Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 33 - Pastry chef acquired, maybe.
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 16:36:55 +0000 UTCFlying at night was fun. With my jet-black body, I felt like a stealth bomber as I headed south to rendezvous with Tex. The towns and villages were constellations below me, the farms and homesteads were lonely stars on the ground, and the larger settlements shone like beacons. I had to move in the darkness, people tended to freak out when I passed above their homes, and while I expected the Hunters Guild already had contracts out on my head, I saw no reason to paint any more of a target on my back than I already had.
I knew a little more about this world now, from conversations with the locals at Fidler’s Mill and with Kat. The Mapak Empire stretched north from the coastal city of Ankmapak, up the length of the river that was sourced at Mount Bob. There were other human polities across the sea, and they were largely antagonistic to the Empire, and the non-human civilisations to the north and in the far west had fraught relations with them as well. It seemed humans were just as fractious and disagreeable in this world as they were back home. Mammals.
I’d said farewell to Esme, received another request for a souvenir from the big city, and dropped off most of the Gamblepric bodies, as I’d discovered the weird antelope things I’d found so delicious were called, with her. I’d also left them two hundred in gold to really get going on the renovations, and while I expected Benton would want to have gold-plated spittoons in every corner of the establishment, Esme and I had discussed what we were aiming for. Restaurant One wanted to go upmarket in a town on the edge of nowhere. When they went high, I was more than happy to go low, and we had agreed on what I felt was a solid strategy.
I kept heading towards the distant glow on the horizon that was Ankmapak, so bright it stood out like a lighthouse. I was looking forward to investigating the big city. Just north of it, I could see a beam of light shooting up into the sky from a more rural location, and I assumed this must be the temple to Bulb in Baginton. I circled down, landing not too far from the town, perhaps half an hour's walk.
The field was empty, the crops having been recently taken in, judging by the bristle of stalks, and I quickly assumed my human form and got dressed. Esme had insisted on taking me shopping, saying that my usual tunic and trousers wouldn’t be good enough in the city and her man wouldn’t look like a bumpkin when he was trading.
I donned my new suit, dark green and done in a style that reminded me of business wear from Earth, but slightly off. The lines, the lapels, and the shoulders were all subtly different from what I had been used to back home. Looking dapper, and wishing I’d thought to bring the Mirror of Endless Insight so I could preen for a minute or ten, I set off into Baginton to find the Broken Baguette.
It was a pleasant medieval town, but brightly lit in comparison to Fidler’s Mill. The streets were wider, and instead of cobbles, they were smooth flagstones, well-fitted and with wide gutters to either side of the street. Ah, sewer systems. The crowning glory of civilisation.
Strings of glowing metal bulbs were strung between tall posts, this world's version of street lights, and even though the sun had set a few hours ago, the place was bustling. Men and women moved about, browsing the wares street vendors had to offer and passing in and out of the shops that were still open. Signage! Perfect! Most of the shops had large neon-lit signs advertising their name and presumably goods.
As I was still functionally illiterate in this world, I had no idea what the writing actually said; it was all moon-runes to me, but they looked nice and reminded me of city centres from back home. I drew in a deep breath, and the air smelled clean and fresh, without the faint taint that haunted the Mill. I liked this place.
I nodded amiably at strangers and said hello as they passed me, until I noticed the funny looks I was getting and stopped. Just like home, no one gave a shit about saying howdy as you passed them on the street in such a cosmopolitan area.
“How much for the pastry?” I asked one of the street vendors. The woman was almost as broad as she was tall, and the fine, but very noticeable, hair on her upper lip had me wondering if she was fully human or not. I decided to avoid asking about it after a moment's thought. There was no positive outcome to that conversation that I could imagine.
“Three bronze, sir,” she smiled in a way I think was intended to be coquettish, but it made her look cross-eyed and constipated to me. I handed over the coins and took a bite. Then another bite. Before I knew what had happened, I’d finished it.
“Three more, please!” I pulled the coins from my belly pouch and slid them across the gleaming wooden counter.
“Spatial mage, eh?” she said. Her voice sounded like a little girl’s, all piping and high, with rising inflections at the end of every bloody sentence, even when it wasn’t a question.
“Yep. These are really good!” I mumbled as I stuffed another six-inch curl of baked goods into my mouth. They were fluffy and crispy at the same time. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jenny. Jenny Aniseedion. A pleasure to meet you, sir.” She pulled off what looked suspiciously like a latex glove and offered me her meaty right hand.
“Nice to meet you, too! Call me Bob. Wow, this is amazing!” Another one disappeared. “What are they called?”
“Sweet Curls. They’re my specialty, no one else in town can make them like I do!” she said proudly, her moustache standing up like the fur on a dog’s back when it gets angry. I kept my eyes away from her top lip. In my mind, long-term greed made war with short-term stinginess, an epic battle of hand-rubbing versus penny-pinching was fought, and to no one's surprise, greed won. I adjusted my ascot happily.
“How much for the recipe? I’m starting a business up north, and I think these would be a perfect dessert for the Cod!”
“The Cod?” she asked in confusion.
“It’s the name of the restaurant—the Swinging Cod. An up-and-coming establishment with considerable backing behind it,” I bragged. I gave her a broad smile. “I’d love to help you expand your market opportunities!” I winked.
The girl blushed and looked away. She fidgeted momentarily before pulling another glove out from beneath the counter and putting it on with a snap. For some reason, it reminded me of a nurse preparing to administer a suppository.
“It’s not for sale, I’m afraid, Bob. It’s all that’s keeping my Da in medicine. It’s very kind of you to offer, but I need to keep this secret close to my chest.” I glanced down at the word, then quickly looked back up. It seemed she was suspiciously hairy everywhere.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father, Jenny. Perhaps… I’m heading into the city soon. Maybe I can find something to help him? Would you sell me the recipe then? In fact… I’d need you to train a pastry chef, wouldn’t I? How about if I can help your father, you’ll come north with me and train someone to work in my restaurant? We can bring your father as well. The fresh rural air might do him some good!”
“He’d need someone from the Healers Guild, Bob. He’s got the Streaky Flux. It’s a bacterial infection, the little bastards just sit in his gut, and purgatives don’t get rid of them, just keep the numbers down so he isn’t constantly on the loo.” I looked down at her gloves and scrupulously clean counter and sighed in relief that Doom-Diarrhoea probably wouldn’t affect me anyway. But I had to respect her attention to cleanliness and…
“Bacterial infection? You’re not from around here, are you?” I asked with narrowed eyes. She blinked and glared back at me.
“Say’s the northern bumpkin!” She sniffed. “I’m from somewhere far away.” Her accent finally clicked in my head.
“Yeah, like fucking Birmingham! You’re from Earth, too!” I exclaimed triumphantly.
“Shut up! Jesus, Bob.” She leant over the counter and snatched my lapels in one hand. “Keep that to yourself around here! This place has Ankmapak’s attitude to folks from Outremonde. They don’t like us.” She looked sad as she spoke.
“How come?”
“This world is a downgrade from Earth, and more than a few of us have made that plain. Look, you’re working on your karma, right? Trying to do good deeds?” she asked with a worried look.
“Yeah, but it ain’t easy.”
“Right. So we fall into two broad groups. People on a quest to right all the wrongs, slay evil, and generally be a moral busybody. No one likes those dicks. Not every organisation here is what you’d call Lawful-Good. Most are more True-Neutral. So they get really pissy with nosy moral crusaders. The other kind of Outremonde treats this place like a game, and they tend to be a bit rough on the NPCs. Most of us are kind of somewhere in the middle, though. Neither annoying angel or villainous bastard.”
“Oh. And which are you?”
“Neither. I just want to look after my Da and make a bit of money on the side. I’m not going to rise back up the planes of existence, just delay the spiral down as much as possible. I got Baker as a class. The system fucked me good and proper,” she said bitterly.
Profit-oriented. I could work with that.
“It screwed me too. It set me up to make good karma a long shot,” I commiserated. Being a terrible dragon put me at odds with most other citizens of Helstat.
“What class did you get, Bob?” Shit.
“Spatial mage!” I lied proudly.
“That’s a great class,” she grumbled.
“I hear I’m at risk of kidnapping and enslaving! I’m not sure the system is ever easy on us.”
“Well, yeah. You might get nabbed by the Thieves Guild, I guess, but you’re way too strong to be easy meat for them. Look. You help my Da and I’ll come north and help you, OK?”
“How do you have a dad in this world?” It had been bothering me since she mentioned it, had she been “born” here like I had?”
“Some of us are born like normal. Some aren’t. I’ve been here thirty-five years now.” I got the feeling she was shaving half a decade off that number, but wasn’t going to push my luck.
“Well, Jenny, I’m a new arrival, but I’ve done pretty well for myself up north. I’ll see what I can do about your dad; I think you’d be a valuable asset to the Swinging Cod. It’s been a pleasure, and I’ll be back after I go into Ankmapak. Any chance you could point me towards the Broken Baguette, please?”
“Follow this road that way, then take the third left. Past the temple and you’ll be there. You can’t miss it. Bob, I’m not wildly optimistic you can find a cure for Da, but just trying would mean the world. If I don’t sell enough pastries every day, we can’t afford his medicine, so I’ve been trapped here, watching him wither away.”
“I’ll be back in a few days, Jenny, promise. And up north, you will be a partner in a thriving business, no need for you to worry about money then!” And we can stick it to that thieving bastard Angtirm! I gave her a warm smile and followed her directions to my meeting place with Tex.
Comments
Ryan Etherton
“Esme had insisted on taking me shopping, saying that my usual tunic and trousers wouldn’t be good enough in the city and her man wouldn’t look like a bumpkin when he was trading.” I would either turn this into “would” or “and she wouldn’t have her man look like a bumpkin when trading.”
Ryan Etherton
“I’d said farewell to Esme, received another request for a souvenir from the big city, and dropped off most of the Gamblepric bodies, as I’d discovered the weird antelope things I’d found so delicious were called, with her. “ The sentence structure here could really be cleaned up. I would remove “with her” and turn it into two sentences. Loving the story so far! Thanks for the chapter!
