(I) Competition

-Adam and Roland Arrow126 (I)

Competition

Band didn't cook like a chef, but rather a conductor guiding an orchestra of dimensionals in a marriage of musical and culinary artistry. Fire, air, and water dimensionals emerged from pockets of vibrating Dimensionality—vibrating because they were summoned forth from the shivering strings of Band’s violin. The dimensionals formed a small whirlwind around Band, carrying him aloft at the eye as a maelstrom of ingredients hovered around him.

At the very bottom of the whirlwind were the fire dimensionals. They channeled heat and infused it into the various ingredients hovering above them. The air dimensionals guided the cooking materials on their path, spinning them in the air as if a belt of asteroids. Beyond that, the air dimensionals also formed veils of protection around the more vulnerable ingredients—shielding the mushrooms from any spillover heat. Finally, at the top was a small army of water dimensionals who unleashed sprays of moisture to help some of the ingredients retain texture and maintain moisture.

Shiv observed his new rival with consideration. Band was an interesting chef. He wasn't directly cooking himself, but he had his eye on every single ingredient in flight, and with a few pulls on his violin, he guided his dimensionals toward the completion of the side dish. Air dimensionals carried the vegetables through the air. Fire dimensionals seared cauliflowers and only singed the mushrooms. The glass peppers were entirely spared—to be placed around the outside per Shiv’s earlier orders for both aesthetic and taste-related reasons.

Not everyone wanted peppers, but if one wanted a bit more sting on their palate, it was just a bite away.

As the violin-wielding orc did a turn in the air, he winked at Shiv. From behind a curtain of hovering cauliflower and simmering mushrooms, Shiv shook his head as he called out to Tequila. "Sauces, are they ready?"

"Come take a look for yourself, ," Tequila said with a loud chuckle.

The orc had both his wands out, but what Shiv noticed first was how thoroughly stained Tequila's apron was. It had the deep purple of loom grape juices painting its bottom, while its center was dappled in splashes of orange. Before the orc were two massive containers. They were translucent and plastic, originally used to store the raw mangoes and loom grapes before they were probably pulped and made into paste.

Originally, Shiv guessed Tequila would move the mangoes and loomgrapes into other containers they had nearby. But instead, and with a few mere gestures from his twin wands, the forces of physics performed Tequila's work for him. Claws of gravity came down, not hard enough to crack the containers, but just enough to smear the fruits into a fine, powdery paste. The orc drew circles in the air with his wands, and his Dynamantic field began to churn. They went from fruit to paste as the mass of loomgrapes became a thick curdle of deepest purple while the mangoes shone a near-gold beneath the mana core’s light.

As this went on, Tequila kicked out with his foot several times, and Shiv wondered why. He got his answer a moment later, as, with each kick, the mango seeds started shooting out from the viscous mixture. The seeds blasted skyward a dozen at a time, and each of them was stacked together, vertically at first and horizontally thereafter. Soon they hovered above Tequila, and Shiv wasn’t sure what the orc was doing.

Then, each of the seeds began to twist and wither into dried-out clumps. The moisture ripped out from them, condensing into a dense sphere of water.

Tequila grinned. "Saves me a little bit of Hydromancy later."

"Hydromancy?" Shiv asked. He examined the orc's mixture. The paste looked fine. It glowed soft and pale—The Chef Unwavering was pleased. There was nothing wrong with the paste. “It’s moist enough.”

"Not for the sauces. For the rice wine." Tequila chuckled. "I'm just waiting on some rice. Now, where’d that goblin run off to… Said she’d be back soon…”

Shiv wasn't sure how the orc intended to ferment the wine in such a short period of time, but he grunted and called Whisper over.

"Here, chef," Whisper said. His expression was entirely controlled. A little too controlled. Shiv’s scolding had Whisper on his best behavior, and Shiv thought he could make use of that.

"You're going to help me portion the meat," Shiv instructed. "Here's what we're going to do. Leanest meat on one side—no fat there. Those are going to be our pure-flavored meats. Grape or mango. Then, section out the other meat based on fat. They will be our mixed-flavored meats: mango paste on the outside, loomgrape within. Got it?”

Whisper nodded. "Of course, Deathless. Is that all?"

"For you," Shiv grunted.

Whisper frowned slightly. “I apologize for getting carried away earlier—”

“We’re done talking,” Shiv said, walking away. “To the task.”

Mortar let out a mocking sigh. "Oh, Whisper, look what you've done. You managed to talk yourself out of a proper job. Wait, you didn't talk to him this time. You just acted. That’s the kind of mistake I would make.”

Whisper scowled at Mortar. “Yes. I did. I suppose you always bring out the worst in me, Mortar.”

The large orc regarded his stealthy counterpart and sneered. “You gonna do something about it or just bitch?”

“Knock that shit off,” Shiv called out. “We’re cooking. Not fighting. Keep it separated.”

"Yes, Insul," Whisper said.

"Got it, Chef," Mortar agreed.

The two orcs briefly shared eye contact and bared their jagged teeth at each other.

Tequila just giggled. “Ah. Classic Clique warfare.”

Shiv stared at the sauce-mixing orc. “What?”

“Cliques. Orcs have their own separations as well.” Tequila shrugged. “Most of us belong to one philosophy or another. And being of a philosophy puts you at odds with another.”

“Huh,” Shiv said.

As Whisper departed to help Shiv portion the meat, the Deathless looked in Band’s direction and nearly did a double-take. Streams of well-roasted cauliflower soared through the air, guided by the currents of air. At the same time, water elementals ran their whip-like limbs across the cauliflowers. Some were infused with a bit more moisture, and others had moisture taken out. Shiv could feel how thoroughly the vegetables were cooked through his Biomancy.

The finished cauliflowers began to spill down into a large ceramic cauldron, some hundred meters wide. After that came the glass peppers, glistening bright after administrations of moisture by the water elementals. Finally, the mushrooms fell as well, with columns of smoke rising from them, releasing a hearty, earthy aroma in the air.

With that, Band pulled on his bow a final time, and his dimensionals scattered, spreading across the sky and awaiting further instruction. The orc dropped in front of the ceramic cauldron and grinned. “Done.”

Shiv hadn't expected this. He thought it would take Band far longer to complete the side dish, but when one could summon an entire kitchen staff of dimensionals using a violin, progress was quick.

"Not bad," Shiv said.

"New. Task?" Band said, showing his pointed teeth in a large smile.

"Yeah," Shiv replied. "Have one of your dimensionals keep the side dish warm. You help me on main. Then we talk.”

“Only. If. Food. Isn’t. Shit.”

Band gave Shiv another broad grin, but his gaze was filled with a slight hint of provocation. He gestured at his fire dimensionals, and he pointed at the side dish. One of them hovered over the bowl and unleashed thick waves of heat to keep the cauliflowers, mushrooms, and glass peppers in prime condition.

Just then, a blade tapped Shiv on the shoulder, and he turned. He saw a small swarm of gleaming knives sorting the basilisk meat in neat rows. The entire rearrangement took mere seconds, and so fine was Whisper's control over the weapons that he used their flat sides to pick the meat up and move them around. Soon, the leanest meats were stacked high at the front while the fattest waited at the back.

"It is done," Whisper shouted. He held his arms behind his back, and Shiv gave him a brief nod.

“Good job. You’re on standby. I'll call you when there's a need. If anyone else needs help with anything, you call out to Whisper too.” Shiv looked at the other orcs and waited to see how they might respond.

"Oh, Whisper," Mortar said immediately. "There's something you can help me with."

"I'm not sticking my head down your throat, Mortar," Whisper replied dryly.

"Chef!" Mortar grumbled. "Chef, I think this one needs to be thrown out; he's not being part of the team.”

Shiv ignored Mortar's comment as he turned to stare at the mixtures. There was mango and loomgrape paste. Both tasted different. Both had an exquisite flavor. The mango was sweet, and when properly heated, it would create a slight crusty coating over the meat that should crack upon being bitten. Most of it would sink deeper into the flesh and seep in there as well. This made it ideal for the leanest meat. The loomgrape was the same, except it had a sour aftertaste.

But there was a problem with mingling loomgrape and mango—they both had different temperature thresholds. He couldn’t just mix them casually. The fat in some of the meat would also catch the mango paste, preventing it from achieving a full infusion. Meanwhile, the loomgrapes were of a lesser thickness and often seeped through fine. Shiv learned this fact back at the Swan-Eating Toad. Mixing different condiments and seasoning was dangerous business. It was very easy to throw the taste off after getting something wrong.

But now that he was a Biomancer, he could reshape the meat. His current plan was to shift the fat around and have it choked full of loomgrape. The outside could remain dominated by the mango paste. This allowed a full spectrum of flavors, while the fat served as an insulating layer for the loomgrape as well.

This allowed for a perfect fusion in Shiv’s opinion. The loomgrape was sweet on its own, but it also had some sour in the aftertaste, allowing it to synergize with both the mangos and meat. If done right, it could become an evolving flavor, something that danced upon one's tongue with each bite. But it needed to be done to truly reach its flavorful potential.

Shiv explained what he wanted done in detail to Band and the other orcs, and they followed along, offering grunts of acknowledgement. And while Shiv spoke, he observed Band’s features. Slowly, that taunting look in the orc's eyes faded, and a sense of focus emerged thereafter in the form of a glare.

"Is there something wrong, Band?" Shiv asked. He looked at the stacks of meat glistening and at the ready, at Whisper standing by, at Mortar still heating the Skysplitter with puffs of Pyromancy.

"No. Chef," Band replied. "But. Meal. Hard. To. Make. Easy. To. Be. Shit.”

"Of course it is," Shiv said in agreement, "but that's why we do it right, to make art from food. Otherwise, why move beyond scrambled eggs?"

"Why. Indeed," the orc replied. And he gave Shiv a genuine smile right after. “Fine. Do. The. Hard. Do. The. Art.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Shiv smirked. He remembered what Angel had said to him, as he considered just what it took to advance his skills. Strain, challenge, complexity. And to Shiv, the sting of failure was an acceptable bitter taste compared to the foul, fetid stench of mediocrity. He was going to be a Pathbearer on the battlefield and in the kitchen as well. If he was going to accept mundanity, he would have stayed a Pathless mortal.

"But if you think it's too difficult, you can step back. I'm not going to force you to perform beyond your level," Shiv said, taunting Band slightly.

The orc’s eyes became pinpricks of yellow. He pierced Shiv with a stare. "."

The Deathless laughed. He learned something about Band—the orc was pretty happy to bite, but not so receptive to being bitten in return.

Yet, before they were about to begin, a voice called out in interruption. A familiar voice.

"Right, hold up, hold up!" Siggi cried. She let out a loud grunt as she and several other Pathbearers lugged a large crate of some kind that ground across the floor. The sounds of wood splintering filled the air.

Shiv blinked. "Siggi, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, I got some of our rice over from the camp! This guy said he was going to make us some booze!”

That's when Shiv noticed how large his audience was. Previously, it was only Adam, Uva, some Umbrals, a few Weaveresses, and a couple of mercenaries. Now, there were well over fifty people nearby, observing this culinary adventure.

"Where the hell did all of you come from?" Shiv muttered.

As soon as he said that statement, all four of the orcs tilted their heads.

“A bit too overfocused, aren’t we, Chef?” Whisper said. There was a hidden threat lurking in the orc’s words.

Shiv shook his head. There was nothing for it now. He still needed to finish this meal. Just then, Tequila waved his wand, and the top part of the crate blew off. Siggi flinched back as the orc rushed over.

“Wonderful!” Tequila called out. Then, with a wave, the water he'd squeezed out from the mango seeds came splashing down. “Now. To ferment this thing quickly…”

“Siggy,” Shiv said. “When did he ask you to bring this over?”

“Earlier,” Siggy said. “While you were staring at the dimensionals roasting the cauliflower and stuff.”

Shiv blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Siggy said.

"You were busy watching Band's troupe perform." Tequila grinned as he began casting spells into the water. "It was a good performance, so I don't blame you for being distracted.”

"No, it wasn't," Adam snarled off by the side. "And you were whispering. You threw a pebble at her to get her notice.”

Tequila ignored the Gate Lord. “My sauces are done. Permission to begin mixing my rice wine, oh, Deathless one?"

Shiv slowly gave the Orc a nod, too stunned to do anything else.

Shiv stared at Band and cracked his neck. "Alright, Band, you ready? You know what to do?"

"Yes," Band said. "You?"

Shiv chuckled humorously. "All right, smartass, let's do this."