while he just minded the stew and put the dough in the oven.


    When the guests started arriving, Rowan traded duties, putting Archie and Nori on the stew while he sat down and talked to his guests. Rowan knew almost everyone that came through his doors, and when he didn¡¯t know someone, he didn¡¯t let them leave until he remembered their name.


    Nori went to retrieve the bread from the oven. ¡°Wait. Archie?¡±


    ¡°What?


    ¡°Which one is which?¡±


    They examined the loaves. Archie couldn¡¯t tell which one belonged to him, but he could tell which one had risen better. He pointed at it. ¡°This one¡¯s mine.¡±


    Nori realized his game. ¡°Uhhhh I don¡¯t think so. I think this one¡¯s yours.¡±


    They wasted no time in going to their mediator.


    ¡°Rowan!¡± Archie called out, interrupting Rowan¡¯s and a guest¡¯s conversation. ¡°Which loaf is which?¡±


    Rowan offered a half smile as he looked to the kitchen. ¡°Oh, I must have just thrown them in there without worrying about who made them.¡± He shrugged¡ªnot to say he didn¡¯t know. It was the shrug of a man that didn¡¯t care. ¡°I guess the competition is off.¡±


    He turned back to his conversation with a smug grin. Archie and Nori felt a little childish, but that didn¡¯t stop them from glaring at each other one last time as they each took a loaf and started cutting.

 Chapter 14 - Time for a J-O-B

    Archie had been in Ambrosia City for a matter of days and already, a debt of a hundred gold loomed over his head. His parents had kept him away from Petrichor¡¯s finances¡ªlikely to spare him the stress of watching the numbers dwindle¡ªso he had no real anchor point for one hundred gold. He just knew that it was a lot and that he needed to get it, otherwise Nori would get the boot.


    ¡­which wouldn¡¯t have been the worst thing, would it?


    For a brief moment, Archie considered not doing it. But as much as Nori got on his nerves, he had given his word to Rowan. And no one deserved Prince Waldorf.


    He had spent the night considering his options in the job market. As a Chef of the magical variety, Archie¡¯s resume included preventing a noodle from breaking. But as a regular cook, Archie spent years living in a restaurant and working on his culinary skills. He figured a job as a cook would suit him well. He donned his orange jacket, figuring it would make getting a job easy, and set out in the morning.


    He strolled down the street, thinking back to all of the restaurants and diners he had passed on his way in. Perhaps he¡¯d go see if¡ª


    A gloved hand yanked him back. Archie fell over onto the ground, an unpleasantly familiar face glaring down at him, spear lowered.


    ¡°Ow!¡± Archie yelped. ¡°Good morning to you too, Stop Him.¡±


    Stop Him accentuated his words by jutting the butt of his spear into Archie¡¯s side. ¡°Now I know you ain¡¯t coming down to MY¡±¡ªjut¡ª¡°post and just walking past ME¡±¡ªjut¡ª¡°without giving ME¡±¡ªjut¡ª¡°the food YOU promised.¡±


    ¡°I was busy!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you were busy?! Probably standing on your feet all day in the sun like me? Having to look out for threats? Having to look out for¡ª¡± he shoved the butt of the spear into Archie again. ¡°¡ªbrats!¡±


    ¡°Alright, I forgot, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯ll bring you something some other time.¡±


    ¡°Next week. Twice as much.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. Next week. Twice as much.¡±


    ¡°You best not forget. Now get out of here before I lose my cool.¡± Stop Him straightened up, breathing in deep. He looked dutifully down the road.


    Archie scratched his head and looked up at Stop Him. ¡°Hey, I have a question for you.¡±


    Stop Him grunted, keeping his eyes fixed and focused.


    ¡°You know where I could get a job as a cook?¡±


    Stop Him lost his composure, jumping at Archie. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯d know? And why would I tell you?! You gonna cook something for someone else but forget about ME?!¡±


    He shoved the butt of his spear forward. Archie grabbed it and pulled it down, nearly bringing Stop Him with it.


    Stop Him was about to continue the scuffle when a woman¡¯s cough caused him to snap to attention. ¡°M¡¯lady!¡± he nearly shouted at a middle-aged woman that stood before them.


    Archie spun around on the ground to face her. She looked down at him. Maybe it was just her red Chef¡¯s jacket, but somehow, Archie thought she would find a way to look down on him even if he were five feet taller.


    ¡°Guard. You there,¡± she said to Archie with the unmistakable air of superiority. ¡°Did I hear you correctly? You¡¯re looking for work?¡±


    ¡°Yea¡ªyes. M¡¯lady. Yes I am. I¡¯m a first-year student at the Academy,¡± Archie stood up, brushing off his prized jacket. The kalypo fibers had the wonderful ability to clean themselves over time¡ªsaving Chefs innumerable time after a day of cooking and spills¡ªbut Archie couldn¡¯t stand the thought of his jacket being dirty for even a second. ¡°I suppose you could tell from the jacket.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Come with me.¡± She walked through the gate without looking back. Archie followed. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would be legal not to. The woman looked up at a large clock built into the side of the keep.


    ¡°Nearly eleven o¡¯clock,¡± she noted. ¡°How late can you work?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªuh. I don¡¯t have any plans.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. You¡¯ll work until eight. Any longer than that and your skin will come off.¡±


    ¡°My¡ªuh, sorry. My skin?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be provided with two meals and given a break for each. Since you¡¯re a new student of the Academy, you won¡¯t be making a bad name for yourself. You won¡¯t be slacking off.¡±


    Archie hardly heard her as he marveled at the keep. The pale cerulean bricks seemed to glow in the morning light. The perfect brickwork, towering walls, and elaborate buttresses were like nothing Archie had ever experienced. Countless windows and balconies stuck out of the castle from the ground floor all the way up to the pointed tops of the towers. If he had to guess how many rooms were in the castle, Archie wouldn¡¯t know how many zeroes to add.


    ¡°Your work will match a certain standard. As such, you will be paid five silvers for the day.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Half a gold!


    Archie started doing the math in his head, blindly following the woman as they entered a side section of the castle and went through a large foyer.


    Five silver a day¡­that¡¯s a hundred days for fifty gold. Two hundred days for the hundred. If I work Saturdays and Sundays, that means I¡¯ll be able to pay back Nori¡¯s first year by¡­her third year.


    His shoulders sank. The woman continued, leaving no chance for negotiations. It wouldn¡¯t be enough, but for now, it¡¯d have to do.


    ¡°We have quite the backlog of work right now, so try not to be overwhelmed.¡±


    She opened a door to a narrow room with three massive basins of water and zero windows. Twenty stacks of plates, a mountain of bowls and serving trays, and a bucket of cutlery were stacked up on the counter.


    ¡°Our usual dishwasher fell ill last night, so dinner and breakfast remain¡­unwashed.¡± She spoke like just saying the word would dirty her. ¡°An initial rinse in this basin, then wash with soap in this one. Finally, dip it into this one to get the soap off and then set it on this counter. When the water is no longer warm or you can¡¯t see your hand in the first basin, empty all three and refill them.¡±


    For the first time, she let Archie speak. ¡°Any questions?¡±


    ¡°Um¡ªI thought I¡¯d be cooking.¡±


    The woman looked at Archie with an expressionless face. She held her hands together in silence. ¡°Our kitchen is at capacity. Besides, cooking? As a new student at the Academy? You¡¯d make half as much coin. No, this will do well for you.¡±


    She walked back through the doorway.


    ¡°There are always dishes, so there is always work. A servant will be by later with your lunch.¡±


    Before Archie could protest¡ªor even accept the job¡ªthe woman swung the door closed, leaving just him and the dishes.


    And so Archie began a war of attrition.


    He followed the woman¡¯s instructions dutifully. He figured she would know if he didn¡¯t. A dip into the first basin, wiping with a wiry sponge. A dip into the second, this time with the soap. A dip into the third, then set to dry.


    One down. One or two or three hundred to go.


    Fortunately, the plates came from a hungry bunch. With the exception of some of the serving trays, hardly a scrap remained. Some grease or oil or the occasional sauce, sure. But nothing solid to identify what royal food had graced these plates.


    By the end of the first hour, Archie understood the woman¡¯s comment about losing his skin. The hot water pruned his fingers, and the sponge seemed to become sharper and sharper with each wipe. He slowed down¡ªbut just a bit. The fear of the woman coming through the door spurred him on. Even when he stopped to take a breather every few minutes, he still held a plate over the sink just in case he needed to look busy.


    After over an hour, Archie took a moment to admire his work. Nearly a third of the dishes had been washed.


    And then the door opened.


    Archie panicked and grabbed a plate, not wanting to be caught not working. But instead of the harsh woman, the one standing in the doorway wore the well-pressed clothes of a servant and didn¡¯t seem likely to bite his head off.


    ¡°Was told to get you for lunch,¡± she squeaked. She took Archie down the hallway and into the servant¡¯s break room. Through another door, he could hear what sounded like a dozen Chefs running around the kitchen. He thought he spotted Hyssop and Juniper, two Chefs from his class, but he was still working to pair faces to names.


    The servant went into the kitchen and came back with two plates of food. A roast chicken, complete with adorning vegetables. Good eating for a servant. They ate in relative silence¡ªthe air in the room seemed too thick to penetrate with idle chatter.


    After lunch, Archie walked back down the hall. He figured that some grand dining room sat between the kitchen, servant room, and dishwashing room. He started to imagine its luxurious cushioned chairs and the artwork on the walls, but the daydream was cut short by the nightmare of the dishwashing room.


    Two servants had just finished setting down a new stack of dirty plates and left through the other door in a rush. Archie frowned and got back to work. A minute later, the servants came again with another stack each.


    ¡°What¡ª¡± Archie began.


    ¡°Lunch time,¡± a servant explained before rushing out again.


    Archie got to work. Fifteen minutes later, the servants returned with even more plates. Archie¡¯s mouth dropped.


    ¡°Second course,¡± they explained.


    ¡°Second? Of how many?¡±


    Archie received no answer. Instead, he received two more heaps of plates over the next thirty minutes. When a third stack came with the finality of ¡°that¡¯s dessert¡± from one of the servants, Archie stopped scrubbing and looked at the counter of dirty dishes. He felt like crying. The stack had grown since he had started.


    He thought about how he ended up scrubbing dishes. He thought of the Induction Ceremony. Nori, still a stranger, looking at him with desperation in her eyes. However thorny and unagreeable that girl had turned out to be, she didn¡¯t deserve whatever fate her father had cornered her with.


    As Archie worked for the next few hours, he tried to figure out what had been on each plate, but the lack of crumbs left him stumped. Instead, he imagined the scene in the dining hall. The royal family, a half dozen advisors, maybe a dozen more lords and ladies that were passing through the capitol, all laughing and chatting and eating their fill.


    As he ate his dinner, he tried to peek through the kitchen and into the dining room. No luck. Instead of seeing some grand setup, he only saw a large group of overworked Chefs of all ranks clawing at each other¡¯s throats as they struggled to get their meals out on time. Archie was glad the kitchen was too full for him. He hated the rushing, angry culture that had infested so many kitchens. Maybe it was just Petrichor¡¯s pitiful turnout, but he liked being able to chop vegetables a little slowly and letting sauces simmer a little longer.


    Archie scrubbed and scrubbed and his mind went blank as he scrubbed some more. Each hour of manual labor dulled his mind and sharpened the pains in his joints.


    Finally, the harsh woman returned. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s eight o¡¯clock,¡± she announced as she entered the room.


    Archie was elbow-deep in the sink. She smiled at that. Then she looked at the pile of dirty plates. Dinner had come and gone, and the plates came in as quickly as Archie could put them out.


    She nodded in approval.


    ¡°There seems to have been no increase in our backlog. Good job.¡± She dropped five silver coins into Archie¡¯s pruny hand.


    ¡°Thank you. Um, ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Is this amount of plates normal? I mean, do they really eat this much?¡±


    ¡°Prince Waldorf? Well, he had a couple of friends over,¡± she said in a matter-of-fact voice.


    ¡°Prince¡­Waldorf?¡±


    ¡°Yes. This is his section of the keep.¡±


    ¡°And there were just three of them?¡±


    She turned to leave. ¡°You may go now. Thank you for your work.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Archie looked back at the mound of plates in disbelief.


    ¡°There¡¯s always dishes, so there¡¯s always work,¡± she added.

 Chapter 15 - Dirt & Olive Branches

    Archie spent his final day before classes started by lounging around the lake as the soreness of a day of dishwashing set in. The next day, the first-years were instructed to take flower pots down to the fields for their first official class.


    Archie tried to use the elevator-noodle, imagining it expanding the same way he had imagined the noodle strengthening during the feast. But after a few fruitless plucks at the noodle, Archie and his roommates resigned to taking turns cranking the wheel to lower the elevator, an exercise that left them all out of breath by the time they reached Head Chef Quince out in the fields.


    ¡°Y¡¯all really should work on y¡¯all¡¯s fitness,¡± Quince said with his heavy southern Kuutsan accent. He wore a straw hat that blocked the sun but still squinted out of habit. Archie noted the double contraction of y¡¯all¡¯s. ¡°I should talk to Headmaster Aubergine about adding some runnin¡¯ to y¡¯all¡¯s coursework. Y¡¯all know he jogs every morning around the lake?¡±


    Archie wanted to complain about having heard enough about Aubergine¡¯s jogs, but he didn¡¯t he couldn¡¯t catch his breath enough to start.


    Quince took the entire class out into an old unused farmfield. Grass and weeds and thorny briars grew over the dirt, making it look less like a plot for farming and more like a patchy green blanket with brown holes.


    ¡°How would you describe this field?¡± he asked no one in particular.


    Silence. The pressure of answering the first question posed to them as official students kept their lips vacuum-sealed.


    ¡°You,¡± Quince said with a smile, relishing his ability to torture the nervous students.


    His finger picked out Barley, whose eyes widened. Archie could see Barley¡¯s neck muscles tense to keep his jaw shut. Quince raised his eyebrows in anticipation. They waited like that for a while.


    Finally, Barley answered. ¡°Flat. Big. Wild?¡± Each answer came out at a higher pitch like a deflating balloon.


    Quince shook his head. ¡°You.¡± This time he pointed at Oliver.


    ¡°I mean it¡¯s kind of a dump,¡± Oliver answered with no hesitation.


    Quince shook his head a little harder. ¡°You.¡± Nori.


    She thought for a moment. ¡°Uncared for?¡±


    Quince smiled. ¡°Uncared for,¡± he repeated thoughtfully. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Nori.¡± She fixed her posture and spoke with force, her proper upbringing showing in the way she carried herself.


    ¡°Nori. That was a very good answer, Nori.¡±


    Nori smiled from ear to ear.


    Archie frowned. Somehow, her victory was his loss.


    ¡°Uncared for. Unloved. Forgotten,¡± Quince said. ¡°How would that make y¡¯all feel?¡±


    The students exchanged looks.


    ¡°Are we supposed to answer that?¡± Oliver whispered.


    ¡°The soil wants to grow things. It¡¯s in its nature. If you could ask the soil what it wanted to do, it would answer, ¡®nourish.¡¯¡±


    Quince let them think in silence for a moment. ¡°A farmer knows how to use things like compost and mulch and manure and crop rotations to get the most out of their soil. You¡¯ll be learning these things too starting today.


    ¡°But a Chef. A Chef knows how to use essence. With the right skills, a Chef can grow in a day what a farmer grows in weeks A Chef can grow summer crops in the snow. A Chef can grow a lemon with enough juice to fill a bucket.


    ¡°But a Chef can only do these things by caring. So walk the field. Fill your flower pot with soil. But do so deliberately. And then, every morning this week, we will bring that flower pot outside into the sun, and we will care for it.¡±


    ¡°Are we supposed to plant anything in it?¡± Oliver asked.


    ¡°No. That will be next week. For now, the only thing I want you to plant is your essence.¡±


    ¡°So, how do we¡­do that?¡± Cress asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you already. You care for it. The first few times you use your essence are the hardest. You really just gotta feel it out. Right now, your bodies don¡¯t know what essence feels like. Don''t know what to look for. Once you find that feeling, you can start to use it.¡±


    Archie waited for further explanation. It never came.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take a week for most of you. We¡¯ll spend mornings out here,¡± Quince said. ¡°And then in the afternoons we¡¯ll get out of this heat and I¡¯ll teach you the more standard farming principles. We¡¯ll have to grab textbooks out of one of the closets.¡±


    The class groaned and dragged their feet as they walked off into the field to fill their pots.


    Archie looked for an advantage over Nori. He hurried over to Benedict. Blue Orchards had sponsored Benedict, so maybe he knew a little extra something about farming.


    ¡°Hey Benny. So, do you think there¡¯s like, a secret to this?¡±


    ¡°To¡­what?¡± Benedict asked.


    ¡°You know. Putting soil in the pot.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯d say the secret is to make sure the pot is right-side up so the soil doesn¡¯t fall out.¡±


    ¡°Funny.¡±


    Benedict grinned, then sighed. ¡°No, I don¡¯t know. I swear Blue Orchards just sponsored me because I¡¯m tall.¡±


    ¡°Why does that matter?¡±


    Benedict mimed reaching up and plucking a fruit.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    They sighed and looked around. Perhaps someone else had figured something else out.


    They spotted Julienne. Star student, amazing potential, Julienne. He scooped up soil with one hand and plopped it into the pot. Nothing special.


    Cress sat in the dirt and used both hands to scoop dirt into her pot. Nothing special.


    Oliver hacked at the dirt with the edge of his pot in order to fill it. Especially nothing special.


    Blanche bent over, placed her hand flat to the ground, and then moved on without grabbing any dirt.


    Special!


    They dashed over to Blanche, who seemed oblivious to anything but the dirt beneath her.


    ¡°Hey Blanche,¡± Archie said.


    ¡°Oh, hi Archie. Hi Benedict.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Hi¡ª¡± Archie started.


    ¡°Hi Blanche!¡± Benedict interrupted, looking at her like a lovesick puppy. She conceded an awkward smile and nodded at him.


    ¡°So uhh,¡± Archie started. ¡°So uhh¡ªwhat are¡ªI noticed that you¡ªyou know.¡±


    Blanche¡¯s eyebrows raised in anticipation of something coherent.


    Benedict tried to jump in, but did no better. ¡°Why¡ªuh¡ªwell, we were just over there, and¡ª¡±


    Blanche giggled. Archie cleared his throat and continued with a resolve to not seem as helpless as Benedict.


    ¡°Why did you not use that soil over there?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡­¡± Blanche¡¯s voice trailed off. She looked back thoughtfully at the previous spot. ¡°I don¡¯t know, actually. I just feel like¡­this spot¡­is better.¡± She laughed. ¡°It¡­¡± She seemed embarrassed to say it. ¡°It speaks to me?¡±


    Archie and Benedict looked at each other and nodded. Bingo. They bent simultaneously, scooping dirt into their pots.


    Once they cleared out, Nori, who had kept a watchful eye, took some of the same soil.


    After a nice morning lecture spent in the sun, the students returned their pots to their rooms, ate, and then rejoined Quince for an unpleasant afternoon lecture spent hovering over books.


    And that became their week. The students would kick around during the mornings, staring at their pots, putting their pots near the lake, raising their pots to the wind, looking for anything that might unlock the secret. On the third morning, Quince went from student to student, commenting on their plain pots of soil.


    ¡°Hm, not quite.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something there.¡±


    ¡°Keep at it.¡±


    And finally, to Blanche, ¡°yes! You¡¯ve got it exactly. Very impressive, Blanche, very impressive.¡±


    As Blanche walked away, Archie rushed over to her, arriving at the same time as Nori.


    ¡°Hi Blanche,¡± Archie said while giving Nori the side eye. ¡°So I was wondering¡­Um. Well. Yeah¡ªyeah, basically¡ª¡±


    Nori stared him down. ¡°I think he¡¯s trying to ask for help but is too embarrassed.¡±


    Blanche laughed. ¡°It¡¯s okay. What is it?¡±


    ¡°So, I got my soil from the same place as you¡ª¡± Archie said.


    ¡°Me too,¡± Nori interrupted.


    Archie gave her a dirty look and continued. ¡°But¡­well, you got a ¡®very impressive¡¯ and I got a ¡®you¡¯re getting close¡¯ and Nori got even worse.¡±


    ¡°Did not,¡± she protested. ¡°He said ¡®keep trying.¡¯ As in, keep doing what I¡¯m doing and I¡¯ll achieve great results. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Anyways,¡± Archie continued, ¡°I was wondering what you were doing differently.¡±


    ¡°Uhm, I don¡¯t know,¡± Blanche said. ¡°I mean, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Same thing as everyone else, right?¡± Archie looked at the rest of the class.


    Half of them sat cross-legged in the dirt, both hands holding their pot in their lap. Cress sang softly to her pot. Akando seemed to meditate with his. Oliver laid flat on his back, holding the pot to the sky with outstretched arms.


    ¡°Guessing,¡± Nori clarified.


    Blanche laughed. ¡°I guess I just¡­I thought about what Head Chef Quince said. About what the soil wants. Its nature.¡±


    ¡°And¡­then what?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just¡­felt something.¡± Blanche shrugged. ¡°Then Head Chef Quince came by and said I was doing it right.¡±


    Archie and Nori looked at each other and sighed. They were no closer to figuring things out. ¡°Thanks, Blanche,¡± they said in unison as they got up to leave.


    ¡°But¡­¡± Blanche said. ¡°I knew I was right before he told me. I could¡­tell that I was doing something. Like, the soil told me before Head Chef Quince did.¡±


    Archie¡¯s brain worked overtime all afternoon. He repeated Quince¡¯s and Blanche¡¯s statements back to himself, hoping to find a spark in the darkness of his ignorance. He thought of nothing else until he found himself eating dinner alone in the great hall.


    An olive landed on his plate. He looked up. Nori had just tossed the olive and now put a single chopstick down on Archie¡¯s plate.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Olive.¡± She took a breath. ¡°Branch.¡±


    Archie held the chopstick up. ¡°Branch?¡±


    ¡°Would you rather me get a dirty stick? It¡¯s a peace offering, just take it.¡±


    Archie sighed. He had been beaten. In their petty race to the bottom, he hadn¡¯t realized that the only way to win their fight was to be the first to rise above it. ¡°No. I¡­I appreciate the gesture.¡±


    ¡°We have to work together,¡± Nori explained. ¡°We should at least try to not hate each other.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize we hated each other,¡± Archie said with feigned surprise. He knew his sarcasm spat in the face of her attempted reconciliation, but he couldn¡¯t help himself.


    Nori tilted her head with impatience.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Archie conceded. ¡°You¡¯re right. I was¡­I¡¯m sensitive about some things, I guess. I said¡­I called you a brat. I shouldn¡¯t have done that. I don¡¯t know you. You¡¯ve clearly had a tough week and I shouldn¡¯t rush to make any judgments about you.¡±


    While Archie meant what he said, there was still a part of him that claimed victory for being the first one to launch such a substantial apology.


    ¡°Yeah. I said some things, too.¡± She sat down with her food. ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­well, you dream of running away your whole life. Turns out that doesn¡¯t make it easy.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s tough for anyone to leave their parents. Maybe even harder without their blessing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nori thought about it and nodded. ¡°Yeah. So, let¡¯s start fresh. We can work together on this soil thing. What¡¯ve you figured out?¡±


    ¡°Well.¡± Archie leaned back and sighed. ¡°I figured out that it¡¯s going to be a long time before I¡¯m good enough at magic to do anything cool.¡±


    Nori laughed. With the bias of his resentment gone, Archie noticed how charming her laugh was. There was a little lilting giggle to it. ¡°Well, it¡¯s like Head Chef Quince said. The first magic is the hardest. I¡¯ve had a lot of cousins go through the academies. They all started slow, but by the end of the year, they could do all kinds of stuff.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­the Harpers are fighters as much as we are cooks. So it depends on what you consider cool. I had one cousin that could descale a fish by swiping his hand across it. Another one¡ªthe best fighter¡ªhe can turn his hand into a lobster claw. Although maybe that was his second year.¡±


    Archie gravitated toward the second thing. ¡°Cool.¡± He clapped his fingers to his thumb repeatedly, imaging the claw. Nori laughed again. Archie smiled. ¡°So, yeah. The soil. Where are you at with it?¡±


    ¡°Ehhhh¡­about the same as you, I think. I¡¯ve felt a little something moving back and forth from me to the soil, but¡­I definitely don¡¯t have it yet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡ªthat¡ªuh, tingle. I got that too. I guess that¡¯s essence?¡± Archie looked at his fingertips. ¡°Now we just have to figure out how to use it.¡±


    Oliver sat down next to them with a plate of noodles five inches high. Archie¡¯s and Nori¡¯s raised eyebrows begged a question.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a lot,¡± Oliver answered. ¡°Turns out my sponsor hired me with the expectation that I would be good at cooking pasta. Why? Because I¡¯m from Labrusca. So I must know how to make pasta, right?. I don¡¯t know how to make pasta! I had to get Julienne to teach me over the weekend!¡±


    Archie had never seen Oliver so worked up. Typically the class clown, now the stressed student, rubbing his eye sockets and forgetting to breathe. Archie struggled to not laugh.


    ¡°At this rate, I¡¯m going to have to find a new sponsor next year,¡± Oliver complained. ¡°That is, if they don¡¯t find some way to boot me before then.¡±


    Archie idly grabbed at a noodle, pulling it from the pile.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, help yourself,¡± Oliver said, raising his hands in confused frustration.


    Nori brought them back to their original conversation. ¡°Okay, so how do we use our essence?¡±


    Oliver laughed. ¡°Thinking about your little pot of dirt, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Nori shot him a nasty look. ¡°Blanche is the only one that¡¯s made real progress. But even she doesn¡¯t know how she did it.¡±


    Oliver shrugged and repeated the line that had brought all of the students solace that week. ¡°The first bit of magic is the hardest. Nori, can you swim?¡±


    She looked back at him with a stone cold expression. ¡°I¡¯m from Uroko. You know, the place with all the islands? Of course I can swim.¡±


    Oliver took a deep, frustrated breath. ¡°Well, I¡¯m from Labrusca and I can¡¯t make a bowl of¡ªyou know what, nevermind. How do you teach someone how to swim? You tell them to kick their arms and legs, sure, but they¡¯re not gonna learn until you lower them into the water.¡±


    ¡°My parents just threw me in the water,¡± Nori said.


    ¡°How enlightening,¡± Oliver said. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to think about what the equivalent of that would be for this school. My point is¡­you can¡¯t be taught how to swim the butterfly stroke until you¡¯ve figured out the doggy paddle on your own. Some things have to be learned on your own, not taught.¡±


    Nori narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°So¡­you¡¯re not a complete idiot.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thanks. Think you can put that on a letter of recommendation while I go begging another restaurant to sponsor me?¡±


    Archie sat through the conversation with a daydreaming, thoughtful expression. When Nori looked at him, he snapped out of his trance with an idea.


    ¡°Pull this,¡± he said, dangling the noodle in front of Nori.


    She sighed again. ¡°Can you focus?¡±


    Archie wiggled the noodle. Nori blinked at him a few times before conceding and pulling the noodle. It broke in two.


    Archie nodded and pulled another noodle off Oliver¡¯s plate. He dangled it in front of Nori again.


    They stared at each other. Archie wiggled the noodle again. Oliver looked back and forth between the two as if they were crazy. Nori sighed and pulled the noodle¡ªharder this time. It broke.


    Archie took a third noodle and dangled it again. Nori¡¯s hands remained at her side.


    ¡°Last one,¡± Archie insisted.


    Nori pulled. The noodle remained intact. Nori yanked at it. Nothing. She yanked again. Nothing.


    Nori¡¯s mouth hung open. ¡°You figured something out,¡± she said.


    Archie grinned back. ¡°Where¡¯s Blanche?¡±

 Chapter 16 - Tell That to the Dirt

    ¡°Blanche!¡± Archie ran across the great hall to Blanche, Nori and Oliver trailing behind. ¡°Can I see your pot?¡±


    The nearby students exchanged confused looks. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you can just ask a girl that, Archie,¡± Cress said.


    ¡°What? No, it¡¯s¡ªthe soil!¡±


    ¡°Um¡­¡± Blanche brushed her brown bangs off her black eyebrows. ¡°It¡¯s in my room¡­let me¡­go¡­grab it, I guess.¡±


    Archie realized how overwhelming his excitement must have been and attempted to pivot into a cooler, relaxed persona. He failed to make the change subtle. ¡°Yeah, sure. Cool. Sounds good. I¡¯ll meet you down at the lounge in a bit.¡±


    Blanche offered an awkward smile and walked away.


    Cress offered Archie an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. ¡°Good save, Arch.¡±


    Archie sighed. Oliver chuckled. Nori did her best not to join him, trying to preserve her newfound peace with Archie.


    Archie waited for a while so that he wouldn¡¯t be awkwardly following Blanche, then set out for the lounge with a group of curious students in tow. Blanche waited with her pot, which she held out to Archie. He placed his palm flat on the soil, took a deep breath, and nodded.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, withdrawing his hand. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Blanche withdrew her pot and looked to the other students for an explanation. ¡°You''re welcome?¡±


    ¡°Soooo,¡± Nori said. ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you tomorrow in class. Or I won¡¯t¡­if it doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    That night, Archie spent an hour in his room with one hand flat against the soil in his pot as his roommate watched.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± Benedict asked.


    ¡°Blanche told him some secret or something,¡± Oliver explained.


    Benedict perked up. ¡°Blanche? Told him a secret? Who was it about?¡±


    ¡°It was about dirt,¡± Oliver said dismissively. ¡°Cool your eggs, Benny.¡±


    ¡°So¡­what¡¯d she tell you?¡± Benedict asked Archie.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what she told me,¡± he answered. His roommates leaned forward, waiting for the second part of a statement that never came. Archie just stared down at his pot of soil.


    Oliver leaned over to Benedict. ¡°He¡¯s gone crazy.¡±


    The next morning, Archie presented his pot to Quince out in the field. Quince looked at the dirt, then back up at Archie with a smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s it right there.¡±


    The students swarmed Archie, pushing Quince aside.


    ¡°How¡¯d you do it?¡± Benedict asked.


    ¡°What changed?¡± Oliver demanded.


    Nori pinched the back of Archie¡¯s arm. ¡°What¡¯d you do?¡±


    Archie offered a little triumphant laugh and looked into the clear sky.


    When was the last time the sun felt this good?


    He looked back at Nori. ¡°It was the noodle.¡±


    Her eyebrows raised, their arches propped up by her confusion.


    ¡°The noodle!¡± he repeated.


    ¡°Told you he¡¯s gone crazy,¡± Oliver muttered to Benedict.


    ¡°The. Noodle!¡±


    ¡°Okay, Archie,¡± Nori said, holding her hands up for him to stop. ¡°Saying ¡®the noodle¡¯ over and over isn¡¯t going to help me understand.¡±


    ¡°That night¡ªin the great hall¡ªwhen we drank the moondrop wine and you pulled me down with the noodle. To do that we had to make it stronger.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°You showed me how to do it!


    ¡°What? I didn¡¯t...¡±


    ¡°But you did.¡± Archie¡¯s words spilled out of him. ¡°Because you did it first. And then when you did it, I felt the change. And then I did it.¡±


    Nori grabbed Archie¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Can you¡­just, like, take a breath? And then start explaining things in a way that makes sense.¡±


    Archie obliged her. He made an exaggerated show of breathing in, his chest expanding. His words slowed down to a normal pace. His tone, however, retained his excitement.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°It¡¯s like¡­the Ambrosial essence has its own language. Or it is the language. And when you strengthened that noodle, I felt the essence change. That new way that it was put together¡­was like a word. And that word was ¡®strengthen the noodle.¡¯ So then I just repeated the word.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s smart, Archie.¡± Quince, having kept an ear open to the conversation, walked over to the group. ¡°Language,¡± he nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard it said that way.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So when I touched Blanche¡¯s pot¡ªsince we knew she was successful¡ªI just¡­listened for a word. And that word was slightly different than the word coming from my soil. So I added the missing part of the word to my soil.¡±


    ¡°There it is,¡± Quince said with pride. ¡°You¡¯re hearing the essence. The fact you can hear the difference is impressive. Some people¡­it¡¯s like having an ear for music. You can pick out the right notes just from hearing the song. But hearing the notes and being able to play them is very different.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not as good as Blanche¡¯s,¡± Archie conceded.


    Quince laughed. ¡°Blanche¡¯s soil is¡­well. She¡¯s exceptional. If she were a third-year, I¡¯d still be impressed. But she¡¯s not even a second-week. It¡¯s a touch of genius. A full-fledged symphony is in that there soil. You can pick out the notes, but you won¡¯t be able to play that symphony without practice. But, you have the tune already, and that¡¯s a great start.¡±


    Blanche smiled at her pot like a mother would smile at her baby. ¡°A symphony¡­¡± she said to herself.


    Oliver stomped straight through the happy moment, crudely sticking a finger into Archie¡¯s soil and then into his own. ¡°I can¡¯t tell the difference,¡± he said.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Archie complained as he pulled the pot away, shielding it from any other potential violators.


    ¡°Most of you won¡¯t be able to just yet,¡± Quince explained. ¡°But you can learn. We all have different natural affinities. To borrow Archie¡¯s language metaphor, essence sorta takes on a different accent depending on what it occupies. The more you expose yourself to that accent, the better you¡¯ll be able to understand it. That¡¯s where it starts. Understanding. Eventually, you can force the accent yourself. And then you can learn to sound like a natural.


    ¡°So Oliver, you can¡¯t understand the soil¡¯s accent. But you¡¯re probably a natural at some other accent. At the ceremony, when we looked for your affinity, we were looking for the things you could naturally understand already.


    ¡°You can still learn the soil''s accent. And you should. That way when you plant an apple seed, which has a different accent than your soil, you can teach them how to communicate with each other properly.¡±


    Quince started to walk away, muttering to himself, ¡°language, that¡¯s good. I¡¯mma use that.¡±


    Archie relished the spotlight. Everyone came over to touch his soil, to feel for a difference, to ask how he had figured it out. Meanwhile, Blanche¡ªwith her far superior soil¡ªwandered off toward the lake, preferring to keep to herself and her pot.


    The students touched Archie¡¯s soil, ran back to their own, then eagerly presented their pot to Quince.


    ¡°No change. Nope. Nothing.¡± Of the first ten students, only Nori seemed to have moved in the right direction. ¡°I told y¡¯all,¡± Quince said, ¡°not everyone has an ear for music. Some of you are going to have to learn your basic chords, first.¡±


    Once the more familiar students had taken turns with Archie¡¯s soil, Julienne approached, Yarrow following closely behind.


    ¡°Hi. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve formally met. I¡¯m Julienne.¡± The boy stuck out his hand. Archie shook it and took his first good look at Julienne¡¯s face.


    Dark, nearly black hair ribboned down in waves across his pale forehead. His cheeks were shallow with prominent cheekbones. His thin nose had a little bulge in the middle to give it shape. He had a sort of half-reptilian, half-fox beauty.


    ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Archie.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Yarrow,¡± the boy behind Julienne said. He didn¡¯t offer to shake hands and gave no indication that he had spent an entire day riding with Archie just a week earlier. Archie internalized a shrug and nodded back to Yarrow.


    ¡°Would you mind helping me out?¡± Julienne asked. He avoided eye contact and a slight air of frustration slipped out with his voice. ¡°Head Chef Quince said that I was good but¡­good¡¯s not good enough.¡±


    Something pained came out at the end, prompting Archie¡¯s pity.


    ¡°Sure.¡± He held his pot out.


    The awkwardness of the situation was not lost on Julienne. A nervous chuckle slipped out. He looked around uncomfortably before gently placing a hand on the soil. But then the look of awkwardness faded away, replaced by a look of curiosity.


    ¡°I liked what you said about language,¡± Julienne said. He kept his hand on the soil. Archie smelled his breath. Fruity. A hint of orange. ¡°Even just thinking about it that way¡ªof talking to the soil¡ªit helped. Did your dad teach you that?¡±


    ¡°No. He¡­My mom taught me how to cook, but that¡¯s it. The uh¡ªthe soil around where I come from isn¡¯t very good. We couldn¡¯t really grow much around the restaurant. We got our stuff from other places.¡±


    Julienne nodded. ¡°Sorry. Well, it looks like you¡¯re a natural at this. Maybe one day you can go home and¡­fix the soil?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be nice. Better Chefs have tried. Did your dad teach you any of this?¡± Archie asked, knowing the answer would certainly be yes. Someone named Julienne from the family that owns Cafe Julienne? That¡¯s not someone that got to play with bugs as a kid.


    ¡°No. That was my uncle, Julienne. Uncle Julienne.¡±


    ¡°Is your dad named Julienne, too?¡±


    Julienne laughed and shook his head. He looked down at the pot, his hand still planted on the soil. ¡°No. My family¡ªthey only name one person Julienne per generation. It¡¯s their way of choosing who inherits the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­I mean, not to put any pressure on you, but that¡¯s a lot of¡­pressure. How do they decide which baby to name Julienne?¡±


    Julienne offered a sad laugh. ¡°Yeah, it is a lot. But they don¡¯t name the baby Julienne.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they name their babies like anyone else¡­and once per generation, they pick the kid that¡¯s shown the most during the festivals and give them the name.¡±


    ¡°So wait¡­They changed your name? That¡¯s¡­crazy. How old were you?¡±


    ¡°Eleven.¡±


    Archie thought about what it would be like to stop being Archie. Would he still feel connected to his childhood memories? Would he feel pressured to live a new life? To change his personality? ¡°What¡¯s your real name?¡±


    ¡°Julienne.¡± He took a breath and smiled, taking his hand off the soil. ¡°I think I understand a bit better now, thanks.¡±


    Julienne walked away, replaced by Yarrow, who stuck his hand on the soil for a moment and squinted in feigned thought. ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± he said as he left and returned to Julienne.


    Archie watched Julienne for a while before setting back to his own pot. After an hour, Archie heard Quince congratulate Julienne¡¯s progress.


    But the sadness of their conversation didn¡¯t leave Archie. Julienne had spurred Archie to think profound, philosophical thoughts about the self and identity¡ªuntil Nori interrupted him. She ran up to him at the end of the day to compare soil.


    ¡°I think I caught up,¡± she cheered. Archie felt both pots. He hated to admit it, but she had.


    ¡°Yeah, almost. It¡¯s close,¡± he conceded, keeping the full truth of her success to himself.


    ¡°What do you mean? They¡¯re identical! Don¡¯t be sour just because¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªI¡¯m not¡ª¡± Archie fired back. But then he thought of the olive branch and took a deep breath. ¡°Sorry. Good job.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I know it can be hard to witness such skill.¡± Nori tilted her face up to Archie¡¯s, her dark brown eyes staring into his blue ones, her little mischievous smile goading him to start a fight.


    Archie shook his head and laughed. He wouldn¡¯t play her game. He knew he¡¯d lose.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go eat to celebrate your resounding success.¡±

 Chapter 17 - Blueberries

    ¡°You¡¯re banned from The Gift.¡±


    Archie and Nori looked at each other, then back to Rowan. ¡°Banned?¡± they asked in unison.


    ¡°I told you that I opened The Gift to cook for people that deserved cooking for. You two need to ask yourselves¡­do you deserve to be cooked with?¡±


    Archie waited for Rowan to laugh. To reveal that it was all a joke. To clap like he always did and then explain why their sponsor had called them out to the fields by the lake.


    But Rowan didn¡¯t laugh. The starkness of his face made his wrinkles seem harsher. His smokey voice no longer felt like a hug. Deep in those hickory notes, Archie heard only disappointment.


    Nori looked just as confused as Archie. ¡°What¡¯d we do?¡± she asked.


    That got Rowan to laugh, but it wasn¡¯t a laugh that Archie liked. ¡°What did you learn working for me last week?¡±


    Nori¡¯s mouth hung open as she tried to find an answer. Archie also came up empty.


    ¡°Well, I mean¡­¡± Archie knew he was just getting himself in more trouble, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself. ¡°We¡¯ve just been making stew and bread. There¡¯s not much to learn¡­¡±


    Rowan nodded and looked at Nori. ¡°Is that how you feel?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­a little?¡±


    ¡°Tell me the name of one person that we¡¯ve served.¡± Rowan crossed his arms.


    Archie closed his eyes as he realized his failure. Nori looked at the ground.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Rowan scolded. ¡°You two spent all day arguing with each other over nothing. You didn¡¯t connect with anyone. You didn¡¯t make a new friend. You haven¡¯t even made friends with each other.¡±


    Archie¡¯s dad could hardly make him feel so ashamed. ¡°Actually, we¡¯ve been getting along recently¡ª¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Rowan said in a tone that was anything but. He pointed out into the wild forest and hills that stretched across the horizon. ¡°Because you two are going to be spending all your time together out there.¡±


    Archie and Nori looked into the thicket of trees. ¡°Doing¡­what?¡± Nori asked.


    ¡°Picking blueberries.¡±


    Again, Archie waited for a punchline that never came. When a Black Jacket first offered to sponsor him, he thought he would be curating gourmet experiences with a dozen courses. Not stew and bread. And he certainly didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be picking berries in the wilderness.


    ¡°There are four kinds of blueberry bushes,¡± Rowan continued, paying no mind to the shocked faces of the students. ¡°Rabbiteye. Lowbush. Highbush. Half-high.¡± He fished a blueberry out of his pocket and tossed it to Archie. ¡°What kind of bush did that come from?¡±


    Archie studied it as if he had known there were four bush types more than five seconds ago. He had nothing. He showed it to Nori, who shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I want you to be able to tell me the difference,¡± Rowan said. ¡°Not by physical characteristics. By essence.¡±


    Archie already felt like a disappointment. ¡°We just started learning¡­I mean, we¡¯re just learning how to put essence in soil.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­Distinguishing the differences in essence between blueberry bushes seems¡­like a big leap.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    Archie looked to Nori for help. She shrugged.


    ¡°How do we do that?¡± Archie asked.


    ¡°Same way you learn anything. Through hard work. You need to develop an affinity for blueberries. That means you need to pick them. You need to cook with them. You need to eat them. Only then will you understand them. So to get you started¡­different bushes need different temperatures. You might be able to find them mixed together, but in general¡­¡±


    He pointed to the south. ¡°Rabbiteye does the best in the warmth. It gets a little warmer south as the elevation lowers. If you hit the ocean, you¡¯ve gone too far.¡±


    He pointed to the north. ¡°Highbushes are going to be the most trouble. They need the coldest winter, so you might only be able to find them in the highlands. Lowbushes will be all over the forest. Half-highs will be¡­halfway between.¡±


    Archie still couldn¡¯t wrap his head around the mundanity of his new assignment. ¡°The highlands? That¡¯s gotta be, what, four hours of walking? One way!¡±


    Rowan shrugged. ¡°Do it toward the end, then. Once you¡¯ve already figured out some of the lowbush varieties and gotten a feel for the essence.¡±


    Nori cleared her throat. ¡°How long will we be picking blueberries?¡±


    Rowan clicked his tongue and leaned his head back in thought. ¡°Well¡­blueberries were at their best last month. Once we start getting close to winter, you¡¯re not going to find any fruit. So I guess you have a little over a month.¡±


    ¡°You want us picking blueberries for a month?!¡±


    ¡°And cooking with them. And eating them.¡±


    Archie felt like the conversation had just begun, but Rowan was already walking away.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come check on you in a couple weeks,¡± Rowan said. ¡°Oh, and if you¡¯re curious if you got the right blueberry, you should try asking it. They¡¯re quite unlike people in that¡­they always know who they are.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°This is not what I was expecting,¡± Archie complained as he probed at a bush with his walking stick. Two hours of searching had yielded nothing.


    Nori sighed. ¡°Well, it sucks, but we shouldn¡¯t complain. He is paying for us.¡±


    No, he¡¯s paying for me. I¡¯M paying for you.


    They walked parallel to each other, taking high steps through the brush and skirting around the trees in their search for blueberries.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Nori continued. ¡°He wants us to learn to cook with blueberries, too. That¡¯s exciting. We don¡¯t really cook much with blueberries in Uroko.¡±


    Archie looked up at her. She continued to scan the foliage as she waded through it. Archie had never heard her mention home without her seeming frustrated. He saw the opportunity to press.


    ¡°So, Nori¡­We¡¯re gonna be out here every week for who knows how long¡­¡±


    ¡°And what? We should get to know each other?¡± She flashed a coy look at him.


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡± Archie averted her gaze, kicking at a bush to check for any flashes of blue.


    ¡°What do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­¡± Archie struggled to think of a meaningful question, so he stuck with the classics. ¡°Do you have any siblings?¡±


    ¡°Three. Two brothers, one sister. All older.¡±


    ¡°Oh wow. Are they Chefs?¡±


    ¡°Two of them. One of my brothers never manifested, so he made up for his ¡®great shame¡¯ by becoming one of the youngest generals in Urokan history.¡±


    ¡°Wait, like. A general general? Like¡­leader of armies general?¡±


    ¡°Yep. If you¡¯re a Harper and you¡¯re not a Chef, you better be the best at something else. What about you? Any siblings?¡±


    ¡°Only child.¡±


    Nori narrowed her eyes at him, a question brewing in her head. She cast the thought away, deciding to keep the conversation superficial for now. ¡°What about extended family?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­a couple of cousins. My dad was an only child. My mom has a sister that lives in Labrusca, so I never really got to see them. You?¡±


    Nori let out a little laugh. ¡°Well. I have like¡­fifteen cousins. Of course, I¡¯m the youngest of them, too. And that¡¯s just the main branch. There are offshoots¡ªoh! Oh!¡± Nori threw her walking stick down and submerged herself in a large bush, coming away with something in her hand. ¡°I found some!¡±


    Archie ran through the tall grass and bushes to reach Nori and examined the berries. ¡°Hm¡­kinda purple and red¡­.¡± He took one and tasted it. ¡°These are huckleberries.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Nori stared down at the berries as if she could change the truth with a look. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re too tart.¡±


    Nori tasted one, groaned, and threw the rest on the ground.


    Archie laughed and continued his search. ¡°What¡¯s that like? Being the youngest of everyone?¡±


    Nori took a deep breath. ¡°I wish I was a middle child. When you¡¯re the youngest and there¡¯s that big gap before someone else gets born, you get a lot of attention. You can¡¯t do anything good without someone noticing. It¡¯s nice at first, getting recognized, but then it becomes a burden. Every achievement becomes an expectation.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you¡­¡± Archie was afraid to say the words.


    ¡°Ran away from home?¡± Nori finished.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s part of it, yeah¡­It¡¯s like¡­I stopped being a real person. I was just this vessel for other people¡¯s expectations. My dad¡­I can¡¯t tell you how many times he told me, ¡®everything you do reflects on me.¡¯ I never got to be Nori. I always had to be Nori Harper.¡±


    The thought stirred something in Archie. They walked in silence for a moment, letting the birds fill the air with their songs.


    ¡°You¡¯re the opposite, aren¡¯t you?¡± Nori asked.


    ¡°In some ways.¡± Archie kept his eyes to the ground as they walked. ¡°I want everything I do to be as a Kent.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Archie laughed at the simplicity of the question and the complexity of the answer. He had thought of it so often but spoken of it so rarely. ¡°Because¡­For so many generations, the Kents were revered. My dad never got to experience that.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re doing it for him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But not for yourself?¡±


    Deep down, Archie knew there was a difference, but he couldn¡¯t make the distinction. ¡°I mean it¡¯s me. I want him to experience it, so I¡¯m doing it for me. It¡¯s what I want.¡±


    ¡°Is it what he wants?¡±


    Was it? Before Archie could find an answer, he found a blueberry. ¡°Oh, Nori! Look!¡±


    As the afternoon went on, their conversation steered away from the profound. They took turns telling stories about their upbringing. Archie told her about his mud pie restaurant. Nori told him about how she used to go to the bathroom during private tutor sessions and sneak out the window.


    After their first blueberry, they found many more, and while they had originally been excited to use them to make dinner, by the time they made it back to the kitchens, they were both too tired to cook. Luckily, leftover meals were easy to come by in a Culinary Academy.


    Reinvigorated by a budding friendship and a desire to make Rowan proud, they committed themselves to waking up early and spending all day in the kitchen. They dubbed it ¡°blueberry day.¡±


    ¡°So can you tell the difference?¡± Nori asked as Archie held a blueberry in each hand.


    In fleeting moments, he thought he could. But he no longer felt the competitive urge to exaggerate his own abilities to Nori. ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡± She zested lemon into a bowl of sugar. ¡°I was hoping it¡¯d be like you with the soil. Or the noodle. Do I do the vanilla now?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Archie tossed the blueberries into a heating pot along with some syrup. ¡°I think I could tell the difference with those because that was like¡­the difference between it being there and it not being there. Here, it¡¯s all there. It¡¯s a more subtle difference. Have you never made pancakes?¡±


    ¡°I have.¡± Nori grabbed a couple of eggs. ¡°I just figured I¡¯d try to make them your way.¡±


    Archie smiled. With each hour they spent together, their times arguing seemed to move weeks into the past. ¡°We¡¯ll do the next meal your way.¡±


    They combined ricotta cheese, eggs, dairy, and flour, and a few minutes later, they had their first fluffy lemon ricotta pancake with blueberry syrup. Nori burst into giggles and glee as she shifted the plate back and forth, making the spongy pancake jiggle. Archie laughed with her and remembered the days of being a kid in Sain playing make-believe Chef.


    Their jubilation caught Oliver¡¯s attention.


    ¡°It smells good! Got one for me?¡±


    Nori looked at the blackened underside of the pancake, a typical casualty suffered by the first pancake of the batch. ¡°I¡¯ve got just the one.¡±


    Despite eating the worst pancake of the batch, Oliver still left with rave reviews. Word spread through the dormitories and out into the fields, and soon, Archie and Nori found themselves serving breakfast to nearly thirty students.


    Nori showed Archie how to make a blueberry zucchini bread with a little lime tang. They barely got a bite to themselves as their vulturous classmates picked the bread apart. They blew through lunch, satiated by the little taste tests they did throughout the morning.


    Despite standing all day, Archie¡¯s throat hurt long before his feet, the neverending conversation between him and Nori making his voice hoarse by the time they finished making a blueberry balsamic chicken salad for a late lunch.


    While they laughed and shared stories of their past, they planned for the future, baking blueberries and bananas into crispy oatmeal cups so that they wouldn¡¯t go hungry on their next foraging adventure. They put the leftover cups into the fridge in a bag labeled ¡°Archie + Nori¡± in an ambitious¡ªyet naive¡ªattempt to thwart would-be thieves. When Archie added the vanilla extract into the mix, he thought of home and wondered how his parents were doing.


    They took a breather out on the balcony of the lounge, looking down on a couple of older students that practiced combat in the field below. One student threw exploding tomatoes at the other, who struck them down with a spatula that shrank and grew on command.


    For dinner, Archie begged to make something without blueberries, but Nori insisted they use the last of their harvest. They raided the fridge to find something that would relegate blueberries to an accent flavor, finding a salmon filet.


    Throughout the day, Archie felt like he and Nori cooked as equals, but when they turned to seafood, Nori showed a new level of skill. She overwhelmed Archie with culinary tips as she displayed the expertise of the prodigy daughter of the world¡¯s greatest seafood restaurant. To stay on theme, they served the grilled salmon with blueberry sauce and blueberry lemonade¡ªvery heavy on the lemon to appease Archie¡¯s tiring taste buds.


    As Archie prepared for bed, he was afraid that he would never stop thinking about blueberries. But when his head hit his pillow, he couldn¡¯t think of anything other than Nori.

 Chapter 18 - The Thing That Was Sleeping

    Four weeks passed by in the blink of an eye as Archie settled into his new life in Ambrosia City.


    He brought a lemon-blueberry bar to Stop Him, who stopped assaulting Archie every time he went to wash dishes. So instead of bruises, Archie went home every Saturday night with raw fingers and aching knees. He tried to sneak peeks at Prince Waldorf, hoping to see how the Glutton could eat so much, but never found success.


    After having the class clean up the unkempt farmland, Quince tasked them to grow poppies from seed to bloom, a process which could take two or three months without the use of essence. Archie and Nori excelled, producing a bed of greens in just under four weeks. Nori even had the beginnings of one or two little green buds that poked out, teasing a potential bloom. Of course, by that time, Blanche already had petals for a week.


    Rowan went by the Academy for breakfast with Archie and Nori, and while he approved of Archie and Nori¡¯s newfound friendship, he still sent them out into the woods every week to pick blueberries. Week by week, they found more blueberries and made more delicious meals, and Archie started to recognize the difference in the essences of different varieties of blueberry.


    Everything felt right.


    At dinner, Nori plopped down next to Archie with a smile.


    ¡°Ready to pick some blueberries tomorrow?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that¡¯s all you guys have to do for your sponsor,¡± Oliver complained as he twirled his fork around yet another poorly made plate of pasta.


    ¡°And we only have to do it on Fridays,¡± Nori teased.


    ¡°Not fair,¡± he muttered.


    Archie pulled a noodle out of the pile and tried to whip it around Oliver¡¯s cup.


    ¡°We¡¯re not that lucky,¡± Archie said. ¡°It¡¯s going to be brutally hot tomorrow. It¡¯s supposed to be fall! Why is it still so hot outside?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Ambrosia City for you,¡± Oliver said. ¡°We¡¯ll be lucky if it snows this winter.¡±


    ¡°I think we should go for the highbush tomorrow,¡± Nori said.


    ¡°You want to go out to the highlands?¡± Archie slapped the noodle against the cup again. He imagined lassoing it.


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s the last blueberry we need. Then maybe Rowan will let us back in The Gift.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long walk. We¡¯ll have to leave early.¡±


    ¡°Before dawn.¡±


    Oliver looked at Archie. ¡°You better not wake me up when you get up.¡±


    Archie slung the noodle again. Despite only being long enough to wrap around half of the cup, the noodle continued to whip around, looping around the cup four times. Archie pulled in surprise, toppling the cup and spilling water into Oliver¡¯s lap. Archie looked at the noodle, which had grown twice as long. He held it up like a prize fish, laughing in astonishment at his achievement.


    ¡°Great,¡± Oliver said. ¡°I can¡¯t make pasta, but I have to or I lose my sponsor, and you can already do that and you just have to go pick blueberries all day. How does that happen?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Archie said, tossing the elongated noodle back onto Oliver¡¯s plate. ¡°I¡¯ve always liked pasta.¡±


    The next morning, equipped with a couple of waterskins and a bag full of snacks, Archie and Nori woke up before sunrise and set out. Even in the earliest hours of morning, the heat made Archie sweat by the time they got out into the fields. They walked along the lake, taking in the breeze for as long as they could before plunging into the forest.


    ¡°Have you talked to Julienne at all?¡± Archie asked as they plowed through waist-high ferns and weaved around trees. Over the last few weeks, they had exhausted most of their conversation options, forcing them to turn to their classmates for new ways of keeping their hikes interesting.


    ¡°Not really, why?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s kinda like¡­the Nori Harper of Labrusca.¡±


    Nori held a finger up to her lips, thinking. ¡°So like. Cool and smart and generally better than you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I haven¡¯t seen you make a noodle lasso yet.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes! The great Archie Kent, noodle lassoer of the world.¡± She raised her arms in mock fanfare and then dropped them along with her demeanor. ¡°Please. You spilled a cup.¡±


    ¡°Well, I think it shows great promise,¡± he said with a proud shrug. ¡°And what I really meant by calling Julienne the Nori of Labrusca was that he seems like a potential basket case that could collapse at any moment due to having extreme pressure from his family to be some kind of symbol for an entire kingdom. That¡¯s how you¡¯re alike.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright.¡± Nori tried to act like the comment didn¡¯t faze her, but she couldn¡¯t take as good as she could give. ¡°Sorry I made fun of your noodle lasso.¡±


    ¡°You know, they changed his name when he was eleven?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like. He wasn¡¯t Julienne. His family picks the most promising kid and makes them change their name to Julienne. Can you imagine? It¡¯s like¡­they¡¯re saying, ¡®you¡¯re not that person anymore. Now you¡¯re someone else. And you need to live up to the best restaurant in Ambrosia City.¡¯¡±


    ¡°He seems pretty well-adjusted, all things considered.¡±


    ¡°I guess. He¡¯s always at Cafe Julienne so I don¡¯t see him much. But he was way more polite about the soil stuff than anyone else. Politer than you, at least. He actually asked me for permission.¡±


    ¡°Hey, the way I see it, we¡¯re a team. Anything that you know, I get to know, and vice versa.¡±


    Archie smiled. A team. What a nice thing to be a part of.


    He looked back at Ambrosia City. Without realizing it, they had climbed twice as high as the distant city, having ascended beyond the lush grass fields. Their path alternated between craggy hills and dense forest, each offering their own tiring challenges.


    Ahead, massive hills¡ªnearly mountains¡ªlittered the horizon. They ate lunch¡ªgranola, dried fruit, and jerky¡ªin several snack-sized portions as they hiked through the early afternoon. After several false alarms, they finally found their target blueberries in bushes that grew ten feet up the slopes of the hills. Archie felt the difference in essence between them and their lowbush cousins, but doubted he¡¯d be able to blindly identify which was which.


    He looked up through the thick canopy of trees, finding the sun overhead. ¡°We should head back,¡± he said. He pointed up at the sun. ¡°It¡¯s well past noon. And my feet are killing me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right. At least it¡¯s mostly downhill on the way back.¡±


    But just before they turned to leave, Archie spotted a promising blueberry bush in a thicket of trees. ¡°Wait. One last one. Then we can go.¡±


    He walked over and examined the bush. He touched a blueberry, trying to feel for its essence. With the other blueberries, there had been subtle differences in the essence. With this one, the difference was easy¡ªthere was no essence.


    ¡°Weird.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Nori said as she caught up.


    ¡°These feel different. Like. Empty?¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Nori picked a blueberry and frowned. ¡°Weird. There¡¯s nothing there.¡±


    Archie looked around for anything that might explain the lack of essence. He spotted a large hole in the distance, two feet in diameter and angled like a tunnel. Some primal alarm bell, developed in the time when men lived in caves, went off in Archie¡¯s head. The hair on the back of his neck raised. His palms sweat. His pupils dilated. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Nori stepped around the blueberry bush to take a look. ¡°A burrow? But it¡¯d have to be a pretty big animal¡­¡±


    ¡°Whatever it is,¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t like being near it.¡±


    Something felt wrong.


    A bush rustled nearby. Archie spotted movement in the corner of his eye. He whipped around to see a long, thin reptilian tail disappear into a group of bushes. His fight or flight kicked in, his mind reviewing all of the combat magic he had seen¡ªtransformations, fizz blasts, pepper spray¡ªand all that he could actually perform¡ªmaking a noodle a little stronger.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡±


    Archie watched the spot, turning his head for just a moment to look over at Nori, who bent down to the ground and examined the dirt. ¡°Archie,¡± she whispered. ¡°Come here.¡±


    Archie kept watching for movement as he sidestepped over to Nori. They didn¡¯t say anything, but they subconsciously knew to keep an eye out. As Archie looked down, Nori looked up.


    At first, Archie thought he saw human handprints in the dirt. But then he realized how long and pointed the fingers were.


    ¡°Okay, we need to leave. Quietly,¡± he said as his skin crawled. He tugged at Nori¡¯s sleeve. She took one step. A bush rattled in response.


    A third voice, low and slow, entered the conversation. Its words slurred with centuries of drowsiness.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± it said.


    Nori managed to contain a scream down to a nervous groan. Adrenaline poured through Archie.


    I could punch it. I know how to throw a punch, right?


    ¡°What are your names?¡± the voice asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer,¡± Nori whispered. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of fairies that can steal your name.¡±


    A branch cracked nearby. Archie whipped his head around to face the sound, but saw nothing.


    I could break off a branch and use it like a spear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a fairy,¡± the voice said with a hint of laughter.


    Nori snuck her hand onto the bottom of Archie¡¯s shirt and tugged at it. He turned and followed her gaze.


    A reptilian face stared at them from behind a tree. Archie remembered the licerte that had been spotted a month prior, prompting a temporary shutdown of the road between Sain and Ambrosia City.


    The licerte seemed like a dog with a lizard¡¯s skin, its ears having been replaced by stubby horns and crooked alligator teeth sticking out from its wide mouth. Archie couldn¡¯t see its body, but he figured it to be at least four feet long.


    Nori¡¯s hand trembled. Archie lost his breath.


    Okay. Okay. It¡¯s just one. Licertes are loner creatures. I can do this. I could jump on it from behind. Pull its neck up. Clamp its mouth shut. Stomp on it. But what about the voice? Licertes can¡¯t speak, right? Is it someone¡¯s pet?


    ¡°Well,¡± Archie said, trying to keep his voice stable. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Another movement caught Archie¡¯s eye. He spotted a second licerte. And a third behind that.


    They¡¯re not¡­They don¡¯t travel in packs¡­


    He got a good look at their bodies. They had four legs that bowed out from their torso before turning at ninety degree angles to the ground, sinewy muscles giving a warning of their ability to leap. Two more legs were bundled beneath their necks, too short to reach the ground, but long enough to sink their claws into their prey. A fourth licerte emerged from behind a tree, stalking in a circle around Archie and Nori.


    Okay. Too many. I can¡­Okay. Not enough time to get a branch. A rock. Okay, find a rock.


    ¡°I am a lost child,¡± the voice swelled. Archie felt his bones vibrate with each syllable.


    Nori turned to walk away, jumping when she saw two more creatures watching them from the other direction thirty feet away.


    ¡°Are you a lost child?¡± the voice asked. The creatures took a step forward, forked tongues flickering in the air. Archie felt a hunger in the air.


    Oh. Oh. Um. Okay, it wants to talk. Let¡¯s talk. I¡¯ll talk my way right out of this.


    ¡°No, we¡¯re not lost,¡± Archie said as calmly as he could. Nori looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. He tried to put on a brave face for her.


    ¡°Oh, well that¡¯s good,¡± the voice said, calm again. The creatures settled down, shaking the tension out of their stances. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Is this your home?¡± Archie asked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if we¡¯re intruding. Do you live here?¡±


    ¡°Do I live¡­here?¡± the voice asked, pondering the question. ¡°I live¡­I¡¯m not sure. I only just woke up not too long ago.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re sorry to wake you. We¡¯ll let you get back to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine. You¡¯re welcome here.¡±


    With each word, the creatures seemed to perk up. In their stimulation, they crept in, numbering over a dozen. Archie looked around.


    Surrounded.


    ¡°Where are you from?¡± the voice asked. ¡°Where do¡­you live?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re stu¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re from Ambrosia City,¡± Nori interrupted.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the voice said, mulling over the answer. ¡°You¡¯re far from the city.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re picking blueberries,¡± Nori said.


    ¡°Blueberries!¡± The voice perked up, the creatures raising their heads toward the sky. ¡°We have blueberries around here, but I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ve lost their flavor. May we try yours?¡±


    Nori nodded at Archie, who pulled a handful of blueberries from his bag. The berries had come from closer to Ambrosia City, but they felt different than when he picked them. Less than.


    Archie felt less than, too. Even just since the conversation began, he had grown fatigued. Drained, as if sapped from being in the sun too long. As he felt emptier, the voice felt fuller.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the voice said, no longer dull and sleepy but alert and inquisitive. ¡°Toss it here.¡±


    Archie looked around. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    The voice swirled from in front of them. ¡°Here.¡± Now behind. ¡°There.¡± Now from everywhere. ¡°Closer than you think.¡±


    One of the creatures stepped forward, snout raised. It seemed to expect something. Archie tossed a blueberry in front of it. Its tongue lashed out, snapping up the blueberry.


    ¡°Mmm,¡± the disembodied voice moaned in approval. ¡°Delicious. Another.¡±


    Another creature joined the first. Archie tossed it a blueberry that it flicked up with its tongue. His arm felt heavy.


    ¡°Yes, much better than the blueberries here. So tasty. So juicy. So full of essence.¡±


    Archie¡¯s sun-drained fatigue turned into heat-in-face nausea. He blinked repeatedly to keep the world from spinning. Each time he opened his eyes, another creature had stepped forward into his blurred vision.


    ¡°Archie,¡± Nori whispered through gritted teeth. He looked at her, but couldn¡¯t make out the details of her face. ¡°We need to leave. Now.¡±


    The world spun again. Archie felt his desperate grip on the cord of reality and wondered if he should just let go.


    The creatures stepped closer.


    ¡°Archieee¡­¡± Nori whispered, her voice full of fear.


    The creatures stepped closer.


    ¡°Tell me, Archie¡­¡± The voice had come out of its cocoon, thick and ravenous. Its bass rattled Archie¡¯s bones. ¡°Are¡­you full of essence?¡±


    The creatures stepped closer.


    ¡°Archie!¡± Nori shrieked.


    The creatures charged.


    The scream cut through the fog in Archie¡¯s mind, leaving crystal-clear, razor-sharp instinct.


    As Nori kicked dirt to deter the creatures in front, Archie turned around. Without thinking, his hand went into his bag and pulled out a handful of blueberries. They seemed to prickle with energy as his hand got near and changed upon his touch.


    He threw them at the creatures in a sweeping barrage. While he had only grabbed ten, somehow he threw fifty¡ªeach one hardening and accelerating as they flew through the air. The creatures recoiled as if pelted by sharp stones.


    He yanked Nori, taking her with him as he ran straight at the creatures. He threw another handful of berries, this barrage even more effective than the last. They recoiled, allowing Archie and Nori to stomp past them.


    Archie felt a tingling numbness in his arm. Somehow, he knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to manage a third throw.


    As he panicked about what to do next, Archie failed to see one of the creatures lurking in a bush. It leapt out at his leg, those deadly little front claws extended, mouth agape, teeth¡ª


    ¡ªkicked in by Nori.


    The creature sprawled out onto its back, taking one last desperate swipe and slashing the inner calf on Archie¡¯s leg. The pain of the wound went away faster than it could be acknowledged as adrenaline made Archie run faster than he had ever run before.


    He started to turn around, but Nori yelled, ¡°don¡¯t look back! Watch where you¡¯re going!¡±


    And so they ran.


    And ran.


    Thundering footsteps followed them. Bushes split apart behind them. Bark flung off trees as the creature¡¯s claws dug into them for leverage. Between each of Archie¡¯s breaths, he could hear the licertes hiss.


    And so they ran.


    And ran.


    Eventually, they figured out that they were running from their own footsteps. Still they ran, slowing down until their eventual collapse.


    Archie looked at Nori. Cuts from low-hanging branches covered her face, blood mixing with tears. Then he looked at his leg. His sock overflowed with red. Seeing the wound made the pain of it come alive. Searing. Agonizing. He wondered how he had run on it at all.


    ¡°What¡­was¡­that?¡± Nori asked between heavy breaths.


    ¡°Nothing I¡¯ve ever seen before.¡± He poked at the flesh near his wound. The world went dark. He lifted his finger and the world returned. He felt the essence in his body pulse and surge down to the wound.


    ¡°Can you walk?¡± Nori asked.


    ¡°I think so. I don¡¯t think anything¡¯s broken.¡±


    ¡°Okay. What do you say we get as far away from that place as possible?¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    Nori helped Archie up and found a walking stick for him. It took hours for them to return to the Academy. Each step hurt more than the last, and in the dark of night, Archie didn¡¯t notice the blackness spreading from the wound.

 Chapter 19 - Emergency Procedure

    ¡°Get Anise. And Aubergine,¡± Colby commanded Nori.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Go!¡±


    Nori ran. Her tired legs had covered more than twenty miles that day, but still they ran as fast as ever. Colby examined Archie¡¯s leg. His expression didn¡¯t make Archie feel better about the situation. Blackness had spread from the wound, radiating out up to his knee. The smell of rot filled the air, and the pain was even worse.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you do something about it?¡± Archie pleaded. The pain in his leg had evolved from the splitting of flesh to a fire that burned away the inside of his leg, leaving a smoldering, hollowed-out tree trunk. Agony and emptiness married and crept up his leg with each passing minute.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­not normal,¡± Colby said with exasperation. ¡°Just hold on. Aubergine or Anise will be able to handle it.¡± Nothing in his voice inspired confidence.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t YOU handle it?¡± Archie screamed.


    ¡°I was never much of a healer.¡± His voice gave away his panic. His helplessness.


    Archie tried to remember how he had gotten here. Everything started to get fuzzy just before they exited the forest. Nori tried to carry him¡­She got him onto the elevator¡­She was crying¡­Colby picked him up¡­They were in the infirmary¡­


    Aubergine rushed into the room, still in his striped pajamas. Nori trailed behind, her face wracked with worry and her black hair plastered to her face by sweat and tears.


    Worry flashed across Aubergine¡¯s face. He caught the change and did his best to return to his normal, composed self. He hovered his hand over Archie¡¯s wound.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Anise?¡± Colby demanded.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Aubergine said, his voice mostly calm but with the tension of a wound of string backing it. ¡°She is getting something for the wound.¡±


    The headmaster lowered his face down to Archie¡¯s wound. ¡°Fascinating,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°What?¡± Archie asked. His hands balled up into tight fists and his arms shook as unrelenting pain surged through his body.


    Aubergine put his hands together. When he slid them apart, he held a large square noodle the size of his palm. A brief moment of awe struck Archie, washed away by agony a heartbeat later.


    Aubergine placed the noodle across Archie¡¯s wound, causing Archie to kick in pain. The noodle felt scratchy¡ªalmost like gauze. Coolness seeped from the bandaging noodle into Archie¡¯s leg. But the heat of the wound lashed back, devouring the soothing effect.


    When Aubergine peeled the noodle away, it was just that¡ªa plain, normal noodle, not a drop of essence in it. The headmaster held the noodle up to examine it. ¡°Fascinating,¡± he repeated. ¡°Does it feel better?¡±


    Archie¡¯s mind had shut off as much as possible. He tried to assess his wound, a feeble mind trying to comprehend multidimensional pain. His vision blurred.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he groaned.


    ¡°Okay. Anise will be here in a moment. What did this?¡±


    ¡°Licertes¡­¡± When Archie imagined the creatures, they charged at him. Clawed at him. Ate him. ¡°But a bunch of them. A pack.¡± The words hurt to get out.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    Closer than you think.


    ¡°Um¡­the highlands. Ten miles. Maybe more. There was a¡­tunnel. A cave, maybe.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°A voice.¡±


    ¡°The licertes? They spoke to you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Archie felt the world slipping away. His leg still hurt, but a deeper pain trickled into his chest. He lifted his head just enough to see the blackness halfway up his thigh. He heard footsteps.


    Then, haze.


    A jar popping open.


    A man and a woman arguing.


    A girl crying.


    Something placed on his leg.


    Soothing.


    Burning.


    A war with his leg as the battlefield.


    Darkness and dreams of a voice.


    Closer than you think.


    Archie awoke and looked down at his leg. A large lasagna noodle patched over the wound. Where it touched, pain bristled and bubbled like a fizzing drink.


    He felt intense essence radiating from the noodle. He turned his mind to it, trying to understand its magic, but if strengthening a noodle was a single word of another language, this magic was the world¡¯s toughest tongue twister.


    ¡°What¡­¡± his voice squeaked out a thin rasp.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Archie.¡±


    Anise bent down over him, her gray curls falling into Archie¡¯s face. In a certain light, her drooping cheeks, wrinkled forehead, and wild gray hair made her seem old and frail. In another light, her wickedly arched eyebrows, piercing blue eyes, and tightly pursed lips gave her a wild energy.


    ¡°What¡ª¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Anise held a finger to her lips. She pointed at another bed that contained a sleeping Nori.


    ¡°She was here all night. Just fell asleep a few hours ago,¡± Anise whispered. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Is she okay?¡± Archie lifted his neck to get a better look at her, but Anise pushed his shoulder down.


    ¡°Superficial cuts. Just tired. And you?¡±


    ¡°I feel weird.¡±


    Anise nodded. ¡°Weird how?¡±


    ¡°Well, my leg hurts, for one.¡± Archie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he tried to orient himself.


    I¡¯m in the Academy¡­this is¡­the infirmary. I got cut. I¡­walked back. And¡­


    ¡°What else?¡± Anise inquired.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Archie struggled to find the word. Everything still felt blurry. ¡°Sore. But not¡­it¡¯s not just my muscles. My insides. They¡­ache. I feel¡­¡±


    ¡°Spent?¡± she suggested. Archie nodded.


    ¡°Am I going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Was it poison?¡±


    ¡°Of a sort.¡± She scratched the back of her neck, considering whether or not she should continue. Archie¡¯s concerned face convinced her.


    ¡°It¡¯s like¡­tainted essence,¡± she explained. ¡°It attacked¡ªit¡¯s attacking¡ªthe normal essence in your body. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±


    Archie looked at the noodle covering his leg. ¡°So¡­this is stopping it?¡±


    ¡°Partially. The two kinds of essences are fighting. And¡­yours was losing.¡±


    Archie thought of the emptiness that had started in his legs and worked its way up his torso. A kind of fatigue that he had never felt before. ¡°Reinforcements?¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Exactly. A special experiment of mine¡ªfortunate that we had it. I¡¯ve been attempting to put as much essence as possible into different containers. Not to alter any of the container¡¯s qualities, but rather to create a sort of reserve that can be called upon. For you, I modified it to have some healing properties. In a past life, I was a Veratore.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m going to be okay?¡± Archie asked again.


    Anise smiled and nodded. ¡°It took half of the staff, but yes. You¡¯ll be okay. I had prepared six noodles. That is your third. You¡¯ll likely need one more. I¡¯ll be back by tonight. Here, drink this.¡±


    She gave Archie a cup filled with a sweet-smelling purple liquid. He drank. Once the sweetness passed, an undercurrent of bitterness made him wince.


    ¡°I was out of essence when it cut me,¡± Archie remembered.


    ¡°From what?¡±


    ¡°I threw blueberries¡­¡± He suddenly felt groggy. ¡°I¡­used essence to make them harder and faster. Does that matter?¡±


    ¡°Hm. Probably. Nothing left inside to fight back with. We¡¯ll have to¡­¡±


    Archie didn¡¯t remember falling back asleep. He woke up as Anise put a new noodle on the wound. She fed him another bitter drink and he fell asleep again. He ended up not remembering any of that, either.


    The next thing Archie did remember was waking up alone the next morning. Soft morning light illuminated the curtains, and the Academy had a sort of stillness to it¡ªstale air, undisturbed for many hours. Settled dust on the linens.


    Archie looked down at the noodle covering his wound. He still felt essence radiating from it, but the pain came in little pangs with seconds of nothing in between. The war had ended. Only stragglers remained.


    He turned his focus inward, assessing himself for any other injuries or pains. He felt for broken bones and pulled muscles. He found only an empty stomach.


    He swung his legs over the bed, placing them down gingerly. Pinpricks of pain inched up his injured leg. He planted his foot and put weight on it. The pain went off like an alarm, but died off quickly. After a couple seconds of standing, Archie could tolerate the pain.


    Walking wasn¡¯t too bad. But halfway to the great hall, Archie was spotted by Blanche, who helped him the rest of the way.


    ¡°Nori told me all about it¡­it sounded so scary,¡± she said. ¡°How bad is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Archie¡¯s pain jumped from his leg up to his throat. He swallowed it down. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Much better than yesterday. I think it was yesterday¡­¡±


    ¡°Good. If there¡¯s anything I can do, let me know.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    She got him to the great hall and sat him at one of its long tables. A few older students were eating early breakfasts¡ªwaking up this early was a learned behavior that none of the first-years but Blanche had figured out yet.


    ¡°Okay, just stay here, I¡¯m going to go get Nori,¡± Blanche said.


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please. If she knew that you were up and I didn¡¯t wake her up¡­¡± Blanche raised her eyebrows and shook her head before hustling off.


    Archie propped his elbows up on the table and rested his head in his hands. Whatever Anise had made him drink had left him with a lingering hangover of drowsiness. Minutes passed in seconds, tenuous consciousness made clear by a familiar voice.


    ¡°Archie!¡±


    Nori sprinted down the great hall. She got to him before he could even turn to stand, draping over his back and squeezing him tightly.


    ¡°I was so worried,¡± she said softly. ¡°I hate that I couldn¡¯t do anything. I couldn¡¯t fight. I couldn¡¯t heal you. I was useless. Never again.¡±


    ¡°Nori. Nori. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay.¡± Archie ducked his shoulders to push her off. ¡°Now I¡¯m a little fuzzy, but I¡¯m pretty sure the only reason I got off with just a scratch was because you kicked the thing.¡±


    Nori smiled and laughed, nearly letting a sob out with it. She tried¡ªand failed¡ªto recapture her usual teasing tone. ¡°Yeah, I guess I did save you, then. If a scratch did all of this, I can¡¯t imagine what a bite would have done.¡±


    A moment of silence passed as they considered the horrible possibilities.


    ¡°Hey Nori, can you do something for me¡­¡±


    ¡°Anything.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Nori spent the entire morning back and forth from the kitchen. She started with the rest of their blueberries, making blueberry pancakes, strudel with blueberry compote, and blueberry muffins. Archie devoured them all. He had never been so hungry in his life. Then she brought out an early lunch¡ªchicken and pasta.


    As Nori set the plate down, Archie grabbed a noodle and tried to strengthen it. His essence was pulled in two directions¡ªone down to his leg and one to the noodle. He tugged on the noodle. It didn¡¯t break. Archie breathed a sigh of relief.


    I¡¯m still magic.


    The other students filed in throughout the morning, piling around Archie as he told the story over and over again. By the third time he told it, it felt more like a fable than a nightmare. By the fourth time, Nori had enough and told the others to stop bothering Archie.


    Just as the students cleared out, Rowan appeared.


    ¡°Archie! Nori!¡± he called out as he jogged through the great hall. ¡°I heard what happened. Are you okay?¡± He ducked down to get a good look at Archie¡¯s leg.


    ¡°I think so,¡± Archie said. His leg didn¡¯t hurt, but it still had a strange tingle as the pasta¡¯s essence seeped into the wound.


    ¡°I feel at fault,¡± Rowan said. ¡°I knew they had some trouble in the northern roads this summer, but, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Whatever we ran into¡­no one could have known.¡±


    Rowan shook his head in disappointment at himself. He looked at Nori. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Good. Listen, I don¡¯t want you two going out there again.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean we¡¯re allowed back at The Gift?¡± Archie asked. Even in his battered state, Archie¡¯s ambition still had its step. The thought of going back to learning under a Black Jacket took some of the sting out of his leg.


    ¡°Yes. I¡­¡± Rowan looked down¡ªlooked inward. His voice danced on the line of tears. ¡°I should pay more attention to you two.¡±


    Archie and Nori exchanged a look of concern and confusion. For as traumatic as their experience had been, they found it odd that Rowan felt such responsibility.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Archie started. ¡°We¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve gotten really good at cooking with blueberries,¡± Nori finished.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Rowan lifted his head and offered a vulnerable smile.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Archie answered. ¡°Maybe we can make some blueberry stuff at The Gift.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah.¡± Rowan nodded, convincing himself that everything was going to be okay. He looked at Archie¡¯s leg. ¡°So what was it like?¡±


    Archie was tired of telling the story.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Archie pushed his food around his plate with a fork. ¡°But what I do know¡­if we run into them again, we need to know how to do more than kick and throw blueberries.¡±

 Chapter 20 - The Terror of Colbys Kitchen

    ¡°When do we get to learn combat?¡± Archie asked, interrupting class.


    Colby¡¯s mouth twisted into an impatient scowl. He would be their teacher for the next month, and they hadn¡¯t made it ten minutes into the first class without things going off the rails.


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± Colby started.


    ¡°We need to be able to defend ourselves,¡± Nori said, adding strength to Archie¡¯s voice.


    ¡°It¡¯d be cool,¡± Oliver added with no gravity.


    ¡°Look, I understand where this is coming from,¡± Colby said. ¡°But you¡¯re not ready. You¡¯re still developing a connection to your essence. You¡¯ll start conjuration first thing next semester.¡±


    The students groaned.


    ¡°Hey, listen!¡± Colby barked. Whatever control he had lost, he regained double with his stern voice.  ¡°This is not a military academy. Your first priority as a student of the Academy of Ambrosia is to learn how to cook. And judging from what I¡¯ve seen, you all have a lot to learn.¡±


    Of the four kitchens in the lower building of the Academy, the students feared the one known as Colby¡¯s Kitchen. The first-years stayed away from it at all costs, choosing to double up on equipment in a neighboring kitchen rather than risk Colby¡¯s judgment. Instead, only older students and masochists frequented this place of horror.


    Twenty stoves, divided into rows of four, filled the kitchen. Dried meats, spices, pots, pans, and anything a young Chef could want lined the walls, herbs hanging from the rafters all over the kitchen. A pantry supplied the kitchen with other ingredients both rare and common, but no one dared to step into it without Colby¡¯s blessing.


    The students scrambled to claim the setups furthest in the back of the room, desperate to put distance between themselves and their drill instructor. Archie made a limping dash for the back row, but received no sympathy from his fellow students who rushed past him. He ended up in the front row between Julienne, who was bound to ace whatever test Colby threw at them, and Sutton, who had taken a peculiar interest in Archie¡¯s wound.


    ¡°You¡¯re here to learn how to be Chefs, but I¡¯d hesitate to call some of you cooks. Now I¡¯m not much of a farmer and I can¡¯t hold my own in a fight, but if you put me in the kitchen against any of the other Head Chefs, I¡¯m coming out on top.¡±


    Archie believed him. Of all the Head Chefs, Colby and Tarragon were the only Black Jackets. Tarragon¡¯s achievements came from his military service, his role in the Unification War only overshadowed by Grand King Flamb¨¦ himself. But Colby? Colby had earned his jacket in the kitchen and the kitchen alone. He paced as he spoke, riled up by his declaration of skill. Then, he seemed to remember something.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Head Chef Pomona I said that,¡± he added as an aside before returning to his previous intensity.


    ¡°Now I¡¯ve seen some of you around the kitchens, and there is definitely some talent. But none of you have the discipline. If you worked at my restaurant, you wouldn¡¯t make it past washing dishes.¡±


    The thought of dishwashing made Archie shudder. At least his near-death experience had earned him a weekend away from endless dishes and pruney fingers.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to coddle you. I¡¯m not going to play nice. I¡¯m going to tell you how to become a good cook and you better listen because I don¡¯t repeat myself.¡±


    Archie had heard of Chefs like this. They chew you up and spit you out, and if you came out with meat left on your bones, you might just make it. The thought of the challenge excited Archie.


    The reality of the challenge made him sweat.


    ¡°When you take your assessments at the end of the school year, you¡¯ll be graded on five categories. Cultivation¡ªHead Chef Quince is currently setting up the first-year greenhouse so that you can get to work on that. Then there¡¯s conjuration. That¡¯s next semester with Tarragon. Innovation. You¡¯ll be judged on your original thinking and creations. And finally, the last two are both cooking challenges.¡±


    Colby caught Oliver looking out of the window. The Head Chef slammed a pan down, making the whole class jump.


    ¡°That means that this is the most important class you¡¯ll take. Now, we¡¯re going to be making a consomm¨¦. If any of you manage to make one that doesn¡¯t disgust me, you¡¯ll get the afternoon off.¡±


    Julienne laughed. No one but him realized that they had been given a nearly impossible task.


    ¡°What¡¯s consomm¨¦?¡± Oliver asked.


    ¡°If you make it right, it¡¯s a clear soup made from meat, tomato, egg whites, and stock.¡±


    ¡°But none of those things are clear?¡±


    Colby smiled that same awful smile he had when he gave Oliver his second dose of moondrop wine. ¡°Good luck.¡±


    No one¡ªnot even Julienne¡ªgot the afternoon off.


    ¡°Head Chef Anise!¡± Archie called out in the hallway.


    Anise turned, her eyes widening as she entered crisis mode.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she blurted out. ¡°Do you need a new bandage?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no.¡± Archie looked down and shook his bandaged leg. ¡°Still good. I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to do healing like this.¡±


    Anise raised her eyebrows. ¡°This¡­is going to be a bit beyond you. If you tried to turn one of my noodles into a bandage, you¡¯re more likely to make an explosion.¡±


    ¡°Something weaker, then.¡±


    Anise nodded and stared into space. Sometimes Archie wondered if she was all there. ¡°Okay. Does Head Chef Quince have you in the greenhouse yet?¡±


    Archie shook his head. ¡°He said we¡¯ll be able to use it this weekend.¡±


    ¡°Good. If you¡¯re serious about learning this, you¡¯ll have to commit to it. Plant durum wheat. You¡¯ll have an easier time performing magic on something you¡¯ve grown yourself.¡±


    Day two started with a dash of hope. Colby announced that they would go back¡ªway back¡ªto the basics and make grilled cheeses. The students breathed a sigh of relief, certain that they couldn¡¯t disappoint their strict Head Chef with such a simple task.


    Such naivety.


    They filed into the rows of cooking setups, the back rows filling up before Archie could get there. He set up between Blanche, who was already fighting back tears, and Benedict, who seemed more concerned with Blanche than with his own burning bread.


    Colby judged their sandwiches.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    First up, Oliver. Colby lowered his face to examine the grilled cheese. He grabbed the plate and slid the grilled cheese into the trash, careful to never touch the food.


    ¡°So soggy that if I had touched it, my fingers would prune.¡±


    Next up, Blanche. She had been trembling the entire time she cooked and had started to cry when she flipped her sandwich to reveal black bread. A vein popped out of Colby¡¯s forehead and his face strained as he fought a pending meltdown. He shook his head and in a rare act of mercy, dismissed Blanche without a word, only a sour look.


    Archie¡¯s submission made it through two chews before being spat back out on the plate. ¡°Uninspired.¡±


    Colby actually swallowed a bite of Nori¡¯s. But he didn¡¯t go for a second. ¡°Terrible.¡±


    Julienne got the best reaction of the day¡ªthree bites and a quiet, simple, stoic, zero-fanfare ¡°good enough.¡± Julienne was equally unsatisfied.


    On day three, after an hour of torment levied over failed bearnaise sauces, a guardian angel visited the class.


    Head Chef Pomona¡¯s smile lit up Colby¡¯s Kitchen, its brightness burning away the cobwebs and bad spirits that had grown over the week. Archie imagined a halo above her beautiful face and oversized head.


    As the students cooked, Pomona flirted with Colby, preventing him from hovering over the students like a vulture. Colby pushed awkward compliments onto her. For all of his mastery of cooking, he had no idea what ingredients made up charm. But Pomona just laughed and played along.


    ¡°Oh, Colby, you¡¯re sweet,¡± she laughed as she slapped his shoulder. Then she saw her opportunity to save the students from the challenge of making a bearnaise sauce. ¡°Sweet! Let¡¯s make sweets!¡±


    Colby struggled to find a way to say no to her, and she gave him no chance. She clapped her hands to get the class¡¯s attention.


    ¡°We¡¯re making sweets! Forget all this fancy stuff, let¡¯s get some sugar, some water, and a little something for flavor. I want candy!¡±


    Instead of hovering over them as Colby usually did, Pomona floated around like a cloud, hopping up to sit on counters and chatting with the students as they pulled and folded their taffy on hooks. Archie noticed her paying special attention to Blanche, who seemed more relieved than anyone else.


    ¡°Ya know,¡± Pomona said while smacking on a sample candy. ¡°I¡¯ve seen some people who really specialize in candy. They can caramelize their skin. Makes it hard as a rock.¡±


    ¡°Will we learn how to do that?¡± Archie asked.


    She popped another candy in her mouth, making Blanche giggle. ¡°Eventually, yeah. I take it you¡¯re looking forward to learning how to fight.¡±


    Archie looked down at his bandaged leg. He had moved on from Anise¡¯s super noodles, but still needed a big patch of regular-grade healing lasagna to keep the wound from festering. ¡°Can you blame me?¡±


    Pomona almost let her permanent smile disappear. ¡°I guess not. You have me next month. More kitchen work. Still need to get you guys familiar with using essence in the small stuff before the big stuff.¡±


    Colby coughed in the background. ¡°Cooking is the big stuff,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    Pomona continued, ¡°and then you¡¯ll have Head Chef Tarragon next semester. He¡¯ll teach you all sorts of conjuration.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m excited for your class,¡± Oliver said. A chorus of students agreed, all avoiding eye contact with Colby.


    That day¡¯s taste testing, with Pomona hovering over Colby with a half-flirtatious, half-threatening smile, played out the opposite of the days before.


    Colby gave muted, single-word feedback, the worst of which was ¡°good.¡± Pomona also chimed in.


    ¡°Oh! Delicious. I love it, Blanche.¡±


    ¡°Nori! You¡¯ve really brought out the lemon!¡±


    ¡°Archie. Archie! This is special. You have a knack for candy!¡±


    ¡°Oliver, this¡­is there alcohol in this?¡±


    ¡°No ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Weird¡­¡±


    On day four, without Pomona there to protect the students, Colby came to class on a mission. The students rode high on praise for a day, and Colby vowed to bring them back down.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to a conclusion about you lot,¡± he said as he paced back and forth like a predator stalking its prey. ¡°I think the problem is that you can¡¯t handle the complexities of solid foods. So today, we¡¯re making drinks.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Blanche?¡± Benedict whispered, careful to not let Colby hear.


    Archie didn¡¯t have the emotional capacity to worry about Blanche. He was already frustrated enough with the day¡¯s assignment. As the week progressed, his resolve doubled around a simple tenet¡ªanything he made now should ladder up to combat training later. He already had a plan¡ªcandied skin to block the next scratch, pasta bandage if needed.


    But he couldn¡¯t serve Colby pasta water or something with crushed up candy poured in it. In order to survive Colby¡¯s drink test, Archie would have to rely on his previous experience with blueberries¡ªdespite their limited combat applications. Nori set up beside him with a bowl of lemons.


    ¡°I figured you¡¯d do a blueberry drink, too,¡± Archie said.


    ¡°Can¡¯t melt licertes with blueberry acid,¡± she responded.


    Archie smiled, glad that Nori had the same priorities as him.


    Some students used juicers. Archie figured that he could manipulate the essence within the blueberries easier with his bare hands.


    The same way someone new to working out discovers new muscles, Archie discovers pathways and streams of essence that left his body as he worked. He could focus his mind and understand some measure of the essence¡¯s quantity¡ªmaking it clear that time and time again, he used far too much essence, wasting it. It was like Aubergine said. He needed to learn efficiency.


    But at least the effects were obvious. Each blueberry produced an impossible amount of juice. In two blueberries, he managed to fill half a glass. When he opened his hand after squeezing the third blueberry, nothing remained but an empty palm.


    His wound tingled as he squeezed his fifth blueberry. An emptiness carved its way up through his body. The feeling made him think of the creatures and the voice. Of the hunger that had filled the air that day. He started to feel that same hunger in the air of Colby¡¯s kitchen. It grew thick, choking him. Squeezing his chest.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Nori asked, her voice piercing through Archie¡¯s fogged panic.


    Looking at her calmed him. She brushed the loose hair from her face with lemon-soaked fingers. Archie thought of a summer when he was a kid and his mother had squeezed lemon juice in his hair so that it would turn blonde in the sun. He wondered if Nori¡¯s hair could turn blonde. He¡¯d never seen a Urokan with blonde hair. He thought she¡¯d look good with it. But he thought she looked good with black hair, too.


    He didn¡¯t think about the licertes or the voice.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±


    Archie finished off the drink by mixing the blueberry juice with chilled water and honey. He took a sip and smiled at the taste, confident that he could avoid Colby¡¯s wrath.


    But as Colby assessed Cress¡¯s drink, Archie¡¯s confidence washed away.


    ¡°Camomille tea?¡± the teacher asked. ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing to bring out the flavor. The effect is still there, though. I¡¯m getting sleepy just from how boring this is.¡±


    Yarrow went next. Colby looked at the drink with fear.


    ¡°You¡­the lemon juice is so acidic that it¡¯s eaten through the cup. I¡¯m not even trying this. Next. Oliver, come up here.¡±


    Oliver held the cup away from his body as he walked up¡ªmaybe to keep the sweat pouring off of him from spilling into the drink.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Colby asked.


    ¡°Honey wheat tea.¡±


    ¡°Honey what?¡± Colby smelled the drink.


    ¡°I need to get good with pasta, so I¡¯m looking for ways to use wheat.¡±


    Archie raised his eyebrows and nodded. When he was thinking of pasta, he hadn¡¯t thought of that.


    ¡°Honey¡­wheat...tea. I¡¯ll give you points for creativity if nothing else.¡±


    Colby sipped from the cup and licked his lips. Something about the drink confused him. He looked at it thoughtfully before arriving at a conclusion. He winced with repulsion.


    ¡°It¡¯s sweet and then it burns,¡± he said. He took a longer drink. ¡°Awful,¡± he said as he lifted the cup up to drink again. ¡°It¡¯s bad in a way that I can¡¯t even explain.¡± He drank again and set the cup down with a hollow thonk!


    The next two students earned simple, negative remarks. But then something in Colby¡¯s demeanor started to change. With each passing student, his feedback softened.


    ¡°This one is alright,¡± Colby said flatly.


    ¡°Pretty good,¡± Colby said with a respectful nod.


    ¡°Mmm. Mmm!¡± Colby raved, a big grin on his face.


    ¡°Oh, this makes me want cheese. Does anyone have any cheese?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t get why you guys keep giggling. What¡¯s so¡ªburp¡ªfunny?¡±


    By the tenth student, one of Colby¡¯s eyes stayed three-quarters shut, his mouth stayed pressed into a little grin, and his head swung around with each movement.


    ¡°Oliver,¡± Cress whispered between giggles. ¡°You got him drunk!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to! Honestly! I just used regular wheat and honey¡­¡± He looked into his remaining mixture.


    ¡°Wait, you have more?¡± Cress asked.


    Oliver nodded and handed the drink to Cress¡¯s outstretched hand. She took a long drink, pursing her lips and shaking her head as she set it down.


    ¡°That¡¯s abysmal,¡± she said. She straightened up, putting a hand onto the table to stabilize her, and blinked. ¡±But effective.¡±


    The students laughed. Colby believed the laughter to be a celebration of his performance, causing him to ham it up even more as he judged drinks and munched on whatever snacks he could find.


    ¡°Mmm, that¡¯s nice,¡± Colby moaned after taking a sip of Archie¡¯s drink. ¡°You did a good job¡­with the¡­good with the blue. Does anyone have anything fried?¡±

 Chapter 21 - The Wonder of Quinces Greenhouse

    Colby¡¯s happy drunkenness took a turn in the afternoon. First, he got hungry. Next, after forcing the class to abandon their drinks in favor of frying chicken, Colby ate until he started to feel sick.


    Then he felt sad.


    Then it got sad.


    ¡°I just like¡­I do all this stuff, ya know? And I¡­she¡­it¡¯s like I¡¯m manning the stove but¡­the stirring¡­¡± Colby closed his eyes and lifted his head up to the sky. ¡°And the sauce! The sauce. She doesn¡¯t even notice the sauce.¡±


    No one understood his rambling. Once the novelty of a drunk teacher wore off, the students elected Benedict to go to Pomona seeking an intervention. But when she entered, things went from sad to weird.


    ¡°Pomonaaaa!¡± Colby said with his arms stretched wide. ¡°Did you¡ªyou noticed¡ªyou noticed the sauce.¡±


    She gracefully ducked away from his embrace. ¡°Ohoh, okay. Easy there. Let¡¯s¡ªhey class? Head Chef Quince is all set up with your greenhouse. Why don¡¯t you spend the rest of the afternoon there?¡±


    Colby leaned on Pomona, his face leaning in close and his boozy breath washing over her. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°We¡­are going to get you some water.¡±


    ¡°Oh that sounds splendid, I love water.¡±


    The interior of the greenhouse took Archie¡¯s breath away.


    For over a month, he had only seen the greenhouses from afar¡ªfour large buildings near the pastures, each identical.


    Wooden walls supported glass roofs that let the afternoon sun shine through. Small farm plots and fencing surrounded each of them, giving students a place to grow winter crops outside while letting the more vulnerable plants flourish inside.


    Compared to the rest of the Academy, the outside walls of the greenhouses were rather unremarkable. No towering pillars or statues or fancy stonework.


    But inside?


    Crossing the threshold and walking through that soft wall of humidity?


    Seeing the sunlight come through the grid of square windows and making the dust in the air glow?


    Smelling the rich soil and realizing that this place was a blank canvas, ready for artwork?


    Archie felt like a kid discovering a new wonder of the world.


    Two rows of raised cobblestone walkways ran through three rows of dirt, each ten feet wide. Little wooden stakes with thin wire ropes divided the plots into ten by ten squares.


    Quince and Blanche stood at the front entrance surrounded by well-worked farming tools, welcoming the other students to their little slice of farming paradise.


    Archie rushed past them, finding a plot in the middle row with the most sunshine. His urgency caused a panic, other students emulating him and creating a mad dash to find a spot. Archie batted away anyone that tried to claim the plot next to his until Nori made her way through the crowd and found her rightful place by his side.


    Once the dust settled, Quince addressed the class.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see y¡¯all¡¯re so excited.¡±


    Archie stifled a laugh at the double contraction.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be yours for the duration of your stay at the Academy. You¡¯ll be responsible for it. I apologize that it hasn¡¯t been ready, someone in the last graduating class had managed to plant a pumpkin that had vines going twenty feet into the ground and back up all over the place.¡±


    Some students giggled. Archie bent down to the soil, placing his hand on it.


    ¡°It¡¯s packed with essence,¡± Archie observed.


    ¡°Y¡¯all have Blanche to thank for that,¡± Quince said. Blanche shied away, tucking her chin into her chest and avoiding eye contact. But she couldn¡¯t hide her smile. ¡°She¡¯s been spending her spare time here helping me out and wanted to give you guys a head start.¡±


    Choruses of ¡°thanks Blanche¡± echoed through the greenhouse as the students examined their own plots more closely.


    Through the window, Archie saw Aubergine approach from across the pastures, cradling a large woven basket in his arms.


    ¡°Y¡¯all¡¯ll have to tend to your own plots from here on out,¡± Quince said.


    ¡°But I¡¯ll still help anyone that needs it,¡± Blanche added. Already, the greenhouse was hers, and she was the greenhouse¡¯s. As she nourished it, it nourished her. Her shoulders didn¡¯t hunch forward anymore. She didn¡¯t pick at her fingernails. She didn¡¯t cry. The Blanche from Colby¡¯s kitchen was nowhere to be found.


    ¡°We do have some extra plots,¡± she said, assuming the role of the instructor. ¡°These over here will be community plots. I went ahead and started planting some stuff in them. I hope no one minds.¡±


    She smiled as big as anyone had ever seen from her.


    And no one in their group was evil enough to say anything to jeopardize that smile.


    ¡°Yoohoo!¡± Aubergine called as he entered with his basket. He plopped it down, showing it to be full of small canvas bags with little bulges in them. ¡°I brought seeds!¡±


    As the students came up to take their pick of seeds, Aubergine seemed to have a quip for each of them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use those all in one place!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just glad to see these go to a loving home.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t water these after midnight.¡±


    ¡°These are either eggplant seeds or zakdar seeds. That¡¯s a root vegetable that gives off a fatal odor when picked. Literally fatal. But I¡¯m pretty sure these are eggplant seeds. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Archie! I¡¯ll give these to you, but only if you join me on my morning jog. Kidding! But really, join me some time.¡±


    Archie took a handful of durum wheat seeds and some stalk cuttings of sugar cane.


    ¡°Spend a bit of time with them in the light before you put them in the dirt,¡± Aubergine recommended.


    Everything Aubergine said sounded like a joke, but Archie sensed the sincerity in that statement. Aubergine tossed another bag at Archie.


    ¡°Oh, and Archie, I know you¡¯re a man on a mission but¡­plant some blueberries, too. I¡¯ve heard you have a talent for them. It¡¯d be a shame to let that go to waste. Nori, too.¡±


    Archie wanted to get started on gaining an affinity to things that would help in combat. He hated the thought of wasting time on blueberries, but he obliged Aubergine¡¯s request anyway. He sat in his plot with his seeds and stalks, trying to pour whatever essence he had into them. He felt them respond to him¡ªthe blueberries louder than the rest.


    He looked over at Nori, who scooped dirt around a little foot-tall lemon tree that Blanche helped to plant.


    ¡°Hey Nori. I bet I can grow more blueberries than you.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Take the bet, then.¡±


    She looked at him and sighed, disappointed not at the challenge but at the lack of weight behind it. ¡°Beating you isn¡¯t even worth it.¡±


    Blanche watched in silence, smiling as her eyes darted back and forth at the verbal spar.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s make it worthwhile,¡± Archie said. ¡°Loser makes dinner for a week.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like punishment if I win,¡± Nori joked. ¡°But sure.¡±


    While others hurried to plant their seeds, Archie worked more deliberately. By the time he put his durum wheat seeds into the soil, half of the class had already rushed off to enjoy a bit of weekend before their sponsored work. His leg tingled with agonizing emptiness, forcing him to take a break. He felt a bottomless pit form in his stomach, but he continued. By the time he finished planting his blueberry seeds, only a few students remained.


    Archie got started on his sugar cane, working the dirt with a trowel and digging a trench along the edge of his plot. He put his hand in the freshly dug soil, feeling for the essence contained within, but instead he only felt his own emptiness. Blanche noticed his frown, tiptoeing across another plot to reach him.


    ¡°Hey Archie,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve been at it for a while. You should take a break.¡±


    He wiped sweat from his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I mean, I¡¯m tired. I just really put a lot into Head Chef Colby¡¯s class.¡±


    The mention of the name made Blanche wince.


    ¡°Speaking of,¡± Archie continued, ¡°we missed you in class today.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± For the first time since the other students stepped into the greenhouse, Blanche¡¯s spirit sunk. ¡°I just¡­have a thing about kitchens¡­¡±


    Archie knew better than to ask, but between the curiosity on his face and his silence, Blanche knew he wanted to know more.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you about it,¡± she said ¡°...if. You do me a favor.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry. I skipped lunch, and I still have to tidy up some things here before I¡¯m done.¡±


    Archie laughed. ¡°You must be starving!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been snacking¡­but yes.¡± Blanche let out a big sigh, her breath catching her bangs and flipping them over her forehead. ¡°I think we both need a little bit of nourishment at this point.¡±


    ¡°So you want me to make you something?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind. If you want you can bring it down here. We¡¯ll eat and then I¡¯ll help you with the sugar cane.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Any cravings?¡±


    She thought for a moment. ¡°What do you want to make?¡±


    ¡°I have some dough that¡¯s been resting overnight. I could do a white wine pasta with mushrooms and leek.¡±


    ¡°Ooo, that sounds good.¡±


    ¡°No. Way. He was drunk?!¡±


    ¡°Completely hammered.¡±


    Blanche roared with laughter¡ªArchie had never heard her so loud. She whipped her spoon back over her shoulder as she laughed, sending a piece of bowtie pasta into the dirt plot behind her. The rest of the students had gone, leaving just Archie and Blanche eating pasta while sitting in the soil, their orange jackets dusted with brown.


    She shoveled another piece of pasta into her mouth, but she never stopped smiling. Archie could hardly believe it was the same Blanche. Between the meal, the conversation, and the magic of the greenhouse, Blanche had never seemed so alive.


    She wore a smile well. Archie had never noticed any distinguishing features on Blanche, but in her animated state, they came alive. A nose that was sunburnt and a little too big for her face with nostrils that flared with every laugh. Chapped red lips. One eye that could hardly stay open during a genuine smile. Jet black eyebrows sticking out like fuzzy caterpillars between her brown hair and hazel eyes. Ears that stuck straight out from her head, their little points sticking out of her hair. In the light of the lanterns and the moon, each imperfection reclassified itself as a unique beauty.


    Archie couldn¡¯t help but stare.


    ¡°Oh I wish I had seen that,¡± Blanche said. ¡°Do you think Oliver meant to get him drunk?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I think¡ªI think his subconscious made the drink alcoholic.¡±


    Blanche laughed and then sat up straight with a revelation. ¡°His candy! Head Chef Pomona asked if he used alcohol. I think his essence just naturally skews that way.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh. Maybe that¡¯s his calling. We know it¡¯s not pasta.¡±


    She swatted at the air toward him. ¡°Oh, stop. Poor Oliver. He¡¯s going to lose his sponsor.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he just needs to go all in on alcohol and find a sponsor for that. Do taverns count as restaurants for sponsorship purposes?¡±


    Blanche shrugged. ¡°Maybe. I mean, my sponsor counts. I got lucky with them. I get to work in the field all day.¡±


    ¡°Who did you get again?¡±


    ¡°Blue Orchards,¡± she said with pride.


    ¡°Oh, I had something from them on my first day in Ambrosia City! An apple with blue skin.¡±


    ¡°Blue skin?¡± Blanche tilted her chin down and smiled like she knew something that Archie didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And the inside?¡±


    ¡°It was¡­an apple. You know¡­appley.¡±


    ¡°Not blue?¡±


    ¡°The inside? No.¡±


    She bit her lip, her shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle. ¡°Oh Archie. You got ripped off.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She took another bite of pasta, speaking through her chewing. ¡°Lots of people make cheap knock-offs of Blue Orchards. They make the skins blue with some kind of powder that they rub in. But the inside? They can¡¯t figure out the inside.¡±


    Archie sulked down into a slouch. ¡°I think I paid half a silver for that thing.¡±


    Blanche laughed and took another bite.


    ¡°I love working with soil,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that about myself until I got here. Only thing I knew about myself was that I hated working in kitchens.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    She rocked her head from side to side as she chewed. ¡°My sister. Not that she ever did anything to me directly, but¡ªshe¡¯s a really good Chef. Like. Really good. Black Jacket good.¡± She flicked her spoon up for emphasis. ¡°Like too good to be number two at Cafe Julienne good. That¡¯s where she was before she left. She could¡¯ve taken over if her name wasn¡¯t Raclette.¡±


    ¡°So why does that make you hate kitchens?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Blanche looked to the side, her shame keeping her from making eye contact. ¡°Just¡­I¡¯ll never be her. She¡¯s one in a million. But people hear that Raclette has a younger sister and they think maybe I¡¯ll be one in a million.¡±


    She took a big breath. ¡°But I¡¯m not. Not in the kitchen, anyways. So I disappoint them. And it sucks, because maybe if I were an only child I would enjoy being in the kitchen. But now it¡¯s just¡­a place where I¡¯ll never be good enough.¡±


    She leaned back and held her arms straight out from her body, spilling from both bowl and spoon. ¡°But here? Here I feel like one in a million. I feel like I found my thing, you know?¡±


    A warm, fuzzy feeling pumped through Archie¡¯s heart. ¡°I¡¯m happy for you, Blanche.¡±


    She held the spoon up near her cheek and made a cute pose. ¡°Thanks. Now.¡± Her demeanor changed. All business. ¡°I hate to break it to you, but you¡¯re going to need to redig your trench. When your sugar cane grows, with the way the greenhouse is oriented, it¡¯s going to block the sunlight for your other crops. So you need to plant it in a strip from one walkway to the other. Come on, I¡¯ll help you.¡±