Chapter 514: Institute

The World Culinary Institute of Fine Dining was perched atop a nice-hill side, further inside Plaustan. Roads aligned by meadows stretched along a gentle slope leading towards Oxshield. Off-by a few dozen kilometers from Swanview (the capital of Plaustan) in where the sun rose, where the ghastly shadows of the neighboring mountain ranges stayed, erected a quaint little town named Onjal. Recent years of tourism boosted the need for a new place of attraction. The sunny beach was fine, still, the more one had of a dessert, the quicker he grew bored of it. A step into exploring the wild garnered a market. The task sure was a hard one to pull, monster presence lurking in an unexplored area stood as a knife against the neck. In attempts of remedy, Onjal, surrounded by naturally rough terrain was born. It stood midway between the flat land and the Geno mountain range. Fences were placed to avoid thrill-seekers from venturing in where death waited. Adventurers were on stand-by, a branch of the guild established to provide more security. The more protection and care an item needed, the more expensive it got effectively clearing the potential list of clients. Prices were high and people paid without much hassle. 

Onjal became more of a laid-back part of the area. Those wanting adventure headed to Geno's camp. Those who only took naps and admired the landscape could spend the night in town. Log-cabins were more popular in these higher places – putting a hotel would disrupt the balance and ruin the paysage. The town itself was built to completely surround the hill from top to bottom, no face was left untouched. The flatter parts were used for construction, mostly the foot, and the higher grounds fetch more price. 

After riding through the tall farms of the vicinity, one arrived at the hill whereby the feeling altered. Peaceful, not much traffic, and no harsh sun to bother the walk. Figures strolled about in normal clothes, the town-folk, the heart of the community. It wasn't rare for a complete stranger to stare, wave, and start a conversation. Being friendly and accommodating played a major part in their growth. All were readied to help, the tourist gave a gateway into the outside world – many children here dreamt of going to the bigger city, to cross into Oxshield. The education here allowed them to get jobs at the cabins or becoming guides. Poverty isn't the word to describe them, it's more of a mid-way between middle and lower-class. Nonetheless, life was good, peaceful, and amusing. 

Meeting the people, saying hi, and asking guides, most visitors would take the road around the hill. The prior settlement was the actual entrance to the town, opposed to being compact, the title of town was given for their sheer effort. It was more of a community. Politics aside, after going around the hill, which took around an hour give or take due to unsteady roads approached the 'touristic' part of Onjal. Here the roads were pretty and clean. The trees reached onto the skies and gave ample cover from the harmless sunlight. The carved hillside of grey and sharp feature had a net thrown atop to prevent rock-slides. 

One couldn't reach the top from the front-side of the hill(where rested the first settlement) access was given to only the back-side (for tourists). After a sharp-turn, the roads circled towards the top all the while breaking into smaller paths on which rested the prior mentioned wooden-cabins and lodges. Multiple viewpoints were scattered at regular intervals.

At the summit, after a large and stunning viewpoint and few local restaurants, came a massive-metal gate on which laid the crest of the Institution. The building behind felt as if a vampiric castle, have the night be of a crimson glow and the moon glaring mercilessly and it'd be unmistaken. The World Culinary Institute of Fine Dining, main-branch in Hidros, boomed with activity. At the time of year, Onjal's sales increased because of Cle. Remote broadcasting trucks claimed the part of the large parking lot. Thrill-seekers often biked to the top all the while stopping at each viewpoint. Tis a local tradition for those in the know. Runners, walkers, you name it, the roads were big and beautiful. It allowed for hardcore training. 

The day of the event was upon them. Before heading into the institution, a particular cabin was rented. The view left much to be desired. 

"Mother," came a whisper, almost a sob of a call.

"Syndra, I'm downstairs," said another lady cutting across chatter. Lord Lordon, his wife, his daughter, and the whole of Loron were sat facing the television around a large enough table. The coverage displayed participants and the well-spread drama between Igna and Kyle. Each time they covered the story; their stomach churned. 

"It's honestly scary," said Igona, "-how can someone like him ever become a chef?"

"Come on," sighed Emmy, "-didn't we say not to go over what's happen?"

"You don't understand," voiced he loudly; the indifference of the others amplified his words, "-you weren't here, you don't know what happened. Ask Joe, ask Lady Yuki, heck, ask Chef Leko… what I saw and witness was utter chaos, I feared for my life."

"Tell us what happened," added Emma, "-I rather know why we had to remove our endorsement."

"Fine," said Yuki, "-I'll recount what happened." She formed a narrative, carefully picked her words, omitted a few details, and portraited Igna as the villain. 

"Let me add," interjected Igona, "-Igna's mother, Courtney Haggard, is the devil in person. I've never seen someone so beautifully scary before. She bought out the whole of Loron and our lady's estate in mere seconds. Do you realize it, she snapped and spent millions for her child…"

"Is that true?" wondered Emmy, "-tis more on the side of fiction," glaring Joe, "-don't you have anything to say?"

"I'd personally not get involved," he simply left for the balcony. 

"What's about him?"

"Don't know and don't care," voiced Lord Lordon, "-we were humiliated and thrown into despair. Loron is owned by Phantom, the profits are in their hands. For fear of our lives, we signed a contract that stated all the chefs are to remain employees of Loron willingly. The affair is shadier than I'd ever want to admit. Long story short, Igna showed his true colors and brought us to ruin."

"Could you stop with the lies," screamed Syndra holding a moist towel, "-I heard what you said, mother," her eyes flared, "-I heard you too, father," she gritted, "-Igna told me all about what deal you made on the visit earlier. You knew," she said with a gut-tearing tone, "-you knew he'd accept if you asked. Lady Courtney rightfully acted to set what was done to her son right. Didn't you promise to lady Elvira about not harming Igna, look what happened. Because of insecurities and the damned rivalry against Chef Yanni, you forced me into courting Kyle. You never considered my feelings, always wanting to expand the family's influence. I was honestly happy when everything was stripped from us, I hoped Igna kept it all, at least then, I'd have the will to continue pursuing my dreams and not become an ornament for a frolicker." In her mind, the words being said were what she thought. 'Father hates criticism, he always wants to pass the blame of his mistakes onto another. The ego and pride of being respectful have gone through his head. What Igna did was amazing, I can't unhear the words he spoke about me and Kyle. He's given up, and so have I… the blame lies on Kyle, if not for him, I could continue studying piano and Igna wouldn't have to suffer my step-mother's weakening ego.'

"Syndra!" the cabin echoed, "-that's no way to speak to me or your mother."

"Lord Lordon," refuted Emmy, "-tis no way to speak to a lady who's reached maturity. She's legal of age and can do what she wants. "

"Are you going to oppose me?" he stood menacingly. A man his big size could easily beat the twins into a pulp.

"What if we did," they matched his stance, "-don't forget who we are," violence oozed their face, "-we're adventurers who were once part of Kniq. Are you really such a fool to blatantly do injustice to thy own daughter in before our eyes?"

"Where do you get the confidence to stand up to a noble?" interjected Lady Yuki.

"It's not about confidence," yelled Joe, "-I stand firmly at the twin's side. Tis about justice. The days of the nobility have long passed their welcome, people who are nobles are so in name, money, and status. Three things the Lordon lost upon mistreating a child of the Haggard family." The room divided, Igona, Lord, and Lady Lordon against Igona, the twins, and Syndra. One fought for Syndra's right as the other fought to not be a culprit of the whole mess. 

Far, far away from Onjal, inside a different dimension came whimpers off a rather large creature. 'I didn't expect it to be this easy,' thought he grinning at the unlikely sight. A few hours ago upon arrival, the statement about killing was quickly dismissed by Vesper's wheeze. "Lord Igna, there's no need to kill. The creatures here are at thy service. Let me guess, you need ingredients from monsters for cooking?"

"Yes, actually," he frowned, "-how did you know?"

"Kul told me about tasting human food. Please, follow me," the mysterious door opened to a clean empty corridor. They walked for a few minutes and by the descending stairs, went to a dungeon, or so he thought. Instead, they came to a massive hall with a large table put in a U-shape where the closed-end gave onto a 'throne' guarded by skeletons. Multiple monsters laughed and sang; a chandelier burnt on above. To the side, a bear clawed at a lute, or so it seemed. The surrealness took time to adjust. A large black bear with red eyes playing the lute melodically. Beside it stood a bird of some kind singing at a high-pitch. That much he could accept for birds did chirp melodically; the lute-playing bear would come to haunt him – he accepted it so. 

"Don't be alarmed," said Vesper slithering across with frequent hiss.

"Hey there Vesper," screamed a semi-transparent figure, "-a good day for a stroll is it not?"

"Who's that?" wondered he.

"A ghost," she shrugged, "-don't ask me, he's neither monster nor spirit, have no idea where he came from," she turned, "-yes, a good day for a stroll." And there the strange individual rose his cup and downed the drink, all of which fell onto the floor. 

"Don't mind them," said she quickening her pace. Across multiple maze-like corridors, the shouts of the main-hall murmured as a figment of the past, "-here we are," no door, a simple plain cloth lifted to show a primitive kitchen. 

"Hello there Vesper," said rough crackling of a humanoid figure bearing the stature of a minotaur.

"Hello there, Piglet," said she in jest.

"Don't call me Piglet," he threatened using a spoon, "-it's my private name," the cheeks blushed, or so what appeared to be.

"This here is Lord Igna, the founder's chosen heir. I won't go into details; all you need to know is that he needs the finest ingredients to cook. Blood of a black-dragon to the shit of a goblin, I don't care, find and get what he needs. Assist him."

"Excuse me, Vesper, you guys eat one another?"

"Obviously," she shrugged, "-I've said it before, the monster kingdom isn't the same as what you know of reality. We kill and cook, those who die are reborn – it's how the evolved keep sane and healthy." And here ended the flashback, '-how is this even true?' standing before him was an elder-dragon as beautiful and fierce as recounted in the age-old tales. Due to the size, the beast stood outside on the red-colored grass. 

"Please be gentle," said it using telepathy.

"Come on grandma," laughed the chef named Piglet, "-we just need some of thy blood. I'll be careful to not touch thine arsehole."

"You better," her disapproval came in head aching messages, "-last time you did this I had a bleeding arse for a whole week, we don't heal fast, you know that!" 

'What am I hearing…" wondered a baffled Igna, '-are these the creatures who have our world in fear of destruction?'