Chapter Text
A Devourer’s Eulogy
Episode Two: Roast Basilisk/Omelet/Kakiage
Note: Alekben uses 3rd Edition Pathfinder Spells and Cantrips which are not canonical to Dungeon Meshi. Translations for said spells may not be accurate as English to Latin translations are hard to come by.
The majority of the Touden Party had awoken, keeping themselves occupied with small tasks while they waited for the last member of their party to greet the day.
Alekben sat, leaning against the wall of the hollowed-out tree beside his fellow half foot, polishing his lyre with care.
“You sure do take care of that thing well,” commented Chilchuck who observed him from above on the tree’s opening, who also appeared to be doing a similar task, cleaning a knife.
The bard raised the silver instrument upward, eyes softening as it glistened under the morning sun’s rays. “What good of a bard would I be if I didn’t take care of my instrument?” Alekben asked rhetorically.
“You know,” hummed the picklock, “you’re kinda quiet for a bard.”
“Really?” asked Alekben raising a brow.
“Yeah,” Chilchuck continued casually. “You haven’t played any songs or told many stories since you’ve been with us, other than that thing you did with that ‘plant rope’ yesterday.”
“Thorn whip,” corrected Alekben with a pout.
“Whatever,” huffed the brunette, crossing his arms.
After a few beats of silence, the bard spoke up. “I must’ve been having too much fun.”
Chilchuck gave him a perplexed look, “Fun?”
“Being around you lot is entertaining enough…” Alekben explained, plucking the strings of his instrument sheepishly. “I guess I haven’t felt the need to perform anything.”
“Is that so…” mumbled Chilchuck.
As someone who always asks for payment in advance, Chilchuck didn’t think too deeply about the prospect of having fun on a mission with the party. However, with their present situation, there could always be a first time for everything.
Gazing at the bard still cradling his lyre, the picklock gave in to his curiosity. “Do you think you could pl–” Chilchuck started before a sharp cry interrupted him.
“AAAH!” Screamed Marcille, body shooting upright from her cot, making her other party members turn to her.
“What’s wrong, Marcille?” asked Laois who sat nearby, peeling a fruit.
“I had a nightmare,” She groaned, rubbing her face with one of her hands before making an exaggerated sniffing noise. “What’s this smell? It’s the same as in my dream,” the mage spoke eyeballing the space around her.
“Another party is making breakfast over there,” informed the brunette half foot, tilting his knife outward to face the other group.
“Yeah,” chimed in Alekben. “I think they were grilling cured pork!”
Marcille stalked the other party with a telescope, gripping it tightly. “I’m so jealous!” She yelled.
“How truly terrible,” sighed Senshi grabbing the three party members’ attention. “It’s just so tragic.”
Speaking with the knowledge of the 100 Person Survey on Dungeon Meals, the dwarf went on to inform the party of the basics of proper nutrition in the dungeon. “When it comes to meals eaten by young adventurers nowadays, they have bread, dried meat, and wine.” Folding his arms, Senshi continued. “To build up stamina for exploring the dungeon, fat from meats is important. But that alone is not enough. Malnutrition is more terrifying than monsters.”
Marcille stared blankly at the cook, seemingly uninterested.
“This may sound like a lecture, but that doesn’t mean our meals are perfect either,” admitted Senshi in a nervous sweat. “The young elven girl says she’s jealous of their pork, but that’s because her body wants fat.”
“I just don’t want to eat monsters!” Marcille refuted.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that Man-Eating Fruit Tart yesterday,” taunted the bard, earning a blow to the top of his head. “Ow!”
-
Now packed for the day, the Touden Party exited the hollowed-out tree to begin their trek down deeper into the dungeon.
“We’ll hunt monsters high in fat today,” advised Senshi. “If we can find eggs, that’s even better. Eggs have all the nutrition you need. We should proactively harvest them in the dungeon.”
Laois gasped and leaned down to whisper to the dwarf. “Are you thinking…”
“Yeah, I am,” agreed Senshi.
“What is it?” inquired Chilchuck eyeing the two suspiciously alongside the bard and mage.
Laois turned up the flare and provided a dramatized description of a beast. “The body of a chicken. The tail of a snake. A creature said to possess deadly venom in its fangs and claws,” Laois cleared his throat before finishing. “The Basilisk, king of snakes.”
“Oh, a Basilisk,” sweatdropped Chilchuck, before shifting to Marcille to poke fun. “Isn’t that great, Marcille? You’ll get to eat chicken.”
“I’ve heard some travelers call snake meat a delicacy in certain parts of the world too,” said Alekben placing an index finger to his chin in thought. “Though, they also said it kinda tasted like chicken as well.”
Marcille grabbed the half foots, shaking them back and forth like stuffed toys. “Is that chicken? Does that really count as chicken?” She asked. “Are they going to try to feed me a snake and call it chicken?!”
Meanwhile, Laois smiled with flushed cheeks. “Isn’t it cool?” He asked no one in particular. “I used to think it was cooler when more species are mixed together. But with only two types, they bring out each other’s strengths.”
The tall man gestured his hands excitedly. “I even noticed the beauty of chicken, something I used to only see as poultry. It’s a simple yet profound combination.” Looking to his party, Laois further informed, “By the way, the co*ckatrice that nests deeper inside the dungeon is another kind of snake-tailed animal. I’ve always dreamed of comparing its taste with a Basilisk’s.”
“Why would anyone want that?” Hissed Marcille.
-
Chicken-Snake discourse out of the way, the group began moving once again, only coming to a halt when Senshi raised a hand requesting them to stall.
“That area is a Basilisk nest,” the dwarf stated, pointing to a hole in the cracked stone tower to the party’s left.
Senshi did not hesitate to stroll over to said tower and peer inside. To his delight, inside was a nest of oblong eggs. “There it is,” he spoke. “Looks like they’re freshly laid.”
Stepping down into the hole with his fellow party members following suit, Senshi knelt to gently gather the eggs. “Let’s snatch them up while their mother’s gone.”
“They’re so long and narrow…” observed Marcille, eyes swimming with distrust.
The bard nudged the elf in the side, “What? Can’t handle some weirdly shaped egg–”
Before Alekben could finish his jab at the blonde, Laois swiftly placed a Basilisk egg into his and Marcille’s palms. “Here, hold this,” The party leader commanded, not paying much attention to the half foot or mage.
“....” The bard stared down at his hand, eyes disturbed and unmoving. “...Why’s it soft?”
A loud screech broke Alekben out of his trance, snapping his head upward to meet the noise.
“A Basilisk cry,” stated Laois. “Let’s hurry, Senshi.”
“Wait,” stalled the cook. “We got to wrap this in cloth.”
“Do we have time for that?” cried Alekben, chucking the soft orb in his hand at Senshi, only for it to land softly on the ground with a ‘plop.’
The dwarf tsked, narrowing his eyes and picking up the egg. “That’s it, no sweets after dinner tonight.” He admonished.
The auburn-haired half foot raised his hands to tug at his hair, “There were going to be sweets?!”
Senshi crossed his arms, speaking authoritatively, “Not anymore.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Be quiet and get behind this bush already,” huffed Chilchuck in annoyance as he dragged Alekben backward by the neckline of his cloak.
Soon enough, in came the Basilisk chasing two adventurers.
“It’s the party from earlier,” commented the picklock.
“You’re right…” confirmed the auburn-haired half foot, eyes flicking the area in front of him looking for a solution to the monster problem before he landed on their still outlying mage. “Marcille? Why are you still standing there?” He inquired, projecting in what could only be considered an elevated whisper.
The elven girl gave no reaction, standing still with an egg nestled in her grip, eyeing the Basilisk carefully.
As four out of five members of the Touden crowd clustered behind the foliage, they watched as the beast used its claws to slice through one of the adventurer’s backs.
The man clad in leather armor hunched over in place, likely due to the pain and incoming poison from his wound, while his party member stood pressed against a tree root attempt to remain ‘unseen.’
The beast flicked its head toward Marcille, both sets of eyes locking onto the egg in her hand, before raising its wings and lunging at the blonde woman with its talons.
The mage released a scream, running away from the Basilisk while wailing in fear.
Her other party members observed as she would stumble out of the way, and pause every now and again to take short jabs at the monster with her staff.
Alekben slouched, his chest pressing down onto his lyre. ‘How does she keep getting into these situations?’ He wondered.
“That’s the worst way to run away,” blanched Laois. “She’s basically begging to get her back kicked.”
“Go and save her already!” scolded Chilchuck.
Laois stayed in his current position, contemplating the best course of action.
“I can cast a spell to keep it stuck in place.” Spoke Alekben fiddling with his silver instrument, earning a fascinated look from his other members.
The half foot bard flushed, “I-If that helps, I don’t have to use it of course…”
“No, no,” dismissed Laois. “That will make this a lot easier.”
Standing up to his full height, the tallman instructed. “I’ll go distract it. Alekben, stay along the walls and keep a close eye on Senshi. Senshi, get to its tail.”
“Right,” nodded the bard and cook moving to get into position.
As Marcille’s foot caught on the uplifted terrain, she fell over, head raising slowly to stare as the beast neared her crumpled form.
Just as the Basilisk was about to attack, Laois swooped in. Arms and legs spread wide to make himself appear bigger, squawking noisily. “Spread your arms and legs out to make your body look as big as possible and make loud sounds to intimidate it,” explained the funny-looking tallman. “That’ll stop it from coming any further!” He continued cawing.
“I want to pretend that I’m not associated with him,” expressed Chilchuck, who clearly felt embarrassed as he stood beside the fallen adventurers and an equally as ashamed Marcille.
Keeping to the walls, Alekben ran his hand along his instrument in preparation, gazing intently at Laois and an approaching Senshi.
Senshi moved toward the back end of the Basilisk, garnering its gaze successfully confusing the monster. “Now,” yelled Senshi.
Alekben flicked his fingertips down in a loud strum, he yelled “Umbra Captionem!”
A dark pool of black swirled beneath the monster, only staggering once the bard found focus and continued playing to prolong his spell. “It’s stuck! Go!” hollered the bard, digits shifting every so often to prolong the spell's performance.
The beast continued to jostle around in its limited five-foot cube, heads turning every which way out of confusion until Laois and Senshi gained their attention back.
Baiting the heads in opposite directions while the beast’s shadow was pinned in one location gave the dwarf and tallman the opportunity to attack both heads at once, successfully slaying the Basilisk.
“Phew,” Alekben huffed dropping his lyre to his side and wiping his brow. ‘That took a lot more out of me than I hoped.’ He reflected tiredly, whilst moving toward the rest of his party who were now tending to the fallen travelers. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine if I eat something…’
“How are his wounds?” asked Laois. “Was he poisoned?”
“Y-Yes,” stuttered the female adventurer.
“Laois,” called Marcille. “Senshi says he has an antidote.”
‘That’s surprisingly convenient,’ thought the auburn-haired half foot.
“Really?” asked Laois as the female adventurer behind him smiled in relief.
Hands gripping his iconic pot, the dwarf deadpanned. “I want to use it in today’s cooking.”
“I knew it was too good to be true,” groaned Alekben, tugging on his locks in frustration once again.
“But this guy is hanging on by a thread,” argued the Touden Party’s mage.
“Instead of taking the antidote alone,” bargained Senshi. “Why not take it in a meal where it will be tastier?”
“Then cook it already,” ordered Marcille.
Not a split second later, Senshi was doing what he does best.
He broke down the chicken body and snake tail from the Basilisk with the utmost skill. The dwarf removed the monster’s tail and feet, moving on to blanch it.
Once blanched, the party collectively plucked the Basilisk’s feathers.
Chilchuck shuddered as he felt something brush lightly against the back of his neck, tickling him. “What the–?” He turned to face his offender, only to be met with Alekben crouched down guiltily holding a freshly plucked feather in his forefingers.
“Okay,” the bard started. “So I know this looks bad, but–” He wasted no second to run off, away from his fellow half foot.
“Oh no you don’t, you bastard!” yelled Chilchuck, jumping up to chase after him.
The rest of the group chuckled amongst themselves watching the two interact.
“Chilchuck seems to be more playful now that Alekben’s joined the party, huh?” prompted Marcille.
“Yeah,” smiled Laois. “It’s only been a few days but they’re practically two peas in a pod.”
“I must agree,” stated Senshi. “It is funny seeing them combine forces to pick on the elven girl.”
“Hey now!” Marcille reprimanded.
-
Eventually, the Basilisk’s body was successfully plucked.
“It looks like chicken now,” blinked the picklock, face still red from chasing around Alekben.
Senshi continued his work. Removing the innards and spicing them thoroughly, before stuffing the body of the Basilisk with vegetables and finely chopped herbs. Lastly, he tied the opening of the body with string, stuck a skewer through the whole length of it, and spin-roasted it over a fire.
“It’s done,” finalized the dwarf.
“Hurry, feed it to him,” commanded Marcille.
Senshi handed her a spoon, allowing Marcille to scoop a bit of the dish up and place it into the afflicted traveler’s mouth.
Face tinted purple, sweat dripping profusely from his pores, he mumbled out. “That meat’s overflowing with juices. It’s delicious.”
“Sorry about that,” Marcille apologized as the female adventurer began crying holding her leather-clad companion.
“You all should eat too,” advised the dwarf.
“I’ve got to cast a healing spell first…” the mage spoke turning toward Senshi, when the dwarf shoved a drumstick in her face.
Slowly, she grabbed the piece of meat and took a bite. “This is so good! I could see this at a restaurant in town.”
“It tastes exactly like chicken,” added Chilchuck.
“I heard snake meat is similar to chicken too,” lightly commented Laois earning a cough from Alekben.
“I said that earlier…” The auburn-haired half foot whined, weakly. “Let the bard have the tale credit, huh?”
“My bad, my bad” laughed Laois awkwardly.
Relishing in the flavor of her meal, Marcille soon realized she had completely forgotten about the two adventurers behind her.
“Sorry,” she sweatdropped, lifting the drumstick like her staff. “I’ll cast my healing spell now… Oops, wrong item.” Upon realizing she was not holding her staff, Marcille swapped the Basilisk leg out for it to perform her healing spell.
-
Once the adventurer recovered, the Touden Party shared a portion of the Basilisk meal with them, and in no time the bones of the beast were scraped clean.
“I’ve never had a proper meal like this before in a dungeon,” commented the traveler dressed in leather, glancing at his party mate who nodded at him to continue.
“Um…” he began a little louder than before, garnering the Touden group’s stares. “It’s been three months since we started challenging this dungeon, but we keep getting wiped out at the same place…” A serious expression painted the male’s face as he leaned forward, eagerly. “How do we become strong enough to cook monsters like you all?”
“Well’s that…” Laois trailed off, looking at his fellow party members for assistance.
Senshi quickly rose to the challenge, stating passionately, “First, improve your diet. Rethink your circadian rhythm. And engage in proper exercise—”
Those around the cook watched in awe as he projected, raising three fingers. “If you pay attention to these three things, your body will naturally get stronger.”
-
After listening to Senshi’s advice, the groups packed their things and parted ways, waving goodbye and wishing each other luck on their trek down the dungeon.
The Touden Party was now settled in the bottom of yet another stone tower, having used a rope to make their way down. Alekben and Marcille were still struggling to make it to the bottom, however…
“Hmm,” droned Laois in disappointment staring down at the map in his hand. “Reaching the third floor today might be impossible.”
“It’s because we took our sweet time on that roast,” supplied Chilchuck with his hands resting on his hips.
The tall man looked down at his companion. “Apparently, the Red Dragon wakes up once a month to go hunting. That was probably when we ran into it the other day.”
“Then he’s sleeping on a full stomach now,” assumed the picklock.
Laois rolled up his map, returning it to its rightful place under his armor. “I’d like to find him before he gets an empty stomach…” Shifting his eyes to the mage and bard hanging off the rope, the party leader directed his words at them. “That’s why, Marcille and Alekben, it’d be great if we could move things along!”
Alekben huffed in exertion, making small steps downward, hands clinging so tightly to the cord that he had the potential to give himself rope burn.
“Ugh,” Marcille groaned making Alekben look up from his spot lower than her.
The mage’s feet shifted in an attempt to regain some traction on the wall, but alas it was no use, as her sandals soon began to slip.
“No, no, no!” panicked the bard trying to scurry down to the floor as fast as possible. Sadly, his attempts were futile. Down went Marcille, and with her, also went Alekben.
Once they hit the floor, Marcille was quick to roll off the half foot.
Alekben whimpered, holding his head as he slowly sat up. “Do you have something against me, Marcille?”
The mage simply kept groaning, kneeling over her staff as she attempted to gain a sense of her surroundings.
Chilchuck took it upon himself to leave the tallman’s side and extend a hand down toward his fellow half foot, “Come on, get up.”
The bard accepted the help gratefully, still appearing to be slightly out of it. Hitting a stone floor back first and ending up being crushed by an elf will do that to you. Not to mention he was getting pretty exhausted.
Blinking slowly, allowing his eyes to readjust to the light at the bottom of the tower for a few minutes, Alekben looked around only to realize he was still holding Chilchuck’s hand. Quickly taking it back, the bard spoke flustered. “S-Sorry!”
The picklock waved him off, though his cheeks adorned a pinkish hue. “Don’t worry about it,” he said looking everywhere but at the other half foot.
Seeing as the mage had yet to get up, Laois spoke, “Won’t be easy at this rate.”
Marcille rapidly bounced out of her painful stupor, reassuring the party leader. “I'm totally fine! I can easily walk more.”
“Don’t push yourself,” the blonde male said. “Let’s rest a bit.”
“I’m not pushing myself!” cried Marcille raising her arms in rebuttal.
Chilchuck sighed, placing a hand at his side, the other pointing at the elf. “Hey, listen. If you try to act tough now, you’ll just hurt yourself and become a burden, got it?”
Marcille gaped in shock, moving to the other side of the area to process what she’d just heard.
“It might be easier to use a different path,” pondered Laois.
“But the Big Bat outside will be in our way,” reminded the picklock.
The mage sprang back over to the group from her sulking corner, “I can use magic on the Big Bats,” she offered.
“No, that’s okay,” shot down Laois.
“What about a secret passageway?” Questioned Chilchuck.
Alekben hummed, liking the idea. “There would be fewer monsters that way, right?”
“Yeah,” the picklock confirmed. “But more traps.”
“I have trap-disarming spells…” said Marcille desperately.
“It’s faster if Chilchuck disarms them,” the tallman reminded.
“We’re taking a path with fewer monsters, huh?” Senshi thought aloud. “We should secure some foodstuffs then.”
“Can’t we get by on today’s leftovers?” asked Laois.
“We only have meat and eggs,” stated the dwarf. “We need vegetables.”
Raising a thumb to point over his shoulder, Senshi provided. “There’s a Mandrake colony near here.”
Marcille gasped in recognition, raising her hand exuberantly. “Me! I know how to harvest Mandrakes! Leave it to me!”
-
The party stood expectantly outside, watching as Marcille displayed her knowledge.
“Mandrakes are fundamental in magic and medicine,” she informed. “In other words, my area of expertise! Everyone listen to me this time!”
Nearing the field of roots, Marcille stopped in the middle of a small patch of Mandrakes buried within the ground. “Mandrakes scream when you pull them from the dirt. It’ll make you go insane or even cause death.” The mage continued speaking to the group of men with her back turned. “We would get wiped out and be one step further from saving Falin. To prevent that…” Marcille brought out her book. “First, we need a string and a well-trained dog.”
“A dog?” Inquired Chilchuck.
“We’ll tie the Mandrake to the dog’s collar and call the dog over from a distance,” explained Marcille.
“So what’ll happen to the dog?” asked Alekben, “Won’t it die?”
Marcille sighed. “Yes.”
The picklock paled at the idea, “That’s awful… But also, where are we going to get a dog?”
The bard nervously scratched his cheek, feeling a little bad that Marcille was struggling. Nonetheless, he added, “I’m sorry, Marcille, but doesn’t it all seem very tedious? Isn’t there a quicker way?”
“But at school, we…” the mage trailed off looking at her book again.
“Can’t we use a long string?” pondered Laois.
“Huh?” blanched Marcille.
Resting his chin in his hand while he spoke, the tallman suggested, “Use a string so long that we won’t hear it scream. Then we won’t need a dog.”
“What?” muttered the elven girl, flipping through her book again. “I’m pretty sure we can’t. Maybe because it’s hard to pull?”
Senshi walked over to a Mandrake and squatted down, ignoring her frantic mumbles. Lacking any fear or concern, the dwarf began to tug on its leaves.
“AAAAAAH!” A scream brought the party to cover their ears with their hands.
“Huh?” uttered Alekben, lowering his arms, surprised the sound was gone so quickly.
“That scared me…” admitted Chilchuck as he and Laois followed suit.
Three pairs of eyes flicked over to their elf companion, as Laois questioned. “Was that Marcille?”
“It won’t scream if you cut its head off beforehand,” stated Senshi, demonstrating how to do so.
“That’s true,” agreed the picklock.
“I would’ve never thought to do it that way,” mused Alekben.
“No, that’s too dangerous,” Marcille tried to warn.
The dwarf shrugged, setting down the Mandrake he used as an example. “That’s how I’ve eaten them for many years.”
“That kind of novice mentality brings the most danger,” the mage insisted.
“But Senshi actually has experience,” debated Chilchuck. “Have you ever tried the method according to the book?”
Marcille curled her arms upward, a distant despaired look on her face.
Alekben sighed, walking toward the elf and patting her back. “It’s good to be booksmart, but sometimes you have to just let it go, Marcille,” He lectured.
“Either way,” spoke the picklock while he and Laois moved away from the two magic users. “We don’t have a dog nor the time for this.”
“Sorry, but let’s learn how Senshi does it,” said Laois, furthering Chilchuck’s point.
Marcille held her book tightly in an embrace, a sad teardrop threatening to spill from her eye.
The auburn-haired half foot felt pity for his friend, moving to make a joke in hopes of changing the mood. “Who knows, maybe you’re right. I mean, if it were that easy, wouldn’t it be written in that book?”
The blonde elf continued sulking, head downturned to face her sandals.
‘Oh crap, did I make it worse?’ thought Alekben.
“U-Um,” he reached his arm out once more hesitantly. “I didn’t make you more upset did I?”
Instead of answering his question, Marcille took to snatching his hand and tugging the bard alongside her.
“Huh?” gaped the half foot in confusion. “Where are we going? Marcille?!”
-
“Hold this,” directed the mage, placing the end of a rope into Alekben’s palm.
“What are you planning to do?” Prodded the bard, brows scrunching but following Marcille’s orders regardless.
The mage continued to work, tying a knot around a Mandrake while dangling the end once held in Alekben’s grasp down in front of a tree-hole that looked to have droppings around its bottom rim.
“You can’t be serious…the dog thing but with–” the auburn-haired male tried to criticize but was cut off by another tug on his clothing.
“Come on, this way,” spoke Marcille eagerly pulling her companion to a nearby stone tower.
Panting, hunched over his knees, and glaring at the elf, Alekben growled. “Is this really worth it? You only have one tied on there!”
“Shh,” shushed Marcille examining the tree she and the half foot stood at just a few moments ago. Raising her staff, she chanted, “Aire Faum Orbis!”
A ball of fire shot out toward the hole in the tree’s trunk. Upon impact, numerous Big Bats erupted from inside, one getting collared by the rope placed earlier.
As it cried, still flying upward, the Mandrake attached to the other end of the cord slowly came out of the ground.
“Alright!” cheered Marcille while Alekben hugged himself.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”
-
Hearing the eventual Mandrake screech, the three party members harvesting Senshi’s way looked over to see what had occurred.
“What’s that?” asked Chilchuck.
“Marcille?” wondered Laois.
-
The Big Bat struggled against the cord and added weight from the Mandrake. Zooming in the air with a fervor, it began to nose dive, soon enough meeting the entrance to the window Marcille and Alekben had been watching through.
“Wait!” cried Marcille in vain as she stared at her incoming doom.
“Hey!” yelled Alekben, tugging at the back of her shirt. “Try to get back at least, idiot!”
Still, it was no use, as soon enough the Big Bat and Mandrake blew right through the siding of the tower.
-
The magic users’ screams could be heard from far and wide as their party wrapped up their harvest to rush over to the, now partially destroyed, stone pillar.
“Did they die?” spoke Laois dreadfully as he eyed the rubble inside the room.
Flicking his gaze over, the armored male saw the party’s mage sitting up with ears twitching and their bard leaning heavily on her, seemingly unconscious. “Oh, they’re alive.”
Chilchuck muttered some grievances under his breath in frustration, lifting the Mandrake Marcille pulled out of the ground using a monster. “Using a Big Bat instead of a dog? What an idiot.”
When the elf didn’t provide her usual rebuttal, the picklock moved to waving a hand in front of her face. “Hey, Marcille. Can you hear me?” He asked.
Robotically, the mage raised her head, revealing messy hair and eyes that resembled a goldfish. “Yes. I am the picture of health.”
“No you’re not,” grumbled Chilchuck.
“She heard the scream,” supplied Laois. “Let’s keep talking with her. She’ll slowly snap out of it.”
Expression softening, the tallman leaned down toward the ailed elven girl. “Why did you do this?”
“I panicked when I was told I’d be a burden…” Marcille started truthfully.
“No, wait—” Gasped Chilchuck, placing a hand over his mouth guiltily.
“...So I wanted to stick it to you guys and make you bow down to me, she finished.
The brunette’s features quickly morphed into offense, no longer caring that he made the mage feel bad. “What the heck?”
“Chilchuck,” calmed Laois, placing his hands on the picklock’s shoulders.
“I felt alone since I couldn’t be of help to everyone,” Marcille continued to admit.
“The monsters get stronger as we go deeper into the dungeon,” began Laois reassuringly. “The thing I can depend on the most is your magic, so I didn’t want to use it up on such an early floor…And everyone has strengths and weaknesses,” The tallman reminded as Senshi strung up the Big Bat to drain its blood. “I want to rely on your strengths. Someone else will cover for your weaknesses. You can depend on us more.”
“Tell her, Chilchuck,” asserted Laois, nudging the half foot.
The brunette flushed, speaking with his head turned to the side. “I really think having you here with us is a huge help.”
Looking back, the picklock found the elf had regained her bearings, no longer ailed from the Mandrake scream.
“Put more feeling into it,” She egged on, shifting an arm around so the comatose bard had some support while he leaned into her side.
“When did you get back to normal?!” Hollered Chilchuck in frustration, having to be held back by their party leader. “Seriously, what in the—!”
A low groan forced the brunette to come to a halt.
“You guys are so loud,” griped a half-awake Alekben, subconsciously burying his head further into Marcille’s cloak. “Warm…” He mumbled with a small smile, slowly drifting off once more.
The rest of the party slowly blinked, taking in the sight of their childish group member.
Marcille gave a short laugh, patting the crown of Alekben’s head. “Well, at least we know he didn’t damage his hearing.”
“Not sure about his brain, though,” huffed Chilchuck as he crossed his arms.
“I heard that…” grumbled Alekben with a tired glare, lazily lifting his arm to point an accusatory finger at the picklock.
“Just you wait,” he yawned, arm slowly falling. “I’ll get you ba…back for…this….” The sentence ended in a soft snore, not helping the bard with any comebacks whatsoever.
“Mhm, we’ll see about that,” snorted the brunette, shaking his head fondly at his companion.
Beaming warmly at the banter, the party leader proposed. “Why don’t we let him get some more rest and wake him up later?”
-
“I didn’t expect a Big Bat too,” commented Senshi looking at his spread of ingredients. “What a surprising catch. How about we make some omelets today?”
“Is this really a Basilisk egg?” asked Marcille poking the orb with her index finger. “It’s completely different from chicken eggs.”
“That’s how snake eggs are,” informed Laois as he carried the fatigued bard over to an open corner of the space. Gently, he placed Alekben down, so he was laid out on the bedroll Marcille had set up prior.
“Only its tail was a snake,” Marcille reasoned. “Its head and body were a chicken.”
“No,” informed the tallman with a smile, pulling the sleep sack’s covers over the half foot. “The tail was a chicken.”
The elven girl gawked at the words Laois said so casually, her mouth dropping open with a sick expression sitting on her face.
-
“The color on this one is different from the rest,” Hummed Senshi as he peeled the harvested Mandrakes.
“You’re right,” affirmed Chilchuck. “Marcille and Alekben must’ve gotten that one since it still has a head.”
The cook grasped the magic users’ Mandrake in one hand and one of the Mandrakes he harvested in the other, comparing the difference for a short while before starting the party’s omelets.
Senshi chopped up the Mandrake evenly into cubes, sautéing it well alongside a portion of the Basilisk bacon. All before covering it with the yolks of the Basilisk eggs.
The rest area was soon filled with a delicious aroma, one so good it was enough to make the sleepy bard stir.
Letting out a big yawn and stretching his arms, Alekben tugged off his blanket. He quietly padded over to the cook, a hand shifting upward to rub his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it smells amazing…” the bard spoke, his voice scratchy as he had just awoken from his slumber.
“I’m making omelets,” provided Senshi, still facing forward and focused on the pan in front of him.
“Hmm…” Alekben warbled, gingerly placing the side of his head against Senshi’s shoulder to continue watching the dwarf cook. “Sounds tasty…”
After standing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the bard apologized. “I’m sorry for throwing that egg at you earlier today.”
Senshi set the pan down, pausing his stirring for a second to ruffle the half foot’s hair… Then quickly went back to flicking the vessel over the flame right after. He’d said nothing throughout the ordeal.
Alekben groaned, pulling back from the cook to fix his side-swept bangs. However, he would not protest any more than that. ‘Okay, I kinda deserved it this time…’ The bard thought.
-
Once the mixture in the pan became fluffy, Senshi gave it a good toss, rounding out the edges and creating the overall dish.
“It’s done,” Senshi finalized, setting down two large plates in front of the brunette half foot and blonde tallman. He then moved to serve Marcille and Alekben separately, as they were sat off to the side.
“The yellow is way darker than a chicken egg,” stated Chilchuck, observing the platters.
“This is the Mandrake we harvested,” said Senshi gesturing to the omelet by the picklock. “This one uses the Mandrake harvested by the elven girl and youngin,” he clarified, motioning to the plate in front of Laois.
“You shouldn’t rub salt in someone’s wound,” reprimanded the mage leaning moodily against the window.
“Now, now,” appeased Alekben with a sweatdrop. “I don’t think they mean anything bad by it, Marcille.”
With that, the party began to eat, with Chilchuck taking a few bites first.
“Hm?” He trilled while eating the two omelets. “Marcille and Alekben’s isn’t bitter, it has a mild taste.”
“Yeah, it’s delicious!” Laois concurred continuing to eat the food.
“The screaming must have gotten the bitterness out,” remarked Senshi, shifting his focus to the two members sitting by the window. “It’s basic knowledge that going the extra mile improves a dish. It seems I only thought of efficiency and lost sight of what truly matters.”
“Thank you, Marcille,” expressed Senshi gratefully. “Your knowledge and book are superb.”
“It isn’t a cookbook, you know!” the elf criticized.
“Come on,” Alekben reasoned. “He’s just trying to show his gratitude, right Senshi?”
Senshi nodded, reaching to his side to grab a small dish. “Take this small gift as my thanks.” Placing down three cooked Mandrake heads onto Marcille’s plate, he carried on. “You can have the most delicious part.”
The mage stared at the heads in horror as her face became red with frustration. “I don’t want it!” Marcille cried. “I’m sick and tired of eating monsters!”
-
After their meal, the party had moved deeper within the floor. Now they stood within a pillar of swirling stairs.
“Is the shortcut entrance around here?” Wondered Chilchuck aloud.
“An entrance?” asked Senshi.
“It’s hard to think there would be one around here of all places, “ murmured Alekben pressing a finger to his chin in thought.
“Laois,” the picklock commanded. “Give me your sword.”
Once the object was handed over, Chilchuck wasted no time in hitting it against the stone wall. Bringing a hand to cup his ear to hear better, the brunette half foot placed a hand on the brick side surface.
“It’s here,” he stated elbowing in a slab. As soon as pressure was applied, a door opened behind the rest of the party.
“Woah…” uttered the bard in awe, clapping alongside his two blonde party members.
Senshi on the other hand appeared very confused, turning to Laois to ask, “What just happened?”
“Chichuck is an expert in detecting traps and picking locks,” the party leader informed.
“Just so you know,” began the picklock while returning Laois’ sword. “There will be traps everywhere, so don’t do anything unless I tell you to.”
While walking into the depths of the room he just brought forth, Chilchuck finished. “What I hate the most are those who get in the way of my work.”
Senshi eyed the brunette half foot closely as he continued to march down the stairs.
Alekben shrugged, looking up at the dwarf with a carefree grin. “In situations like these, it’s best to leave it to the master.”
With that, the rest of the party made their way down to the next room.
-
Upon reaching the next room, the group was greeted with a barren stone room.
“Wait,” commanded Chilchuck as he raised his arm to block anyone from moving any further.
Taking off his heavier gear, garments, and shoes, the picklock tiptoed carefully on the stone tiles. Occasionally, he would lean down to gently press a slab with his finger, checking thoroughly for any pressure plates.
Standing up slowly, Chilchuck pointed to the pathway he had come across. “These tiles are safe to step on,” He announced.
Following the picklock’s guidance the party made their way forward.
Alekben went first, shakily stepping on the specific stones. He had been doing quite well, standing only a few stones away from his fellow half foot, when he unknowingly got his left boot caught on a piece of upturned rock. “Ack!” He yelled as he tripped.
“Woah there,” called out Chilchuck, moving to grip Alekben’s arm and pulling him toward him before he could fall.
The bard turned red from the closeness and embarrassment, throwing out numerous apologies. “I’m so so sorry!”
The brunette waved him off. “Just be more careful next time, the last thing we need is for you to—”
Just as Chilchuck was about to finish scolding the bard, large spikes shot out from the floor beneath.
Alekben, despite being flustered was quick to act. “Sociae Pallium!” He shouted, bringing Chilchuck into his embrace while tightly gripping his lyre. In any other case, the bard would’ve liked to strum his instrument, as enacting this spell would have taken less strength out of him if he were to use it as a catalyst… But he did not have the time, nor the hands to do so. It would be safe to say, he was very glad to have taken that long nap earlier.
Upon using the spell, Alekben’s cloak stretched out, shining metallically against the light in the dungeon. It wrapped around both him and the picklock, any spears coming toward them shattering on impact.
“Are you okay?” asked the bard to Chilchuck, perspiration beading down his face as he took deep breaths.
The picklock nodded. “Thanks,” he said.
“Of course,” responded Alekben between huffs, removing his arms from around his fellow party member.
Knowing the culprit, two half foot men turned to look at Senshi extremely unamused, with their blonde companions following suit.
“What the heck was that?” prodded Chilchuck, walking up to the dwarf. “I told you to only step where I told you to.”
“Senshi,” begged Alekben from his place around the broken spikes. “Please tell me this is just going to be a one-time accident sort of thing… I don’t think I can provide another defense spell like that today.”
“Look,” the picklock criticized. “Your foot is sticking out by so much here!”
The cook’s foot was indeed almost completely off the correct tile.
“I don’t like complicated stuff,” explained Senshi as if it were no big deal in their current predicament.
“Regardless, Senshi. Someone could have gotten seriously hurt.” lectured the auburn-haired male.
Chilchuck pointed a finger at the cook, leaning forward to further establish this point. “You’ve got to be more careful. Some traps are connected and affect other traps.” Gesturing angrily, he continued. “If one thing shifts, all my calculations go out the window. Just move wherever I tell you to.”
Alekben watched the whole thing from afar, seeing Senshi get this mischievous look in his eyes. ‘Is he—? No…Senshi wouldn’t do that right?’ He debated in his head.
Apparently, the bard soon found out, Senshi would in fact…do it. The cook lifted his foot to heavily stomp down on one pressure plate after another releasing a slew of different traps upon Chilchuck.
“Senshi!” yelled Alekben frustratedly, eyeing the floor to not trigger any more devices as he made his way over to the cook. “Stop it!”
The dwarf didn’t listen but eventually came to a halt when he came across a trap that acted as a flamethrower.
“Such firepower,” he inspected, not caring whatsoever about the run around he had given one of his half foot companions. “I see. Traps come in many shapes and forms.”
“Move your foot already,” demanded the picklock. “Fire traps usually come as a set with gas or oil.”
“Oil,” mumbled Senshi.
“We don’t need a dwarf roast,” pressed Chilchuck.
“A roast,” the dwarf muttered once again. “No wait…”
Chilchuck watched the cook despairingly, a sweatdrop sliding down his forehead.
“...Deep-fried food. Fried,” Senshi lit up in a eureka moment. “Kakiage!”
Turning to the rest of the party with his foot still on the fire trap, Senshi announced. “We’ll have tempura for lunch today.” He then looked directly at the picklock. “Where’s the oil trap?”
“It’s not meant for cooking,” blanched Chilchuck.
“Yeah,” supported Alekben who finally got over to the two. “If it’s in a trap like this, I highly doubt it’s usable.”
“Half foot children,” Senshi combatted. “You two are no experts on oil.”
“We aren’t kids…” the brunette replied.
“Vegetable oil is simple and the highest in supply,” provided the cook. “Anyhow, show me the oil. I’ll give up if it isn’t meant for cooking.”
Exhaling loudly in defeat, the picklock gave up. “Fine. But in exchange,” he asserted, standing up. “Promise you’ll follow my orders around the traps. I won’t help you if you don’t accept this condition”
“I swear it,” promised Senshi. “I’ll help too, if needed.”
“I feel like you’ve done enough already,” weakly laughed Alekben.
“Listen. We each have our own job. Yours is cooking. Mine is detecting traps and picking locks,” spoke Chilchuck pointing to Senshi and himself respectively. Shifting his hand to gesture to Marcille and Alekben. “Marcille’s is magic, and Alekben specializes in defensive magic and writes about our progress. I don’t say anything about your cooking methods.”
“So, please stop interfering with my work.” Chilchuck finished with a steely glare.
-
After the argument had concluded, for now, the party moved to what appeared to be a treasure vault.
“The excessive number of traps here must be to keep out intruders,” assumed Chilchuck aloud as he tapped one of the chests beneath them with his foot. “They’re secured onto the ground.”
Crouching down beside a chest, the picklock mumbled. “I guess I’ll try opening one.”
Interested in the prospect of oil, the cook repeated the action behind Chilchuck.
The brunette raised a hand in displeasure. “Go over there,” he ordered the dwarf away.
“He’s usually the most mature one,” said Marcille from beside the bard and tall man, once Senshi got back to the group.
“Having his companions’ lives in his hands is probably putting him on edge,” provided Laois.
Alekben hummed in agreeance. “It’s one thing to worry about yourself, but to have to calculate all this stuff with four other party members…” The bard glanced fondly at his fellow half foot who was still unlocking the chest. “It’s quite admirable, actually.”
A faint click was heard, followed by Chilchuck declaring, “It’s open.”
Senshi strolled back over, leaning down to peer inside the wooden box. “I see. How do we get the oil out?”
“I don’t know,” stated the brunette, motioning to the contraption with his locksmith tools. “This is the spout. Pulling this trigger will release the oil, but I don’t know how much.”
“I’ll have my pot ready then,” said Senshi already prepped and ready, holding his huge pot in front of him. “Pull the trigger.”
“No way,” refused Chilchuck shuffling backwards as Senshi encroached on the space. “It’s probably boiling oil.”
“Don’t be afraid,” reassured the dwarf creepily.
“I am afraid,” spoke the picklock, eyes wavering at the device below him.
Making his choice, Chilchuck yelled, “Don’t come crying to me later,” and pulled the release on the spout.
Oil erupted from the chest, most of it hitting Senshi’s pot dead on, while some flew in random directions.
Unfortunately, a drop landed in the party leader’s collar. “So hot!” He screamed, flailing around.
Marcille blankly stared at the tall man, while Alekben snickered behind his palm.
“I told you so,” admonished Chilchuck watching the display. “Are you okay, Senshi?” He inquired, before exclaiming in shock. “Your finger’s in it!”
“It’s 180 degrees,” analyzed Senshi. “Perfect for frying food.”
“You’re the type that’s okay with heat?” The picklock observed as the dwarf set the pot down slowly.
Senshi hummed. “The smell and taste tell me that’s olive oil.”
“For real?” The brunette challenged.
“They do say this area originally produced olives,” educated the cook. “It’s not surprising that it’s used in traps.”
Bringing fist to his chin in thought, the picklock urged. “You think so?”
“Either way, I can fry food with this.” Senshi stopped for a moment when he remembered something. “Oh right! Can we use the blade from the trap earlier to cut the meat?”
“No,” advised Chilchuck exasperatedly. “We don’t know if it’ll fall in the exact same place.”
Not taking no for an answer, Senshi dropped the Big Bat meat from earlier into the half foot’s arms. “I’ll leave it to you. After all, I don’t know how to handle the traps.”
“Why should I?” huffed the picklock.
“Cooking is my job, so you should follow my directions,” said Senshi, using a jab from earlier whether he meant to or not. “I believe that was our deal.”
“I never said that,” argued Chilchuck.
Noticing his companion’s predicament, Alekben raised his hand meekly. “Why don’t I help you out, Chilchuck?”
-
The two half foot men stood in the trap-ridden room once more, developing a quick routine to slice up the Big Bat meat.
“You know, I didn’t need your help,” spoke Chilchuck bluntly as he shifted the meat underneath the blade trap.
“Yeah,” responded Alekben hopping down on the pressure plate once Chilchuck moved away from the hunk of protein. “But it’s easier this way, isn’t it?” He shifted off the weight-triggered slab.
“That’s true,” the picklock admitted repeating the process from prior.
“Plus, it’s nice to just have a buddy or partner around,” added the bard. “Having people around who are willing to provide aid to you is not something you should take for granted.”
Putting his weight on the trap again, Alekben continued. “I should know, I’d been traveling alone for a few years before I joined your guys’ party.”
Taking in his words, the picklock nodded with an apologetic expression. “Right…I’m sorry.”
“I’m not trying to lecture you,” assured the auburn-haired male. “Senshi has been very out of sorts today, so I get the frustration. I also understand you don’t like people interfering with your job, but…” He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the correct words to say. “....sometimes, those people aren’t actually trying to mess up your work. They might just be curious, or maybe they want to try to help in some way.”
Stepping off the slab, Alekben carefully tiptoed over to Chilchuck, placing an encouraging hand on his back. “Stop denying them right away, and give them a second to show you what they can do. Sure, we have our specific purposes here in the party, but those are just general terms. Not all of my magic is defensive, just like while Senshi is here to help cook… he knows so much more about this dungeon than we do, he may as well be a loremaster.” Removing his hand, the bard finished. “I know it’s hard to let help in and trust people… but maybe with some guidance and a little teamwork, we can get through areas like this again without fighting so much.”
“When did you get so mature, Alekben?” Questioned the picklock with a chuckle. “ I didn’t think it was possible for you to say something like that.”
“Hey!” Pouted the bard, smacking his companion’s shoulder. “That was rude! Especially after all that advice I worked so hard to give you…”
Chilchuck’s laugh went uninterrupted for a minute before he wiped a comical tear from his eye. “Regardless, let’s get this meat back to Senshi.”
-
“Hey, Senshi! We finished cutting up the Big Bat meat,” informed Alekben as Chilchuck dropped it down beside the dwarf.
“Okay,” he simply acknowledged, carrying his big pot over to the half foot men and dropping it into Chilchuck’s hands. “Next, go heat up this oil at the fire trap from earlier.”
The shorter two of the group eyed the pot of olive oil uncertainly.
“What’s wrong? Hurry along,” Senshi shooed the two back to the trap room as he began prepping the protein for the party’s lunch.
The dwarf sliced off the Big Bat’s outer skin and diced the meat into chunks. He scored it and massaged some seasonings into the meat, before letting it rest.
While the meat rested, Senshi moved on to peeling the skin off the leftover Mandrakes, starting by ripping off the limbs of the Mandrake first.
Once those were peeled fully, a batter was started. The cook mixed a Basilisk egg into some water, sifting some flour in and mixing to avoid clumps. Once the mixture was set, Senshi poured in the Mandrakes to cover them in said batter.
-
“How’s the fire going, you two?” questioned Senshi as he approached the trap room where Chilchuck and Alekben had been fiddling with the contraption.
“How am I supposed to know,” groaned Chilchuck. “I’ve never had to adjust a trap’s firepower before, damn it.”
“Are you sure this is even going to work, Senshi?” asked the bard, eyeing the cook as he dropped a small bit of batter in the pot of oil sitting atop the trap.
“Looks just right,” commented the dwarf in approval as he ladled in a portion of Mandrake batter nests.
Placing the batter bowl in Alekben’s grasp, Senshi advised. “When it looks like it won’t fall apart, flip it. Got it?”
“R-Right!” appeased the bard as the cook walked off.
Placing a few more portions of the tempura into the pot, Alekben watched them intently as they bubbled in the olive oil.
“Hey, Chilchuck?” Alekben called his companion over, pointing at the Mandrake in the pot. “Do these look ready to you?”
“Hm, maybe,” offered the picklock. “Trying flipping them.”
As the bard went to pinch one of the nests to flip it, the tempura broke apart. “Oh crap, it was too soon.”
“Maybe the fire’s too weak,” reasoned Chilchuck going to the pressure pad for the fire trap, adding more weight to increase the flame.
Upon adding the weight, a small explosion erupted from the trap.
“Woah!” cried Alekben, not at all prepared for the sudden ‘boom.’
“Are you alright?” asked the picklock, irises hovering over the bard’s form.
With a couple of coughs and a face covered in soot, the auburn-haired male spoke. “I’m okay! …But I think the tempura burnt.”
As the two half foots examined the overcooked food between Alekben’s cooking utensils, Senshi returned.
“How’s it looking?” He inquired.
“Terrible,” whined Alekben ushering the batter bowl in Senshi’s direction. “Could you take over please?”
“The fire trap is Chilchuck’s job, you chose to help with it,” refuted the cook.
“I can adjust the fire,” Chilchuck defended. “But isn’t frying part of your job?”
“Right!” The bard enthusiastically concurred, before showing Senshi their current product. “The tempura turns gooey if the fire is weak, but it burns if it’s too strong… I don’t know what we’re doing wrong.”
“That must mean it’s not a trap-related issue, huh?” said the cook, glancing at the food still cooking in the pot. “Looks almost ready.”
Lifting a piece from the oil, Alekben smiled. “These look great.”
“The color on them turned out nicely,” examined the picklock.
-
“It’s done,” announced Senshi as he and the two half foot men brought the tempura and kakiage from the trap room.
Grabbing a piece of the tempura with his utensils, Laois noted. “I never imagined I could eat fried food in a dungeon like this.” As he took a bite, the tall man complimented, “It’s fried really well.”
“We had good firepower,” explained Senshi. “You must aim to fry food quickly with the right temperature. It gets nice and crispy, that’s pretty hard to do with an open fire.”
“I don’t think people would do this on an open fire,” commented Marcille.
“I pass by here very often,” recalled the dwarf as he turned to Chilchuck and Alekben. “But who knew such a convenient room was here?”
The picklock choked on his food for a split second, coughing harshly as Alekben pat his back.
Once his throat was cleared, Chilchuck reminded. “Don’t try this without me here. You’ll die for sure.”
“I know,” accepted Senshi taking Chilchuck aback. “I can never imitate your trap manipulation skills. It’s truly amazing.”
The cook shifted so he was speaking with the entire party, “When we go our separate ways someday, it’s unfortunate that I won’t be able to use that trap alone.”
The brunette received a nudge to his side. Looking over, he was met with Alekben who ushered his head toward Senshi expectantly.
Chilchuck sighed, scratching his face. “I guess I have no choice. When we have some spare time, I’ll teach you a bit about traps.”
“Are you sure?” asked Senshi.
“I’m kind of reluctant to do so,” spoke the picklock honestly. “But you know, you taught me how to cook, Senshi.”
-
Alekben beamed softly, watching his party occupy themselves with various tasks.
Marcille was studying her magic book, Laois was carrying the Big Bat Skin to a different area, and Chilchuck was teaching Senshi about different types of traps in the dungeon.
Scratching his quill against his book, the bard wrote. ‘Bread can’t replace meat, nor can meat replace bread. But together, they can taste even better. People and food are very alike. Here in the dungeon, it’s important to experiment to find out how different dishes, and people, can work together.’
