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Chapter 15: Chef Ironbeard
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 13:00:52 +0000 UTCWith the back of his hand, Rylan absentmindedly wiped some sweat off his brow as he stirred the shellfish pilav he was heating.
Noticing that the rice was starting to stick to the bottom of his cast iron pan a little, he carefully pushed down a small lever at the front of his stove, reducing the flow of mana from the city’s grid into the firemetal top.
He only looked up when Fylsa sashayed into the kitchen, loudly announcing, “Order for table twelve: one catch of the day, one rack, and one special!”
She shot a wink at Rylan, and he smiled in return. Usually, only two or three of his specials were ordered on any particular evening, but this was the fourth one of the night!
Rylan had been working at the Knackered Hag for a few weeks now. Burtrand had quickly figured out that no one was shilling out the extra money for a breakfast special, so by this point, Rylan only worked evenings.
And for him that really meant only evenings—from fifth to ninth bell, when the kitchen was open for dinner—even though most of the food was prepared beforehand in the afternoon, including most of the components of his specials.
He was basically working half a job, but still getting a full salary. Burtrand really was treating him well. Then again, the man had plenty of reason to.
A regular meal at the Knackered Hag cost two copper bits. The chef’s special, on the other hand, went for two copper bits and a bronze quarter—a whopping five times the price. Of course, half of that bronze quarter—four copper bits—went to Rylan.
He’d once calculated that he could sell one hundred points of mana to the city’s mana grid for one copper bit, and had been pretty happy with that. Now he was essentially selling a single point of mana for four times as much!
His regular salary was actually two bronze quarters a day, which on most days, was still more than he made on the specials. That meant taking Rylan on just for the specials wasn’t actually profitable for Burtrand, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t making a profit on him.
As a pub, they naturally made most of their money on drinks. And even if they only sold two or three specials a night, the Knackered Hag had never been busier.
In fact, while Burtrand had originally said he had a full roster, the mysterious ‘Chef Ironbeard’ drew in so many additional guests that the kitchen was actually almost struggling to keep up with demand, even with Rylan’s help.
Of course, that did put some strain on the rest of the staff. Like Edil, the dark-haired, sturdy-built prep cook assigned to assist Rylan.
“I have to say,” the dark-haired young man started, already gutting another catch of the day—a plump redgill—with a little more force than seemed necessary. “I don’t really see what’s so special about this crab stew we’ve made today, Ryles. No offence.”
Rylan frowned.
As a line chef and a Quinthar, he outranked Edil both in the kitchen and outside of it. Still, he held the young man’s opinion in high regard as the prep cook was, without a doubt, a far more experienced chef.
He was also usually nice enough, and rather patient with Rylan’s many questions and occasional mishaps. He only seemed to get like this when Fylsa was interacting with Rylan in front of him...
“It’s something I made a lot during my time down in the cloudsea,” Rylan replied neutrally. “So I guess you could say it’s special to me.”
Fylsa, who was loading the order for table seven onto her tray, added some fuel to the fire. “That’s right, Edil, it’s the chef’s special, not yours. Besides, his magic touch makes it more than special enough.”
Despite himself, Rylan felt himself grow a little flush in a way that had nothing to do with the heat coming off the pilav he was stirring.
Even if he was trying not to react too much, it was still hard not to feel flattered by a pretty girl’s attention. Of course, he’d enjoy it more if he didn’t suspect her interest was in large part due to his status...
With a full tray and one last wink at Rylan, Fylsa swished out of the kitchen again. Edil grumbled something that wasn’t audible over the general hubbub of the kitchen, and threw the cleaned fish in a searing hot pan, already moving to take over the pilav so Rylan could go put the finishing touches on another special.
“Thanks,” Rylan replied, pretending not to notice Edil’s mood.
Timur, their rather young sous chef with a blonde goatee and a friendly face, appeared at the other side of their counter. “Need any help on your line, Ryles?”
Timur was running the other line today, which did the meats. Aside from the seafood dishes, The Knackered Hag served racks of lamb ribs and patties made of minced scraps, both naturally served with fried rice.
Omar, the head chef, was getting on in years, and today he was just making the sauces, while letting Timur practise with actually running the kitchen.
“No, I think we’ve got it covered, right Edil?” Rylan answered.
Edil grunted. “We do, but it’s been getting tighter and tighter. We seriously need another prep cook, and probably another dishwasher. We’re pushing nearly two hundred plates tonight with just the four of us, and tomorrow is bound to be even busier!”
Timur nodded seriously. “I’m aware, Edil, and so is Burt. He’s put out feelers with some former staff. We want to avoid anyone applying just to get closer to Thar Ironbeard. But hey, at least the tips are looking good tonight!”
He shot Rylan a smile, then hurried back to his grill to check on the ribs.
After his first week, in an effort to ingratiate himself with the staff, Rylan had graciously announced that he would henceforth be declining his share of the tips, as he was making more than enough off the specials. He needed his colleagues to help keep his identity a secret, after all.
So far, none of them seemed to have recognised him from the wanted posters, at least. It was something he’d worried about a lot at the start, but he’d figured it was a risk worth taking.
The odds of any of his colleagues extensively studying the portrayals of his likeness seemed low, and he had Arphin to look out for any shifty behaviour and approaching guards.
Thankfully, nothing had happened so far, but there remained a risk of his true identity being leaked. That was also why he’d asked them to address and treat him as just another staff member, to avoid any slip-ups.
Because, to be honest, he was really enjoying his new life and was loathe to abandon it. He was learning a lot at the Knackered Hag and actually really enjoyed the work.
It was a bit of a bummer that he had to cover his face to go out on the streets, of course. As a result, he found it hard to relax and enjoy himself while out and about, and didn’t really leave The Knackered Hag much.
He’d gone out to another pub only once, after Yuel and Nazyr had pestered him upon one of their sporadic visits. That wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon, as the twosome had run out of money, and been forced to take a temporary job sailing on another vessel, as Captain Hammermore had yet to return to Cliffport.
Thankfully, Rylan’s colleagues were nice as well, so he wasn’t lonely. And it definitely didn’t hurt that he basically got paid to practise his Cooking Skill every day.
The smells and sounds of the busy kitchen seemed to fade away as he focused his attention on the pot of crab stew Edil had mostly prepared for him in the afternoon. They’d made five portions for the night and the remaining two were bubbling softly in the pot, already partially infused with his mana.
First, he stirred, his iron ladle lighting up white as he activated his Skill, causing mana to slowly flow down into the food.
As it passed into the meal, he tried to flatten some of the tiny spherical mana structures it was forming inside.
He’d tried the effects of his Skill for himself and found the increased stamina useful, if a bit subtle. He’d really hoped it would be a bit more... potent.
It didn’t have to do with the amount of mana—Rylan didn’t want to stiff his customers, so he made sure to work about a full point of mana into each special—but more with the speed at which the nuggets of mana inside the food released their energy.
So for his first Augmentation, Rylan was trying to alter some of them into a shape that was a little less stable, to make them release their energy faster, in hopes of adding an effect that would last a little shorter, but would help make people more energetic while it did.
He figured it would be a good first step to some more impressive effects, like perhaps making people stronger or more perceptive while the effect lasted.
As usual, the little spherical mana structures did not like to be flattened, and some of them collapsed early, wasting mana, but he also managed to get some stable ones out of it. In fact, after weeks of struggling, he felt like he was finally getting the hang of—
《Manipulation threshold has been achieved, Rank-Up conditions met. Applying Augmentation: Delivery Acceleration, to Skill: Cooking. Do you accept?》
The corners of Rylan’s mouth rose, but at the same time, his brows drew together. “Ehm, Ethereon,” he whispered into the pan, trusting the noise of the kitchen to drown out his voice. “Can you tell me what it does first?”
《Using the Delivery Acceleration Augmentation of the Cooking Skill, you may speed up the delivery of the Skill’s primary effect. This provides a stronger, shorter-lasting effect, at a slight loss of efficiency. Do you accept?》
Well, that sounded just about what Rylan had been trying to do.
“Yes, I accept,” he said quietly.
Rylan turned to the right to watch the blue pinpricks of light streaming in through the wall towards his chest.
During his time in the city, he’d felt the descent of Ethereon’s attention on someone else twice already, so he wasn’t too worried about any Quinthar coming to take a look at who’d made some progress.
And even if someone did, he had the identity of the reclusive Chef Ironbeard to hide behind.
《Augmentation successful. Cooking has reached Rank 2. 100 Quintessence Credits have been added to your balance.》
Rylan continued his use of the Skill with a big smile on his face as he plated the special and garnished it with some freshly crushed lemongrass that added a lovely zest to the meal.
He found he could now pretty much freely choose whether the Skill formed its little nuggets of mana into spheres or flattened discs, and he decided to pepper it with a mix of both.
In his joy and enthusiasm, he ended up pushing in perhaps a little more mana than average, but that was fine.
Humming a jaunty tune, he set the distinct, gold-rimmed plate on the pick-up counter, and returned to working on the pilav so Edil could finish his catch of the day.
After his shift, Rylan made his way up the stairs all the way to the top of the building, and unlocked the door to his spacious loft apartment.
The renovations had ended up taking a few weeks, but the crew Burtrand had hired had done a lovely job, adding dormers to expand his living space and bring in more light, and even installing a complete private bathroom.
It was everything Rylan had dreamt of in a city apartment.
Closing the door behind him, Rylan kicked off his shoes before languidly yawning and stretching out his back.
“Ethereon, could I see my Status please?”
Status
Mana
Pool: 3.2/14
Shell: 6/6
Attributes
Strength 3 Dexterity 3
Endurance 2
Mind 4
Perception 3 Presence -1
Free points: 1
Skills
Knife-Throwing, Rank 3
Jumping, Rank 3
Cooking, Rank 2
Knife-Fighting, Rank 1
Quint Structures
Mana Core, Tier I
Mana Pool, Tier I
Mana Shell, Tier VI
Quintessence Credits: 348
The window moved with him as Rylan hopped onto his Quinthar-sized bed—which Rylan hadn’t even known was an official size—and eased back onto the spacious, soft matrass.
They’d actually sold a fifth special, so he was a bit lower on mana than usual. Still, he’d recover most of it by the morning.
He still hadn’t spent his free point. Back when he’d the one he’d gotten for Cooking, he’d still kind of been in a mindset of needing to grow stronger quickly. Now, things were different.
His situation was stable, and other than being found out, he wasn’t in any immediate danger. He’d considered putting the point in Dexterity, to enhance his cooking, or Perception, to see if it would improve his ability to see people’s spirits, but the pull of a Sapphire-Grade Skill was simply too strong.
When it came down to it, he just didn’t know exactly how to get one. He knew that in order to get a Sapphire-Grade Skill, he would need to create the associated kind of textured mana. However, which texture corresponded to what Skill, with which Attribute requirements? He just didn’t know enough, and he didn’t want to waste his last free point when he didn’t have any other Emerald-Grade Skills lined up.
There were plenty of Emerald-Grade Skills he met the Attribute Requirements for by now, of course, but the problem was that Ethereon was stingy when it came to handing out Skills that were too similar to ones you already had. Rylan already had a ranged and melee combat Skill, a movement Skill, and a crafting Skill. He knew there were still other general categories, like vocal Skills and performance Skills, but his Presence was too low for those.
He could spend his free point on Presence to qualify for Juggling, as Soren had told him that required a minimum Presence of 0, but that wouldn’t get him closer to a Sapphire-Grade Skill either. At best, it would get him additional Credits.
Shaking his head, he decided to focus on the things that were going well.
“Can I see my Cooking Skill Window, please?”
Cooking
Rank 2
Effects
Stamina buff
Improved shelf life
Minor recovery buff
Augmentations
Delivery Acceleration
It wasn’t much, but Rylan felt the Augmentation was a good start. During his experimentation to get to this point, he felt he’d gained some inklings of what the shape of the mana actually did, what parts of the Skill caused what effects, and he was ready to start working on something more daring, like trying to make it boost someone’s reflexes or strength.
Of course, he was working on his other Skills as well in the afternoon. Not like Arphin would let him forget about those even if he wanted to.
[You seem in a good mood, Boss!] the spiritblade spoke from the little holder on the wall that Rylan had made for his sheath.
They were high enough up that no one should be able to look into the room to see the gorgeous blade or its fancy sheath, so the holder was mostly to keep Arphin from floating around the room. Also, it just didn’t feel right to keep the chatty blade stuffed inside a bag or something when there was no real need, and the blade could feel people coming and Recall to Rylan’s side if needed anyway.
The first week or so, Rylan had kept Arphin on him at all times, and the blade had been vigilantly keeping an eye out for guards approaching on the street. When no one had come for them, they’d gradually started to relax. Arphin still kept an eye out on the streets and in the pub, but he was mostly just people-watching at this point, occasionally sharing funny things he noticed with Rylan when he wasn’t too busy.
“I am in a good mood, Arphin,” Rylan replied. “I Ranked-Up Cooking!”
[That’s great, Boss! I’m totally happy for you and definitely not worried that this lowers my value in your eyes!]
Rylan bit down on his smile.
He’d been working on getting Arphin to be more open about his fears and feelings. The results were... mixed.
The blade was still clearly, deathly afraid of being abandoned, but he’d been making progress. He no longer even complained about being left in the room during Rylan’s shift for example.
Still, the spiritgear could only chat with Rylan, and he’d realised the chatty blade craved social interaction from time to time.
“You want to help me write Zahra another letter?” he offered.
[Ooh ooh, yessss! We have to tell her about this bird I saw today; it was so fat I could hardly believe it was flying!]
Rylan settled in at his little writing desk, positioning Arphin above it and letting him float there as he started writing Zahra another letter.
He’d promised her weekly updates once he reached Cliffport, and so far, he hadn’t missed a single one.
She couldn’t reply, unfortunately, as he didn’t dare to include a return address. After all. even with the pseudonym he was using, he figured there was a good chance the Thistlethorns were reading along.
As usual, he discussed each line with Arphin, shooting down the blade’s more ludicrous suggestions, but more often than not indulging him on little things. When it was done, he rolled it up and put it in a little bamboo tube. He would hand it to one of the busboys in the morning, who didn’t mind doing him a favour for a small tip.
Standing up from his desk, he looked out the dormer window and noticed Tempi was out tonight, the yellow moon hanging low over the next rooftop.
“Blessed Zeph,” he muttered. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. May your winds of change blow evermore.”
Right as he was about to turn around and go to bed, however, an orb of yellow light fluttered in front of the window, seemingly peeking in.
His eyes widened. It’s a spirit! It has to be!
The little spirit jerked, almost seeming to startle, then darted away.
“No, wait!” he whisper-shouted, rushing up to the glass. “Come back!”
A moment later, to his utter surprise... the orb of yellow light returned, coming to a halt hovering almost hesitantly in front of the glass.
Author's note:
Thanks for reading! ^^
Comments
Fabian
Thanks for the chapter!
