(Book 2) Chapter 2:

  Hearth Tender

  Mornings with the Claybrooks were starting to become more familiar as I spent time with the family, which was nice, as it made me feel less like a guest and more like part of the household.

  Granny Claybrook and Hershel were the first two awake, and I could hear their voices carrying out from the kitchen as they discussed family matters. The crackle of the fire and the smell of breakfast being prepared were enough to wake me from my sleep, and I sat up on the couch, still feeling drained from the day before. Ariel came down not long after, tying back her hair as she joined her grandmother. Soon the kitchen filled with clattering dishes and the hiss of something hitting a hot pan.

  Not long after, William and Theodore shuffled their way to the table, still shaking off sleep, while Serena and Silvia struggled to herd three boys down the hall with a mix of firm whispers and barely contained laughter. Finally, Neil came down the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he dropped into the seat beside me at the table.

  “Morning,” Neil yawned, staring at the empty plate in front of him. “Gran, are you cooking this morning, or is it Ariel?”

  Serena slapped the back of Neil’s head as she walked by.

  “Be nice to your sister.”

  Neil scowled at his mother, and across the room, Ariel’s lips also curved into a quiet, satisfied smirk as she whisked something in the pan in front of her.

  As the family settled in, Hershel teased and chatted with his sons about the work planned for the day while Ariel and Granny Claybrook passed out bowls of rice and egg drizzled with a dark sauce.

  I took a bite.

  The warmth of the egg hit first, soft and comforting, and then the spice of the sauce followed a heartbeat later. What had felt pleasant and mild suddenly flared, and it was like a small fire had taken up residence in my mouth.

  To my dismay, Ariel was already watching me with appraising eyes, clearly waiting to see how I reacted to her cooking. I did my best to keep my expression steady as I reached, as casually as I could manage, for the glass of water in front of me.

  “It’s too spicy, isn’t it?” she pressed, her eyes fixed on me with a serious expression.

  “No,” I coughed. “It’s perfect.”

  Despite my efforts, the words came out in a strained wheeze, and I watched as disappointment begin to settle across her face. Desperate for escape, I glanced around the table.

  To my shock, no one else had taken a bite yet. They were all just sitting there, waiting, as if I were the first victim of some kind of family food experiment. Ariel groaned loudly, took the spoon from my hand, and tried a bite herself.

  She grimaced.

  “Gran, I’m starting to think I’ll never get a handle on this skill. It requires too much finesse, and I’m too straightforward of a person.”

  Granny Claybrook patted her granddaughter lightly in consolation before turning and gently steering her toward the kitchen.

  “No use in pouting, sweetheart. Just try again. The rest of yuns eat before it gets cold.”

  Looks of dismay spread across the table, and I couldn’t help watching as the three little boys at the far end slowly slid down in their seats, disappearing under the table before making a break for it despite their parents’ protests.

  Curiosity got the better of me amid the chaos created by Granny Claybrook’s decree, and I found myself asking a question that had been bothering me since my own failed attempts at cooking.

  “How does your path work exactly?” I asked, turning to Granny Claybrook. “It may be rude to ask, but it’s been bugging me ever since I ruined a stew on the way to Salt Brine with Hershel and Neil.”

  As the question hung in the air, I tried not to take it personally when I noticed both Hershel and Neil physically recoil at the memory.

  “Oh, well, that’s not exactly an easy question to answer, but I suppose I can try to explain while Ariel cooks.”

  As I stepped over to join Ariel and Granny Claybrook at the stove, the rest of the family slowly filtered out of the kitchen, taking full advantage of the distraction I’d unintentionally provided.

  “Well, I suppose if I’m going to explain it, I’d best start with the basics,” Granny Claybrook said.

  She laid out several ingredients in front of Ariel, then stepped to the side with me as we watched her begin another attempt at eggs with sauce.

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  “Naturally, anyone can cook. You don’t need skills or abilities for that. That much is obvious.”

  I nodded.

  “What’s interesting about our path, and others similar to it, is that we can add vitality to our cooking. Cultivation Domains, like mine and Ariel’s, naturally invest ourselves into our skills. We pass them down from generation to generation, and it doesn’t stop there. It applies to the things we work with too… such as cooking in our case.”

  I pondered this as I watched Ariel closely. As she cracked eggs, whisked them, and prepared the sauce, it was faint, but I could almost see it, like a tiny spark, potential being infused directly into the food as she cooked.

  “There’s an old saying that fits pretty well here. You’ve probably heard your own father say something about ‘blood, sweat, and tears,’ and that’s a fair way to sum it up. When we cook, when farmers plant, when smiths swing a hammer, their labor is infused into whatever they’re working on.”

  My eyes widened at the implications.

  “So you’re literally offering parts of yourself to change the properties of the food. I was over amplifying certain traits, I could enhance the flavor at the very least, but I could never make the food more sustaining than its natural potential. The boost would just… fade after a time. But you’re actually changing the potential inside it on a fundamental level.”

  Granny patted my head fondly.

  “That’s a close enough. When we invest ourselves into the food, there’s only so much we can do in a day, safely anyway, which is the easy part. The hard part is managing the new flavors and how those invested traits interact with the food. Ariel, explain to Sam what you think went wrong with your sauce.”

  Ariel groaned as she kept working, but Granny Claybrook was quick to chide her.

  “None of that, dear. Talking it out might be just what you need to make a breakthrough.”

  Ariel began grinding the peppers into a paste, adding water, soy, and a few other ingredients as she worked.

  “Well, each attribute has a different effect on food, and not all foods respond the same way to each one. It makes mastering our skills very difficult and requires a great deal of time, talent, and dedication.” She hesitated. “I don’t have any talent.”

  As her words started turning self degrading, a sharp look from her grandmother pulled her back in line.

  Ariel set aside two small bowls of sauce and gestured for me to try them.

  “The one on the left has been invested with vitality or fortitude, however you want to think of it and the one on the right has been invested with strength. Taste them and tell me the difference.”

  I did as instructed and was amazed at the contrast.

  The sauce on the left, invested with fortitude, was much bolder than the earlier sauce she’d served with the eggs. The heat wasn’t as sharp, but the flavors were heavier, almost overwhelming. The sauce on the right, however, seemed to strip away everything but the spice, thinning the flavor until only raw heat remained. The effect made my eyes water.

  “That’s incredible,” I said, genuine amazement in my voice. “It must be a lot of fun figuring out what works and what doesn’t.”

  Ariel grimaced again, clearly bothered by what I’d said, and turned back to her work.

  “You… don’t enjoy cooking, do you?” I asked.

  That made her freeze.

  She stood there quietly for a moment, as if weighing her words.

  “I… it’s complicated. I want to love it. I really do. Gran’s watched me try my hardest every morning, but it feels like I barely make any progress. When I cook, my emotions are all over the place, because I feel so much shame about letting her down.”

  Granny Claybrook stepped forward and pulled her into a brief hug before letting her go.

  “Don’t you worry about disappointing me, sweet girl. You’ll always be my little dumpling.”

  Ariel blushed furiously. “Not in front of our guest, Gran!”

  “Nonsense, Sam is family enough, plus some embarassment might make you a little softer around the edges,” Gran said with a smile, before turning Ariel back towards the stove. “Now, try again.”

  As I watched her work, her body began to tense up with stress little by little as she slowly invested herself into her craft.

  “Ariel,” I said gently, as I did not want to distracther too much, “may I ask what your Path is?”

  She nodded as she whisked.

  “It’s called the Path of the Hearth Tender,” she said. “It’s not anything flashy. We just… put a bit of ourselves into the food when we cook. A little vitality, a little care, and it gives benefits to whoever eats what we prepare.”

  She glanced at the bowls of sauce. “But it’s harder than it sounds. You have to pay attention to how everything reacts, and… how you’re feeling while you cook matters more than people think.”

  As she explained, a realization began to form. It was similar to how I used my own abilities in stressful or life-threatening situations. When I felt pressured, my lack of experience caused me to pour in more potential than I meant to, and my emotions only made it worse.

  Before I could offer any advice, a large figure filled the archway leading into the kitchen.

  “Forgive my late morning,” Halius said with an embarrassed grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept in that long before. That room is dangerous.”

  I laughed. “It stole a whole day from me once when I first arrived in Salt Brine. I’m genuinely impressed you escaped,” I said as he sat down at the now-vacant kitchen table.

  Ariel, realizing the rest of the family had slipped away, looked discouraged and began setting down her cooking utensils. But before hope could fade completely, her eyes widened in shock as Halius began helping himself to the abandoned bowls around the table.

  “I hope it’s alright, if everyone else is done eating,” he said cheerfully. “I need all I can get if I’m going to keep the valley safe, and my dear Steward here protected.”

  He bowed his head in thanks, then began shoveling bowl after bowl of food into his mouth. Through it all, he smiled, praised the heat of the food, the bold flavors, and genuinely seemed to love her cooking.

  In that moment, I witnessed something blossom inside Ariel. A small spark of confidence, fragile but real, taking root where doubt had been sitting all morning.

  Watching her now, seeing the way her eyes followed Halius as he praised her cooking with such simple, wholehearted enthusiasm, I realized something else.

  What she had truly been craving wasn’t someone who understood her struggles or could offer careful advice. She needed someone who could meet her efforts with steady confidence. Someone who could accept what she gave without hesitation or doubt. Someone strong enough, in their own way, to make her feel like she didn’t have to prove herself.

  Halius, without even trying, had done exactly that.

  I felt something ease inside me.

  If I was being honest, I did enjoy Ariel’s company, but I don’t think it was ever a relationship that was meant to grow into the kind of love people talk about. We were both still recovering from separate hurts, and companionship didn’t have to mean romance, no matter how much Hershel liked to tease otherwise.

  So as I watched a small seed of affection take root in Ariel’s eyes, I found myself smiling in quiet relief.