I got my head straight and focused on one thing at a time instead of trying to multitask. Before the orders piled up, I made a stack of crepes. Maybe they’d be a little cool, but the toppings refilled the happiness meters. I worked methodically, eventually getting into a rhythm. The servers didn’t return plates anymore, and as I got better, they reported tips, too.
When I finished, I met Corvus outside for a quick break before the lunch rush. They inexplicably puffed on a pipe of cherry-scented tobacco without taking off their Plague Doctor mask. They had been promoted from dishwasher to porter once Chef Boyle learned they knew how to wield a knife. Or scalpel, in this case, but Blade Skill was Blade Skill.
I sat on a wooden barrel and sighed as my head hit the wall. The warm sun soothed my face. Corvus offered me their pipe and I accepted.
“Sister,” they said, planting a gloved hand on my shoulder, “when the temple excommunicates you, what will you do?”
I took a long drag from the pipe and slowly blew out the smoke. “I don’t even want to think about it, Corvus.”
“Why not run your own café?”
I scoffed. “With what money? We couldn’t even pay for our meal.” I took another puff on the pipe. “Besides, weren’t we going to see the world? Hard to do that if we’re stuck at one place. We were going to see Harrowick and Ankara and whatever Wyrdtide is.”
“With what money?” they asked simply.
“That’s fair.”
I handed the pipe back and pulled up my notifications. My Cooking skill went from level 3 to level 8:
<<<>>>
Skill: Cooking
Cooking allows you to craft delicious meals that will always taste amazing...as long as you follow the recipe. Placing points into this tree will allow you to imbue your meals with buffs.
Skill Type/Level: Active/Level 8
Cost: Stamina varies
Effect: Able to craft foods and drinks up to level 8.
<<<>>>
“Indulge the thought a bit, sister,” they asked, reading my expression as I dismissed the pop-up. “What would your café look like?”
“Hmm, the food would be simple, but nourishing. Pretty, but not pretentious. We’d have lots of Western Brew, obviously.”
“Obviously,” they repeated.
I crossed my arms and leaned forward on the barrel. “We could serve open-faced sandwiches. It’d cut the cost of bread in half, but still fill people up. Cream cheese and cucumbers sprinkled with fresh dill. Nut butter and sliced apples with a bit of cinnamon. Roasted tomatoes with egg, over-easy.”
“To-go orders, maybe,” they said. “But you could have a display case, too.”
“Good idea,” I said. “We’ll fill it with colorful macarons and cupcakes as a treat. Maybe some fruit tarts and cookies and more cupcakes.”
“You really like cupcakes, don’t you?” they asked.
I remembered the pink chiffon cupcake Chef Gumi had gifted me back at the 12th Step Inn after I left my temple to hunt Cian and his Darklings.
“Cupcakes make me happy.”
Corvus nodded. The idea, once planted, grew in my head, and I smiled.
“We can make soups out of leftovers from the neighbors. People can donate what they foraged or pay a few coppers for a bowl. That way everyone eats. We’ll use scraps from the vegetables to make art in focaccia bread. There must be flowers in the windowsill, and we’ll grow our own herbs. And it’s gotta have lots of lemon desserts. You have some levels in Healer and Alchemy, don’t you, Corvus?”
They dipped their beak. Yes, they did.
I couldn’t stop grinning. “Maybe we can use the herbs to make bandages and potions. Anyone who needs a hand can come to us, whether they need some sugary lemon treats to boost their mood or something to patch their wounds. The name needs to convey both selling points, though. We’ll call it something cute, like... like, uh... Lemon-Aid!”
Corvus stared at me, unblinking, cherry smoke visible behind the glass eye covers on their mask.
I paused. “No, that’s silly, isn’t it?”
They nodded. “It’s a good idea, though.”
“Now I’m excited, damn you,” I said, laughing. A hollow feeling suddenly took over my chest and my laughter faded. “This world is just as messed up as the last one. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing I can do. Maybe I’m better off being a chef.”
“That’s true. You can’t heal the whole world,” said Corvus. “But you can make a delicious pancake. And that’s not nothing.”
Yvonne interrupted the last of our break. “Yo, slack-asses. Brunch rush has come in,” she said, peeking her head out the back door. She flipped through her notebook. “You need to fry two and let the sun shine, burn one, walk it through the garden and give it shoes.”
“What?” we both said in unison.
Yvonne sighed and fixed a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. “Sorry, old habits. Cook two fried eggs and a hamburger with tomato and lettuce, to go.”
I hopped off the barrel and reached for Corvus’ pipe for one last puff.
“Get me some birdseed too, while you’re at it,” said Yvonne.
“Oh, I know that one. Cereal, right?” I asked, fixing my sleeves.
She pointed to the sparrow in her nest of hair. “No. Birdseed. For Lucky.”
After I finished the first rush of orders, Yvonne came to the short-order counter.
“Hey, check the ice,” she said, jutting her thumb over her shoulder.
I did. They stored it in the Shadowbox, where umbra magic somehow kept things cooler and fresher for longer. I didn’t like it. The magic gave the Divine Spark on my chest a pins-and-needles feeling.
Yvonne grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back. “No, look at the pretty girl who just walked in,” she corrected.
That got my attention. I turned and saw the prettiest girl I had met in the world of Falas Alferra so far: Kismet was back, tall and beautiful with her bronzed skin and high cheekbones. She pulled off her Inquisitor helmet and opened the door for a man who matched her height.
He was broad-shouldered with copper skin and black hair he slicked back with his hand. The ladies in the café giggled and blushed behind their menus as he winked at them.
Kismet and another Inquisitor tried to seat him furthest from the windows, for security purposes, I imagined, but the Paladin insisted otherwise, like he wanted to be seen. He wore immaculate silver plate armor, decorated with flourishes of gold and covered in opalescent runes. He set his massive tower shield behind his chair and set a jewel-studded sword on the table. He definitely wanted to be seen.
Chef Boyle clamped her hand on my shoulder and spooked me. “That is High Commander Aleixo Carrera, leader of the Imperial Inquisition,” she whispered in my ear. “Don’t mess this up.”
Fixed in Short Order
Yvonne tossed Chef Boyle a weak salute and rolled her eyes once the chef returned to her duties. She stuck out her chest and sauntered to the commander’s table.
“What can I get you, handsome?” she said as I finished the to-go order. It sat, cooling, as Yvonne tended to the head of the Inquisition. I’d want to talk to him later. About Cian, the Darklings, about Exarch Jericho’s involvement with the plague, about how they were holding my class hostage. He was one of my last hopes before I hung up the holy cloth and settled in as a short-order cook forever.
“Tell me about the menu, please,” ordered Carrera, tossing the menu over his shoulder.
Yvonne lightly touched her bosom and feigned gleeful offense. “My! Sir, the men I please are none of your business,” she said, winking. She leaned at the waist to pick up the menu, and I watched Carrera sneak a peek. He cleared his throat when she slapped it back on the table.
“But if you’d like to hear about our specials, we have a new chef whose specialty is mashed peas on toast with an egg over easy and crisp, peppered bacon on the side. How’s that to start?” Yvonne asked.
“Sounds as lovely as you are, cari
ño,” said Carrera, leaning back in his chair. Yvonne playfully pushed his shoulder and nearly tipped him over.
I started on the dish. It was one of our cheapest menu items. I could hear her over the din of the incoming lunch rush.
“You’re so tall, Commander,” I heard her say. “How tall are you?”
Eventually I managed to track down the attention of the to-go customer.
“Oh-em-gee, ‘six two with the helmet’! Haha, you’re so funny!” Yvonne giggled.
I tapped the bell to indicate the order was ready. Carrera pressed his lips to Yvonne’s knuckles with a smarmy grin before she made her way to the window.
She frowned as soon as he couldn’t see it. She snatched the plate from my hand before I asked if she was okay.
“Don’t,” she said, reading my thoughts.
“It’s not avocado toast, but—” I stammered out.
“As long as he can taste the pea-ness, I’m happy,” she said, turning to deliver the food.
I shook my head and started the next order.
Yvonne was back, again and again, as Carrera kept thinking of new dishes to try. Braised Grass Wolf in Elderberry Sauce. Ginger-glazed Stone Rabbit. Spicy Lamb in Herbed Butter. Some made me check my cookbook, De Re Coquinaria, to get the recipe. He’d ask for a bread roll here, extra sauce there, and drink after drink. What’s more, he expected it on the house.
At one point he even lit up a cigar and Chef Boyle herself wouldn’t speak to him about it. I suspected I got Carrera’s orders so she’d have a reason to dramatically fire me if he didn’t like it.
Yvonne came back, her face aged ten years from having this man one-step her for an hour. “He wants to talk to the chef,” she said.
Chef Boyle confirmed my suspicions. “I told you not to screw it up,” she said, bumping me out of my station with her hip and taking over for me. “Go see him, then you’re done.”
My hair was a mess, I was sweating, and my apron was covered like a Jackson Pollock painting. I washed my hands and went out to meet him anyway.
Carrera stared at the table, a scowl on his face.
“Is everything to your liking, sir?” I asked, eying his empty plate.
His mood faded and he smiled at me. “It was delicious, mi cielito, thank you. My compliments to you.” He handed me the empty plate, distinct with lick marks, and I exchanged glances with Kismet.
The commander stood and grabbed his tower shield from behind him.
“Actually, Commander,” I said, setting the plate down and pulling off my apron, “my name is Liset Chen. I’m a priestess for the Temple of Areste, and I wanted to ask you—”
Kismet stepped forward and stopped me.
Carrera attached his jeweled sword to his belt and tilted his head. “The Temple of—ah, sí, sí, the little hospital people. I’ll have my people send payment soon.”
I didn’t know what he was referring to, but probably some justiciars the Inquisition called in to help heal. He patted my back and left. My face fell. So much for asking him for help.
Kismet held onto my wrist. “Whatever you had planned to ask him, now’s not a good time,” she said. “He just received some bad news and is in a terrible mood.”
“But—”
“And he didn’t even tip, the bastard,” said Yvonne, hanging up her apron and joining us. Corvus found us as well.
Kismet wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we walked outside. “Listen, your troubles are important, and the plague affected a lot of people. It’s important to get it figured out,” she whispered to me. “But word is, Rebellion forces are seen closer and closer, and are even stealing Imperial artifacts we could’ve used to form a faction of Holy Templars. It’s a dangerous time.”
“Any word from Ser Berrick about other plague sources?”
Kismet sighed. “Nothing good. They’re busy, too. He hasn’t been able to afford anyone to investigate it, what with all you Travelers showing up. Some of you think being immortal means you don’t have to obey the law.”
“Like Cian,” offered Corvus, who somehow heard her.
“Or Jericho,” I added.
“Precisely. Besides, the Inquisition wouldn’t want the orb. Not now. Not enough to be at odds with the temple,” said Kismet.
“They’d rather lose one healer than all of them?” I asked.
Kismet didn’t say anything, but her face answered for me.
My notifications alerted me I had a new message:
<<<>>>
Personal Message
Dear Liset,
Are you okay? I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know Exarch Jericho was going to call in the Osmark Cleaner Techs to tear you out of the capsule. I wouldn’t have let you drink the poison to join us if I knew how much he really hated you.
But that’s why I’m writing. You know we need that orb, and anything else you happened to find out in Ankara. It’s your duty as a disciple.
If you don’t bring it back, we’ll be forced to excommunicate you for stealing a holy artifact that rightfully belongs to Areste. And unfortunately, given Theologian Hector’s untimely death, even if you do, we’ll have to excommunicate you for allowing him to die.
You know our rules. Isn’t it better to cut ties anyway?
Anyway, glad you’re alive. Come stop by for a drink. With that orb.
Signed,
Justiciar Olivia, Field Team Coordinator of the Temple of Areste
<<<>>>
I stared at the message and fell back into a seat on the patio of the café. Kismet and Corvus were at my side when they saw my eye twitch.
“What is it?” asked Kismet.
I pushed her away. “I thought you weren’t going to tell the temple I survived?” I cried.
“I didn’t,” she protested.
“Well, someone did,” I yelled.
Yvonne sighed and crossed her arms. “You did, dumbass,” she said.
I glared up at her. “What?”
“You literally did, just now. You told the High Commander of the Inquisition who you were. Did you honestly think they’d help you?”
I leaned forward and held my head. “I can’t even ask for help now without screwing myself over. Can I get no allies at all?”
Yvonne took a knee in front of me. “Hey, don’t say that. We’re here. Gaia’s still with you. Remember the reading from this morning?”
“Corvus, you were right, maybe I should open that café,” I said, hugging myself and rocking. “I’m going to need money for early retirement, though. A grand career of two whole days.”
“You did a lot in two days,” said Corvus. I appreciated the support, but it didn’t make me feel better.
Kismet took a seat in a chair beside me. “I’ll ask the local Commissar at the Rowanheath Inquisition Chapter Hall if she has any quests.”
I nodded and sucked in a deep lungful of air to steady my breathing. “Right. I technically have two days left to turn in that quest. She can’t ask for it sooner than that. If I can get a job as a priest, well, she’s my upline in that little MLM they got set up, right? I have to tithe 20% of any healing job to her. Maybe she can keep it a secret long enough for us both to earn some money.”
Kismet squeezed my knee. “And buy us more time to figure something out.”
I stood with a groan and hung my head back, staring up at the blue sky. “As long as this ‘Aspect of Salvation’ is around, I’m always going to be the black sheep, aren’t I?”
“I mean, probably,” said Yvonne. She took my cheeks in her hands and forced me to look at her. “She’ll always be more popular as long as she gives people hope. What do you offer?”
Breaking in the Habit
Kismet and I sent our respective messages as we all headed to the Inquisition Chapter Hall. Yvonne had some preparations to do for Hector’s funeral, and Corvus was still under Kismet’s charge as a criminal of the Ever-Victorious Viridian Empire.
I did my best not to lay into Olivia for the whole, you know, being
‘complicit in a hit on me’ thing, and honestly, I admired my restraint. I only cursed her out once. But Olivia liked money. And if being excommunicated was inevitable, at least we agreed we should make money while we could. Olivia couldn’t keep the fact I survived the assassination a secret—we didn’t know who else Commander Carrera had spoken to—but she could promise to neither confirm nor deny the fact that I responded to her for at least the remaining thirty-six or so hours I had to turn in the quest.
Kismet smiled. She got her reply almost instantly. “You’re in luck, Soror,” she said. “The Commissar received a message from your Justiciar. A prayer request came in from the Tanglewood, who specifically asked for a Dawn Elf priest with Veracity. They didn’t know anyone else who fit the bill, let alone was in the area, and suggested you.”
“Being disobedient pays off,” I responded dryly, though my sandals had more pep to their step in the dusty cobblestone streets.
The Inquisitor frowned. “I don’t think that’s the lesson to take from this, but the exception tests the rule.”
The road to Stonemount was a short distance from the café. Unlike the twisting streets and dirty alleys of the sprawling city below, the higher ground brought with it a certain elevation in status. For example, the portal platform that allowed travel between faction-aligned cities was to my right, with a line of people waiting for the mage to ferry them for a handful of coins.
This high, I saw a map of Rowanheath below. Shops and homes were built from smooth stone or white plaster, and merchants and hawkers lined the crowded streets with colorful market stalls. Tucked into a dark corner were the Burrow Downs, the slums, where stacked, roughly thrown together shacks was the prevailing architecture. We were protected on two sides by the mountain ranges and a massive horseshoe-shaped wall at the southern end, where heavily armed guards patrolled between watchtowers.
I paused for a bit, letting the chilly autumn wind swirl around us, and took it all in. We were safe here. For once. It felt... nice.
Kismet nudged me, and I looked back at her. She gave me a barely constrained grin.
Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2) Page 3
