With her restored hand, Nay made Lain a private meal. It was the best way she knew how to say thank you. As Nom and Gracie ran the dinner service, Nay commandeered herself some table space and used of one of the oven alcoves.

Nom had done a double-take at her freshly healed hand sans bandage. “What..."

“Long story short,” Nay said, “I got healed.”

She told him and Gracie about the healer from Scarwatch as she slowly cooked down the onions and butter for her rendition of French onion soup. “So, to say thanks, I’m making her dinner.”

“That’s the right thing to do,” Gracie said. “She’ll love it.”

“Make enough so I can have leftovers,” Nom said, as he seared a pork chop.

Nay looked at one of the chalk signs and read the menu item, Nom’s Chops. She looked again at the pork chop he was cooking and she saw a Food Buff icon cube glowing inside of it. The icon was of the flexing bicep. She looked at the prompt log ticking by on her HUD.

Chef’s Delight [Base Rank] in use.

Nom’s Chops being created.

Imbuing Strength Buff.

Nom had gained access to the Chef’s Delight ability when he had consumed the Marrow of the Steksis with her a few weeks ago.

She got next to him. “Nom,” she said.

“Mm, yes?” Nom said.

“Have you been putting Buffs in the food every night since I’ve been recovering?”

“Yep.”

Nay nodded, of course he had. “If you see Gloom Rangers in the tavern, or if Quincy says not to, you are to listen to him? Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I know we’re trying to keep a low profile with the fact that we can make magical food.”

“Okay, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. So no more Buffed food at the moment, alright? There’s a Ranger inside the Lodge.”

“Can you go back to your station? You’re kinda cramping my mise-en-place.”

/////////

Nay carried the tray of food out to Lain, who was sitting in the corner near the hearth. She was rolling what looked like dice on the table. When she saw Nay approaching she scooped the dice off the table, making them disappear.

Nay set down all the food in front of Lain and put the tray on an empty table next to them. Then she sat across from the healer.

“All this is for me?” Lain said.

“As thanks for giving me my hand back,” Nay said. “I wish I could do more, but I don’t have much and cooking is what I’m good at.”

“Nay,” Lain said, eyes sparkling, touched by the act of service, “you didn’t have to do anything. It’s my duty to heal people.”

“Still, it just felt appropriate,” Nay said. “You took a long journey to get here, the least I could do is make sure you’re well-fed while you’re here.”

She gestured at the wooden bowl of greens. “That’s a winter salad, there’s kale, sliced moonglum apples, starflower seeds and goat cheese. I put my version of green goddess dressing on the side.”

Lain’s eyes grew wide as she examined the salad and dressing. It was simple but she was impressed. Which made Nay wonder about the quality of the food at Fort Nixxiom.

“Then the soup,” Nay said, “is French onion soup.”

“French?” Lain said.

Shit.

“Yes, it’s a type of soup in Reith.”

“Oh, of course,” Lain said. “Sorry, I’m ignorant about the Kingdom of Reith. You’re the first person I’ve ever met from that side of the Vancian sea.”

Then Nay pointed at the entrée. “And the main course is braised beef short ribs. They were cooked with carrots, onion, shallots, sprigs of rosemary and blue stitchleaf and braised in Quincy’s personal brew, his Icemarrow Ale. I also used some of my diced garlic knots.”

“Wow,” Lain said. “I don’t know what to say. But it smells wonderful and now I’m hungrier than before.”

“Don’t say anything,” Nay said. “Just eat.”

Lain tucked in and Nay took satisfaction in watching the show of emotions play across the healer’s face. She tried the French onion soup first and she was blown away by the taste, her eyes widening.

Nay hadn’t imbued the food with any Buffs or Debuffs, as she didn’t want Lain to know that she was a Marrow Eater. Quincy wasn’t sure how the Gloom Rangers would react to an unregistered Marrow Eater in Lucerna’s End. There was the small chance they might report her and he didn’t want to take that chance. It was one thing to have the capacity to rank up in Vigor Ranks, but Marrow Eating was a different business. A person could have the natural latent capacity to improve their vigor. At some point they would have to be documented, but it was normal for latent vigor to manifest spontaneously in people or reveal itself as they matured.

As Lain made her way through trying the winter salad and the braised short ribs, the symphony of emotions and surprise continued to light up her countenance. Nay got a ding in her HUD.

---

[Reputation Menu]

[Factions]

[Gloom Rangers: Friendly]

---

The friendly bar filled with green light, and then was replaced with a new bar as her reputation with Scarwatch leveled up.

---

[Gloom Rangers: Honored!]

---

Quincy had woken up Nay early and when he had brought her to the rowboat tied to the Lodge’s dock she protested. “I really should be getting to the kitchen to get a head-start on everything.”

“The kitchen can wait,” Quincy said. “Let your staff get things started.” He climbed into the rowboat and held out a hand. She looked around. It was still so early it felt like night. There was a thick fog hanging over Lac Coinescar. Then she reluctantly took his hand and climbed into the rowboat.

He rowed them across the surface of the Lac and she shivered in her cloak. The green-tinted moon still reflected off the surface of the water, still visible even through all the fog. She looked into the water and saw schools of slivermoon trout glistening as they swam by below, like seeing minerals glint in a creek bed. It was eerie being out on the water at this hour and every now and then she saw the silhouette of a fishing boat deep in the mist.

“Where are we going?” Nay asked.

“You’ll see,” Quincy said.

That’s something her father would say to her when she was just a kid. Whenever he would take her on car drives to the park to play or even a gas station so she could get candy, packs of Nerds and Fun Dip. It was his little way of surprising her. One time he even said that when he took her on a trip to Disney World for a day. He had died before she had entered high school.

After a bit, Quincy rowed them to a secluded shore where the snow-covered evergreens came right up to the water. There was a little pocket between the root structure where he parked the boat and tied it to one of the trees. They got out and he led Nay to a snow-covered glade that had a view of the Lac through between the trees.

In the center was a dead tree. It looked like it had been cut in half by lightning, the top half sheared off and its trunk ended in jagged shards of wood. Its branches had no leaves. On one side, up to about Quincy’s head level, all the bark was gone and it was smooth as a wooden dummy. There were scratches, furrows and even what looked like a circular target on part of it.

“What is this?” Nay said.

“This is where you’re going to spend the first part of your mornings,” Quincy said. “Even before you go to the kitchen.”

“What do you mean?” Nay said. “Why?”

“So what happened to your hand doesn’t happen again.”

Nay looked at her healed hand, at the dual vertical line scars on her flesh. She opened and closed it, still in awe that it was healed. Then she looked back at Quincy. “How are we going to do that?”

He pulled a box-shaped wooden case out of his pack and walked over to her. He traced the engraved cover with his hands. It was a name on the top.

Quella.

“My older sister,” Quincy said.

He opened the case and there was a knife with a thick blade, with a short white handle that was curved like a talon. There was a wide bolster and the butt of the handle ended in what looked like a short thorn. On the blade itself there was a swoosh that looked a lot like an ocean wave. There was a glyph stamped into the center of the blade at the bottom towards the bolster.

“This was her knife,” Quincy said. “She called it Thorn.”

That’s what the glyph translated to. It was the name of the weapon.

Quincy gestured for her to take it. “Go ahead, pick it up.”

Nay grabbed it, wrapping her scarred hand around the handle. It had arcs on the underside to accommodate the fit of her fingers, allowing her to take a strong grip. This wasn’t a kitchen knife.

It was a combat dagger.

“I figured since the knife is your most-used tool in the kitchen, you would have a natural affinity for it as a weapon,” Quincy said. “It was made by the famed bladesmith, Drixt Taglieri of Crescentia. The handle is hewn from the bonewood of the Cenotaph trees that grow in the Boneyard of Crescentia, where the ground is filled with the skeletons of the monsters that were defeated in the Battle of Scythes. The blade is steel blasted from the iron ore of Paleforge.”

He reached out and pointed at the thorn on the butt of the bonewood handle. “That’s a skullcrusher. Most knives, if you’re holding it in the ice-pick grip, you want to keep your thumb on the cap so if you plunge down, your hand doesn’t slip off the handle onto the blade. But since there are curved grips, the cap can be used as another weapon.”

He pantomimed bringing the skullcrusher down on someone’s head. “It’s a good move if someone’s head is exposed to you like that.”

Nay stared in wonder at the weapon, a little terrified of it. “That’s nasty.”

“All knife fights are nasty,” Quincy said.

“And you want me to learn how to knife fight?”

“I want you to learn how to defend yourself when running or talking your way out of a situation are not an option. Dueling for the sake of dueling is foolish, especially with knives. No one walks away without bleeding. Most of the time, especially at Base Rank, both participants will die. Either on the spot or if they walk away, then slowly from blood loss while someone is trying to treat them.”

“But not Marrow Eaters?”

“Marrow Eater fights are a different thing entirely. But we’re going to pretend you’re not a Marrow Eater so you can learn the basics. A good foundation will separate even Marrow Eaters. Sometimes technique edges out pure power.”

“I’m not sure I could have stopped Mishell and Krill from doing what they did, even if I knew how to use a knife.”

“Maybe, but maybe you would have left them with injuries of their own and made them think twice about attacking you. Street fights are often predicated by reputation. They sensed weakness so they weren’t afraid to engage, even though it was foolish on their part. If an assailant senses strength then that makes them hesitate and reassess. I’m going to help you be strong.”

Nay didn’t argue with his logic. If there were people out there like Mishell and Krill, she better mitigate her odds. Then she was struck with a thought. What if they had been Marrow Eaters? Then she’d really be paste. There would have been no chance of defending herself.

“Maybe I should work on getting out of Base Rank,” Nay said. “Like Lain said, maybe it’s possible for me to…level up.”

Quincy didn’t say no. In fact, he wasn’t opposed to the idea at all. “That’s why I want to get you started on the basics. Consider all of the time you remain at Base Rank your tutorial.”

Nay felt a surge of blood and adrenaline rush through her. She was bolstered by the prospect of harnessing and strengthening her vigor. She knew something had been missing in her life and it wasn’t just ending up in this world and being adrift. She had her cooking and her job with Quincy, but this felt like the missing piece of the puzzle that had been nagging at her during her rare periods of downtime.

Quincy took Thorn and taught her the two grips. The more standard grip where she grasped it in a more natural position like she was shaking someone’s hand, and the ice-pick grip or the ghiaccio grip as those on the Peninsula called it. “I’m no expert with knives,” Quincy said. “That was Quella. But I know the basics.”

“Where is Quella now?” Nay said, venturing to ask. She wasn’t sure if his sister was a sore subject but since she was inheriting her weapon, she thought it was okay to ask.

“She’s moved on to the Celestial Realm,” Quincy said. “She’s been gone for fifteen years now.”

Nay wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Was she supposed to say she was sorry? But he sounded okay with it, his tone indicating she had moved on to a better place. It was awkward so she just nodded, pretending she understood what he meant.

“So, there are three basic methods of attack,” Quincy said. “There’s the slash, the thrust and the jab.” He demonstrated each one.

For the slash, he raised the knife and brought it down in a diagonal direction.

For the thrust, he punched forward with the tip.

For the jab, he flicked his wrist, using the blade like a short whip, an extension of his hand.

“And there are three invisible strings for the directions you choose for each attack,” Quincy said. As he spoke, he showed her what they looked like. “There’s diagonal…there’s horizontal…and there’s vertical. You see?”

“Seems pretty simple,” Nay said.

“I’m glad you think so.” Quincy handed her Thorn. “Now show me.” He backed away to give her space in the snow.

“Slash!”

She slashed.

“Thrust!”

She thrusted.

“Jab!”

She jabbed, whipping her arm out and flicking her wrist.

“Slash diagonally!”

She exhaled with each slash, inhaled with each retraction of the blade.

“Slash horizontally!”

She shifted her axis of attack, instinctually letting her arm adjust to the movement.

“Slash vertically!”

She was beginning to understand the flow, realizing that the blade could be an extension of not just her body, but her will. These ideas began to form in her head and a whole world opened up before her. A world that showed her the possibility of a new kind of dance.

In the secluded glade by the Lac, underneath the dead tree that was struck by lightning, underneath the protective snow-covered boughs and underneath the watchful green-tinted moon, Nay worked through her routine of slashing, thrusting and jabbing. Quincy called out the attacks and the directions and she would shift from one attack to another, from one direction to a different direction, performing at the pace of his commands.