The Wielder of Death Magic

“Sorry about that,” startled, the chair nearly fell.

“Shesh,” wiping her forehead, “-do pay a little attention when I’m talking.”

“I do apologize for the disrespect, Guild Leader. It’s not without reason,” leaving the sentence unfinished, her ears wiggled in intrigue.

“Go on, what were you thinking?” she smirked with a hand on the table.

“Legionnaires of Mothra...”

“Where did you hear that name?”

.....

“I came across it on the way from the airfield. The guards at Lai were rather intent on letting people know their name.”

“You expect me to believe that?” her eyes sharpened, her nose sniffed in saying she could smell a lie.

“Yes,” returned he with a cold expression, “-lady Haru, I did but mumble the name Mothra. Why is it you seem flustered all of a sudden?”

“Tough nut to crack,” she facepalmed, “-are you sure thy memories are gone?”

“Yeah, don’t remember anything. Besides,” he leaned, “-are they a group of bandits or something?”

“Suppose I’ll tell you,” she eased into her seat,”-Mothra is a less than likable guild. They kill people, steal monsters, slay adventurers for a few gold and blackmail. They provide any service as long as you have gold.”

“Why hasn’t the guild taken action?”

“We can’t. Mothra’s a guild backed by a conglomerate in Alphia. They have diplomatic immunity. Even if we go after them, nothing will come out of it.”

“Alphia?” tilting his face, ‘-sounds familiar for some reason.’

“A continent to the North-East of Hidros. They’re allies of the Argashield Federation.”

“If it’s politic then count me out,” he sighed.

“Wasn’t it you who wanted to know more?”

“Yeah,” distraught by the reality, “-I thought they ought to have been some rare organization. Oh well, matters of states are best suited to the people at the top. A nobody like me doesn’t have the right to even dare look their way.” Tipping his head,”-thank you for the warm welcome, guild master. I’ll work twice as hard to make the Trader’s Guild proud!”

“Wait!”

“Yes?” stopped steps away from the door – her face felt a look of annoyance.

“Chef Leko is a nice man. He pleaded for me to do this,” a tag sprouted out her clenched palm, “-Kinless, welcome to the Ardanian Adventuring Guild.”

“I don’t understand...” back to where he was prior, “-didn’t you say no fighting?”

“I was being selfish. Take it before I change my mind.” Quick to obey, the rugged white-tag had Tier 10 – Porcelain engraved with the adventuring name.

“Why the Ardanian Guild?”

“Do you think Hidros would accept a vampire?” breathing a chuckle, “-with this, you’re now bound to us in Arda. In a way it’s insurance, no harm will come. Ardanian fighters are well-respected with or without a high rank. The process is simple, go to the guild if you ever have things or items to sell. Stock up on weapons and such. Word of advice, do keep to Ardanians on the field, they’ll help out without malice or second-intent.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the tag wrapped around the neck nicely, “-what about the Academy?”

“It’s been handled. Each subject has its own way of teaching and testing. The Trader’s Guild has even more freedom. Train to become a chef, it’s close to being night-service.”

“Will you be attending?”

“Obviously,” she laughed.

“As you wish, my lady.” The amber light in the hall flashed as the door closed.

Her stance relaxed further in the seat, “-majesty, are you please with the results now?”

“I’m not the queen,” said a monotonous voice, “-I’m but her weapon,” thus it vanished without another word.

‘So much for keeping it a secret. The trouble for taking care of you is worth the backlash. Igna, become the best chef the world has seen. It’s the only way to achieve the later goals. Being famous and of repute will serve in the long run.’

*Ding,* “-what is it?”

“Guild Master, Lord, and Lady Lordon have arrived.”

“On my way,” said she shuffled along the upper-floors while Igna dashed across the bottom floors. Time showed 17:00 and all rookies were obliged to make it before 16:00. The kitchen filled with unpleasant murmurs. Konoe tried hard to keep at washing dishes.

“Hey, Academy graduate,” fired one across, “-didn’t you take a class in street-food opposed to fine-dining. A poor noble like you can’t even afford a decent meal. He has to prepare it...”

“Stop with the pointless chatter,” blazed across the white floor.

“Shh, it’s Chef Ola,” the abuse turned polite. Seeing preparation going smoothly once again, Igna entered whilst panting.

“Igna?” frowned he, “-do you realize what time it is!”

“Cool it, Ola,” came another voice, “-the boy was with me,” said the head chef. “-Don’t worry,” a pat on the back gave time to breathe. “Go on and help Konoe in preparing the ingredients.”

“Head-chef,” voiced Ola, “-it’s going to set a bad example.”

“Not at all,” he smiled, “-the lateness incurred was beyond his control. He knows of the impoliteness,” shrugged to the boy’s direction. The chopping board rattled with the fast-paced cutting. No mistakes nothing, the knife was handled not as a chef, rather, as a trained swordsman. “Hard-work to make up for the disrespect.”

*Knock, knock,* “-can I come in?” interrupted one of the waiters.

“Sure, what is it?” they stared outwards the kitchen.

“Konoe,” snickered one of the nobles, “-didn’t you burn water?”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that else he’ll tell the chef.”

“Poor mama’s boy,” *clang* a knife flew across the kitchen to land millimeters away from those who spoke smugly.

“Sorry, my hand slipped?” turned Igna with a nonchalant expression, “-Konoe, do you know how many people die in the kitchen each year?”

“No, why?”

“None actually, there’s always a first for everything,” the steps echoed, “-forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m Lyoko Igna, nice to meet you.”

“Cathu Fonnt and here’s my brother, Peo Fonnt,” light glimmered across the forehead.

“Nice to meet you, Fonnt brothers. Can I please have my knife back?” the guild tag shimmered.

“Yeah sure,” the hand trembled as the older brother returned the utensil. The tanned expression, sharp facial features, curly hair, and slightly well-built body told of a person who cared about how he looked. Both siblings were similarly dressed.

“Fonnt brothers,” voiced Ola, “-anything the matter?”

“No, no,” said they intimidated by the show of recklessness. Was it intentional or an accident, the questions of whether to be scared or confident forced the duo into a silence.

“Konoe,” said he back at the chopping board, “-I might be the lower-ranked adventurer, however, I’m still a fighter. If the time ever comes where you need my help, please reach out, I’ll do my best then.” *Chop, chop, chop.*

“You sound so much like those fictional heroes. Always meddlesome.”

“Fiction is born from reality, that’s how I think of it. I doubt the Fonnt brothers will try anything. Let’s focus on cooking, yeah?”

“Sure,” thus the duo worked at a faster pace than before.

“What did you say?” voiced an astounded Ola to the point of shuffling back. “The Viper is coming to visit?”

“Yes,” said the waiter,” -the Guild Master told me of her arriving soon.”

“What does she want?” asked the clear-headed Nole.

“No idea,” replied the waiter, “-I’m only a messenger.”

“Head-chef,” voiced Ola,” -isn’t this a great opportunity to have our food be evaluated?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he grinned, “-the cooking will be handled by the veterans. Have the rookies take a break from today’s shift. I want the Fonnt brothers, Konoe and Igna can wash dishes and plate.”

As was said, the roles assigned were less than dignified. Konoe on plating the meals and Igna doing the washing. Respect in their place of work was earned. Less opportunity to prove oneself meant being in the shadows of the brilliance of the others.

“Don’t let this get you down,” said Ki embracing Igna and his friend tightly, “-we’ll make you proud, don’t worry about it.”

Minutes turned to hours; the guests came from all over the capital. Expensive cars were parked in the neighboring lot. Sport to comfort, the model’s never-ending variant was close to a dealership. Bystanders would often stop and take pictures. Service came at last with Konoe on duty. Without much else to accomplish, Igna walked out the back-door and into a dark alley with crates and pigeons. The latter went around seeking food from the trash, plastic bags tore open, rats ran circles with cats following close. In no way was it clean and neither that dirty, a sacrilegious balance of the two extremes. Silhouettes of couples shadowed onto the slightly lit ground. He could but stare blankly at the passersby.

‘Standing for that long should have taken a toll, still, I feel nothing. The guild tag has Arda written besides ‘Kinless’. I’m an adventurer now. Still, the fighting is so far away. I’ll return in December. What’s group-C up to anyway.’

The situation inside went along smoothly. Food was served quickly, Haru and the Lordon’s were seated in a reserved area with a few others. The VIP lounge on the second floor of the restaurant.

Under a gem stuttered chandelier with golden candle holders resting atop the table, Lady Lordon waited with a smile for the food to arrive.

“Might I ask why you left my pupil at the airfield?”

“No reason,” said she with a waiter bringing the meal, “-wanted to torment him a little. I suppose it was a test to see if he could manage on his own.”

“How did he fair?”

“Pretty good,” interjected the husband, “-he knew who to contact and made way to the trader’s guild. Dependable younglings are hard to come across, Chef Leko’s uncovered a diamond in the rough.”

“Yes,” smirked Lady Lordon, “-one that I, Yuki Lordon, shall polish.”

.....

“Let’s dig in,” offered Haru.

The famed chef’s table was served. Chef Nole and Ola waited impatiently for the inevitable compliments of their meal. The Fonnt brothers, talent scouted by Chef Ola did their best since coming here.

“What’s this?” her nose moved as if it were excrements. “-In no way did my will-be pupil prepare this,” angered, Lady Lordon dashed across the room to stomp down the stairs.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” smiled Lord Lordon, “-she’ll be back soon. I guess the food isn’t to her liking?”

“You guess?” her eyes narrowed, “-it’s pretty obvious she hated it.”

“No, the food is good, it’s very much so expected for the standard of such a restaurant. What she seeks is the raw talent of what we tasted at the Academy. The touch inherit from Chef Leko, none has replicated or mastered it besides that boy. Goes to show the extent of the potential.”

“Lady Lordon, please wait,” voiced a waitress.

“Don’t touch me,” said she shrugging the hand off her shoulders. ‘How dare they serve me that bland mix of ingredients.’ The double door barged opened with a fiery glare, “-I demand to see the head-chef!” her hair began to levitate and move as if snakes.

“I’m here,” whispered the old man running across, “-my lady, did something or someone offend you?”

“Yes,” returned she strongly, “-the food offended me very much so!”

“How, tis the veterans of the kitchen who prepared your meal. We did all we could to have it be perfect.”

“Perfect it was,” said she shaking her head, “-being perfect is good. After a while, it becomes bland and untasteful. The only time I felt alive is when I’m eating Chef Leko’s cooking.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” came a strong sentence out of Ola,”-Chef Leko isn’t here, we’ll never conform to that man’s cooking.”

“How dare a lowly cook speak to me in such a manner,” in that instant, the taller man felt short, she stared down her nose and into his soul. No care for tact, the superiority of her aura froze him in stone. The Viper, otherwise known as the Medusa of cooking struck hard. Her wrath was feared among the famed and respected gastronomes. Poor were they who experienced her full power, ‘Heon’s done for.’