The frying oil hissed, the scent of garlic and ginger filling the bakery, as Marron mass-fried battered cockatrice thigh pieces. She tried to ignore the quest prompt still glowing in her vision—100 servings of onigiri and 100 beignets—but the weight of it pressed on her shoulders with every crackle from the pan.
Lucy was in a corner of the bakery countertop, her tendrils carefully placing parchnt paper into Charity’s take-out boxes. By the ti Marron finished frying the chicken karaage and let it cool, she would be finished.
anwhile, Dori stood nearby and stirred a pot of rice with seriousness that made Marron’s heart swell. He wasn’t confident yet, but he wanted to help. The rice was more than enough for the onigiri--she also wanted so for Aegis Chicken Rice. That way, the builders and carpenters could have so extra defense.
Charity, perched on a stool, was busy stacking finished boxes into neat towers. "Don’t panic," she reminded Marron for the tenth ti. "We’ll make them all, and even if you don’t sell everything, it’s better to look prepared than like so desperate village cook. Trust , Whetvale likes polish."
Balen added with a grin, "And nothing says polished like a neatly wrapped snack. Simple, affordable, and delicious. If they want to eat it at ho, they can too. It’ll work out lass, you’ll see."
Marron nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead as she pulled another batch of golden crispy chicken pieces from the oil. She still felt overwheld, but with everyone pitching in, it felt... possible.
By late afternoon, the Commons looked like a festival kitchen. Onigiri were stacked in neat pyramids thanks to the mold, their wrappers snug around each one. The beignet dough rested under cloth, ready for frying once orders ca in. The parchnt-lined boxes glead in rows like treasure chests.
Marron stood back, flour dusted across her apron, and let herself smile. "We really did it."
"You really did it," Charity corrected, eyes twinkling. "Just rember: don’t sell food. Sell your story. People rember flavors more when they’re tied to soone they believe in."
Marron flushed. "A story... I’ll think of sothing."
That evening, as the last preparations were tidied away, Borin found her outside the inn’s half-finished fra. He leaned against the stone, arms crossed, his golden eyes thoughtful.
"Lass," he said quietly, "be careful on the road."
Marron tilted her head. "Why?"
"I’ve been speaking with adventurers passing through," Borin replied, his voice low. "They didn’t step into adowbrook, but word travels. They say more dungeons have been sighted in Savoria lately."
Dungeons? Why is Balen worried about them? She paused and a batch of fried chicken stayed too long in the pan, the crust turning dark. Marron only realized when the oil started to pop, droplets of it landing on her skin.
"Agh! Sorry, can’t sell these," She muttered, setting them aside to eat for later. Failed batches never went to waste--if she didn’t eat them all, sobody would.
Mokko, who was sanding a beam nearby, froze. "That can’t be right. Dungeons are rare. Months—sotis years—can pass without one appearing."
Borin’s gaze hardened. "True. But dungeons form when magic builds up faster than the land can hold it. And where there’s a dungeon, there are monsters. Strong ones. Raiders too—easy prey inside, easy loot outside."
Marron’s stomach dropped, her mind racing with the System’s threat: Failure = Raiders notice your base. "But the raiders... they’re gone, aren’t they?"
"That’s the troubling part." Balen’s arms tightened over his chest. He’d stopped rolling the cut chicken pieces in flour. "Raiders don’t vanish. If they’re quiet, they’re watching. Waiting. For what, I don’t know."
The night air pressed cold around them. Marron swallowed hard, the fear coiling sharp in her chest. "I can’t fight. I don’t have any combat power..."
Borin walked up to Marron and grabbed a bit of fried chicken to taste. The crunch echoed through the bakery, along with the sll of garlic and ginger.
"This one’s a winner for sure. But, well, train those who can fight for you, Marron. Mokko and Lucy would fight tooth and nail to protect you. He has those fists, and who knows what your sli can do once she gets more cores."
Charity nodded briskly. "Or if you’ve got coin, hire rcenaries. Whetvale has plenty. But don’t freeze up, Marron. You’re not completely helpless."
Marron nodded as she shut off the deep fryer and stared at her fried chicken mountain. Once the rice was done, it would be ti to make the final fried chicken onigiri.
Deep down, she just wanted this world to be about cooking and comfort food. Yet again, it reminded her—safety was fragile. This may be a world focused on food, but it had dungeons and magic too.
"Yeah. But I now see...why joining a guild looks like the best option." The Culinary Guild had more mbers and more resources. It could be worth her ti (and in the future, adowbrook’s) to apply for a mbership.
But then she shook her head, forcing herself to breathe. "First things first. I’ll get through this quest. Then... I’ll decide."
Above adowbrook, the stars were bright, but Marron barely saw them. The road to Whetvale lood ahead, lined with food, faith, and the shadow of dungeons.
Right now, I just have to focus on making 100 chicken rice balls.
The rest of the day was a blur of rice being molded into triangles, with a piece of cockatrice at in the middle.
The thought of raiders, dungeons, and monsters prowling unseen clung to Marron even after Borin’s warning. That night, she couldn’t shake the unease. Before bed, she pulled Charity aside.
"Can you prepare another hundred boxes?" Marron asked, voice quieter than usual. "Not for Whetvale—just... for adowbrook. If anything happens."
Charity studied her for a long mont, then nodded. "Ergency rations. Smart. I’ll mark them with the Guild’s seal so people don’t mistake them for the sale stock."
Marron smiled faintly. "Thanks. I’ll fill them with Aegis Chicken Rice. Better safe than sorry."
Reviews
All reviews (0)