Morcster Chef - B3 Chapter 9 (Patreon)

The signs turned out to be completely useless. After walking in a circle at least three times, Arek was starting to get slightly annoyed. Luckily, Ming got fed up faster than he did. She darted off down a side street, forcing the rest of them to run after her.

As it turned out, they should have done that from the start. Ming located the town square no more than a minute later. They finally caught up to the small mage, but not before she managed to buy a chocolate covered banana on a stick from a vendor in a cart.

“You should have let me lead,” Ming said, her voice muffled as she stuffed the entire thing into her mouth. “I found it fast.”

Belmont pulled her mouth open and extracted the wooden stick before Ming could swallow it. He smacked her on the head with it.

“Don’t eat the stick!”

“It has flavor!” Ming mumbled. “My stomach can digest it anyways. I draw all the energy out of everything I eat to fuel my magic.”

“We’re not getting into this right now,” Malissa said with a sigh. “You’re right about one thing though. Those signs were horrible. I’ve never seen such poor directions in my life.”

“Hey, at least we made it now,” Arek said, scanning the shopfronts for any ‘help wanted’ signs. A few that appeared to belong to restaurants caught his eye. “Shall we split up and see what kind of jobs we might be able to get?”

They all turned to look at Ming.

“What?”

“You’re coming with me,” Malissa decided. “Belmont, please don’t stab anyone.”

“I won’t,” Belmont promised. Then, under his breath, he added, “nobody that doesn’t deserve it, at least.”

Malissa grunted. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Wait, you heard me?” Belmont asked. Malissa smirked and waved her hand, taking Ming by the shoulder and leading her toward the far end of the square. Belmont pursed his lips, then glanced around. “Maybe I can find a smith.”

“Or an enchanter,” Arek suggested. “Moonrune products are very lucrative, not to mention that enchantments can be pretty powerful. Maybe you could pick up a thing or two.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Belmont mused. He rubbed his chin, then started into the crowd while scanning the shops.

Arek wandered off in the direction of the restaurants he’d spotted earlier. He kept as far away from the crowd as possible to avoid drawing any ire, but to his surprise, not many people paid him much attention.

The most he got were a few surprised glances from passersby. Not about to question his good luck, Arek reached a restaurant named Dinky’s Dive and stepped inside. A tiny bell rang, announcing his arrival.

“Looking for a meal?” a short bartender asked, brushing long golden hair out of his face. “Wait, do you speak common?”

“I do,” Arek replied. He poked the chef’s hat perched atop his head. “And I’m looking for a job, not a meal.”

The bartender cocked an eyebrow and grabbed a mug from a shelf behind him, filling it with a dark liquor and sliding it down the bar to a dwarf who hadn’t even finished raising his hand. The dwarf grabbed the mug, raising it in appreciation, and slammed the whole thing in one go.

“Fancy yourself a cook?” the bartender asked.

“I am a cook,” Arek corrected. “I’m curious to know what a job at this location would entail.”

“Are you a tourist our here to stay?”

“I’ll be here for around three weeks.”

“Then, in that case, all I need is a dishwasher. Interested? It pays five bronze a day.”

Arek grimaced. “I’m afraid I’d prefer to cook. Do you happen to know if any location is seeking a chef?”

“Most restaurants in this area have their own secret recipes. I doubt you’re going to find any short term work as a chef,” the bartender replied with a shrug. “And that includes myself. It just ain’t worth the effort of possibly losing a recipe to some upstart thief.”

Arek snorted. “Secret recipes. Food is meant to be shared.”

“Tell that to my competitors. I’ve got a living to make,” the bartender replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Then cook better than they do,” Arek said. He shook his head, then turned around and walked out the door. He strode over to a restaurant beside Dinky’s Dive, but was given almost the exact same response.

Arek tried his luck with half a dozen other shops, ranging from bakeries to diners. Every single one refused to offer him a cooking job so long as he wasn’t planning to stay in the area for more than a few weeks.

He trudged back to where they’d entered the square several hours later and sat down on a bench, dejected but not defeated. Ming was the first to rejoin him. She carried two soft, cheese filled pastries in her hands.

Hopping onto the bench beside him, Ming offered Arek one of her prizes. “No luck?”

“Not much,” Arek admitted, taking it from her with a smile. He ate the entire thing in one bite, enjoying the salty flavor of the cheese as it mingled with the rich, sweet pastry. It had been masterfully made – and the texture was incredible. He’d never had dough quite as fluffy or buttery before. “But this is delicious.”

“A nice old guy gave them to me,” Ming replied happily. “He was selling them out of a wooden cart.”

Arek grunted. “Not much need for aid if he’s working out of a one person cart, I suppose. Were you able to find a job?”

“No,” Ming said. “Everyone thought I was a child.”

“Unfortunate,” Arek drawled. “I can’t see how that would have happened.”

“Me neither,” Ming said, completely straight faced. She finished off her pastry and licked her fingers. They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Ming poked Arek in the chest. “What if we did that too?”

“Did what?” Arek asked.

Ming nodded in the direction of the cart that she’d gotten her pastries from. “Well, he’s just selling food from the street. We can’t afford a store, but maybe we could get a cart like that. Your food would sell more than enough to make money.”

Arek blinked. Somehow, selling his food on the street had yet to occur to him – perhaps because he still half expected to get chased out of the city by an angry mob. “That’s… actually quite a good idea. I’d be a little constrained by the cart’s size, but it would be an interesting challenge.”

“I’m full of good ideas,” Ming said. “And food.”

“That you are,” Arek said slowly, his gaze latched on the wooden cart. “That you are.”