Morcster Chef - B3 Chapter 10 (Patreon)

Malissa and Belmont found them a few minutes later, their expressions downcast. The two sat down at Arek’s side.

“You look pleased,” the orc drawled. “What happened?”

“I hate every single job here,” Malissa said. “Nobody wanted to teach me any recipes or even let me cook in their kitchens. The only people hiring were the whorehouses, who apparently also guard their recipes. And – get this – they wouldn’t even hire me!”

“They offered the role to me instead,” Belmont said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But for that pay, I would never even consider it.”

“So none of us had much luck,” Arek finished. “I found much of what Malissa did, although I admit that I didn’t try my hand at any… nightlife. I’d imagine there’s a market, but I’m not too interested in partaking.”

“So we’re getting the cart then?” Malissa asked.

“Cart?” Belmont cocked an eyebrow.

Arek nodded in the vendor’s direction. “Ming had an idea. We don’t necessarily need to work for someone else. If nobody is willing to give us a job, we’ll make our own. My cooking is more than good enough to compete with the competition, and maybe once we make a mark, people will be a little more interested in trading with us.”

“That covers you and Malissa,” Belmont said, tapping a finger on his armored hip with a clink. “What about me and Ming? If you let Ming into the kitchen, she’ll eat everything before you can serve it to someone.”

“This is true,” Ming said cheerfully. “Which is why it would be a fantastic idea.”

“Not if we’re trying to make money.”

“I’ll leave a little.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Belmont, please,” Arek said, chuckling and raising a hand. “We’ll need to get our hands on ingredients. We also need advertising, or nobody is going to check us out. And, on top of that, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these people tried to start some trouble with us once we set up shop. I won’t be able to take any direct action against them because I’m an orc. If I so much as defend myself, I’ll likely get chased out of town.”

“I could be a guard,” Belmont said, blinking. “But… that leaves Ming to get ingredients and advertise.”

All of them turned to her.

“What?” Ming asked.

“Are you capable of getting ingredients without eating all of them?” Malissa asked.

Ming frowned and rubbed her chin. “Can I eat a little?”

“No,” Arek and Malissa chorused.

“That is pretty hard,” Ming said. “I suppose I can do my best.”

“What about advertising?” Malissa asked.

“I think Ming should be able to do that without much work at all,” Arek said, a grin tugging at his lips. “All we’ll have to do is giver her some food and set her loose on the city. As long as she doesn’t eat it all at once, people will notice and follow her back if the food is good enough.”

“Bold of you to assume she won’t eat it all at once,” Belmont said. Ming nodded empathetically.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to handle it,” Arek said, pushing himself back to his feet and brushing his backside off. He shifted his large bag with a grunt and nodded. “Let’s get to it. I’ve always wanted to start a restaurant.”

“This isn’t exactly a full restaurant,” Malissa said as they joined him.

“Have to start somewhere,” Belmont said with a shrug. “And it’s safe. Nice and open, so nobody can easily sneak up on us. I won’t even have to trap it too much.”

“Quick question,” Ming said, jogging to keep up with them. “Where are we supposed to find a cart? We aren’t stealing the old dude’s one, are we?”

“It would be cheaper,” Belmont mused.

“Also illegal. Not doing that,” Arek said. “But there has to be somewhere that’s got a cart for sale. This is a huge city. Just look for a woodworking shop or something. Maybe a travelling farmhand?”

And that was what they did – for the next three hours. The group roamed up and down Seaview’s streets, scouring them for any sight of wooden carts that could be converted to their purposes.

It wasn’t that there were none. On the contrary, the city was full of them. Unfortunately, the majority of them were also actively being used, and their owners were not particularly interested in parting with them.

The carts that were both available and in one piece didn’t instill Arek with much confidence. Many were discarded, missing wheels or covered with mold and rot. Just when he was starting to wonder if there was even a single passable cart that wasn’t already spoken for in the entire city, something caught his eye.

An old man was closing up his storefront. The building was two stories high and flanked by two large alleys that twisted deeper into the city’s center. Parked at the edge of the store was a wooden cart, aged and tanned from the sun.

Its wheels were slightly sunken into a small patch of mud, and judging by the grass growing around it, the cart didn’t look like it had been used in quite some time. Arek brought the others’ attention to it and the Happy Sunflowers jogged over to the man.

“Excuse me,” Malissa said, clearing her throat as they grew close. The man spun, raising his fists defensively as he stared at them from beneath two bushy eyebrows.

“Whadda want?”

“Are you using that cart?” Ming asked, blinking her wide eyes at him. “We’d really, really like to eat it.”

“Buy it,” Malissa corrected. “We’d like to buy it. If you aren’t using it, of course.”

“That old thing?” the man asked, frowning. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” Belmont asked. “Our money is good.”

“Be polite,” Malissa scolded him. Belmont turned his nose up and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Please?” Ming pleaded. “I’m hungry.”

“It’s wood. You can’t eat it,” the man said, crossing his arms. “Is this a joke? It’s not funny.”

“We don’t want to eat it,” Malissa said, grabbing Ming by the arm and pulling the smaller woman behind her. “Don’t worry about our friend. She’s a little delirious. We need the cart to start up a food stall.”

The man harrumphed. “Well, if that’s the case, the thing isn’t doing me much use. My son used to haul lumber for our fireplace in it, but it’s been years since he moved out and the cart has just been sitting there. I’ll give it to you for ten gold.”

“Done,” Malissa said, grabbing the requested coin and dropping it in the man’s palm. She winked at the others, then walked over to the cart and tugged on it. It was lodged in the mud.

“Deal didn’t include me helping you move it, mind you,” the old man said. “Maybe you should ask your larger friend to–”

With a heave, Malissa lifted the entire thing over her head. Mud and grass rained down around her as her muscles flexed and she let out a grunt. “Right. Got it. The wheels are screwed, but I think we can fix them.”

The man’s mouth dropped open and Arek chuckled.

“We’ll deal with that later. Good job, Malissa.”

“Thanks,” she said, adjusting her grip on it with a grimace. “So, where to?”