A Warm Meal

Ariana inspected the kitchen's facilities. There was a water basin with a plug at the bottom, but the well was outside. For her, this wasn't an issue. There was also a wood-burning oven and a flint. Tucked into the corner next to the oven was a tidy stack of firewood and kindling. Upon browsing the cupboards, she found them stocked with clay dishes, cast pots and kettles, and wrought cutlery. There were some pickled goods and jams, but nothing substantial, and there certainly wasn't cold storage. 

She considered her own magical options, but she didn't want to spring plants out of the floor of someone else's house. She glanced around once more and spotted a withered plant potted on the windowsill. She felt sorry for the plant, but she could use the soil. She moved to the window and cupped her hands on either side of the pot, carrying it carefully to the counter between the basin and stove. She extracted the plant, tapped a bit of soil from it back into the terracotta vessel, and set it aside. It wasn't a difficult task with how dry the soil was. Perhaps she could heal it when she was done. 

She summoned a bit of water and swirled it down into the soil. As she did, she pondered what she could grow without any seeds. 

And then it hit her. 

She had already been growing things without seeds. She grew roots and leaves, she grew the brambles, and she sprouted that flower at night for the duke and his men. She had only seen the flowers once, and she was able to cause one to grow. Perhaps she could grow other plants that she'd already seen. 

She considered plants that would make for a good meal. Beans and potatoes were a classic, hearty option. She thought about mushrooms, too. Though they weren't plants, were they? She also pondered the words of the first voice. Mushrooms are natural, right? Would those fall under nature magic? Would rocks count? Salt was a rock, wasn't it? Animals were natural things, but surely she couldn't just grow a chicken. Her head spun with questions. What were the limits of this magic? It was the first time she had been faced with a dilemma like this. 

She worked through things step by step. First, she tried thinking about salt. She had been summoning plants so far with simple thoughts and hand gestures. What sort of motion would bring out a rock? Maybe it couldn't, rocks couldn't move, could they? She weighed some options, then steadied her hand, then, in a quick wrist flick, clenched it shut. 

Nothing happened. 

Perhaps rocks were off the table. 

She considered the animal problem briefly. She decided that it was likely out of bounds. If it were in her control, she likely wouldn't have struggled with White Tusk or the boars. 

As she pondered this, there was a knock at the front door. 

She turned in place. "Hm?" She walked casually to the door and opened it. 

The mayor stood there jovially before the threshold, holding a parcel. His son, his wife Filian, the hunters, and a couple of other villagers were with him. "Ah, the lady demon! Ariana, was it? Doctor Mirabelle said you'd be up and about soon, so I figured I'd come to pay a visit!" 

Ariana, shocked, gave a slightly confused smile. "Mr. Mayor? How can I help you?"

The mayor gave a boisterous laugh. "You've done plenty enough already, miss. Thanks to you, no one had to die to fend off that monster, and now no one will ever be hurt by it again!" Ariana's expression shifted to slight concern. "Again? Were people seriously hurt the last time it came?" The mood dampened slightly. "Yes... We've lost many good people to that beast... Lloyd came the closest to killing it a few years ago, but..." The mayor shook off the dour mood. "Well, enough about that, there's no need to dwell on it anymore, thanks to you. You were the one who killed it, so it's only fair that you get a share of the spoils." The mayor presented his parcel to her. "Here, we saved a prime cut for you. We would invite you to celebrate with us, but you know... Duke Caviston's orders and all..." 

Ariana tried to return a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, really. I was just thinking about cooking, so this is a wonderful gift, thank you so much.” She accepts the parcel. There is a general sense of relief among the villagers. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before parting ways, and Ariana closed the door.

She gazed at the carefully wrapped package in her hands. She had no issue carrying it, but the weight of it was more than mass. 

She brought it tenderly over to the kitchen counter and placed it next to the flower pot.

“Right,” she proclaimed, “We’ll make sure this gets used well, won’t we?” 

She quickly set to work. The first order of business was to get the oven heating. She leaned over to unlatch the oven door and grab the firewood. She tossed about three logs inside and set the kindling just at the base of it. She took hold of the flint and gave it a few strikes. It was tricky to do, but after a couple of attempts, the kindling sparked. She held the flint aside to lean down and blow the sparks to life. Once she was sure that the flames could bite in, she closed the door, and the latch clicked back in place. 

With the oven warming, her focus returned to the ingredients. She swept her left hand backwards and scooped at the air, summoning a mass of water. She repeated this motion until there was enough water to fill the basin halfway, then pressed down to place it within. 

Her attention returned to the flower pot and the meat cut. How do you prepare a boar, she wondered? Was it like pork? She knew a couple in her previous life; the husband was an avid game hunter. Had he talked about how to cook wild game? Was boar one of the things he cooked? What sort of things do you pair with boar? Would any of that even apply to a boar in this world? 

Well, she thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She settled on making a stew. Stewing meat fixed all sorts of problems, and nothing beats a hearty stew. If you make a stew, that means potatoes and carrots. She retrieved a cast pot from the cupboard and placed it onto the oven, then she drew water from the basin into the pot.

Her hands hovered over the flower pot. She considered for a moment what potatoes and carrots were. They grew in the ground. She made a small scooping motion into a clasping gesture, and a small sprout appeared from the soil. She rolled her hands around together, and the soil was slowly pushed up. 

When finished, she reached down into the soil and pulled free a decently sized potato. It still had a few roots, but those could be trimmed. 

With one hand, she waved down and pulled her fingers in to pull up a bit of water. With this, she cleansed her hands and the potato, then with a flicking gesture, tossed the water to the drain beneath the basin. She repeated this process to make a carrot with swirling, gripping motions that pulled downward. 

Thinking about the flavor once more, she double checked the cupboard for any spices. There wasn’t much, but on closer inspection, one of the clay jars did in fact hold salt. This was a great relief. 

Satisfied, she set the flower pot back on the sill, retrieved a knife from the cupboard, and took hold of the carrot. She held it in one hand and held the knife to it with the other at an angle. She carefully turned the carrot in her hand and walked a guiding finger along the circumference, peeling the carrot in a smooth spiraling motion as she had done many times before in her old life. Going through these familiar motions filled her with a subtle joy; a smile snuck across her lips as she hummed to herself. She soon did the same to the potato. 

Vegetables peeled, she pressed closer to the counter and knuckled up on the knife. She positioned her free hand onto the potato, fingers almost pressed to the flat of the knife. She steadily rolled the knife chops through the potato and walked the spud forward with her fingers as she had done so many times before. She gave the potato a medium dice, then scooped the cubes up with the knife, and slid them into the cast pot. She then gave the carrot a chop into reasonable coins for a stew and tossed them in with the potato. 

All that remained was the meat. 

She carefully opened the parcel and was met with a slab of meat about as large as her torso. It was far too much for one stew. 

She turned it at an angle and guessed about an inch’s distance. She sliced down the slab to get a more reasonable portion of it for the stew. She set the portion down, wrapped the meat back up, and set it aside. She gave the portion a large dice and put that into the pot with the veggies. 

Once she had cleansed her hands, the knife, and the counter, she searched the cupboards again and found a wooden spoon. She brandished it and took to stirring the now bubbling pot. She gave the pot a tap or two to free a lingering potato from the spoon, then reached for the salt jar. She took a generous pinch of it and sprinkled it into the stew, then continued stirring.

The pot was simmered and stirred for a few hours until the meat had become tender and the stew thickened. She took the spoon and settled the lip of it just at the surface to catch some liquid. She gave it a quick taste. It was rich, savory, and piquant. With a satisfied nod, she pulled a bowl from the cupboards and swirled her hand over the pot. A portion of stew floated up from the pot, and her hand directed it into the bowl. She pulled one of the wrought spoons from the cupboard and presented the meal to her would-be guard with a warm smile. 

She served a portion for herself, realizing it was the first time since she arrived in this world that she had made a real meal. She settled at the table with the boy. 

The boy stared at the stew and picked up his spoon. He brought the spoon to the stew and took a pensive spoonful. He brought it close to his mouth, staring at it. Ariana took a spoonful of her own soup and gently blew on it. She took a bite, and the stew barely needed chewing; it was so soft.

Taking her cue, the boy gave a quick blow or two, then cautiously pulled the spoonful into his mouth. 

The boy soon started shoveling the stew into his mouth as quickly as he could, only taking breaks to try and pant away the heat. Ariana laughed thoughtfully. “Slow down, the stew isn’t going anywhere! There’s a bit more if you’re still hungry after this, so eat your fill.” 

Ariana took the time to enjoy the fruits of her efforts as well. 

A warm meal was a treasure.