Chapter 19: Teashop Brewmaster

By the time Arthur had bathed, put on his newly tailored clothes, and returned to his workshop, Ella was waiting. She wasn’t alone. With Milo in tow, she walked up to Arthur, handing him a kettle and a fresh pail of water.

“Make this boy tea,” she said. “Your boba tea.”

Arthur looked around the room. Ella had cleared out every speck of food he had prepared last night and replaced it with new ingredients. He had nothing ready.

“I don’t have anything ready.”

“It doesn’t matter. Start from scratch. Is that okay with you, Milo?”

Milo nodded.

Ella continued, “He’s your friend, Arthur. Just talk to him. He’ll keep you company.”

Arthur kneaded the bread, started to heat the water, and prepared a few mugs for morning tea. The brew he chose was one that Ella said had “pep,” which he assumed was this world’s word for caffeinated beverages. If nothing else, it would help them wake up.

The resulting tea wasn’t quite a disaster. The bread wasn’t sturdy enough, but held up at least long enough to get a few firm pieces of it through the straws. The tea was scorched, but only a bit, and the cream was almost at the right level.

Those imperfections didn’t matter as much, with Milo there. Company made food better, and they drank their tea while talking about the day before them, the day they had just experienced, all interspersed with Milo’s merciless ragging on Arthur for his interest in Mizu. It was fun.

Soon enough, Milo had to leave to do his own work, and Arthur got ready to grind again. Before he could, Ella showed up again, this time towing a mouse-girl, one Arthur fully recognized.

“Ella?”

“Now her. Make her tea.” Ella said, whooshing from the room before Arthur had a chance to argue. He turned to Rhodia, who shrugged her shoulders and sat. It was more awkward than with Milo, but soon enough they found common ground.

“A stand? An entire stand? So soon?”

“Yeah, although I have to do a lot to get it. It’s a long shot.”

“Still that’s a big opportunity.”

“And I have to figure out… like, I have no idea how to run a business, at least not that kind of business. Like, where do I even get the stuff?”

“Like ingredients?”

“Ingredients, equipment… I need matched cups. With lids that let these through.” He pointed at a straw. “They don’t make those.”

“Arthur, I’m a ceramics class. I can make you those things.”

“I don’t think so. I’d need a lot of them. And I don’t have… a lot of funds, probably.”

“You can pay me back later.”

“It would be too long. I don’t even know if I’ll make money.”

Arthur suddenly felt mousey hands gripping the collar of his shirt as the much shorter girl pulled him down to her level.

“Do not,” she said, almost growling, “Do not make me beg you to let me make cups for your actual operating business. Cups that will be used by actual customers, and will provide me with tons of experience. Do not do it.”

Arthur was beaten, and knew it. Luckily, they were best friends again just as soon as he relented, and had a great time talking about various sizes and shapes of things she could make for him. She assured him that she’d be perfectly glad to make an entire set as soon as he needed it, on surprisingly short notice. She, after all, had her primary skill already.

Her tea was about as good as Milo’s, and she thanked him before leaving and being replaced by a large, burly combat-class Armadillo who Arthur also recognized from class, whose name Arthur learned was Chuck.

“Chuck? We had that name on Earth, too.”

“It means thrower-of-heavy-things.”

“It also meant that on Earth. Kind of. Not as the name, though.”

“Chucks couldn’t throw?”

“Well, I’m sure some of them could.”

Jocks were, just as on Earth, easy-mode as far as feeding people went. Arthur made a double batch of bread for his newest customer and loaded up the Armadillo’s cup with as many calories as he could fit. He abandoned his cream-discipline, loading up the drink with as much of the smooth and creamy goodness as he could without entering into the realm of the ridiculous, and adding more sugar than he suspected was exactly right.

It was the right call. The armadillo sucked it down like it was nothing, burped, and then politely asked for seconds. After that, Ella didn’t bring any more people to his lab. Instead, Milo did, complaining the entire time about having to serve as Arthur’s recruiter but still dragged in almost every member of the class, one at a time.

Arthur still didn’t get his skill, but by the end of the day he didn’t mind so much. He had been so busy that he hadn’t even had full conversations with nearly as many of his peers as he wanted to. Almost everyone was interested in one way or another in Arthur’s new boba but only a few of them had overlapping skills.

That was probably for the better. Once Milo found out what Rhodia had negotiated, he demanded the rights to make all of Arthur’s metal tools. But all in all, everyone liked to eat, or drink, and the novelty of doing both at the same time seemed to make everyone okay with the time commitment it took to get one glass.

“No skill yet?” Ella asked, looking up from a book she was reading as Arthur entered the kitchen.

“Not yet. Just did some cleanup. Everyone else is at the park now, I think. It’s time for class.”

“Are you discouraged? I know you’ve been working hard.”

Arthur pulled out a chair and snagged a cookie from a plate on the table, sitting down and leaning back as he enjoyed it.

“No, not really. It was a good choice, what you did. I’ve been meaning to meet everyone, anyway.” He took a bite of cookie, chewed it, and swallowed. “I have a question, if that’s okay.”

“Shoot.”

“How much do you vary recipes for your audience? I mean, I was making a lot of changes up there for various people that weren’t ideal at all. Too much sugar for someone who liked things sweet, more bread, that sort of thing.”

Ella set down her book and thought. “Well, at the restaurant, not a lot. A little, of course. Some people like their meat cooked more and some like it half bloody, some people dislike certain vegetables, that kind of thing.”

“But here?”

“Oh, for individual guests? I change a lot. I try to match the person. That’s actually one of the big differences between a chef class and a cook.”

“I don’t think I ever really understood that.”

“It’s because it’s not a real distinction. The system never talks about it, really. It’s just that chefs cook for the food. They try to make perfect things. Cooks cook for the people. They try to help people become better through food. It’s a blurry line. You’ll hear people call me a chef. And my class even works that way. But at heart, I’m a cook. I want to watch people eat my food and be happy.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

He told her about the nightmare, in detail, glad to have an opportunity to finally unload the story.

“Oh, wow. Yeah. That does seem terrible,” she said. “System visions aren’t law, you know. Even though it seemed like a chef vision, you could still be a cook.”

“Right. It wasn’t terrible because of what dream-me was doing, if that makes sense. Like I’d watch someone work that way and enjoy it. It was terrible because it wasn’t what I wanted to do.”

There was a sudden noise at the door as Milo barged in, followed by the entire class. Well, almost the entire class. Arthur felt a mix between relief and disappointment as he saw Mizu wasn’t there.

“The turtle said we needed to come watch you work.”

“Oh, shoot. That’s going to be boring. Sorry, everyone.”

“Not a big deal, Arthur,” the Armadillo said, snagging a cookie. “We’ve all done it with each other. A lot. This is as new as anything else we could be doing.”

“Still,” Arthur said. “Well, I guess I can make it up, I hope. I’ll get some food started, so you can watch.”

His room wasn’t big enough to hold everyone. He glanced around the kitchen, which was a large enough room with enough chairs everyone might just fit.

“It’s okay. Get started. I’ll bring your things down,” Ella said, folding her book closed. Arthur nodded, then started explaining as best he could what he had been doing the past few days. All the experimentation and refining seemed to be lost on most, with only a few crafting classes nodding along in agreement.

“What have you been doing for water?” A voice at the door said. He turned. It was Mizu.

“Just… water, I guess?”

She held up a small clay vessel in her hands. “I brought you this. You can use it, if you like. I thought it might help.”

“Oh, that’s neat,” the mouse said. “That explains why you are late.”

“It’s… different?” Arthur said, lost.

“She’s a weller. Sort of like a plumber, but for water sources that come from the ground,” the armadillo explained.

“Chuck, that’s…” The mouse rolled her eyes. “They do more than that. Wellers balance the water that comes out of the ground. They improve wells in terms of output, balance mineral content…”

“And are a treasure,” Ella said, returning to the kitchen and taking the water from Mizu as she did. “Use this, Arthur. And thank the girl.”

“Thanks, Mizu,” Arthur said. “That’s great of you to do. I really appreciate it.”

Mizu smiled.

Arthur went to work, bringing the water to a boil as he selected tea. Food Scientist, for once, was loud, pointing to one particular brew and assuring him it was his best bet for a group that large. It made sense. It was a light, unoffensive flavor, one that he imagined everyone would like if not absolutely love.

But then the skill kept talking, directing him back upstairs. He excused himself, running back up to find the flower Mizu had given him. Without a clear immediate use for it, he had put it in a cup of water, hoping it would survive. Now his skill was asking him to use it, in front of the person who had given it to him.

Pretty high-pressure choice, skill.

Bringing it downstairs, he stood behind everyone and motioned for Ella, who assured him that his combination of instincts and skills were on the right path.

“Mizu, is it fine if I use this?” Arthur was nervous in his ask, but Mizu just smiled and nodded. Taking the flower to the kitchen table, he carefully removed a small portion of the petal, grinding it with the round part of a spoon until it was mashed, then added it to the tea mixture. Finally, Food Scientist was satisfied.

Arthur poured the tea, added the cream, and shoved handfuls of the bread from the best batches he had made throughout the day into each of the cups, then let everyone dig in, waiting nervously for their reaction.

But there wasn’t a reaction, really. Everyone was talking and having fun, enough so that they took the drinks and dug in without thinking about it, much. Arthur watched as they simply enjoyed the drinks, draining glasses and asking for refills as they had fun in each other’s company. The tea wasn’t the point. And Arthur was fully content with that, happy to just have his tea help in making the fun complete.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised at all when he felt something click into place in his soul, and hardly had to check to know his primary skill had come.

Teashop Brewmaster (Boba Specialty)

You make tea to make people happy. This skill helps with that, in various ways.