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// 13 - Cooking Up Trouble 
// Story: Bind on Pickup 
// by David Silver 
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Smolder flew with determination, her thoughts far from what her friends were discussing, but on what had already been said. "Think I can't get a stupid class, whatever." She landed lightly in front of a familiar eatery where they had enjoyed pasta just a short time ago. "I bet these guys will know where to look."

She strode in, just to be intercepted by the doorstaff, who was looking at her with even less warmth than the first time. "Your human friend isn't here," they noted as if that could be the only reason Smolder had come in.

"You noticed that, huh? Look, not here to sully your place with my cooties or whatever." She made a dismissive wave away. "You get powerful adventurers in here, or you wouldn't be serving something that costs more than some people would ever see in their life."

"This is true," allowed the door attendant, a forced smile on her face. "You aren't one of those just yet. Good luck." Her well-wishes rang hollow in the air. "Is that all you needed to know?"

"Not quite. They all had advanced classes. Do you know where I could get one? Surely such a prestigious--" She emphasized with a sudden spreading of her hands. "--place would know where to find one or three. Hook me up so I can afford to spend more here."

"The only class we could offer is only taught to human clients," she noted in icy tones. "I mean, really, a demi-human Wonder Waiter? How absurd would that be? No no, off with you." She made a gentle shooing motion towards the door. "Unless you want something to eat, in which case, Demi-humans in the back, you know the rules."

"I'll pass." She turned with a wave. "Not feeling hungry right now." She stormed off with an angry grumbling. "Stupid jerks. They're just jealous of a proper tail. How do they even balance?"

"Poorly."

Smolder looked up towards the familiar voice, seeing the rabbit vendor they had visited many times before. "Oh, hey. How are things?"

"I cook and I sell." She plucked up a meat kebab in deft furry fingers and offered it towards Smolder. "You look like you could use one."

Smolder licked her lips with thought. "I shouldn't… I didn't bring the cash."

"For a friend." She held the kebab out further. "For a fellow demi. I heard them."

Smolder suddenly looked towards the pasta shop, half a block away. "Your hearing is that good?!"

"They aren't just decorational." She reached up her free hand to work along a long ear. "But, really, please, take it."

Smolder accepted the kebab in one hand, just to add the other a moment later, snarfing up a combination of meat and veggies, savoring the smoky flavor. "Ahh, you make them so well. Say, do you know where a dragon can pick up an advanced class around here?"

She glanced left and right before leaning forward towards Smolder. "First, introductions. We are both of the same caste. Let us speak as familiars. I am a laggie, not a demi-human. You are a dragon, yes? I feel I've heard you mention it before."

"100% dragon." She thrust a thumb at herself before snapping up another meaty morsel. "Mmm, name's Smolder. You?"

"'Hey, you', to most passing by." She crossed her arms under her chest. "But to those that matter, I'm Pella. Nice to properly meet you, Smolder." She extended one arm, fingers wide.

Smolder met it, their hands clapping together and fingers tensing, each giving a firm show. "Ha, you know how to shake properly, that's cool. You have no idea how much you miss that when you attend a school full of things with no hands."

Pella rolled one ear to the side. "What manner of school would have students like that? Is this the place you hail from, curious dragon? Nevermind me." She held up both hands. "You asked a question first. You seek an advanced class?"

Smolder nodded. “Ahuh. We gotta get to the top of the tower to get back home, and we gotta get advanced classes to be allowed in the tower.” She puffed out a puff of smoke. “It’s a lotta trouble.”

Pella raised an eyebrow. “What about going up the tower?”

Smolder waved it off. “Oh, we’ll get to that when the time comes. All three of us are tough as nails--” she began showing off herself as she described herself. “Tough scales, sharp claws, strong wings, and, the best part of all--” she puffed a tuft of flame “--fire breath.” She shrugged. “Not to mention these sweet interceptor skills I’m getting. I can’t imagine much of anything standing up to me once I get even sweeter stuff from an advanced class.

Pella laughed. “It seems you have all the skills for death dealing ready.” She raised one finger. “But! Do you have the skills for life.”

Smolder blinked before realizing what must be meant. “Oh, sure! Spike has a healing class.”

“That’s all well and good,” Pella responded, staring to pull out bits of food to prepare. “But I don’t mean that. The tower is very tall. Taller than you can climb in just one day. Taller than you can climb in several days, sometimes." She pointed at the kebab still in Smolder's hands, half of its contents gone. "Could you survive on that all the way to the top?"

Smolder peered at her kebab, tilting it left and right before she leaned in and casually slurped up the rest, chomping on the mix with great gnashes of her teeth. "Doubt it." She lifted her shoulders as she tossed the skewer into the little bin attached to Pella's cart. "So we have to bring a lot of food?"

"You could do that." She rolled a hand slowly. "But now you're moving around with great loads of supplies, slowing you down. That doesn't sound good for your survival. You could lose it, or it could be destroyed, or simply spoil. Then what?"

Smolder huffed, smoke escaping her lips. "Alright, you're going somewhere with this, so out with it. What have you got?" She reached out to poke at the next kebab. "You have a magic bag that's always full of snacks you want to sell me? Because you have my attention…"

"Better than that," half-sang Pella, rocking left and right on her feet. "It involves what you asked me for. I'm not so shady I would turn my friend's request into a sales pitch. I have a class, you see."

"You?" Smolder looked Pella up and down swiftly. The woman with rabbit ears and fine whiskers did not appear to be a toughened warrior, or a sagacious spellcaster of some kind. "Not seeing it, no offense or anything."

"I wanted to be." Her gaze slipped into the distance a moment. "But the others suffered for my weakness, and I turned to this instead." She gently ran a finger along the edge of her cart, eyes on Smolder. "You have very good friends, strong friends, and you… I feel you are capable yourself. You could restart where I left off, maybe make it all the way?"

"You… wanna talk about it?" Smolder lifted her shoulders softly, looking as eager to help as she was to avoid the topic. "If you want to?"

"You appear as awkward as I, let us speak of more immediate things. The class." She reached below her cart and came up with a knife. "Would you believe I know how to use this?"

"You better, or cooking's gonna be hard." Smolder smirked at the taller rabbit lady. "Let me guess, you were an interceptor?"

"Once." She twirled the blade in her hand. Though balanced for cooking, the laggie turned it around forward and back, gripping it with the certainty of being ready to cut a person. "But for every basic class, there are dozens of paths one may follow. I used to envision myself as the mother of our party."

"Mother?" Smolder asked with clear distaste on her snout. "That doesn't sound very cool."

Pella stabbed forward, the knife soaring with not even an inch between it and the side of Smolder's head. "Mothers are fierce when their charges are threatened. Mothers will die for their sake, and mothers will keep them fed. I was their mother, and I will not hear you slander it, friend or no."

Smolder bat the blade away with one of her own, one in either her hands. "Hey, now I see some fighter in there. So what's the advanced class you got?"

"Is it not obvious?" She turned the blade back and set it on the cart itself. "I was a Combat Culinarian. My tools to give life are also my weapons to take it. Every enemy is a potential source of power and nourishment for me and my charges. The battlefield is my kitchen, and the losers are lunch."

“So… it’s kinda like a hunter class?” Smolder said, her frills angling up.

Pella laughed, a hearty and happy laugh. “If it makes you feel better, yes. But the support value of the food produced by the class is just as strong, or even stronger than the death-dealing abilities. I mean, if you die of starvation you sure can’t win a fight.”

“Sure, but you can’t keep fighting if you can’t beat anything,” Smolder countered.

“Well--” Pella smiled a sweet smile that had a cunning edge to it. “That’s where the extra combat capability that comes from feeding. Besides, it is… you could say it builds on interceptor? Many skills from other classes complement it, but interceptor is a snug fit. You will be able to use basically any knife skills you have or find." She ran a finger along the flat of her knife. “And as you know, interceptors sort of specialize in that.”

"Alright, that actually answers a question I had." She wasn't holding her weapons anymore, her daggers put away as if they had never been drawn. "So this CC class still fights, right?"

"There is a reason I was able to put my blade within an inch of your face," Pella casually reminded, clucking her tongue against her teeth. "You will hurt them, kill them, tear them apart, and present the remains worked to perfection to your friends. It will feed them and bolster them. When… we were still together, we would sometimes just not bother returning to town. Why should we? I would keep up their energy and we felt invincible…"

"But you weren't that." Smolder held up a lone finger before it drooped a bit. "Sorry… That wasn't nice. Right, so don't get full of yourself, got it. Seriously though, I'm going to stab some random monster and start a firepit in the middle of a fight?"

“Well, not exactly. That comes after the fighting.” Pella put a finger to her chin. “Usually. But I digress. It is time to make your choice, Smolder.” She gestured to the food in front of her. “Do you want in or not?”

Smolder bit her lip and looked at the food, and the knives and other utensils. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it.”

Pella clasped her hands together. “Wonderful! I expect you here at 8 in the morning tomorrow, and we can begin training you to cook. Come dressed in breezy clothes, you’ll be helping me out all day.”

Smolder nodded, “Alright, I’m on it, I’ll see ya tomorrow.” And she began flying away. Not a minute passed before she stopped. “Wait, did I just get a job?”