The Willowsbrook Chronicles - Chapter 28: A father's desperation
The tear-streaked Elegance man took a breath, then began his tale. “Recently Josette has come down with a nasty strain of Red Rash Fever. Only certain medicines created by the priesthood of Mallastra can cure it.”
“Red Rash Fever, Gods.” Gunther gasped knowing full well what that sickness could do.
“The medicines in question cost five hundred gold pieces. I as a member of the ship’s kitchen staff make only five silvers a week. There’s no way I could make enough money to cover the fee for the medicine.”
Several footsteps drew the attention of the two, several figures entered the room.
“By Solarin’s good graces. Gordon, Gods you big-hearted fool,” Captain William Jordan groaned. “As a member of the ship’s crew, if you’d told me what was going on, I’d have been happy to help.”
The ship’s cook looked surprised, then shook his head. “You don’t understand mon capitaine the kind of power and influence Monsolie has on the staff of the ship. He stated that if I ever told anyone, he’d ensure that he would intercept any package for my family. Worse still he’d also make sure his liege and friend Duke Ronjeanbeau had his way with my wife!”
“What are you talking about man?” Kyra asked.
“Madame sorceress, the reason Elegance has fallen on hard times is because of the duke’s iron fist rule. No one can start a business there unless they’re on the best of terms with him. What’s worse is…he’s had his way with any number of women in the province.
“Monsolie threatened to allow the duke to force himself on my wife. And he’d force my poor sick daughter to watch!”
Gunther’s face darkened. “I see, so the reason you were trying to put that nightshade in there was because he was forcing you to?” The Innkeeper surmised.
Gordon Lestant nodded, “Oui Mousier Willowsbrook. Monsolie told me to do this for him, and keep quiet on his tyrannical rule. In return he’d provide the five hundred gold pieces for my daughter’s cure.”
“And you bloody believed this bastard?!” Quigsley squawked.
“Hope is the only thing I have right now. My little girl and my family’s safety are what matters.”
“So that’s what this is all about. Mr. Willowsbrook, now that we know the truth, I leave his fate to you.” Captain Jordan stated.
The big innkeeper's being lit up with a fiery rage so great, it threatened to consume him. But instead, he took deep breaths and channeled that anger. This scheming swine Francois Monsolie has gotten on my last nerve!
“Well, the first thing we need to do," The big innkeeper thought out loud. "Is aide Gordon’s family. We need to be discreet, so those two won't uncover anything before it's done.
“But that still leaves the matter of Alicia and Josette’s safety. Once the Duke and Monsolie find out what we've done, they’ll want revenge.”
The illusionist sighed and snapped, “This Kyra is exactly why I hate nobles, no offense.”
“None taken,” she responded. “I've also noticed many such who are arrogant fools!”
“Aye," The captain pointed out. "There's been a growing trend among the nobility towards arrogance. May Solarin guide them back to the light of humility.
“I also agree Ronjeanbeau will try something, once he uncovers the truth.”
Gunther’s face furrowed in thought for a moment, and then an idea popped into his head. At that moment, William Jordan’s face brightened as well. “Ah-ha,” both men proclaimed.
A cat-like smile crept on to the big Innkeeper. “Honored paladin, are you acquainted with a certain Spymaster for King Velstand?”
Captain William Jordan flashed his own devious smile. “I see we’re on the same page dear fellow. Nathaniel and the Grey Cloaks, brilliant!”
Gordon Lestant’s face wrinkled. “What…what’s going on?”
“If this improvised plan works," The big man explained. "Your daughter will get cured, and you’ll have a reunion with your family.”
At once the man of Elegance looked fearful yet hopeful. “You, you would do that? How and why?”
Gunther put an arm around the other cook. “The how you'll know about soon enough. As for the why, here's the reason. You’ve shown you have a talent for Honey cake.
“That leads me to believe that other baked goods you’re as good at making. How would you like a land-based job, and a chance to use that lovely brick oven for baking?”
The ramifications of Gunther's words sunk into Gordon’s head. A new sense of hope sprang to life on the features of the baker. “Are you…are you offering me a job?” he ventured.
Gunther nodded. “Take a look around my good man. The Druids are cleansing this area of the last residues of Gadros the Death King’s curse. This area of Brekkin has a lot of potential for growth. And with the new library that’s under construction, this area is going to attract a lot of people.
“Think about it. A chance for you and your family to start again. Free from Ronjeanbeau, and under the rule of a duke who’s more benevolent.”
The mouth of the ship’s cook dropped open in stunned disbelief. But then he seemed to come around to his senses. “There’s a catch to this,” he observed.
The big man’s smile turned predatory. “There is, you help us bring Monsolie some proper comeuppance for what he’s done. Not only will there be that job, I’ll see about having your wife and daughter brought here.
“But it all boils down to you Gordon, so what will you do?”
The desperate man took several seconds to make up his mind. “All right, I’ll help as I can. It’s the least I can do to make up for what I attempted.
“Tell me exactly what I need to do.”
The big Innkeeper rubbed his hands. Okay Francois Monsolie, you want to play games with people’s hearts and lives? Well then, I’ll have to serve some old-fashioned justice as only I can.
And this is one serving that’s going to give you the worst day of your life.
Gunther smirked and got up. “Follow me all.”
They walked into the common room. Soon all were sitting at a table save Gunther. He fetched a barrel from the kitchen and rolled it into the common room. He set it on a stand, put a spigot in, and poured himself a glass of frothy yellowish liquid.
The Elegance man’s eyes widened in stunned shock. “Par les dieux,” he gasped. “That’s Elvish honey Wine, from the southern province of my homeland. It recently declared independence until Duke Ronjeanbeau abdicates.”
“I read that this goes great with Honey Cake, and thought it would be appropriate while we discuss our plan.” The inn owner observed.
Gunther noted the respect on the Elegance man's face. Monsolie, now you’re in for it, he thought to himself.
The next day came. In a clearing near the beach two firepits had been dug. Two large cauldrons full of bubbling hot water sat atop them.
A crowd had gathered around them comprised of ship’s crew, Druids, and even the McElroy family. Ivar “Twin Blades” Korsk stood before both gigantic cauldrons.
He called out to the crowd, “Hear ye, hear ye, all crew and honored guests. There has been a disagreement between one of our crew, and one here on the mainland. Thus by the laws of this ship and the sea resolution must come through a duel.
“Because we’re dealing with masters of the culinary, this duel must take the form of preparing food for all here. In this case, it will be porridge.”
The spectators all mumbled and whispered their interest. “Now if the combatants would please step forward."
The Innkeeper marched on as Monsolie strode into the area as if he were a king. A smug smile was written across the man’s face. The Willowsbrook male said nothing, but glared at the arrogant cook.
Both men walked to the center of the field, and stared each other down. “I hope you’re ready for the worst humiliation of your life, you stupid rank amateur.” Monsolie spat in utter contempt.
“You talk too much loudmouth buffoon!” The Innkeeper responded.
The man harrumphed. “Well, will wonders never stop,” he said in mock surprise. “The uneducated fool can speak.”
“Said the no talent horse’s arse who can’t even cook rice porridge right!” he retorted.
The Inn owner smiled when he saw a look of anger flash across the ship's head cook. “For that," he snapped. “I’m going to make your humiliation extra slow, and extra painful.”
The Innkeeper chuckled and shook his head. “How long are you going to keep up this false bravado Monsolie? We both know you don't stand a chance against me!”
The arrogant Master cook smirked. “We will see peasant.”
“Gentleman, take your positions!” Korsk commanded.
Both men turned and headed to their cauldron. “I will taste the final results when you’ve both completed your task.” The man explained, before giving both an authoritative glare.
He continued in a warning tone. "Any attempt to sabotage the other’s work will result in forfeiture of the duel, is that understood?”
The big man nodded. “Understood.”
“Fine,” Monsolie growled, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
The first mate of the Sea Hawk pulled out one of his scimitars, and raised it over his head. Gunther tensed, readying himself. And then the warrior/sailor swung his blade downward as he called, “Begin!”
Gunther noted Monsolie’s own crew coming out with his ingredients. The man went for the ladle on the side of the cauldron.
Naomi and Quigsley came out with all the ingredients Gunther had requested. The big man sank into his calm center, as he took the oats he had asked for.
Good, he thought. Nothing against rice porridge, but it's bland stuff. Now oat porridge is much more flavorful.
Gunther began to mix in the various ingredients for the porridge. The head cook made sure to take time to taste it now and again, to make sure the texture and flavor was right. The honey and brown sugar helped to give substance to the food.
And then he reached for the blueberries. The big man smiled.
“Old man Vanderbross taught me this. If you’re going to make porridge, fruit will give real substance to the mix,” he muttered.
Gunther continued to work away. Still he could smell the stench coming from Monsolie’s side.
The arrogant idiot hasn’t learned anything! He’s so overconfident in his victory, he doesn’t know at all what’s coming.
The big man continued to stir until the texture of the oat porridge was perfect. Then he proceeded to dump a bucket of blueberries in, and mixed it all together. The big man finally set the mixing spoon down.
He smelled the aroma coming from the breakfast food, and his senses went wild. Magnificent, the cook mentally shouted.
“I hope you’re ready to lose, monsieur peasant!” Monsolie spat in utter derision.
The big cook flashed a toothy grin at his opponent. “Funny, I could say the same of you charlatan!” He retorted in a tone of mock civility.
The Elegance man snorted. “I would not be so confident if I were you. After all something bad might happen. There might be something in your food you did not expect.” He chimed in.
The Willowsbrook man’s face furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked in mock bewilderment.
“Oh nothing,” the Elegance man answered in mock innocence.
Monsolie, you have no idea of the surprise you’re in for, he thought.
The master cook of the Sea Hawk set his ladle down. “I have completed my always magnifique creation!” The man proclaimed in a smug tone.
Gunther got a whiff of the rice porridge. His face wrinkled, as his nose rebelled against the foul stench. Oh, you must be jesting, the Inn owner thought in disbelief.
Ivar Korsk took two bowls from one of the ship’s crew, each bowl containing a wood spoon. The man took porridge from each of the cauldrons. Here we go. The big man thought, eager for what was coming.
The First Mate of the Sea Hawk handed Gunther’s bowl over to the crew member. Then he proceeded to lift the spoon from his bowl. Watery muck poured from the eating utensil in an unappetizing fashion.
And then the man tasted the substance. The man’s face wrinkled as he spat it from his mouth.
“Gods,” he roared. “What are you tryin' t'do Monsolie, poison me? This is the foulest tasting muck I’ve e'er had.”
To this the Elegance man looked stunned. “Monsieur Korsk, I take offense, there’s nothing wrong with my porridge. Like me, it’s perfection!"
“This pig’s swill perfection, have you even tasted this?!” Korsk squawked back.
“One does not need to taste perfection!” He retorted in a haughty tone.
The big Innkeeper grimaced. This fool is completely in love with himself.
“Ugh!” The first mate growled, and traded bowls with the crewmember.
A predatory grin formed on the Elegance man’s face. Gunther schooled his expression to maintain a visage of seriousness. The man known as "Twin Blades" took a bite of the thick and rich oatmeal.
His eyes widened in surprise, as he took another bite, and another. It wasn’t long before he'd wolfed the contents of the bowl without even realizing it. Several seconds passed. “Monsieur Korsk, don’t you feel a little nauseous?” Monsolie inquired.
The first mate closed his eyes, then answered, “Actually no, twas joy at how tasty that oat porridge was,”
“What?!” the Elegance man yelped.
The big man couldn’t hide it any longer! He burst out with a hearty laugh. When he was able to calm down, he saw the Master Cook of the Sea Hawk staring at him in disbelief.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Now!” Gunther called.
From behind Monsolie, two big men belonging to the crew grabbed the arms of the ship's cook. “We caught Lestant trying to put that liquified nightshade in the cauldron I used." The Willowsbrook male explained.
"That was a vile tactic cheating son of a whore!”
He pointed an accusatory finger at his opponent. “Even worse still I know you’ve been bullying the cooking staff to be your goons. I also know about Gordon Lestant’s mastery of baking.
“How dare you force him to make such delicious Honey Cakes, then take the credit for his work!”
“You, you can’t prove anything!” The master cook answered, looking like a dear fleeing a hunter.
Kyra Moonwisp approached in her regal spell caster’s robe, and accompanied by Quigsley. “Oh, we can," she stated.
"Gordon was quite forthcoming about what you’ve been doing. As well as your little friendship with a certain bastard Duke of Elegance.”
The crowd went silent, as all eyes turned on the Master Cook. And the rat gets trapped. Big Gunther Willowsbrook thought in smug satisfaction.,
The cheater's face flew into an animalistic rage. “Where is he, where is that loudmouth, I’ll…”
“You will do nothing fiend!” William Jordan called as he approached, looking livid.
“I’ve had my suspicions about you for some time Monsolie. But this incident confirms the kind of villain you are!”
“Not to mention,” Ivar added. “This innkeeper ‘ere makes a Hells of a better porridge than you could ever do. Because of which, I declare Gunther Willowsbrook the winner!”
The crowd applauded at this. "What?!” Monsolie screamed in outrage. “You would give this match to that amateur?!”
“An amateur who has more skill in his tiniest finger than you have in the whole of your body, ya' lying bastard!” Korsk called.
“Ivar, fetch Monsolie’s things from his bunk," Jordan ordered. "I want this man off the ship as soon as possible! We set sail for the Port city of Vastanya in the Elf Kingdom.
“Kyra has that childhood friend who’s a more competent cook than this swine!”
The first mate nodded, a deadly smile flashing on to his face. “I’ve waited so long fer’ this!”
Jordan then added, “Oh and make sure any cooking staff loyal to him are also removed.”
“Oh aye, okay lads bring this scum along so we can get his things before we throw em’ off.”
As the two big crew members followed Korsk, the Elegance man roared and screamed in protest.
“No, no you can’t do this! This is all your fault Willowsbrook. I’ll get you for this if it’s the last thing I do!”
The man continued to scream, as he got carried off. From out of the crowd, Gordon Lestant came forth. Captain Jordan gave the cook a reassuring smile.
“Fear not Gordon, we’ll make sure your family are safe. Your daughter will receive the medicine she needs!"
The baker nodded. “Merci Capitaine Jordan. Now, with your permission, I wish to resign and take my things from the ship.”
“Granted,” the man added with resignation. “But in truth, we wish you’d stay. We enjoy those Honey Cakes of yours.”
“No disrespect honored paladin, but my family and I will be needing a fresh start. This reclaimed area of the Brekkin Duchy will serve as our place to rebuild.”
Kyra and Quigsley walked up to the man. She put a hand on his right shoulder. “Well then, may the Gods grant you a better life here.”
Gunther chose that moment to interrupt. “Meanwhile, Naomi if you could please?”
The barmaid stepped out of the crowd, accompanied by several ship’s crew. The crewmen had trays with lots of wood dishes and spoons. Naomi held a bell in one hand. She rang it and called out, “Oat porridge, come and get it!”
No sense letting good porridge go to waste, the big man thought
The crowd began to line up in anticipation.
Well, this story arc of the Willowsbrook Chronicles concludes. But there’s still plenty more to go. I hope you’re enjoying the story of Gunther and his fellows. Want to read more of Gunther’s adventures? Sign up for Local patron status or higher on my Minds and Susbcribestar pages today.
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Previous: Chapter 27: Shadows of desperation.
Next: Chapter 29: The troubled soul. (Local Patron only on Minds)
See the previous story arcs from where they began:
Story arc #1: Bad night in Ansolar
Story arc #3: The Cursed lands
Story arc #3: Here comes the neighborhood
Story arc #4: Burying the past