Sugar and Spice

[Sanctus]

A Kitchen?

She cursed her luck. She'd asked the monks to give her a room out of the ordinary, a place where she could test her skill in a new way. She'd heard of battles on top of giant moving dice, or fights held inside glass bottles. So when the monks led her to a corridor, and told her it was the corridor reserved for strange and different arenas, she expected to be in for a treat.

But the door she had picked had led her into, of all places, a kitchen. What was interesting about a kitchen? She was in the refrigerator section right now, with large gleaming metal doors looming on both sides of her. She was in the mood now to find her opponent, shove him into one of the freezing cold compartments, and have done with it.

"There's nothing unique about this place. It's a kitchen! If I'd wanted to fight in a kitchen I would have stayed at my mother's house!" She was speaking rapidly to herself, giving no heed to the idea that her opponent might be waiting for her. At this point, she might not mind an arrow to the head. She'd wake up in one of the infirmary beds, and then maybe she could try for a real arena.

Rounding the corner, the kitchen widened to two long aisles, divided by a couple of tables covered in meats and cheeses, along with various jars filled to the brim with exotic spices and poultry seasonings. Along one wall was a massive, commercial-sized oven. Even with the door closed and her several feet away, she could feel the heat issuing from that monster.

On the far end of the aisles was another table, set perpendicular to the others. At it, a man worked quickly and carefully, chopping vegetables and cracking eggs into a bowl. His back was to her, and all she could see in the dim industrial light was that he appeared bald. And my, what a small neck! Maybe he could use some food after all. It might put some meat on his bones!

Walking forward, she called out, "Sir? Sir! I'm afraid I may be in the wrong place...I was looking for a battle, not a banquet. Sir?"

[Krugor]

A loud screech echoed throughout the room. Did he just hear something? And did he just scream in fright?

Quickly the skeleton recovered by slapping his hand against his mouth. There somebody else in this room and she was talking to him. How could there be somebody in there when he had specifically told the monks to shut the door after him. He wanted to be alone with his cooking, there shouldn’t be anybody here disturbing him. It always went wrong when people disturbed his cooking. Cooking was an art and should be practised in complete concentration, or at least in an attempt at complete concentration. Women running in and out of his kitchen, looking for battles didn’t quite help reaching that goal.

“Sir?”

Now the person continued talking to him, even calling him sir. Did he dare to look around? Krugor had heard the awful stories, the blood lusting monsters that entered the Citadel looking for an easy battle, feasting on the flesh of unknowing victims. But they wouldn’t call him sir, he rationalised. Nor did he have any flesh, Krugor thought to himself, after which he whirled around, facing the woman talking to him. A small egg dropped to ground as he turned, the shell breaking apart and the yellow liquid inside spreading out over the floor.

“Hey!” he said, in an obviously faked strict tone. “I’m not here to battle. I’m here to cook!”

The skeleton stepped forward, grabbing his staff from the table next to him and holding it tightly in attempt to intimidate the woman. He raised it, the tip pointing towards the intruder.

“And what are you doing here? I don’t like it when other people enter my kitchen when I’m cooking!” his voice slightly raising near the end.

Krugor scanned the area behind the woman, trying to see if there were anymore people intruding his domain. I should have a word with those monks when this is all over.

Slowly he lowered his other arm, taking hold of the plynt dagger strapped to his side. If she wanted a battle, she could get one. “Nobody enters the kitchen of a master-cook unannounced!”

[Sanctus]

As the man heard her, she saw him shuffle a bit. And was that a squeak? It sounded like he squeaked! Maybe he's a mouse!

And then the man turned, and she realized he was certainly not a mouse. Nor, really, a man. Her instincts were to turn and run -- she had weapons aplenty, but she was certainly not equipped to fight with the living dead. Indeed, for a moment her face was gripped by a paroxysm of fear, but then she realized what he had said. It made him far less fearsome, that's for sure.

...cook? He's here to...cook?

But, regardless of what he had come to do, the skeleton obviously wanted to do it bad enough to fight for it. Suddenly, she was looking down one of the two business ends of a yew quarterstaff. What a fool! Why didn't I fletch a few arrows before barging in for a battle! But she was, at least, not fool enough to try to press a fight with a staff-wielding skeleton. With her short gladius, he'd have her knocked cold to the floor before she got within two sword-lengths of him.

Backing away slowly, she said, "Now, look here...I don't want to interrupt your cooking...the door was open. I'm not prepared to fight someone with a staff, especially someone who just wanted privacy. I'll just go back the way I came, and look for another open battle..."

She held her hands out to the side, not wanting him to think she'd try something. As she backed away, a thought struck her...maybe if he thought she was interested in what he liked to do, he would let her go in peace.

"It's been quite a while since I cooked anything -- I always enjoyed it, though. Have a good time making whatever it is you're making." But how in Sabaoth's name will he eat it?

[Krugor]

A certain ease fell over Krugor. His battle position had at least some effect on the woman barging into his kitchen. He had the upper-hand now, he could win this if she tried to push on. But it seemed she backed off some more, holding her hands out in innocence. Krugor realised this wasn’t a blood lusting, battle hungry demon he had been told about.

“It’s okay, miss. I won’t battle you if you don’t want to. I’d rather cook than fight, anyway” he said laughing.

The skeleton lowered his guard, placing the staff back against the table and easing his grip on the dagger. This wasn’t the time for fighting, this woman wanted to leave in one piece. And so did Krugor.

“You like cooking too?” the undead said suddenly, surprise dripping from his voice, as the woman told him about her love for cooking. “Well then, please excuse me for being so hard on you! Anyone who likes to cook is a friend of mine. Please, come further.”

Krugor motioned for the woman to step up, to see what he was making. He turned his view back to the bowl in front of him. It was filled with carrots, sliced mushrooms and several piece of cucumbers. One of two eggs had been mixed with the substance. Mmm, it seems I’m missing one egg now, Krugor thought to himself as he noticed the yellow liquid on the floor. Next to the bowl lay an old, slightly torn yet still in good condition cooking book. It was a bit dirty with certain undistinguishable stains. The book lay open on a page containing a recipe for a pie.

“Since you have an interest for cooking too I’ll share a secret with you. I’m making a pie, but not the sweet, teeth-wrecking ones you mostly see around Althanas. This is a healthy pie! With all sorts of ingredients containing vitamins! My specialty.”

The skeleton held up the bowl in front of the woman, placing it in his hands so that she could take a look at the mixture inside.

“My name is Krugor. You can help me, if you want?”

[Sanctus]

She was about ready to turn around and walk back through the refrigerator compartments to get to the exit, but the offer made by the skeleton took her aback.

"Me...help you cook? I'm sorry...I...I came to the Citadel to fight..." She trailed off, rethinking her stance, "But...when you turned around with that staff in hand, I realized how unprepared I was." She laughed halfheartedly, more at herself than anything else, "I didn't even fletch arrows before I came in...and I'm best with a bow! Some fighter, huh?"

She took a few steps forward, relaxing a little bit as he did. It had indeed been a long time since she had cooked anything. She dug around for a moment for a loose bowstring, and finding one she wrapped one hand around her hair, pulling it back into a tight ponytail. Wrapping the bowstring around the knot to hold it in place, she said, "A pie, you say? Vegetables and meats and so forth? It sounds delightful, I used to make something of the sort with my mother. Maybe you can refresh my mind."

As she relaxed, for the first time she began to notice the rich smells that filled the kitchen. The thick, exotic aroma of anice and coriander wafted through the room, with the rich, heady smell of cocoa powder lightly mixed throughout. Above it all she could smell flour and yeast...indeed the smell suffused the room.

And soon she saw why. In the corner stood a basket overflowing with freshly baked bread, flour already scattered across the countertop as if waiting for a matron and her rolling pin to knead some dough. On the same countertop sat a loaf of thick, round sourdough, little parallel slashes on top perfectly spaced in rows of three. On another table sat assorted fruits and vegetables, a little irrigation device showering a fine mist upon them at regular intervals. The skin of the vegetables glistened with moisture, and the fruit looked firm, plump, as if freshly picked from a garden.

Stepping forward to the table where Krugor was working, she saw fresh baby carrots, small jars of turmeric and onion salt, little vials of olive oil and cooking sherry. Deep green broccoli flowers, separated from their lighter stalks, sat in little clumps across the table top. She could see small raw chicken breasts, along with what looked like dark meat turkey, displayed on a cutting board, ready to be tossed on a pan and then baked into the pie.

Looking now at Krugor, she said, "This is quite a kitchen! Tell me, Master Chef...what do you need first?"

[Krugor]

Krugor noticed the woman regaining some of her confidence. Both in herself as in her cooking. Deep inside the undead chef knew that everyone could cook something nice, they only had to believe in themselves.

“I’m glad you want to help me out!” he said as he placed his hand upon her shoulder, smiling his widest smile.

Quickly Krugor grabbed some ingredients and knives and placed them on a table next to his own. Displayed as if it was a merchant’s stand the fruits and vegetables lay proudly on the table. The skeleton motioned for the girl to come sit next to him, as he sat himself down on a small bench he had positioned by the table. He grabbed one of the thick, razor sharp knives and started explaining;

“You can start by slicing all of these ingredients. Firstly this potato.” He held up on of the prettiest potatoes he had ever seen. “Don’t be fooled by their appearance. They’re one of the few things that are extremely rich of both vitamins and minerals. Treat them as they were your children, slice them in pieces very gentle.”

Krugor passed the knife and the potato to the woman. “After that you can do the same with this tomato and that pile of carrots. If you get that done quickly you can put some butter in that pan over there and start baking the chicken. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t get to that. I know how time-consuming chopping up vegetables can be.”

The skeleton cook stood up from the bench and returned to his own table. “I’ll just continue working with this bowl. It’ll be the base for the pie, one of the most important parts. This can’t go wrong or we’ll have to start all over.”

Krugor smiled happily as he continued stirring with a giant spoon in his bowl. It had been a while since he last had an apprentice. In fact, he never had any. And now, finally, there was somebody he could pass his knowledge of cooking onto. She would learn all the secrets and tricks he knew, maybe he would even share his knowledge of mushrooms. No, that was a bit too much. The chef quickly waved away that thought and continued his cooking.

“You can take some sliced parts of the vegetables if you want, by the way. Cooking isn’t cooking if you don’t taste what you’re making. Remember that!”

He shook the spoon in the air as he spoke those words, resulting in some of the pie’s base spinning around through the room.

[Sanctus]

She watched and listened carefully as the skeleton outlined the procedures. She was a bit uncomfortable when his hand was on her shoulder, though. While all she had seen in the world made her less prone than other women to be frightened of a skeleton, or at least a nice and gentle one, that still didn't mean she wanted him touching her. But it would be rude to shake him off...and, after all, he still had that staff. From what she had seen when they first met, he was still capable of ferocity.

Taking the knife he handed her in one hand and gently cradling the potato in the other, she sliced it in two lengthwise and let both halves fall open on the table. Instead of seeing white inside, as she had expected, the coloration was a light yellow, almost gold-colored. When he had first handed her the potatoes, she hadn't really believed what he said about vitamins -- most potatoes were empty of nutrients, useful only for feeling full when rations got tight. But seeing this new coloration made her think twice...maybe they were, after all, special potatoes.

She sliced each half once more lengthwise, being careful not to smash the soft yellow inside. Potatoes were good in pies when they were in big chunks, not the soft mash that was often served with gravy. They would give the inside of the dish a big, thick, healthy feeling. As she finished the potato, she took a small piece. After all, he'd said it was okay.

The taste was marvelous. It wasn't bland and starchy like most potatoes, but it broke apart in uniform bits, the taste strangely like it had been buttered from the inside out. She had never had a potato so good, but she didn't have time to dwell on it...there were more vegetables to chop. The carrots went faster, as they weren't as prone to getting damaged as the potato had been. She popped of few of those in her mouth -- they were hard and crunchy, just as carrots should be. But they weren't nearly as good as the potato.

Moving to the tomato, she had it sliced up in no time. It wasn't the largest she'd ever seen, so she refrained from tasting any of it. Eating and cooking at the same time was always fun, but you had to know when to save some ingredients for the actual dish -- and this was one of those times.

Quickly grabbing the pan, she was also reaching for a pat of butter when she spied the vial of olive oil and bottle of cooking sherry she had seen earlier. As she saw them, a gleam alit in her eye...she would surprise the Master Chef! Instead of using butter to grease the pan, she used some olive oil...and, as she tossed a chicken breast or two into the pan, she made sure to add a healthy dollop of sherry. The alcohol would cook out quickly enough, leaving the most interesting, almost nutty flavor. It was an old trick her mother had taught her...but her mother was as likely to drink the sherry as she was to cook with it.

Adding a sprinkle of garlic across the top of the chicken breasts, she picked up the pan and walked over to the oven. As she opened the door a blast of heat hit her face, hot as a furnace. In the five seconds it took her to slide in the pan and close the door, she had already broken a sweat. Grabbing a dishrag to wipe her brow, she suddenly smelled something else in the kitchen.

She froze...it can't be! But then the smell was gone, and she relaxed a bit. Among all those spices, it must have been her imagination playing tricks with her. Shrugging off the feeling, she called to the skeleton, "What next, Master Chef?"

[Krugor]

Master Chef?

His apprentice had called him that several times now. Never in his life had Krugor thought of himself as being a Master. A Chef he was, indeed. But a Master? Maybe he was, why wouldn’t he be? The skeleton had been cooking all throughout his life, first death, first resurrection, second death and second resurrection. He had seen cookery no one had ever heard of, he had tasted the sweetest of fruits, mixed the finest of ingredients and found the rarest mushroom recorded in books to this date. Yes, maybe he was a Master Chef.

“You’re done already?” he asked surprised. Krugor had guessed that the woman would be busy for at least twice the time it had taken her now. Apparently she showed some talent for the job, she was gifted. “Very well done. It seems it was a wise decision letting you on my cookery.”

The undead chef took his own bowl and put the contents on a hard, smooth piece of wood. Making sure the mixture was evenly divided over the wood and that it did not just drip of the table he added some flour beforehand, creating a somewhat more solid substance. Looking at his creation with much enjoyment he continued working on what would be a masterpiece. The skeleton took a rolling pin and started rolling out the base. Ever so often adding a slight drop of apple juice, one of his secret ingredients. “Please be patient, I need to finish this before we can continue” he said, noticing the woman still waiting for more instructions.

When the base was finished he continued instructing the apprentice, who had been doing a terrific job so far. “Right. Do you see that frying pan over there?” he said, pointing at a small, black coated pan with a shiny silver handle. “Take that and put some butter in it. Not too much though, just enough to moisten the bottom”. While explaining what she could do with the pan the skeleton walked over the oven the woman had just used and opened the doors of the cabinet beneath it. Gracefully grabbing a pair of onions, celery and parsley he returned to the table. “While you wait for the pan to reach the required temperature you can peel these onions. It’s lovely!” Krugor smiled as he pictured the woman crying over the onions. They had that kind of effect on the living. “Now, listen closely, this is important. When you’ve peeled the onions and the pan is ready you take everything you’ve just chopped up, including the celery, parsley and onions and throw them all in. You must pay close attention to the pan for the vegetables only need a short period of time to cook.”

He waited a second to see if the woman had understood his explanation before continuing his own work. Krugor opened his backpack and pulled out one of the fattest mushrooms available. “Aah!” he said, worshipping the food “One of Salvar’s finest!”

Showing the mushroom to his apprentice triggered him to start babbling; “You know I’ve never been to Salvar. They say it’s quite an extraordinary place, with lots of mushrooms species yet to be discovered. This is one of the hardest to get mushrooms from that region. I wouldn’t know why, seeing as I’ve never been there. Maybe I should go there some time. Anyway, I purchased this of a merchant who seemed very eager to sell it. The man approached me in one of Radasanth’s back alley’s. Normally I would be suspicious of such persons but he seemed genuine. Well, we’ll just see what happens when I chop this up!”

Krugor returned to his table and readied his knife. This would be a delicacy.

[Sanctus]

Even as the first instructions left his mouth, she was working. The pan was in her hands and a small lump of butter was resting in the middle of the dark pan. The material was unlike any she'd seen before. When she cooked with her mother, the pans were always blackened from years of scorching heat, but this black surface did not seem that way. Placing the pan on the stove, the butter seemed to pop and hiss, not as though it was merely melting, but as if it was sliding across the surface without actually contacting it.

As the butter began to melt, she took the onions in hand and broke open their crisp outer layer. Immediately the fumes accosted her, and her eyes began to water. Some old wives liked to say that the smell of onions was so bad it made you cry, but she knew better. They smelled quite strong, it was true, but it was the fumes themselves, as they came in contact with your eyes, that made you cry. She squinted and kept working. Watery eyes never killed anyone.

As the onions were finished, the skeleton chef began to babble. She listened with one ear as she poured the bowl full of vegetables into the pan. They began to simmer and brown immediately, and she stirred with a wooden ladle and occasionally tossed them into the air a bit to mix them around. The undead kitchenmaster was correct; they did cook quickly.

And then she smelled it again, that faint aroma that reminded her of fear and fire. Among the smell of cooking vegetables, it was extremely hard to detect, but there it was all the same. Wafting among the scents in this kitchen was the distinct and unmistakable smell of Fulkaurim. They are here, and I am not prepared!

She was about to open her mouth and warn Krugor, when the odor hit her with full force. Even as that powerful scent assaulted her nostrils, a hand grabbed her shoulder. Without even thinking she whirled, her hand reflexively grabbing the frypan. As she spun, the vegetables flew from the pan in a piping hot shower of melted butter and vegetable oil. The beast gripping her shoulder relaxed his grip and fell back for a moment, holding up his clawed hands to guard his eyes.

Her heart was about to burst from fright. Fulkaurim were terrifying creatures, taller then Haidians, with claws, horns, fangs, and powerful magic. She couldn't fight one alone. And the beast was already shaking droplets of hot oil off of his feet and hands and walking for her, like malice personified. He flexed his jaws and roared.

She was petrified, still shaking from the sudden appearance of the beast, but the fear acted as a spur to action. "Master Chef! Your staff!" Her only hope of survival was appealing to a skeletal cook.

I'm dead.

[Krugor]

No way!

The cook was still busy working on his ingredients when his apprentice took the, expensive, frying pan and threw the lovingly prepared vegetables through the air. Apparently there was something attacking the woman, for there couldn’t be any other reason why she would throw away good food. Only one reason why someone could throw food: a life-threatening situation. Any other excuse was worthless. Vegetables, fruits and spices needed to be cherished, not disrespectfully used as a throwing weapon.

No way I’m letting this happen!

The skeleton turned around and saw a humongous beast strafing towards his apprentice. Never in his life had he ever witnessed such a terrifying monstrosity. It even had claws and horns. The thing looked like a heavy muscled man, with a slightly scaled skin. It was disgusting and made Krugor slightly nauseous. It would probably ruin all of the flavours and smells of the food in the kitchen if the skeleton didn’t act quickly.

"Master Chef! Your staff!" the woman called out. She needed his help.

No way I’m letting this idiot wreck my chicken pie!

Krugor quickly grabbed his plynt staff and tried to think of a strategy. This beast was big, very big, and he looked like he could shatter the skeleton with a single blow. But he needed to act, needed to fight. His female apprentice was slightly shivering, which the cook knew was quite understandable, and Krugor realised this was going to be a hard fight. How the hell did he get inside this kitchen anyway?

“You there! Yeah you, stupid beast!” Krugor shouted. The thing wasn’t interested in him apparently, for it only looked at the skeleton from the corners of his eyes. “You’re ruining my pie, fool! Get out now or I’m forced to use some strong ass-kicking magic on you!”

The skeleton spoke, whirling his staff in his right hand to show-off his amazing staff whirling skills. Or at least he thought they were amazing, and tried to intimidate the beast with it. Anything that might let it think twice about attacking was useful. A head on attack would kill both of the cooks. The Fulkaurim, however, only roared a bit and didn’t paid the least bit of attention to Krugor. His target was the woman, and only the woman.

A sharp, slightly curved, dagger shot through the air right as the beast charged for the apprentice. The skeleton had only recently bought the thing but still wielded it nicely. Not enough to mortally wound the beast, but it still distracted him a bit.

Krugor ran forward, his staff above his head, tightly in both his hands. The monster was distracted, there was an opening! He might just be able to take this beast!

With lots of noise and screams the skeleton was sent flying and he smacked into the pots and pans on the table behind him. A fist-shaped mark of oil became apparent on Krugor’s face.

“Pfew! That went better than expected!” the skeleton said, brushing off the vegetables from his clothes as he climbed off the table.