(I) Infusion

-Udraal Thann’s Animancy Notes127 (I)

Infusion

The orcs were some of the finest chefs Shiv had ever worked with, aside from Georges. All it took was getting them to focus on the right thing. Everything led back to dominance with the orcs. Previously, they were trying to dominate him, to humiliate him by proving their own skills superior. In the process, they failed the dish, and now their own pride was on the line. Now, the orcs turned their collective efforts to making sure the food was made and made well, because what was the point of being better than Shiv if they botched the cooking?

There was nothing to be gained from shared failure.

And that got Shiv to realize the orcs weren't just cruel monsters. They were also Pathbearers—Pathbearers who desired to grow, to prevail, to achieve, experience, and more. Every one of the orcs was different from the others in major and minor ways, but all of them cared about being Whatever their personality, the orcs were extremely self-motivated. They didn’t shrink away from defeat or discomfort. The only thing that truly stung their egos was shame. Shame that they betrayed their own strength to show up Shiv.

Shiv guessed.

This understanding accompanied Shiv as he and the orcs worked to finish the recipe. After handling a few more cuts, he let Whisper do the leaner ones. The orc's control over his knives was spectacular, but his lack of Hydromancy, Pyromancy, and Biomancy made him best suited for the pure-flavored cuts.

Band, meanwhile, reduced the amount of dimensionals he directed, bringing them down to only ten. Instead of hovering in the air and doing flourishes, he was on the ground with Shiv. And he pulled at his bow as if it was a surgical instrument. His eyes were narrow. And he showed Shiv every piece of meat he finished to make sure it went well—neither of them moved on until The Chef Unwavering painted the meat good and bright.

At the same time, Mortar monitored the skillet’s heat. Despite being the most brutish of the orcs on the surface, Mortar was quite the communicator. He persistently and constantly checked with Shiv about the temperature, and did everything he could to achieve the perfect sear.

And off by the side, the sweet smell of rice wine filled the air, as Tequila finished concocting his alcoholic beverage. Shiv wasn't sure how the orc did it that fast, so he must have had a skill, and a good one at that. When he was done, he joined in on marinating the meats as well, and his Awareness of just how suffused every cut was rivaled Shiv's.

Alone, it would have taken Shiv a full day of unceasing work to prepare the pan-seared basilisk with abyssal mango and loomgrape glaze paired with cauliflower, mushrooms, and glass peppers. Together, they did it in around four hours.

When the dishes were done, pillars of delectable smoke climbed high into the air, folding along the underside of the Court Leviathan and coating it in steam. Two mountains rose high below. The first was made up of neatly cut bricks of meat. Equal portions of purple and yellow meats were stacked high at the center where the lean, pure-flavored meats were. On the sides were the mixtures—the mango and loomgrape blends stored within the fattened cuts. The pan-seared basilisk with abyssal mango and loomgrape glaze was as colorful as it was flavorful, and it proved a radiant accompaniment to the mushroom-crowned and glass pepper encircled hill of cauliflower that loomed nearby.

The Umbrals and Weaveresses moved in to start delivering some of the food across the gate, but the ones who were present received plates and were invited to dig in on the spot. Rice wine flowed as well, and its alcoholic sting proved the main attraction for some mercenaries who came seeking drunkenness.

Meanwhile, Shiv found himself having a stare-down with the orcs again, but this time, he had Adam and Uva by his side.

“So,” Whisper said, skewering a piece of meat with a gleaming blade and holding it up before the Deathless, “it has come to this. Time to see if our efforts have borne fruit.”

“If not, we’re all in agreement about blaming the Insul, yes?” Tequila asked. Three cigarettes bounced up and down with his moving lips, and he somehow managed a brief sip of rice wine while speaking as well.

“Yeah,” Band growled, grinning at Shiv.

Mortar chuckled. “Can’t be anyone else’s fault by this point.”

“Yeah, yeah, kiss my godsdamned ass, assholes.” Shiv snorted. He looked down at the food on his own plate and let out an anxious breath. “Alright. Let’s see if this is more than shit this time.”

He levitated a piece of fattened meat using his Biomancy and slid it into his mouth. A chunk of yellow-crusted and purple-veined basilisk meat vanished behind Shiv's teeth. With each bite, the flavors of the meal danced together upon his tongue, evolving from sweet, to acidic and sour, to sweet again, with a final lingering sourness to seal the deal.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve.

This was the taste he had been chasing. And it had worked. More importantly…

Pan-seared Basilisk with Abyssal Mango and Loomgrape Glaze paired with Cauliflower, Mushrooms, and Glass Peppers has boosted your Toughness and Reflexes and given you Basilisk Venom Immunity.

Skill Gained: Leadership 1 (Common)

The Chef Unwavering 62 > 63

The movements of the world around Shiv slowed slightly, but he felt his flesh harden, felt his nerves ignite with buzzing energy, and felt something swell inside his blood. He guessed the last sensation was him getting venom immunity. That made him frown a bit. Before Plaguefueled, he would have found that to be a spectacular boost. Now, it was getting in the way of one of his best boosting skills.

The orcs ate their fill as well, and each of them nodded or let out grunts of satisfaction.

“A job well done,” Whisper said. “I can feel my nervous system firing. I haven’t gotten that from a meal in a while.”

“I can feel my ass getting firmer,” Mortar said.

“You don’t have an ass anymore, Mortar,” Tequila said as he threw down some more rice wine before he finished chewing his meat. “But somehow, I get what you mean.”

“Chef. Unwavering.” Band growled as he swallowed his piece of the pan-seared basilisk.

Shiv’s attention snapped back to the orc as Adam and Uva bit into their food for the first time. “Yeah. You know the skill.”

“Yeah. Not. Surprised. Student. Of. Georges.” Band chewed on a bit of cauliflower, deliberately ignoring Shiv’s glare.

“What do you know about Georges?” Shiv asked.

“Faced. Him. Once.” Band coughed, and he clutched at his throat.

“And what’s up with your voice? It sounds like you’re shitting a knife up your throat every time you speak.”

“He’s Cursed,” Tequila said. “Got into a bit of a fight with a Fae Loreshaper some few years back. Now, he has to use his violin to sing for him. Before, oh, Insul, you should have heard his voice. It was magnificent. And quite devastating. His Physicality was mixed in with his voice, and with each cry came the force of a hurricane.”

“And now you have to fight to spit out every syllable,” Shiv muttered. He almost felt bad for the orc, but Band broke Shiv’s sympathy by just shrugging.

“Just skills. Just a life. Things gained. Things lost. Nothing special.”

The Deathless couldn’t understand that. Losing a skill was one of the truest fears he still had. He never wanted to be like Valor or Can Hu. “Our skills are what makes us who we are. You don’t care about losing them?”

Band regarded Shiv for a moment. The other orcs were staring at him as well.

“You have been starved for much of your life, haven’t you, Insul?” Whisper said.

Shiv went stiff. He may have revealed too much about himself. “I eat fine these days.”

“He’s not talking about food,” Mortar replied. “Experiences. Happiness. Struggles. That kind of stuff. You haven’t had enough. You cling to things like someone who fears losing all they are.”

“Just how godsdamned high are all your Psychology Skills?” Shiv asked.

“Master-Tier,” all the orcs said in unison.

“Why?” Shiv whispered.

“Because learning your adversary from the inside out is the easiest way to learn how to break them,” Tequila replied as if he was commenting on the weather. “And learning about people is interesting. It’s fun to hunt. But it’s fun to know why someone does something. There are so many things about us that are similar. Especially you, Deathless. You’re quite orc-like… But then you’re not.”

“We evolve our skills to climb and live,” Whisper said. “But we don’t fear losing them. It feeds the true mastery.”

“True mastery?” Shiv asked. Uva was leaning, her curiosity was piqued by the orcs as well.

“Yes,” Whisper said. “Our skills give us options and power. But before that, we were already Pathbearers, because there was the want. The desire to grow and become someone else through struggle.”

“You think you’re a Pathbearer now? Because you got skills?” Mortar scoffed. “You lied to yourself, Insul. You were a Pathbearer long before. Even before you knew what you wanted to be, you were doing things to find out who you were. And that’s the truest way to live. Knee-deep in the struggle. Bet it all. Lose it all. Try again. Why else should we suffer if not to enjoy the tension?”

Philosophy 7 > 9

Shiv was speechless. The orcs were getting good at consistently surprising him with their philosophies. If he didn’t know what they were— Fınd the newest release on N0veI.Fiɾe.net

“Know. Georges.” Band said. “Georges. Was. Friend. Saved. My. Life. Years. Ago.”

And here came more shit Shiv wasn’t expecting. “Band. Can you give me a moment to process my thoughts.”

“No. Eat. Shit. Pussy.”

The casual, growled vulgarity made Shiv cough out a surprised laugh.

“A few years ago, Band would have sung those lines, and they would have sounded angelic,” Tequila declared.

Band continued on, clearing his throat as best he could. “Was. Taken. Prisoner. Interesting. But. Miserable. Considered. Starting. New. Life. Georges. Prisoner. Too.”

“Prisoner?” Shiv asked. He didn’t know this about Georges, but then again, he didn’t know much about Georges at all before he came to the Swan-Eating Toad. All of that predated Shiv. “Who took you prisoner?”

Band grinned. “Fae. Queen. Of. Tongues. Knife. From. Her. Moonsteel. Reward. Given. When. Georges. Won. Asked. For. My. Life. Too.”

The Deathless could only blink in response. Georges was a Heroic-Tier chef that had encounters with an orc and a fae queen?

“The fae have queens?” Uva asked.

“Yes,” Band said. “Only at midnight. Not before. Not after.”

“What? That makes—”

Uva’s question was interrupted by Adam shaking his head. “I took a course on the fae, Sister. They work very differently from most races. Frankly, it’s hard to call them Pathbearers at all. They’re one of the few species that can change their Paths on a whim—but they also lose mana levels from performing certain acts and suffer wounds from words. The fae are… in many ways.”

“Yes,” Band said. “Interesting. Taste. Good. Too.”

“And there’s that profundity transformed into raw brutality,” Adam said, looking wearily at Band. “I still need to speak with you about Vivalde.”

“Might. Not. Want. To. Speak. With. You.” Band turned away from Adam haughtily. “Have. Nothing. I. Want.”

Adam closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Well, you did it, Shiv. You found a bigger bastard than yourself.

“Yeah, he was waiting to do that to you,” Shiv said. Rejection was an easy way for Band to bother Adam.

“Need. More. Social. Skill,” Band told Shiv, deliberately ignoring Adam. The Gate Lord’s glare could have put a hole through a wall.

“So,” Whisper said, watching a few Umbrals pack away chunks of meat, “what do you have next for us, Insul?”

“Some scouting in the morning, some cooking in the afternoon. What might the evening bring?”

Shiv, Uva, and Adam shared a look.

Shiv said, trying to keep his expressions controlled.

Uva reminded him.

A wall of apprehension formed around Adam’s mind.

Shiv said, swallowing the discomfort hidden within that statement.

“Talking about what you’re going to do with us?” Tequila said, looking at the trio. His gaze skipped over Shiv and Uva to rest on Adam. “Oh. You’re the holdout.”

“What?” Adam said. The startlement in his voice betrayed his position immediately.

“You press your lips together hard when you have doubts,” Tequila said, tapping his bottom lip. “You’re used to watching other people, Gate Lord. But not watching yourself. Understandable, but still a flaw.”

Mortar let out a grunt of annoyance and wrapped a fist around the orc’s head. “Talking us out of a good fight again, dumb cunt. Just can’t stop acting like a detective, can you?”

“It was the best job I ever had,” Tequila said, his words muffled behind Mortar’s large, armored fingers.

“Yeah, especially considering you were half the serial killers in the city as well.”

“That's a lie—I was only three of the ten serial killers active at the time. And I killed most of the other serial killers as well, so my presence in the HKPD was still an overall benefit to the civilian population.”