Chapter 21: Chapter 21: An Epicurist?

They had gone through a few barrels of Icemarrow Ale, easily half a week’s supply in one night. They ran out of garlic knot dough halfway through the shift and the cauldrons of goatkick taco meat and consommé were gone just as the real drinking was just beginning. The clientele had to settle for the fish, and so many of them still had an appetite from the Hunger Debuff that they went through two night’s worth of fish in a couple hours. Nay had been hit with the familiar ding of a completed quest once all the sineater brownies were devoured.

---

[Quest Complete!]

[Prove Quincy Wrong and Sell all The Product Quest Completed!]

[Congratulations!]

[You have been rewarded with Vigor Points]

---

Quincy all but had to kick people out or send them up to their rooms after both the bar and the kitchen were off-duty.

As the trio of servers sat at a table in front of the tavern hearth, counting through the massive amount of tips they had received that seemingly flowed out of happy diner’s fingers, Nay, Nom and Gracie sat out back outside of the kitchen, decompressing in the chill night air, sharing a hand-rolled cigarette of iceflint tobacco the stitchgal had made for them. They passed it between each other after a few puffs, never breaking the order of rotation.

Nay inhaled the crystal cold smoke into her lungs and exhaled the smoke that looked and felt like frost. It was perfect for winding down from a busy and chaotic shift. She enjoyed the post-dopamine rush and adrenaline crash of pure calm that came with surviving a busy dinner service. She looked at the cigarette in her hands and thought that something like iceflint tobacco would be a major hit back home. As dangerous as this new world was, its simple pleasures were the stuff of whimsy and wonder. She passed it to Nom.

“I’ve never seen the Lodge like this before,” Gracie said, sighing. “And I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired before.”

Nom blew frost smoke and passed the cigarette to her. She took a hit and gazed out at Lac Coinescar. The moon was reflected in the dark water that rippled with the wind coming down out of the Spineshards. From one of the streets they could hear drunken singing from someone who was surely a Quincy’s Lodge patron a few hours ago.

“I keep thinking what it might be like when we’re a full house,” Gracie said.

“We’re gonna need more product,” Nay said. “Maybe an extra server or two if we’re dealing with a packed house.”

“Your food absolutely bewitched everyone,” Gracie said. “What are you cooking tomorrow? They’re going to demand the garlic knots and tacos.”

“I have a variation of the garlic knots but I’m thinking of a poultry dish,” Nay said. “I want to use the product we have first while its still fresh.”

“Well,” Gracie said, “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

The kitchen exit opened and Quincy came through. He had a clay jug in one hand that he raised to his mouth and took a swig from. He stood next to the three of them who were sitting with their backs to the building’s wall. He looked out over the Lac.

“We made as much coin tonight as we did during the Three Moons celebration,” Quincy said. Without looking, he handed the jug to Nay. She took a sip, tasting something sweet like brandy. It burned the back of her throat like a good whiskey. She passed it to Nom.

“And I suspect we’re going to make more tomorrow night,” he said.

“You do?” Nay said.

Quincy nodded. “The folk of Lucerna’s End are always hungry. Word of your food will spread.”

Nay sat there, a little dumbfounded. If it were only this easy to please foodies in Los Angeles, she thought. “So does this mean I’m no longer a trial?” Nay said.

He walked back towards the kitchen and said over his shoulder, “Let’s go discuss in my office.”

He disappeared inside. Nay looked at Nom and Gracie, who gave her excited looks, gesturing for her to hurry and go inside. Nay pushed herself up and entered the Lodge.

/////////

Quincy’s office was a small room behind the bar that seemed even smaller with his massive form squished behind his desk. It looked like a big-game hunter’s trophy room showing off his most coveted kills and relics from his world travels. Except, instead of wild game everything seemed to be from a monster, and the relics weren’t so much exotic as fantastical.

The walls were adorned with strange horns, claws and tails of what were presumably monsters. There was even the head of something that looked like a giant-man bat that had red eyes and was off-putting to stare at. It was right behind Quincy’s desk on his wall so it was like it was looking down at Nay. One of the more curious trophies was what looked like a fairy creature inside of a glass belljar hanging from the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, the supposedly cute creature had a face only a mother could love. Its face was contorted in rage and it had nasty sharp teeth and no nose. Nay had shuddered when she had observed it up close.

Even more curious to Nay was a sepia-toned map covering one of the walls that seemed to depict the Ligeia Peninsula, and above it, Stitchdale. She didn’t have much time to study it in detail, even though she wanted to, because Quincy started talking to her in a serious tone.

“So, you are a Marrow Eater whose specialty is cooking,” Quincy said.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Nay said. “I didn’t know what Marrow Eaters were until the other day.”

“Be honest with me? That suggests you haven’t been honest with me.”

“Sorry, it’s a phrase from my world. It doesn’t mean I’ve been lying to you. It just emphasizes I’m being earnest with you. I promise I’ve been telling the truth.”

He studied her and again she could feel his Scryer’s Eye aura scanning her. He seemed perplexed. “Are there Marrow Eaters in your world?”

“Boss, there’s not even magic in my world.”

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“Yet your food was imbued with magic. So I have to assume you’ve been lying to me and are a Delicatessa Chef, trained and sanctioned and authorized by the Culinary Guild. Because such cooking is only possible by members of the Culinary Guild. It is impossible for a Marrow Eater cook to exist otherwise. It is highly illegal.”

“I don’t know what any of that is. All I know is that I came to this world as a chef, and ever since I got here I could see magical…prompts and information. And after I consumed a Delicacy and some Marrow, I could not only see magic stuff, I could do it. I only know the term Marrow Eater because Alric explained it to me.”

“Delicacy?” Quincy said, flabbergasted. “And Marrow…and Alric…” He shook his head, sorting through his thoughts. “Okay. Tell me everything that has happened to you since you got here. Start from the beginning.”

Nay shrugged. “Alright, sure.”

So, she told him about everything. Starting with the events in the Korean Church back in Los Angeles to her arrival here in the middle of a blizzard and all the events inside the mountain cave and Paleforge. She told him about Piero and the Delicacy she found on him, and The Steksis and its Marrow. He listened to it all in rapt attention, leaning forward, only stopping her every now and then to ask her questions to clarify details. She suspected it was his way of reading her to see if she was lying. After she was done he sat back, amazed.

“I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that you’ve found your way to the Lodge,” he said.

“Can’t it just be neither? Maybe you just ended up with a skilled cook with exotic recipes for the folk of Lucerna’s End.”

He snickered at that. “You aren’t just some normal girl, though. You are a Marrow Eater-enhanced cook. An Epicurist.”

“An Epicurist?”

“It’s what someone like you is called. You can cook Delicacies and Marrow. You’re a Marrow Eater Chef. Epicurists are needed by all Marrow Eaters for the preparation, serving and rituals of acquiring and harnessing abilities. Do you know how rare that is? Epicurists are kept on a leash and are only allowed to exist if you’re working for the Culinary Guild and the DMA. They are usually chosen from birth and trained in the role until they become of age. One existing outside of the carefully and painstakingly curated system is the equivalent of heresy.”

“So, what you’re saying is that if someone realizes I’m out in the wild cooking and someone important finds me I could get in trouble?”

“They will either take you and make you submit to the will of the Culinary Guild or they will have you killed. Those are the only two options. And anyone associated with you would probably be tortured and killed.”

“That’s crazy. I understand people want to control magic, but this is madness.”

“Think of it this way. Epicurists are like high priests who enable and connect people to god or gods. You’re the stepping stone between someone and their ability to transcend. Gaining power isn’t possible without what you can do.”

“I’m just getting used to the idea that magic is real and that I can do it.”

“Through fortune and fate you’ve become a Marrow Eater. One with a rare and important role. I’m not sure if that’s happenstance or good or bad luck. But it happened and here you are.”

“So, now what? You want me to move on? Get out of Lucerna’s End?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the answer. Lucerna’s End is as far from the rest of the world as you can get. And except for the Gloom Rangers, it’s rare for other Marrow Eaters to live or even pass through here. Although it does happen every now and then. A Marrow Eater would be the only type of person who would have the senses to know what you can do, and not all of them at that. Not all Marrow Eaters can read auras or are sensitive to the abilities of another. But still, if someone were to scry you and your food…”

“What if I just don’t use my abilities to imbue the food with magic? I think my food is good enough that people would love it on its own.”

Quincy mused over this, frowning. “Here’s the thing. I know everyone who lives here. I think it’s safe for you to enhance the food when it’s just the regulars. But it would be when strangers wander through that I would worry about.”

“You want the food enhanced?”

“I want the customers back that Wint stole from me when he opened the Two-Headed Trout.”

Now, this was something Nay could understand. Wanting to destroy the competition. Everyone had that somewhere in their heart. Especially if it’s someone one has a feud with.

“If we keep serving food like the stuff you made tonight,” Quincy said, “then he doesn’t stand a chance in the nether hells. I want him out of business.”

“Even if it puts you at risk?”

“Anything worth doing in this life requires risk. We just have to decide how much we’re willing to risk. This Lodge is my life, and I’m willing to risk everything on it.”

Nay nodded. “Maybe I can do it without making magic food.”

“No. I want you to make magic food. I don’t want there to be any question of his establishment’s survival.”

“What if Marrow Eater’s come through? One’s who can scry?”

“There’s none in town at the moment. And if they do happen to arrive, then we cease making magic food until they leave. Just to be safe.”

“You’re the boss. So, does this mean I’m hired on in an actual position?”

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