98 – Chef

Impressively, Vincent only took a few seconds longer to recover. He plastered on a cool, host-like expression, and despite the events that had transpired right in front of him, he responded in an unbothered and polite voice.

“We have a standard menu if you wish to peruse individual dishes, my lady. However, for the evening, we would always recommend the Chef’s Selection. It is a five-course progression, utilizing the freshest arrivals from the morning markets. It begins with a clear pheasant soup leading into river trout poached in wine. The main roast is a Highland Stag with a savory glaze, followed by a refreshing mint sorbet to cleanse the palate before the finishing dessert. Though naturally,” Vincent said, bowing his head toward Aeris, “if the Archmage prefers to deviate from this selection, the kitchen is at your complete disposal to prepare whatever he so desires, so long as our larder permits.”

Vivi had never experienced even the modern Earth version of fine dining, so she was out of her depth more than normal. Aeris, of course, didn’t blink at anything the waiter had said. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in my years, it is that giving experts free rein will rarely lead to a disappointment. I believe our table would be more than satisfied with the Chef’s intended dining experience.” He glanced at Vivi. “Though I won’t speak for Lady Nysari or the others, of course.”

“I find that acceptable as well,” she replied, as if she had any idea what she was talking about. She looked at the other girls. Saffra shrugged, Isabella gave a polite affirmation, and Tatiana did the same.

“Very good, miss. Sir.” He bowed to them both in turn. “I apologize for the gross disservice shown to you earlier.”

“Truly, I understand,” Aeris said. “So far as I am concerned, that unpleasantness has been erased from my mind—remove it from yours as well.”

Even Vincent couldn’t help but look impressed by the Archmage’s continued good nature. He bowed deeper and then made to leave… before freezing as he remembered something, eyes turning to lock on the two starmetal coins that had been placed on the table earlier.

“You can take them,” Vivi said, a sigh in her voice. “It’s for you and the restaurant.” Though she and Aeris were the ones who’d been insulted, she honestly felt like she owed them after that whole debacle.

The man hesitated, gave his effusive thanks, then scooped up the coins and disappeared through the curtain.

And so, with the waiter having left and the table’s attention turning to Vivi, she was forced to deal with the fallout of her previous actions. Rather than addressing the shortcomings that had led to what they’d suffered through, she deflected. “I’m looking forward to seeing how Petra’s cooking skills have improved. I can only imagine we’re in for an experience.” She shifted in place, searching for something more. They had been interrupted almost immediately after sitting down, so more thorough introductions were still in order. “Tatiana, what year are you in, again? What classes are you taking?” The question had been intended as a deflection, but Vivi felt real interest spark. “I’m curious how the Institute’s curriculum is structured as a whole, actually.”

Luckily, the conversation fell into place from there. The Institute and magic more generally were inexhaustible topics for the five people present, and even Vivi could converse about them with ease.

The first course was served in less than ten minutes, and then eating was what occupied the bulk of everyone’s attention. As Vincent had indicated, the pheasant soup was the first dish out, and while she had already anticipated some of the best food she’d ever had, her expectations were thoroughly shattered the moment she scooped a spoonful into her mouth. It almost seemed impossible how her taste buds exploded with pleasure.

And it probably would be impossible to make something this good, back on Earth, she thought, struggling to keep her manners in check and not start shoveling down mouthfuls. A world-class chef back home doesn’t have literal magic skills. Or ingredients.

After she finished devouring the first course, she leaned back in satisfaction.

Out of curiosity, she pulled up her status screen and confirmed that no beneficial statuses had appeared. She wasn’t entirely sure how the craftsman profession of cooking had translated from game to reality, but the core concept had no doubt remained: potions were for powerful, immediate effects, and food was for long-lasting but much weaker benefits. In the game, dishes had been composed of complex sets of effects bundled together, and consuming one meal would overwrite the previous. Since only one dish could be active at a time, she assumed the main course would be the one that had the buffs layered in, if any.

That said, this might just be a mundane restaurant. Nobles were much more common here than adventurers, and adventurers were the ones who needed status effects. Surely it would be a waste of Petra’s talents to not leverage her craftsman ranks to the greatest extent possible, though? So perhaps the main dish would give day-to-day bonuses anyone could enjoy. Stamina recovery, for example—but there were any number of benefits that even non-combatants would value while going about their lives.

She wondered if the Alabaster Rose served combat-oriented dishes too. If Vivi had requested it, would the waiter have suggested a list of options? Maybe the possibility was so implied that he simply hadn’t. Or perhaps Petra had an arrangement similar to Malach, where she took commissions through the Cooking Guild and kept the Alabaster Rose separate from her adventuring-oriented business. Vivi could see it going either way.

Whatever the situation was, she was here for the food far more than any status bonuses, and the food very much passed muster.

After the second course arrived and most of the table had completed it, the inevitable happened: Vincent pushed through the curtains with another woman striding beside him. She was an older woman with brown hair hidden underneath a tall chef’s hat. Those key characteristics—chef, brown hair, older woman—made Vivi sit up straighter, because they fit Petra’s description, and Vivi had been expecting the cook’s appearance at any moment considering the metaphorical noise their party had made.

But this couldn’t be Petra. The matching traits could hardly be called undeniably identifying: ‘brown hair’, ‘chef’, and ‘older’ were all common, and there were too many contradictory characteristics for this to be her.

Maybe she was one of the senior cooks? It felt odd for the Alabaster Rose to send out someone not at the top of the hierarchy given the extent of the insult the floor manager had offered, but Petra would be an absurdly busy woman, and maybe he hadn’t divulged the full truth of what had happened.

The woman’s eyes latched onto Vivi the moment she entered, ignoring even Archmage Aeris. Her severe features shifted to surprise. That sternness, even while appearing shocked, again suggested that this couldn’t be Petra, since she had never been a stern woman in the slightest.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Good gods. It really is you,” the woman said. She glanced at Vincent and grimaced, as if the words had slipped from her mouth without intention. “Step outside, please, Vincent.”

The low-level staff member obeyed immediately, bowing before scurrying away. Both the authority in the woman’s voice and how quickly the other man had complied further raised Vivi’s suspicion.