A Wok of Infinite Light
The door swung open in one of Meltokio's shadier restaurants, creating a long swath of brilliantly illuminated dust across the main room. A cloaked man entered and let the door shut again, returning the inhabitants to their preferred darkness. They collectively exhaled and returned to their food, now that it was clearly not some kind of hero who had come in to bring someone to justice.
Regal Bryant decided, as he slowly crossed the room, that he shouldn't have entered in quite that manner, but it had been instinctive. Heroing apparently never quite wore off. Still, under the hood and floor-sweeping robe, he was unlikely to be recognized. Just as well, as he was badly outnumbered by rogues in this place.
Picking a table on the far wall, near the soot-blackened fireplace and an inexplicable umbrella stand filled with a variety of pokers and skewers, Regal sat down silently and far too formally. Luckily, no one noticed except the server, who knew a high-tipping customer when he saw one.
"What'll ye have?" asked the short man, and Regal wondered for a moment if he could be half-dwarf. The accent was distinctive.
"Order some fries, would you?" The voice was barely loud enough to count as a whisper.
"Fries," Regal said abruptly, knowing that his style of speech was likely to give him away as a noble if he spoke for too long.
"As ye desire, yer lordship," said the server, marching off briskly. Regal stiffened in concern.
"It's just an honorific, he doesn't think you're a noble," said the voice, reassuringly.
"I confess myself baffled as to why you would be here," Regal murmured.
"I proclaim myself equally baffled that you managed to track me down, Regal Bryant."
"I have my methods."
"This isn't actually very comfortable. Some assistance, perhaps?"
Regal grabbed the hem of his cloak and raised it, effectively putting a curtain between the umbrella stand and the rest of the room. There was a short, quietly echoing sound, and when Regal dropped his arm, the Wonder Chef was sitting against the wall. He produced from his hat a rough brown tunic, put it on, and then, in a distantly ironic manner, hid his hat inside the tunic.
"You're still rather distinctive," Regal remarked.
"Not enough," said the Wonder Chef. "And I don't intend to be here for long."
"I'd still like to know why you're here at all."
The server arrived with Regal's order, gave the Wonder Chef a brief, confused glance, and then slunk across the room to prey upon another few diners just sitting down.
"These," said the Wonder Chef, picking one golden-brown fry up like a wand. "All of our studies show that they are exceptionally nutritious, low in oil, and they're the best you're ever likely to taste, as well. I simply can't understand how the chef does it." He ate the fry. "But since you didn't know that, obviously that's not why you're here."
"No," Regal agreed.
"You're here for the Ultimate Recipe," said the Wonder Chef.
"Also not. You wouldn't teach me if I asked," said Regal.
"Oh, excellent," the Chef commended him, smiling brightly. "You're the best I've ever met, do you know that? I have seen many chefs and artistes de cuisine in my time– I even thought the one here was a Potential after tasting his fries, but you possess wisdom beyond cookery. Why are you here?"
"I need to know more about the Dark Chefs," Regal replied.
The Wonder Chef raised an intrigued eyebrow. "What prompted this?"
Regal sighed. He didn't like what had happened, and didn't want to repeat it if necessary, but the Wonder Chef was much more than he appeared to the casual eye. "Since the reunion of the worlds, Lezareno has been a restorative force, rebuilding destroyed cities and helping those who suffered in the many cataclysms of our journey. We are busier than ever and I am continually thankful for our former prosperity, as there is little money to be had in philanthropy, and workers still need wages…"
…So naturally as El Presidente returning to his seat of power, Regal had been immensely busy and worked as hard as any other Lezareno employee– harder than most, but still only human. A report of an entire food shipment to the new village of Palmacosta vanishing had received only dismissal from him at first, thinking it was a miscalculation, or a delayed transport.
When both of these were proven wrong, Regal progressed to anger, thinking that a dispatcher was sidetracking supplies for his own gain, possibly to sell in hungrier regions. The President had set a small task force to track it down and demoted the dispatcher responsible to drudgework.
Regal paused there, lost in thought, and the Wonder Chef waited with patient politeness, until the patience wore thin and he coughed quietly. This also failed to get any reaction from Bryant, as did drumming his fingers on the table, taking another handful of fries, and waving a five-foot-long fork in his face. The Chef sighed.
"If the story ended there you wouldn't be here," he said sharply. "What came next?"
Regal shook his head slightly, returning from a waking dream. "Another shipment vanished, this time with a report from someone who claimed to have seen suspicious people nearby at the time. Dressed like chefs in midnight blue."
"Which you had suspected all along…" the Wonder Chef prompted.
"Yes. I did not want to remember that day, or that you had declared me capable of defeating the Dark Chefs. I had returned to the life I wanted. Now it is clear that I cannot."
"Not yet," the Chef agreed. "And the dispatcher?"
"…He returns to his former position this afternoon," said Regal, staring intently at the table.
"You learn quickly, too." The Wonder Chef seemed to reach a decision. "How is your paella coming along?"
"I have mastered it," Bryant replied simply.
"So soon? And I thought you might never get it." Regal knew when he was being led on.
"Nevertheless I have. I can also make curry, miso stew, spaghetti, quiche, shortcake, cabbage rolls, rice balls, pescatore–"
"All of them?" the Chef said shortly. "Excellent. A True Chef. Now listen. These twenty-four are what my family call Recipes of Power, and you have seen their effects yourself many times. Most people, no matter how good their potato salad, cannot fully restore a magic-user's supply of mana. You can, as could your companions, because I showed you how and passed on the gift.
"Over the years since they first appeared, the Dark Chefs have learned many of these dishes. From where they learn such secrets, I don't know, and would dearly wish to find out. However, the one they seek above all others is our greatest treasure, the one we call only the Ultimate Recipe."
"If it is within my power to do so, I will never let them learn it," said Regal fiercely. The Wonder Chef grinned widely, but it was gone again so fast that Bryant almost thought he had imagined it.
"But I won't teach it to you," the Wonder Chef said solemnly.
"I do not believe I need it," Regal said. "All I want is to stop them from raiding Lezareno's beef shipments like eccentric pirates with funny hats."
"Funny hats?" The Wonder Chef looked pained. "That's going to cost you another fry." He deducted the charge and went on. "The Dark Chefs have something in mind, some plot that even my family hasn't yet uncovered."
"Which is saying something when dealing with such masters of disguise," said Regal.
"Too right," the Chef agreed. "But they know we are their enemies. They don't know you, and don't expect trouble from El Presidente anyway."
"Must everyone call me that?"
"There's a strange joy to be had in it. Now, if you're truly certain that you wish to make this your quest, if you intend to become a Wonder Chef and foil whatever scheme the Dark Chefs have come up with…" The Wonder Chef paused.
"…Yes?" asked Regal.
"You should have some lunch first. Order something real; the cook here has surprising skill. I'll take these off your hands." The hat emerged again just long enough for the Wonder Chef to tip the remaining fries inside. "Something warm, too. Sustenance, you know, in the cold months." Regal nodded– since the reunion of the worlds, seasons had returned to Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, and winter was now covering Meltokio with snow and bitter wind.
"I'll see you again," said Regal, as the Wonder Chef stood up.
"Oh yes, count on it. But I won't teach you much." He looked Regal in the eyes, and for a moment Bryant saw a deep wisdom, like the memories of stars and the dreams of gods. "In all honesty, Lord Bryant, think back far enough and you'll find all you could ever need to know." The moment passed. "Waiter!"
Regal swiftly pulled his hood back up as the possible-half-dwarf returned. "You could warn me first."
The Wonder Chef took no notice. "Get this mysterious, nameless rogue some beef stew, would you? He's going on a quest to fulfil his destiny and conquer an unknown villain."
The man scribbled on his notepad. "Anything to drink?"
"I should bloody well think so."