Chapter 138: Named Drink

Ella had originally made an amount of food that had seemed ridiculous to everyone when she brought it to the table. Now it was barely enough. Eito had to fight for his share while Karbo carved off huge hunks of meat, took giant scoops of salad, and sent Arthur to make him a drink.

“Make it make me stronger,” Karbo said. “Stronger and faster and meaner.”

“Why? You aren’t going to fight today, right?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah?” Karbo half-asked, half-confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel good. I like being big and strong.”

“Fair enough.” Arthur looked to Itela for confirmation that Karbo’s request should be met, got a nod in the positive, and took a few more orders before falling back to his shop to get brewing.

Being behind the counter felt immediately right. Arthur had been off schedule and out of sorts lately. Getting back to his pots and pans had a calming effect that was only slightly thrown off by the fact that his best friend was suddenly getting married. He had only known about it for a day or so, which wasn’t nearly enough time to get used to the idea.

Still, he had overall positive feelings about the whole thing. If Itela and Ella both agreed something was great, it probably was. The fact that Eito, Karbo, and Minos were also on board meant that just about every personality type Arthur could imagine in an adult was represented in thinking the marriage was a fine idea.

And if Arthur’s idea of a wedding was a slightly bigger thing with more fanfare, then, well, that was just his idea of it. That was where it started and ended. It wasn’t his place to impose his view of what made for right ceremony. As long as Milo and Rhodia were happy, he was happy. Simple as that.

Karbo’s tea was done first, a quick and simple job that Arthur could do in his sleep.

What he wanted to do next was a bit harder.

Arthur put together the ingredients for two drinks, then focused hard on the tea while calling up a record number of memories at once. He tried to capture how he felt about his entire time in the Demon World. The feelings spanned from when he had first met Karbo and Eito to the present day.

At first, he wanted to cut out the negative parts of his time here. Like when he had been afraid of the giant infernal and wood person. Or when he thought that he’d end up in a class that wouldn’t suit him. He almost left out times like when Mizu had been sick, or when Lily had disappeared, or when he had felt responsible for marooning his entire social group on a mountainside in the dead of winter.

But those were part of life, Arthur thought.

They were seasoning. They were little bits of salt in an overall sweet dish, creating more complex flavors. He wanted this drink to tell a story. If he left out the little painful parts, then he’d be writing a work of fiction. He’d much rather have the story be true.

Leaving all the imperfect edges in the mix of memories, Arthur poured the tea over the other ingredients, watching as it mixed in with the cream and sugared syrup his friends favored in their off-hours. And with it, he gave the system and his skills full permission to make use of whatever resources he had in pursuit of something special.

He immediately decided not to tell Itela about what he had done when his majicka hit absolute rock bottom as both drinks took their share of his magical energy. He suppressed a grunt as he balanced himself on the table, then went to see what the system had to say about his creations.

Family (Named)

Sometimes, a crafter goes beyond mere function into art. When this is done right, the resulting object succeeds at its functional job and sparks joy in the people who see, use, and rely on it to fulfill a purpose. These expressions of skill and passion are often especially prized by both their creators and those they are created for, and are lavishly rewarded by the system.

And then, every once in a while, someone goes beyond even that. Imbuing art in an object is difficult, but the more difficult task is making that art an interpretation of the artist, blending their skill, their beliefs, and their experiences. While every artist creates art based on the clay of their own life, on rare occasions, a skilled artisan can reflect a small portion of the tapestry of their own life in their work. In doing this, they not only mix art with function but add elements of themselves as well.

In short, they blur the line between who they are as people and what they do as craftsmen.

If all of this sounds easy, that’s correct. Most artists who manage to do this find that it’s natural in the same way that walking is, and for some of the same reasons. If it sounds hard, that’s right as well. It usually can’t be forced, and the genuine place the beauty flows from is often difficult to reach.

Either way, you’ve accomplished it.

Family is a system-named product of the combination of your skills, your memories, and your intent for others. It has no clearly defined effects that can be easily expressed in terms of stats or medical effects. Instead, it carries a faint reflection of the feelings that went into it in the flavor of the drink itself.

Production of Family is limited by an exorbitant majicka cost that scales to match your level. It has a two-servings-per-day hard limit, and a need for a stable, calm mental state. Production of this drink is also possible only for you, and the effects will change with your personal growth. It exists as a specialty product only you can make, and as an expression of your craft that uniquely identifies you as a possible future master in your field.

Well, that’s different. Like most things, Arthur had no context for how rare this was, or how demon-folk would react to it. So, he decided to just trust the system and roll with it.

“I have drinks.” Arthur put his tray down on the table, “And something special for the happy couple.”

“They look different.” Milo grabbed his drink and swirled it, causing a glittering reflection to flow through the liquid. “What’s this one do?”

“No idea. Honestly,” Arthur said. “Give it a try and let me know.”

“Am I going to be safe drinking this?”

“If you aren’t, the system neglected to warn me. Just give it a try, alright? You too, Rhodia. Complements of your local tea brewer,” Arthur said, trying to hide his smile.

Milo and Rhodia looked at each other and shrugged, then toasted their glasses. With no further hesitation, they took a sip at the same time. Arthur watched as their eyes went wide, and prepared himself for them to spit out the accumulated flavor of his demon-world life experiences.

Instead, they both froze and stared at the glasses in their hands. The rest of the group had been keeping an eye on them before, but now they all started to realize that something out of the ordinary was happening and paused to look at the frozen couple. For a second or two, conversation stopped at the table, until Rhodia suddenly shook out of her shock and shifted her eyes to Arthur.

“Arthur, this is amazing. What’s the flavor on this? It tastes like…”

“It tastes like tea,” Milo said. “It’s not really the flavor, exactly. It’s not making me feel things, but…”

“Yeah, that’s what it is. It tastes good, but it’s… hmm,” Rhodia said. “I just feel good. A little sad, and a lot of happy. Like I’m tired, but I’m finally getting back to my room.”

“Yeah. Like finishing a big painting,” Milo said. “And hanging it up on the wall after you take a good look at it.”

Ella watched the whole encounter like a hawk, then turned to Arthur, an uncharacteristic note of ferocity in her eyes.

“I know you are going to say it was an accident, or something,” Ella said. “But if you did what I think you did before you even turned twenty, I’m going to pull out my own feathers.”

Arthur looked sheepish. It was sounding like his plan to just roll with it was falling apart faster than he thought.

“A named?” Ella asked, and got the answer in Arthur’s eyes. “Gods, Arthur. You know how many named dishes I’ve made, over my whole career? Three. Can you make another one of those?”

“I don’t think so. Hard limit,” Arthur said.

“Milo. Give it here.” Ella snapped her fingers at her son. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just taking a sip.”

Milo handed over the drink and Ella lifted the brim of the cup, taking a small mouthful and swishing it around slightly before swallowing. She paused before delivering her verdict.

“Well, at least you earned it,” Ella said.

“Yeah?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah.” Ella’s eyes were watering. “A person’s first named product tends to be… a mess. A product of sadness. A surprising amount of them are made by young people getting over bad breakups. This tasted like… is it everything? Arthur? All your time here?”

“Something like that. Mostly the parts in the city, though,” Arthur answered.

“Quite the thing. It tastes like if the sun made honey, filtered by a walk in the cold.”

“Very poetic.” Arthur tilted his head to the side. It was high praise.

“Describing signature dishes aren’t an exact science, Arthur,” Ella said. “They are only possible with system intervention, more so than other things. There just aren’t ingredients that do what you have done here. There’s nothing to compare to.”

“Well, there’s an easy solution to that,” Arthur said as he reached for the glass. Milo put himself in the way as if Arthur was stealing his firstborn child.

“Don’t break my son’s heart.” Ella carefully returned the drink to Milo, just one sip lighter as she had promised. “You won’t even be able to taste anything outside of the actual ingredients. It’s the worst joke the system has ever played. Named products make other people feel a little tiny bit like you do, which is what makes it special. It’s a way to live a memory someone else knows. But you already have that memory. The drink won’t do anything for you.”

“Oh.” Arthur was honestly disappointed. “So everyone else can have it but me?”

“That’s about right. And of course, only as many people can have it as you can supply it to, which is usually limited in one way or another. And only so often. Milo and Rhodia won’t be able to enjoy that drink again for at least a few months,” Ella said.

“Really? Why not?”

“They already have the experience, it won’t be new to them anymore.”

“Oh. Damn.” Arthur grimaced. “There goes the whole special-drink-for-the-happy-couple joining ceremony plan.”

“It’s what it is.” Ella smiled and hugged Arthur. “I’ve been a lot today, I blame it on the travel and the big news. But I’m proud of you. Making something named so young, and something meant to make people happy to boot? That’s really great, son. I’m really proud.”