The "Tome and Trinket" bookstore was a changed place. It was no longer a dusty, sleepy repository of old books. It had become a hive of intense, if silent, activity. The fortress of a sleeping god.
Valerius Zathra had claimed the main counter as his "Scriptorium." He was surrounded by piles of freshly-procured parchment, arcane inks, and focusing crystals. His life's work had begun: The Annales Lynonia, The Chronicles of Master Lyno. Volume one, chapter one, was titled "The Sermon of the Bookshelf." He was currently attempting to derive the unified theory of magic from the precise order in which a collection of romance novels had been alphabetized.
Princess Aurelia had converted a quiet corner with a comfortable reading chair into her "Royal Chancery in Exile." She was drafting what she called "Preliminary Edicts of the New Order," a complete overhaul of Imperial law based on the Alphabetic Principles. Edict one: All citizens, regardless of rank or station, were to be addressed by their given names, listed alphabetically in all official documents. It would be an administrative nightmare, but it was philosophically pure.
Seraphina Vex was the "Warden of the Threshold." She did not claim a space. The entire store was her domain. She moved in a constant, silent patrol, checking the locks, testing the floorboards for new creaks, and occasionally glaring at a particularly suspicious-looking dust mote. She was the immune system of the sanctum, and her vigilance was absolute.
And in the middle of all this sat the grand, ornate chest from the Emperor, which they now used as a coffee table. Upon it sat a small, velvet-lined box. Inside that box, resting on a bed of silk, was the Holy Relic: the Purifying Teabag. Its sacred aura (imagined, but intensely believed in) radiated a sense of profound peace (and smelled faintly of old paper and boiled roots).
Upstairs, Lyno was having the worst morning of his life. He was hungry.
His pantry consisted of half a loaf of stale bread, a questionable wedge of cheese, and an empty jar that once held jam. He had been a virtual prisoner for days. He couldn't go to the market. He couldn't even go downstairs without three pairs of hyper-intense eyes tracking his every move.
His stomach rumbled. It was a sad, lonely sound.
[I'm going to starve to death,] he thought with a profound sense of misery. [My own fanatical followers are going to let me waste away because I'm too scared to ask them for food. This is the most pathetic way to die.]
He knew he had to do something. He had to brave the bizarre cult that had taken over his house and make a simple, human request.
Steeling his nerves, he creaked his door open and descended the stairs.
The moment his foot touched the bottom step, the hum of activity ceased. Valerius stopped writing. Aurelia looked up from her edicts. Seraphina materialized from the shadows near the entrance.
All eyes were on him.
"Master," Valerius said, his voice filled with reverence. "You have emerged from your contemplation. Have you a new lesson for us? A new decree?"
Lyno's stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud, gurgling roar.
GROOOOOWL. GURGLE.
The sound echoed in the silent bookstore. It was profoundly, undeniably biological.
Lyno's face flushed a deep, horrified crimson.
The three followers, however, did not hear a simple stomach growl. They were masters of symbolic interpretation, and their minds immediately went to work decoding the "Primal Rumble of the Master."
It is the sound of the world shifting, Aurelia thought, her pen hovering over her notes. A groan from the very foundations of reality, channeled through his vessel. He is discontent. Our progress is too slow.
It is a resonance, Seraphina analyzed, her hand resting on the hilt of her hidden knife. A warning. A deep-frequency vibration to alert us to a coming disturbance. An external threat approaches.
Valerius's eyes, however, widened with a far more profound and "correct" interpretation.
Of course! How could I have been so blind! his mind screamed. His vessel, this form of flesh and blood, is a conduit for his infinite power. But a conduit requires fuel! We have alphabetized his library, chronicled his wisdom, but we have neglected the most fundamental aspect of his worldly existence! Sustenance! The rumble was not a metaphor. It was a literal statement of need! The engine of the universe requires fuel!
"Master..." Valerius said, his voice choked with shame. "We have failed you. In our focus on the esoteric, we have neglected the essential. Your vessel... it requires sustenance."
Lyno, still blushing, just nodded dumbly. Yes. Exactly. Food. Finally, they were speaking a language he understood.
"I'm... a little hungry," he mumbled, staring at the floor.
It was a simple statement of fact. But coming from his lips, in this context, it was the most important command the world had received all week.
"The Master is hungry," Seraphina repeated, her tone imbued with the same gravity as if she had said, "The sun is going out." She immediately moved into action. "I will go to the market. I will procure the finest ingredients. No merchant would dare deny me. If they do, I will..."
"No!" Valerius interrupted, his expression deadly serious. "You are thinking like an assassin, not a provider for a god. The food of common merchants is saturated with the crass energies of commerce and greed. It is unfit for the Master's palate!"
"Then what is your solution, Sage?" Seraphina shot back, her authority challenged.
"The offering from the Emperor!" Aurelia suddenly said, her eyes lighting up. She pointed to the chest. "The High Treasurer is a glutton. It is well known he included a small, warded crate of 'Contemplative Rations' alongside the artifacts. Foods of the highest purity, grown in the Emperor's private magical gardens, meant to sustain a body for months without introducing any spiritual impurities."
In a flash, they opened the large chest, bypassed a priceless scroll and a glowing orb, and produced a small, simple-looking wooden box. Opening it revealed neat rows of perfectly preserved, nutrient-rich, and utterly flavorless magical biscuits. They were survival rations for arch-mages on long journeys.
Seraphina took one, knelt before Lyno, and presented it to him on the palm of her hand. "Master. Your... sustenance."
Lyno looked at the small, grey biscuit. It looked like a piece of dried Lembas bread's less-exciting cousin. His stomach groaned again, this time in protest. He hadn't wanted an ancient, magical, tasteless nutrient block. He had just wanted a sandwich. A nice, fresh sandwich, maybe with some tomato.
He looked at the earnest, terrifying faces of his followers. He knew he couldn't refuse. It would probably be interpreted as him declaring war on the concept of flavor itself.
He took the biscuit and nibbled on a corner.
It tasted like chalk and despair.
He managed a weak smile. "Thank you," he forced himself to say. "It's... good."
A collective sigh of relief went through his followers. They had successfully averted a crisis. They had provided for the Master.
But as Lyno chewed the depressing biscuit, Valerius was already thinking ahead.
"This is a temporary solution," the Sage declared. "The Master should not be forced to subsist on these sterile provisions. He requires proper, prepared sustenance. A chef. A dedicated culinary artisan who understands the sacred alchemy of cooking."
Aurelia's eyes widened. "The Imperial Chef is a master..."
"No!" Valerius said, his gaze distant. "Not some courtly peacock who arranges garnishes. We need a true master. Someone whose very soul is attuned to the harmony of ingredients. A mission of the highest priority has just been decreed by the Master's primal need. We must find... a cook."
Lyno, miserably chewing his chalk biscuit, heard this. A personal chef? That sounded... nice. It sounded normal. It was a step towards a life where he didn't have to eat sad magic crackers.
He nodded in agreement.
It was a simple nod. A nod of a hungry man who wanted a decent meal.
To his followers, it was a Royal Mandate. The Great Quest for a Chef had officially begun. They would scour the continent, they would search for the most legendary, most enlightened, most god-tier cook in existence, all to satisfy the whim of their Master. They would find the one person whose cooking was worthy of a living divinity.
The ripples of Lyno's grumbling stomach were about to spread across the world. And no one, least of all Lyno, could have predicted who, or what, would answer the call.