Previously, In the stands

We all sat at the edge of our seats as dozens of small stories unfolded before us. The crowd cheered, booed, and roared their approval and laughter at the appropriate moments, spurred on by the announcer.

“OOOOH!!! HE’S GOING TO FEEL THAT IN HIS ANKLES IN THE MORNING!”

“AND THE RUSTY BATTLEAXE REALLY PUT THE HURT INTO THE FICKLE FIG!”

“KEBAB CUISINE HAS PURCHASED CHICKPEAS, PARSLEY, TOMATOES, AND CILANTRO! WHAT COULD SHE BE MAKING!?”

“IT LOOKS LIKE THE THIRSTY GOAT AND THE HUNGRY DUCKLING HAVE CORNERED THE SPICE MARKET! WHAT A CLEVER PLAN, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN AVOID RETRIBUTION FROM THE OTHER ANGRY CHEFS!”

Our small knot of supporters surged to our feet at that one.

“Brilliant Plan, Bran!” I cried.

“Ha ha!” Aqua cheered. “He’s going to win this for sure!”

*MEEEEEEEHHH!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Show them your mettle, my servant!”

Penelope nipped at my beard. Ok, maybe she was actually demanding food. I passed her a goat snack.

A chorus of laughter engulfed the arena as the dwarves in the dungeon supplies section started fighting over the remaining spices. In the meantime Bran made his way through the rest of the market without incident. He filled his sack with a bunch of different vegetables and then snuck out towards the general goods.

The announcer announced all the while. “AND THE THIRSTY GOAT HAS PURCHASED ERDROOT, MUSHROOMS, LEMONS, GREEN ONIONS, AND DUNGEON GREENS! WHAT COULD HE BE MAKING? MOST OF THE GOOD MEATS ARE ALREADY GONE! HE STILL HASN’T MADE IT TO THE MEAT MARKET, SO COULD IT BE A VEGETARIAN DISH? OR IS HE PLANNING A MORE DIRECT APPROACH?”

“Do ya have any idea what he’s makin’!?” Balin yelled at me over the sound of the crowd.

I pursed my lips in consideration. “There’s no way it’s a vegetarian dish, that would be sure to lose; too many dwarves are picky about their vegetables. It’s got to be… a chicken or fish dish. Maybe onion and mushroom chicken? Or it could be Mushrooms Neptune - I mean Mushrooms Aaron.”

I’d taught him the signature appy of my favourite Canadian steakhouse on a lark, but he’d really fallen in love with it and made it his own.

“What’s that?” Johnsson asked from over my shoulder.

“A fish dish. Remember those mushrooms filled with cave crab? It’ll stand out, and it’s really tasty.” If that was what he was doing, it was a great plan.

“Oooh, I did quite like those,” Moony said affectionately.

Bran ran into the House of Meat’s chef, and the two of them exchanged words. Then, quick as thought, Bran nailed the gnome with his frying pan and was looting his shopping bag. We all jumped up and began waving our posters and signs and shouting our support. He couldn’t hear us in there, the announcer had said outside sound was mostly filtered out, but maybe he would look over and spot us.

“AND THE THIRSTY GOAT NOW HAS THE BEST CUTS OF MEAT IN THE MARKET!! IF THAT WAS PLANNED, IT WAS A GREAT PLAN!”

I looked over at Opal, who was clenching her fists and straining her jaw. Most of the nobles were either disinterested or uncaring. A few seemed invested, and one of them even had a bottle of Ass-Blaster in his hand. He was standing with one foot on the hand-rail, shouting and waving his arms in joy and anger. I realized with a start that I actually recognized him. He was one of the heavy bettors from the Barck Beer Brawl. The other nobles around him were slowly backing out of the blast zone.

Speaking of which.

“Did any of you bet anything on this? I didn’t have time.” I asked the crew.

“I put a couple gold on Bran.” Johnsson put up his hand.

“I spent all ma spare change on some new grimoires. No gold left fer bettin’." Richter shrugged.

"That may be a good idea…" John muttered.

“I didn’t, did we need to?” Aqua asked.

I sighed. “It would have been helpful, we’re almost broke after buying all those new tanks.”

“What!?” Annie screeched, then caught the twinkle in my eye. “YOU!!!”

Aqua and I laughed.

“Stop teasin’ Annie, Pete.” Balin said, but one side of his handlebar moustache was higher than the other.

I rolled my eyes. “Fiiiine. Y’know, this is fun, but it feels weird. Shouldn’t a cooking competition mostly be about cookin’?”

“Well, it is entertaining. Some weirdo noble in Kinshasa probably invented it. To watch the [Artisans] who’re better dwarves than they’ll ever be get all banged up.” Johnsson grumbled. “The judges’ll make sure tha best chef still wins.”

It actually reminded me of a Canadian cooking show called Cutthroat Kitchen. The grocery rush, sabotage, and other features were quite similar. Perhaps the designer loved wrestling and wanted some of that bombast in the Octamillenial contests? Or …

Down below, Bran had completed his purchases in the general goods and was making his way out of the market.

“Look! That House of Meats dinkleberry is back!” Markus pointed. “And he’s brought friends!!!”

We all sat at attention at that, and a few others began to notice the tableau.

“OOOH, THE THIRSTY GOAT’S LUCK HAS RUN OUT! HE MAY BE RELIEVED OF SOME OF THOSE SPICES IN JUST A MOMENT! THE FICKLE FIG HAS CHARGED HIM, AND - WAIT, WHAT’S - “

There was a *BOOM* and a flash of light as a fireball exploded beside Bran. The crowd screamed, then grew silent as a plume of smoke rose above the market. My poster slipped out of frozen fingers as Bran was clouded by clouds and dust. Then another flash of light spurred the crowd to raucous cheers.

“IT LOOKS LIKE ONE OF THE CHEFS IS A TALENTED MAGE! KEBAB CUISINE HAS TAKEN COMMAND OF THE SCENE!! I HOPE SHE’S AS GOOD AT COOKING FOOD AS SHE IS AT COOKING THE COMPETITION! THE THIRSTY GOAT IS DOOOOWN!!!! THE JUDGES MAY COUNT THAT AS A PENALTY THOUGH!!!”

The dust cleared to reveal Bran lying on the ground, his opened sack beside him. His back was black and charred, and the hair on his head was smoking.

“BRAN!!!” Aqua screamed, launching herself over the railing. She simply bounced off an invisible wall and fell back into the stands.

“Is he alive!?” I shouted, rising to my feet. Penelope fell off my lap to the ground with an angry *meeeh*.

“He’s a dwarf!” John grumbled anxiously. “And he’s got [Regeneration]. He’ll be fine, but the question is… will he wake up in time?” Stolen novel; please report.

“OOOH!!! AND THE JUDGES HAVE GIVEN KEBAB CUISINE A PENALTY FOR MAGIC MISUSE!! SHE CAN’T COOK FOR THE NEXT HOUR! NO WIDE AREA SPELLS ALLOWED!”

At least half of the twenty-four chefs made it out of the market and started on their dishes.

I looked across the arena to the noble boxes. Opal was standing, her fists gripping the rail. Her face had gone white, and she was screaming Bran’s name as well. Her mother was sitting relaxed beside her, a smug look on her face.

I Was SudDeNly STrUcK by a StrOng need ta wIpE it oFFa her FaCE wit' an AxE. Ta tEAch her ta MESS WIT' ONE O' MINE. My hands grasped for a weapon, my vision went red with rage, and I felt a battle-cry rise in my throat. It was only with extreme effort that I tamped the feeling back down.

I gasped for breath, sweat suddenly streaming down my face. Where had that come from!? There wasn’t a violent bone in my body!

No, there hadn’t been a violent bone in Peter Phillip’s body. My dwarven body was something else altogether. Was this how some dwarves felt all the time!? It explained soooo much.

A minute passed, then two, then ten, then twenty. More and more of the competitors made it out of the market and began cooking.

The announcer called a few more points of interest, but we barely heard him, our attention rooted to one spot.

“THE HOUSE OF MEATS HAS LEFT THE MARKET! IT LOOKS LIKE HE COULDN’T HANDLE KEBAB CUISINE’S HEAT!”

“THE RUSTY BATTLEAXE HAS MANAGED TO INJURE THE HUNGRY DUCKLING, BUT SHE’S MADE IT OUT OF THE MARKET AND IS SAFE AT HER PREP STAND!”

“He’s not moving!” Aqua wailed when Bran became the sole chef left in the market.

I raised by fist and began to chant Bran's name in a fixed cadence. “Bran! COME ON, BRAN! BRAN! BRAN!” Who cared if he couldn't hear us? Take my psychic energy and get up ya black bearded bravo!

Aqua joined me, followed by Balin, Annie, and the rest of the crew in short order. Our calls drowned out the rest of the audience around us.

I grabbed one of the bigger signs that simply said “GO BRAN” then jumped up onto the rail and faced the crowd. I held it aloft and waved, then resumed the chant. “BRAN! BRAN!”

First our neighbours, then a few others, then a moment later our entire side of the arena began to chant Bran’s name. Most probably didn’t know who he was, but I spotted some of our regulars here and there, and dwarves were always game for a good cheer.

“BRAN! BRAN! BRAN! BRAN! BRAN!”

Stat Increased: [Charisma]!Your charisma has increased by 1! Your new charisma is 16.2!