Arcane Chef - Slice of Life x Adventure LitRPG

I left the inn, following the advice I’d been given, and made my way toward the smithy.

My mind was racing. What did I even need? This was all too much. Part of me wanted to just head home, curl up, and hope it all passed—but everyone else was taking it so seriously. Maybe this was serious. Maybe this was normal here. If it was, I had far too many questions and no one to answer them.

Pushing open the smithy door, I caught the attention of a younger man behind the counter.

“Hello, I was hoping to buy a couple of items—a kitchen knife and a dagger of some kind.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “We have plenty of daggers. A basic iron one will be five copper. If you want a stronger metal, we’ve got mana steel for three silver, and we also—”

I cut him off before he could finish. “Just the iron one, thanks,” I said quickly, already knowing my budget wouldn’t stretch anywhere near silver.

He looked a little annoyed at the interruption but nodded. “Alright, I’ll grab one for you. As for the kitchen knife, I’ll need to check with the smith in the back. We mostly keep weapons and armour out front.”

Without waiting for my reply, he disappeared into the back room.

A short while later, the young man returned, holding a knife.

“We had several in the back,” he said. “Since you asked for an iron dagger, I assume a simple kitchen knife will do?”

He held it out for me to inspect. “This one’s iron with a steel edge, and the handle’s Treant wood. Ten coppers.”

It was pricier than I’d hoped. Trying to channel Geo’s haggling, I asked, “Twelve coppers for both?”

The man just sighed. “Fourteen for both, and that’s me being generous. These are already the cheaper pieces.”

I hesitated but eventually nodded, guilt gnawing at me for even trying. I paid the fourteen coppers and left the smithy.

The kitchen knife slipped easily into my pantry, but when I tried to store the dagger, nothing happened. With a frown, I slid it into my belt instead.

Next on my list was food—and after that, survival gear. Geo had told me to stock up, and Larry had been very clear about “preparing to run,” though that advice was painfully vague. I figured that meant a tent, a flintstone, maybe a travelling cloak that could double as a blanket if things got cold.

Again, I was frustrated. Everything was happening so fast.

Heading toward the market, I told myself I could at least get everything in one trip.

I picked up a very basic tent—little more than cloth and sticks—for five coppers, then a flintstone for two. After that, I bought a poorly fitting traveller’s cloak for ten coppers. It had a hood, though, and I figured maybe I could at least hide a little if it came to it. I put it on right away, the weight of it oddly comforting.

Lastly, I grabbed a rough but sturdy rucksack to hold anything I couldn’t store in my pantry.

From there, I turned my attention to food. I managed to buy a large chunk of Buvul meat, a couple of chickens, and some rabbits that were going cheap. I added a full sack of tubers and assorted vegetables, carefully watching my mana each time I placed something into my Chef’s Pantry.

Curiously, the flintstone went in without issue as well.

By the time I was done, I was down to just four coppers. I stared at the coins for a long moment, the reality of how quickly this had escalated sinking in.

As I checked my mana, I noticed a string of notifications. I’d completely forgotten about the stew I’d dropped off at the Pavilion. Between that and the fish pies from last night, I’d earned thirty-six enjoyment notifications and nineteen healing ones, bringing me to:

Experience: 2018/3430

My mana was also holding up just fine thanks to the levels I’d gained recently, sitting comfortably at Mana: 170/250.

I thought I’d gathered everything I needed, and since they’d told me not to go near the inn today, I decided to head home. Before approaching, I lingered at a distance, scanning for anyone who might be hanging around.

Nothing.

Did they even know where I lived? I had no idea, but I wasn’t about to take chances. I tried to slip inside quietly—which, if I’m being honest, was probably not very subtle at all.

Once I was inside, I didn’t know what to do. I had to do something though—otherwise I was going to go crazy.

Deciding against “borrowing” a pot from the Pavilion, I chose instead to make a stew for them with the last of the ingredients I’d bought a few days back. If I had to leave suddenly, I really didn’t want to be branded a thief over something as stupid as a pot.

I got to work on a Buvul stew, using the cooking as a distraction to keep my mind from spiralling. I’d just set the pot beside the coals when I heard a knock at the door.

I froze mid-step.

If it were Micca, she wouldn’t knock. If it were Geo, he knew I was on edge and probably wouldn’t knock either. Which left only one option:

Someone I didn’t know.

And probably someone I really didn’t want to see.

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Another knock came—louder this time, sharp enough to echo through the house. My heart hammered.

I hadn’t locked the door. Would they just come in?

What felt like an eternity stretched out as I stared at the door from the hallway, barely breathing. I fixed my eyes on the handle, ready to bolt out the back the second it turned.

But it never moved.

Instead, something slid across the floor—a letter—followed by the sound of footsteps retreating.

I didn’t move. Not yet. What if they were still out there, listening?

Only after what felt like forever did I finally creep forward and pick up the letter, every instinct screaming at me to stay quiet.

Attention: Trevor, Orphan of Dunhearth.

Your presence is requested at the Falcone residence at your earliest convenience.

Please present this letter to the gate guards, who will escort you to your meeting.

We look forward to your prompt attendance.

Regards,

Lord Falcone

Reading it over, I realised the letter looked almost identical to the one Larry had been holding earlier. I still didn’t understand how they were so sure I’d be trapped there. To me, it just seemed like a simple invitation to the Lord’s manor. I’d seen the place from a distance before, but I’d never been anywhere near it.

Thinking it through, it made sense they probably just wanted to ask about my class. I mean—that was all, right? It didn’t have to be anything bad.

But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t shake the memory of the way everyone else had reacted—Larry, Geo, and especially Micca. If it really was harmless, why would they be so worried?

For now, I decided I’d wait until Micca came home tonight. I’d talk to her about it. She seemed so certain I’d have to run—but why?

Today was a test of patience. I’d finished the stew and spent most of the day waiting in the dark house. I tried to nap at one point, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing with questions. I didn’t want to light any lanterns, worried it might give away that I was home.

What I hadn’t expected was that this would worry Micca.

“Trevor?” I heard her call, her voice edged with concern. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m in the kitchen,” I replied from the table.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said as she came straight through to the kitchen.

“Someone knocked on the door earlier,” I explained, “and I pretended not to be here. So I didn’t want to light the lanterns.”

A look of deep concern crossed her face. “They know you live here?” She said, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah. They slipped this letter under the door.” I pushed the letter across the table toward her as she sat down.

I had to ask the question that was burning inside me. “But this doesn’t seem so bad, does it? It’s just asking to meet me, right?”

Micca let out a long sigh, leaning back in her chair.

“Okay, look, I’ll start from the top and try my best to explain why everyone’s worried,” she began. “I should say up front—these are mostly rumours, but they seem fairly credible. Not all nobles are bad; in fact, most of them are good for us. If their city thrives, so do we, and that includes the Lord of this town.”

She paused to take a drink of water before continuing.

“However, the rumours say he has a… hobby of sorts. Or rather, a collection. He collects people with rare classes into his employment. Now, that in itself isn’t necessarily bad. But where things get murky is when someone says no or wants to leave. At that point, they say he finds ways to coerce people into staying—through debts, family ties, or both.”

Her eyes fixed on me as she finished.

“I would have thought working for the household would be a good thing?” I asked, a little confused. “Surely working for the Lord of the town would be a prestigious role?”

“Yes and no,” Micca said with another sigh. “If you were a rare combat class, you’d have a bit more say in your employment. Or if you were from a lower noble family, again, you’d have a say in your terms and enjoy some freedom outside the manor.

“But you’re an orphan, and part of what’s often called the servant class. You’d live and stay at the manor and rarely get to leave. It would be a prison without bars.”

She leaned forward, her expression tightening.

“Then, specifically you, Trev—you can’t level your class if someone doesn’t like your food, and you need to cook and prepare it solo. You won’t do any meals solo at the manor. From what I understand, they already have a whole team of chefs there.”

Her concern deepened as she went on.

“And if you say no, or try to leave after you’ve started, that’s when we all get worried. They’ll find a reason to keep you—maybe a debt for staying at the temple, or for your ten years at the academy. Maybe you’ll even burn something they claim is worth twenty gold. At that point, you’ll truly be a prisoner.”

“So what do I do?” I asked, lost in the whole situation. “Do I just leave town now? I don’t want to leave. I’ve just started getting good experience, and I’m helping people,” I added, frustration slipping through.

“No,” she said sadly. “You’ll need to go, or they’ll blame Larry and those at the inn—myself included—for your running away. And now that they know you live here, you can’t even hide out in the house until they move on. What you’ll need to do, if they try to make you work there, is hear them out and then try to think of an excuse to leave or escape before people come to expect your presence. Once you escape, you’ll have to figure out how to get out of town quickly.”

“But…” I could feel tears forming but not falling. This was all too much. Finally, I had something good and had accepted my class. “I don’t want to leave. I’ve got friends here.”

That seemed to be too much for Micca. Tears welled in her eyes as well.

“I don’t want you to leave either. You’re my first friend since my mother left, but you have to. You’d be throwing your life and class away if you lived at the manor, never getting experience again.”

“Could I tell them my class is broken and I can’t do anything special?” I asked hopefully.

“You could try, but it probably won’t work. The guy at the inn would have seen your Water Magic Resistance buff. He already knows it works.”

“So what? I just go to the manor tomorrow and hope for the best?” I asked, thinking it was a little silly that this was the best we had.

“I mean, yeah, pretty much. Although, before you go, I’d suggest visiting some of the other places you frequent—like the Pavilion and the temple. Maybe see that elder friend of yours?” Tears still shimmered in her eyes as she spoke, clearly stirring up terrible memories.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what? Don’t be silly, this is not your fault,” she replied. “Now go to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, I suspect. Geo said not to worry about meeting up in the morning—it’s your day off anyway. I’ll wake up early, and we’ll discuss a plan in case things go bad. I need some time to think.”

She spoke with finality. Then, rising from her chair, she came over, hugged me tightly, and headed into her room.

Feeling like I’d gotten no sleep that night, I tried my best to form a plan for the day. I’d run it by Micca when she woke up, but first, I planned to head to the temple to speak with Elder Peter and Martin, to see if they had any advice. I’d pray at the statue too—after all, it hadn’t hurt me so far. I got the job after the last time I prayed.

Then I would head to the Pavilion and attempt to get an audience with the Matron, if possible. After that, I’d drop by the inn to inform them of the plan before going to the manor.

I was sitting in the kitchen when Micca got up. I’d been waiting nervously for what felt like an hour.

Sitting at the table, I explained my plan to her.

“My only concern with your plan, Trev, is they know you visit the Pavilion. They could be waiting.”

I hadn’t really considered the possibility that I would be collected, but she pointed out they were at the inn to collect me and bring me to the audience—not simply to pass on the letter.

“Oh, wait—I purchased a travelling cloak yesterday!” I said suddenly, remembering I hadn’t shown Micca any of what I’d bought.

“That may work,” she responded thoughtfully. “As long as they’re not watching out front of the house, that is.”

“I could sneak out the back,” I offered. “They might expect me to meet up with Geo like I do every day and be watching the front. If I go out the back wearing the cloak and head straight to the Temple, I should be off the normal path.”

Micca just nodded.

“What about my stuff if I need to run?” I asked.

“I really don’t know,” she admitted. “Probably leave it here for now. If you have it on you, they’ll take it—so just go to them with the bare minimum.”

With that, preparations were made. All that was left was to hope it went smoothly and, best-case scenario, that this really was just a meet-and-greet.

I left through the rear entrance, cloak hood up, and slipped into a back alley behind the house. Looking around, I saw no one loitering.

Keeping my head down, I took a longer route toward the Temple. Instead of cutting through the market as I normally would, I wound my way through the poorer residential area. Normally, I’d worry about pickpockets or worse, but today, I had far greater concerns than losing my last four coppers.