The Wielder of Death Magic

‘I want to go,’ was what came from her listless expression. It didn’t matter for he used her as a tasting partner. Then and there, pulling at all the knowledge amassed and not to forget, Piglet, the minotaur chef, a dish worthy for royalty was concocted. At one point, the one behind the boiling pot seemed as if a witch making her love potions.

Another day flew out the door, ‘-I’m ready,’ time constraint by the outside world did factor in his departure.

Four black orbs formed a rectangular doorway, “-have a safe trip back. Do call on me whenever things get difficult,” said she waving as if a child. Vesper pressed her hands and bowed; no other word need be said. Brighter hue clawed at the corner of the room, paying no heed to the rising star, he stepped through accompanied by a lot of items.

2nd of February arrived at last. It was only yesterday where the parking lot in front of the institute felt empty, today, the whole area was booked. One could bet the cars weren’t cheap either, most wore a suit and very expensive attire. The huge metallic door opened as if heaven’s gate.

The vampiric castle slowly unveiled a hidden construction, an observation center to the far right. The tall and huge trees were stagnant around the premises. A nicely decorated path, made for cars too, led into the compound. The size, compared to a rather tall guard standing watch, blew those in the unknown’s mind away. People of repute and power promenaded along the black silhouettes of nature. If Cle wasn’t the occasion, one would almost confuse this path to be a very-well acquainted ‘-lover’s walk’. Needless to say, the media tightly had their hands wrapped around the whole event. Red-collar chefs were already in the amphitheater. Highly critical gastronomes, accomplished chefs, owners of businesses, and a few chosen – the top of the world of cooking, sat on an elevated platform tucked away in the shadows of the theater. Cameras were placed here and there to broadcast the event. Ten cooking stations, not identical mind you, were allocated the same amount of space.

Guests arrived one by one, the seats filled in due pace.

.....

“Yuki, Yanni, I’m glad to see my students getting along for once,” said a man in his late fifties parting the red-curtains.

“Mentor,” said the two ladies, “-it’s a pleasure to see you,” the voice might have been courteous, the gaze was but sharp daggers against the other.

“Lord Amsey, please,” said a man with a red-collar, “-there’s no need to strain thine self. Please, take a seat, the event is to start soon.”

“Good to see you too,” said Yuki, “-Chef Agneo.”

“Yes, the feeling’s mutual,” returned he coldly.

“Your husband sure hasn’t changed, Yanni. He’s still the cold stoic chef I remember.”

“Oh please, cut it with the reminiscing,” sighed she, “-in other news, why did you back out the competition. Was it because my prodigy is better than yours?” she leaned onto her knees in provocation, “-come on, tell me, how was it... the air of defeat at his prowess. Trust me,” she laughed coyly, “-Kyle isn’t just my prodigy, he was trained by Lord Amsey and my husband too.”

“Damn you...” the words went unnoticed as an army of red-collared chefs entered the room.

“Do forgive our lateness,” said they bearing the crest of the institute. A group of elite cooks around the world was bound as one. Their job, test and evaluate the meals being cooked. Those sitting at the top of the institute were people holding power and fame, mostly talent for the art of cooking. However, when the time came to judge, only the best of the best, and not a few, but many, were allowed to do so. This efficiently reduced preferential treatment and gave an overwhelming range in taste and significance.”

“We’re here live from Cle,” spoke a pretty lady holding a mic, “-the event will be broadcasted over the air once it begins,” she snuck her way across security and into the castle, “-the top-novices around the world have been gathered here today to showcase their skills. There are no winners and no losers, all are guaranteed a spot in the cooking world. Even if it’s rare, tis serves as a recruitment process for big restaurants.” Key-players moved to and fro, “-wait,” she ran without warning, “-excuse me, are you prince Julius?”

“How did you sneak through security?” said he amused at the prospect, “-yes, I’m indeed the prince. Is there something the matter?”

“Please, can we have a few words before the event starts?”

“Sure, why not, just give me a moment,” the shining aura disappeared behind the corner, “-I do apologize for the wait,” Princess Lizzie stood at his side, “-so, how can I be of assistance?”

“I-I,” nervousness got her tongue.

“Please, don’t be alarmed or in a rush.”

“Thank you,” gathering her breath, multiple figures walked past and headed for the theater. “This is the first time we’ve seen the royal family of Arda get involved in Cle, is there perhaps someone thee wishes to recruit?”

“No,” said he softly, “-I came to cheer someone very dear to us both,” he held Lizzie’s hands.

“Yes, we’re going to support big-brother,” she cheered, her rosy cheeks and green hair glistened at the pan of the camera, ‘-adorable,’ thought the cameraman.

“Is the special someone a person of interest, someone we know perhaps?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” he shrugged, “-the name’s already on display. It doesn’t take much to figure that out.”

“One last question.”

“Go on?”

“Who do you think is going to win?” the quiet corridor echoed by footsteps and chatter. Flashes of light and the cacophony of inquisitive tone approached. The reporter’s face turned to the coming crowd, the ten cooks taking part in Cle hassled by other reporters. Kyle led the pack, one thing stood out about the others... the sternness of their expression, the way the hair and face were styled.

Out in where the event readied to begin, lights shut to pitch-darkness. The murmurs and frivolous chatter cut short. Spotlights flashed onto the stage, “-hello everyone,” said a lady with grace, “-I’m Emi Muko, the host of today’s event.” Her long dress laced at the back brought the best of her figure, her visage exuded the aura of being refined – a far-stretch from what many knew her as. “Long has it been since the culinary world grew into what it is today. If not for pioneers such as Lord Amsey, Lady Yuki, Lady Yanni, and many others,” lights flashed onto their platform, “-we can bet it wouldn’t have been as popular as it is today. Not to forget the very talented group of judges who will evaluate the stars of the future. All red-collared chefs had to go through this process here. Getting invited to Cle is the staple of becoming someone great in this industry. From the bottom of my heart, I wish these talented cooks to take the stage,” the screen displayed a live-feed of the approaching participants. Applause riled the arena.

Kyle headed the line with a smile. Many others contended being at the back and preparing mentally. Showing-off wasn’t always the greatest idea.

“Welcome,” said she pointing the mic at Kyle, “-anything you’d like to add before we start?” the others were at his side staring at the crowd, anxiety had the hands tremble, so much pressure on their shoulders... time had come. The host went one by one, introducing and having them give a little sentence.

Things didn’t look great backstage; a participant was missing. “Anyone know where Igna is?” rushed the assistants screaming through their earpieces.

“No idea,” it went to the point where Chef Leko and Lady Haru were called by the supervisor.

“Chef Leko, we apologize for bringing you here,” a single curtain separated them from the changing room, “-Igna is missing. We haven’t seen him enter the premises nor speak to the locals, where is he?”

“We don’t know,” said Lady Haru, “-he disappeared yesterday. I thought he’d have gotten here by now. You know anything, Leko?”

“No, the cellphone is offline. He did order ingredients from the trader’s guild, right?”

“Yeah, he did,” sighed she, “-he’s on his way, don’t worry about it.”

“Something the matter,” heels clopped against the wooden floor.

“Lady Elvira, Lady Courtney,” bowed the assistant, “-it’s just that Igna’s missing. The event is already underway.”

“Don’t worry about it,” smiled the seductive Elvira, “-he’ll be back soon.”

“Even if he doesn’t show up,” added Courtney, “-it doesn’t matter. My son is free to do what he wants.”

“Come on,” urged Haru, “-you’re spoiling him too much!” the banter faded into the commotion of the background noises.

“Just who is Igna Haggard,” facepalmed the supervisor, “-I’ve never been so scared in my life. They’re pleasing to look but hard to argue against.”

“Don’t worry,” said Leko slapping the man’s back, “-the sponsors don’t see anything wrong about the ordeal. Why are you getting so flustered, I personally hate Cle.” The introductions reached the 8th participant named Hanlo, endorsed by 3 green and 1 red collared chef.

“I’m honored to be participating in the well-received Cle. Just glad to be able to showcase my skills,” the distant words barely made it to Leko’s seat.

‘What a joke, to organize such an event for the sole purpose of ranking the best. It should be done by trial and error, the testing here might appear just and right, there’s more going in the background than I’d like to admit. Cle, what an overrated piece of shit. Being angry doesn’t hide it’s a sure-fire way to get to the top. Igna’s nowhere to be found, maybe he figured out the truth, he’s a smart kid. I mean,’ scrolling down the phone, ‘-the Arcanum isn’t going easy on him. They have no tact, bashing an innocent boy to smithereens per the actions of disrespectful chefs.’

“Oh,” exclaimed Emi, “-it would appear one has gone missing. I’ve never seen this happen.”

“Maybe he gave up,” commented Kyle loudly sending the audience in a burst of laughter. Weirdly enough, the tension felt lifted, having him around didn’t please many. Rumors and all, Emi stood ideally waiting for the organizers to issue the next plan of action.

“Don’t get so worked up,” said a figure moving across the arena, “-in no way am I going to give up to the likes of you,” half a smirk on the face, a steel briefcase rested over his shoulder, “-did you miss me?” said he rudely at Kyle.

“I’m Igna Haggard,” he snatched Emi’s microphone, “-Chef Leko’s sous chef. This is a challenge at you,” he pointed at Yuki, “-Medusa of Cooking, my teacher who fell under the pressure of fighting an old-rival. I make this vow here and now, I’ll never return to Loron or associate myself with you or your family,” he threw a burnt apron on the floor, “-I’m not thy prodigy, remember that.”