Ch 1.
It was hot, unbearably so as the young chef made his way around the market; sampling the various vegetables that were placed out to sell. It was one of the most essential parts of operating a fine dining restaurant: ensuring the freshness, price, and quality of all ingredients. Having that Third Michelin Star was always a hard thing to obtain and a constant struggle to keep. His musing and his search for ingredients were interrupted by some shouting.
"Fresh tarts! Fresh apple tarts!" a little boy cried out at the very exit of the market and all of a sudden nearly half of his fellow shoppers abandoned their goods and made their way to the little one.
Curious about this rush, the restaurateur made his way towards the young boy and his impromptu stand. He had a worn, black, rectangular carrier that was too big for him; it was hanging from his left shoulder. From it he would take a slice of apple tart of various sizes and exchange it for a fixed sum of one pound, half, or a quarter quid to the customers. It was a very efficient system for such a young boy and this intrigued the cook.
"One pound piece please." the chef said as he finally reached the boy. He was dressed in rather dark and ragged clothes. He wore shoes that were obviously from two sets as well. But despite wearing these shabby clothes, he kept his hands and face clean and had his long, slightly greasy, hair tied up behind his head in a ponytail.
As he received his slice he analyzed the smell; it was good and fresh, the tart still warm from the oven. The bag must be thermally insulated, another point in the boy's favor. The tart was wrapped in eating paper that he could see had decorative paper napkins carefully glued on the outside. But he also saw there was no trace of glue, so he must have used water for it, which added to the appeal of the dish. Finally, as he opened it he noticed that the powdered sugar was placed to make two distinct tracks, with an empty spot in the middle. The tart was in the shape of an arrow head, its base ending with a slice of caramelized apple.
On looks alone this would get a pass in his kitchen. Then he tasted it.
"Good, send it out." the chef said all of a sudden, his dinner time reflexes kicking in. This act surprised himself and the boy as well.
"Sir? Is there something wrong with the pie?"
"No, no dear one. It's delicious; in fact, would you please tell me who made these?"
"Why?" The boy asked defensively, his face going blank at the question.
"I would like to buy a lot of them for my restaurant."
"R-really?" The child asked, his eyes going wide at the thought.
"Yes, at least thirty tarts a day for my customers, maybe even more." The chef said as the boy grew red from embarrassment as he only now noticed the other customers looking and smiling at him. The chef giggled as well.
"So, who made the cakes? Was it your grandma?"
"No sir."
"Ah! Mama then."
"No."
"Then you father is a talented cook!"
"No."
"Then who?" the chef asked as the boy squirmed in embarrassment under his gaze.
"I-I did." The boy whispered, mortified at the scrutiny he was facing.
"Pardon?" the cook said, astonished at what he just heard.
"I baked the tarts." the small boy in ragged clothes and long unkempt hair said, more firmly this time.
"Wait here." the chef said and rushed back to his car. From there he extracted his mobile oven, gas tank and chef's kit. He always carried these things whenever he traveled and could not find decent food or had a moment of inspiration.
"Apples and flour now!" the chef shouted as a few from the gathering crowd began to watch this upcoming spectacle.
"Show me!" the chef gestured and the boy hesitantly started cooking.
The chef noted that the boy avoided all the major mistakes of amateur chefs. He did not for example under or over floured the dough. He also made sure to core the apples before slicing them. He moved swiftly and efficiently in all steps of the cooking process. The apple slices were cut at just the right thickness, the dough was punctured with a fork to prevent the filling from bubbling up, the pie was placed in the small oven, butter applied beforehand with a brush and to a knife or fork.
Then the boy took it out, knowing immediately just how long to leave it there, all from just smell, sound, and sight alone! Once it was out, the boy cut out several triangles of wrapping paper and used them to make those distinct marks of powdered sugar.
Once it was done he nervously presented it to the chef. The man took one bite of it, and it tasted just like the piece he had earlier.
"How old are you child?" the young man asked, genuinely curious as to how old this talented young chef is.
"E-eleven."
"Take me to where you live; I would like to talk to your parents."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Half an hour of walking later, since the now frightened boy seemed likely to bolt if the cook would have used his car, he reached his house. It was clearly situated in a bad neighborhood, and it looked like the worst maintained of the lot.
The mother looked half dead inside with broken eyes. The chef predicted she was probably beaten by her husband from time to time. The man of the house it should be noted was nowhere to be seen, but judging from the smell of the place he probably was out drinking, at 12 o clock in the afternoon.
"Is my son in trouble?" the poor woman said. 'Did he steal from you' was the unspoken meaning in the question.
"No madam, he sold me this apple tart that he baked himself and it was a very delicious pastry. I was so impressed by it that I wanted to talk to you of the possibility of the young man over here coming to work for me part-time at my restaurant."
The shock on the mother and son's face made the chef almost laugh in amusement. However, before they could respond the door was half smashed open. Turning around the chef could see a tall man with thick, meaty hands. He swayed a little as he walked inside, the smell of scotch clearly on his breath.
"Who da hell are you?" he slurred out.
"I am here to tell you the good news myself."
"Good news?"
"Yes sir, your son was the only candidate to win the job at my local business."
"What?" The man asked confused and surprised.
"Oh yes, the other candidates for the part time job were all weak and lazy, yours was the only one who was hard working and disciplined enough to earn the job!" the cook lied through his teeth. Fib though it was, he had found a diamond in the rough and he was not going to lose him because of some drunk.
"You got a job boy?" the man asked in manner that almost made the chef take a step back, this was a bad man indeed.
"Y-yes sir." The boy noticeably began to shift back, as if he was preparing to protect himself.
"Good! Better for you to be out there working than laying about here all day."
"With your permission sir, I would like to take the young man with me in order to show his responsibilities, so he may be better prepared for Monday when he starts."
"'Course! Take him away!" the man said dismissively and went for a couch that the chef could see had a few half-empty bottles around it.
The cook and the boy exited the house under the half grateful, half worried looks of the mother.
"If you don't want to work for me child that is fine too. I am sorry for earlier, but it is rare that I find such great talent as you. I would very much like for you to join my staff." The man said, playing on the boy's ego as he did his father. The chef was a good man, but he was a chef before he was a man and one does what one does for his kitchen.
"T-talent?"
"Yes! Why those tarts were amazing! Tell me, what gave you the idea to sell them in the market?"
"I-it was for a friend, I wanted to giver her birthday gift, but I needed money." the young boy flushed in response.
"Wonderful! You are a kind one, as well as a talented one as well."
By the way child what is your full name?"
The boy told the chef his name, after which they returned to the market and got in the car. The cook took him to his restaurant, and once there the boy nearly stopped breathing in shock.
"This is... this is a fancy place! Do you- Sir, do you really think I can cook good enough to be here?" the boy asked fearfully. The chef leaned down, put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.
"Now you listen to me Severus, anyone can cook! And that includes you most of all." Auguste Gusteau said as his newest protégé smiled along with him. Master and apprentice then entered the restaurant, ready for what would come tomorrow.
Author's note.
I've decided to do that promotion thing, where in the last pages for a comic they show panels from others to advertise it, for my original story.
Prologue.
'Nothing is impossible, just improbable.'
That's the concept that defines reality in any place and at any time.
This one starts in a realm that is beyond time and space, between existence and nothingness, far removed from heaven and hell, yet at the same time it's as closest to those realms as such a thing is possible.
This place is not on any map, nor is there any way to make one, yet it is not a hidden realm.
It cannot be found if you look for it, but you enter and leave as often as once a day and traversing it is impossible with effort but comes natural with rest, and sometimes you remember it and sometimes you don't, but you where there, especially when you weren't.
This plane of existence has countless names, which have all been heard in an infinite number of languages, across innumerable galaxies and boundless universes.
This land is both beauty and ugliness combined, both salvation and damnation, but its description alone cannot be comprehended thoroughly in mere words, so let us stop here and let us name this place "the realm".
Here in 'the realm', its only inhabitants for this particular time and in this particular version are the 'Amurg' , ancient creatures whose place of origin has long been lost to the sands of time.
Amongst a gathering of various different 'Amurg', beings of all shapes, colors and sizes, who were gathered in a circle and playing a game of cards, a new one approached the group.
"Do any of you know where Deux is?" the Amurg asked the group.
"Oh, it's you! Ye Just got here didn't you?" one of the players turned from the game and looked at the newcomer…The first new Amurg in a long, long time to arrive at this realm. Initially his coming had caused a small stir in a realm that was usually ruled by monotony since its inhabitants were all immortal, but that soon died out and new question about the appearance of a new Amurg, or what were the consequences of his appearance were quickly forgotten so they could focus on more important matters.
Namely gambling.
"Why do you want to find Deux? The guy's a little weird, why don't you join the game, come here and relax." another one said and gestured for the newcomer to join the collective with what could be considered a friendly smile, at least to higher beings it was a friendly smile.
"Gamble, waste time, that's all you do all day! How can you do that and not go insane from boredom is beyond my comprehension and since I have access to unlimited knowledge and wisdom that says a lot!" The Amurg thought to himself angrily as he glared at the others.
"I could tell you all what a disgrace you're actions are, how you waste your great potential, I could rant, rave or give calm compelling arguments, but…Would you learn from them? Would you listen to them, would you understand my words…..Would you even acknowledge them? No…..Because you don't care, nobody does, so in the end it doesn't matter." he added to his train of thoughts and once that was over he took a small breath of air to calm himself down.
"I just want to ask him a question, so does anyone know where he is?"
"He's sometimes west of here in the sandfields of a thousand nights, today's the day after the thousandth one, so you should be able find him there right about now." One of them replied.
The Amurg then turned to leave but was stopped by one last question.
"After you finish that, do you want to join the game?" Another one said to him with a degree enthusiasm that was mirrored by the other players.
"Does it matter if I join in?" he replied without turning back.
"Of course it does! The game changes in so many ways!" Another one answered and went on to describe in great detail the many ways in which the game would change.
The new comer then turned his head slightly back at the game, just enough so he could gaze at the players, at these creatures of immeasurable power and infinite potential who's most important activity and greatest desire was a card game. Words failed him as he once more felt anger at this waste of infinite potential, so the Amurg just tuned his head back in the direction he was going, leaving behind the confused all-powerful beings, who quickly got over it and continued with their game.
He walked towards the area where they said Deux would be with as much rigor as he could muster, spurred on by a subconscient defense mechanism that told him to leave the group as soon as possible, lest he too be infected by this 'disease' of laziness and the sheer lunacy of having the universe at your fingertips and only using those fingers to draw from a deck.
After a while he finally arrived at the sandfields and started looking around for his quarry.
"Trough the warp and from the shadows and barren desert fields.
Does a whisper come to be heard!"
"Of a tail of one hundred billion light years.
And a million galaxies' words!"
The Amurg heard someone singing and looked around for the source.
"Hear the tale of invincible strength that is born from a decade's long brew."
"And a thousand admirals who faced that force, but can never seem to break trough!"
"Hear the tales of the great kings, queens and a hundred princes, who have the universe at their beck and call."
"But the one thing that their hearts desires, they will never have it at all!"
"Of ancient stories! Everlasting ballads!"
"Who change every time,
" Every verse; every rhyme,"
"When the story is told one more time!"
He looked to where the 'moonlight' of this realm shinned and from there he saw a shape that was flying down towards him, it was a floating two horse carriage that was filled with merchandise and it was its driver was the one that was singing.
"So come with me now, to the place beyond mirrors and light!"
"Where hidden secrets are in plain view for the worthy to find;"
"To where? I do not know, so come and see the things hidden in plain sight!"
"To long forgotten realms, that appears when you open your mind!"
"See a place which is more uncanny than what you imagined could be;"
"From the deep dreamland, to the heaven's endless sky!"
"As what's real is stranger than any fiction I you could see."
"As the truth is more unbelievable than a lie!"
The carriage finally descended before him and its driver looked at the Amurg with glee in its eyes.
"Are you Deux?" he asked the figure made out of black mist and white flesh, with eyes that did not blink who was sitting in the driver's seat, his shape and form was forever changing, with the only thing that remained constant was his three pairs of eyes and his strange hands that had claws which seemed like they were not made to tear flesh.
"Oh it's you, you came much earlier than I expected!" Deux said to him with an eerily cheerful voice as he gazed at the new Amurg which had a humanoid appearance, was dressed in what appeared to be a long flowing robe, with a square cap on his head with a piece of cloth streaming down one side, but the most distinct thing about him was the fact that when you looked at his face, not matter how hard you tried you could not see any distinguishable facial features, he could have been anybody and yet he appeared to be nobody.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You don't remember do you?" Deux asked him.
"Remember what?"
"What you were before you became an Amurg of course!"
"Of course I don't! You've been here longer than me and you haven't even learned that by now!?" the new comer replied.
Upon hearing the second half of the sentence a great smile appeared on his faces.
"Sorry, just asking, so why are you here?"
"I'm here to ask if you are Deux."
"And if I am what of it?"
"I heard that Deux was bored of this realm and went on a journey to visit the other realms, I want to do the same, but since there are so many I want to hear your story, so that I may know which one is the most fun of them all, after spending who knows how much time in this cesspool of boredom I need that! So will you tell me about your journey?" The Amurg replied.
"So you want me to tell you my story, ey? Why I have lots of stories! For example the story of this great blade! Why this is the blade of the one who faced a billion foes and fought a thousand battles and won all of them! Well one of his many weapons actually."
"That looks like a field plow and a cheap one made from different scraps cobbled together!"
"I know sir! You want only the best and I the greatest merchant of all have it! For example this is the secret weapon of the greatest spy that has ever lived!" Deux said and handed him the aforementioned object to examine.
"Twenty two gardenias from Halina's flower emporium, one dinner reservation with at the Rotzwenen, one new camera.' this looks like some secretaries to do book! What possible use could a spymaster have for this as a tool for espionage warfare? Reschedule them to death!?"
"I know sir! And as such I feel obliged to hand you our greatest item yet! Why, within this jar is the means with which half a universe was united and the other half conquered!"
"That, my friend is a jar filled with sand!" the Amurg paused to let that statement sink in.
"Are you actually trying to sell me sand, here in a desert!" the statement was so 'unique' that the one who said it had trouble believing that he actually said such words.
"I see your right again sir, enough with the cheap stuff! Let's get to the high caliber merchandise! As such I have-"
"Forget this! If you're not going to tell me of your journey them I'm goin-"
"-the journal in which I wrote down my travels." Deux said and the Amurg paused mid turn and returned his gaze to Deux.
"Why didn't you say that in the first place?!"
"Well, I got to make a living don't I?"
"You're an immortal creature who doesn't need to eat and can make anything from nothing by merely thinking about it! What possible need would you have for an income?!"
"About the same reason another immortal creature would seek out a traveler's stories, when he could just use his powers to see the 'spoilers' himself." Deux said with a wide grin as the other Amurg remained silent for a moment.
"How do I know it's not another piece of junk, like what you showed me before?"
"Why don't I read it to you and if you like it you can buy it, after all a good story is worth reading over and over again wouldn't you agree?"
"All right, let's get started." the Amurg said trying to sound bored and annoyed, but you could detect eagerness in his voice and to that Deux grinned even more, since it was obvious he had hooked a customer.
"Though I must warn you it is a long story, and it will take a while for me to tell all of it."
"We're immortals you idiot!" the Amurg shouted towards Deux in a fit of frustration.
"Alright, aright! Yeeesh, you think with everlasting life you wouldn't be in such a rush!" Deux said to him as he exited the carriage and sat down, he then brought out his journal and reading glasses, took from behind his back a picnic basket and set it down between himself and the Amurg.
He then held the book at an angle that did not allow the Amurg to see the writing on the pages; Deux cleared his voice for a few moments before opening the book.
"What do you need all of this stuff for?" The Amurg asked him.
"Atmosphere of course, if I'm going to tell a story I must look the part, let me read you from my own writings. Now where to begin? " he thought for a while before deciding on one particular story that he enjoyed and started reading it with a smile.
"In one of the many realms of existence, long ago in a galaxy that was once far away but now is close, that although similar to others, it still differed from them greatly!"
"For in this particular galaxy sentient beings had conquered the stars, but instead of using technology as their main tool another one was chosen. Here what powered their space fleets, orbiting stations and gave them strength was magic!"
"This is the story of the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, of those who lived it, those who died during it and those who brought about this new age, of those who did great things, some good, some evil, but great things nonetheless!" Deux read towards the Amurg who for the first time since arriving in this realm he felt happy and if he could he would have smiled.
"Finally something that matters!" he thought to himself as the story started.