The Legend of Lefty

“Our lives… are a kind of magic. Deep down we are made of the same matter as the rock or the tree, and yet we are capable of movement and thought. We learn. We act. We create. It is a miracle that I’m speaking to you now, a miracle which is only sustained via four elemental powers: food, drink, breath, and sleep. These are the primal elements that maintain complex life, and without all four… the magic of life ends. Therefore these elements are magic in their own right; forces capable of creating and sustaining untold miracles. To gain mastery over them, is to become a powerful mage indeed.”

This was how Ol Blu started his explanation to Lefty. The former sand miner had asked how food magic worked, and the kicken decided to repeat a lecture he had overheard long ago. He and the boy were still sitting in the same stone room they had camped in, high up on the twelfth floor of the Food Tabernacle. There were no windows to confirm that the sun had actually risen, but they had slept for a while and woken up, so it was morning to them and that was enough excuse to have breakfast.

Their leftover magic bread had lost some of its potency now that it was no longer warm, but even then it still made for a hearty and energizing meal. The wise old kicken took a bite, closed his eyes to savor the supernatural flavor, and then continued the lecture, replicating the voice of the man who had spoken it a lifetime earlier.

“Take a moment to really consider what food really is.”

“In its simplest terms, food is the fuel of life. It is the force of creation itself. Without it you will tire, you will whither, and eventually, you will die. Consume it… and the miracle that is your life continues. It is food that grows the child into the adult, food that transforms the thin into the hearty, the weak into the healthy. If life is a fire, then food is the timber; fuel for the soul itself.

Lefty tilted his head slightly, and looked at the bread in his hand.

“Huh...” he said, squinting at the loaf for a few seconds before looking back at his companion.

“So like... I've roasted meat before. Does that mean I’m a food mage?” He asked with complete sincerity.

Ol Blu’s ears twitched. He tried not to roll his eyes. “N-No… not quite lad.”

The kicken had realized last night that his savior was… a bit of bumpkin… ignorant of the wider world to say the least. But Blu hadn’t expected him to be this ignorant. Perhaps that lecture was a little too advanced. He thought back to another lesson he had overheard about food magic; one given to a much younger audience.

“Being a chef is like being a soldier. Anyone can pick up a sword and swing it around, even you, but you’re not a soldier until you have the skill. You need to know how to use that sword. And it’s the same with cooking. Anyone can make a stew but you’re not a chef until you know how to do it just right.”

Lefty nodded, and Ol Blu switched sources again, recalling a conversation he once overheard that seemed relevant to this lesson.

“Ya see, the strength of a dish comes mostly from the way it's prepared, not the ingredients. Take bread for example. Any idiot can grind up some wheat and make a flatbread, but it will taste terrible and it will barely keep ya going! Give that same wheat to a chef, give em’ some time to work with it, and they’ll make somethin’ that will last ya all day! Maybe even all week!”

“You’re really good at that.” Lefty said.

“I um… Good at what?” Blu replied.

“Doing all those uh… voices. It’s neat. You’ve got like… voice… skills.” Lefty replied.

Ol Blu didn’t know what to say. He was a kicken. This is what they did, and if we’re completely being honest he wasn’t especially good at it. Compared to his kin he was average at best. So being complimented on it was like being told he was exceptionally good at breathing. A compliment to be sure but an unusual one.

“Oh… well… thank you lad. I’m glad you like it.” He said with a smile.

“Oh I don’t like it.” Replied Lefty with a bluntness that took Blu aback.

“Like, it’s a neat trick, but I like your regular voice more.” He said with the same deadpan tone. “You can keep doing it if you want.” He added with a shrug “But you don’t have to impress me or anything. I already think you’re neat.” he said before taking another bite of his bread.

Once more Ol’ Blu was at a loss. His… voice skills… as Lefty had called them, were one of the main reasons that people kept kickens around to begin with. Lefty himself had admitted they were impressive… and yet he didn’t care about that… he just wanted to talk with Ol Blu. It was touching in a strange way.

The old kicken awkwardly thanked the lad again, and took another bite of his bread to gather his thoughts. Fortunately Lefty had another question to keep things moving along.

“So… what else can chefs do with food? Is there like… a cheese that can make me hit things harder?”

Ol Blu closed his eyes and prepared to launch into another lecture… but then he didn’t. Instead he took a deep breath, looked up at Lefty with his one good eye, and spoke to him directly, talking in his own voice and using his own words, rather than reciting someone else's.

“No lad, enhanced strength is more of a drink magic thing… and you wouldn’t want to do that anyway, it’s not worth the downsides. Food magic is all about restoring and revitalizing. You know: food is fuel. It can give you energy. Wipe away your fatigue. Heal your injuries, stuff like that. A well made steak might be able to put you in top condition so you can use all the strength you already have… but it won’t make your muscles bigger than they already are.”

“Ah okay.” Lefty said, nodding. “I guess that makes sense. Can’t hit stuff harder, but if I do hit hard, then it can make my arms not hurt as much.”

“...yeah.” Blu said warily.

“And how hard is it to learn this stuff? Can we make more of this bread if we follow a recipe or do we need like… magic… hands… or something?”

Ol Blu sighed. This was going to be a long day. But at least the boy’s thoughts had drifted away from hitting things.

“Anyone can do magic lad… but it’s not as simple as following a recipe. It’s kind of like playing an instrument.”

“An instrument? Lefty said, tilting his head. “Like a… flute?”

Ol Blu sighed again. “Look, what I mean is, food magic, and all magics for that matter, are… half way between engineering and art. There are rules to cooking, and you have to know them well to make anything. But if you want to excel at magic, if you want to be a mage and make something special, then you also need talent, intuition, and creativity. It can’t all be learned in a book, is what I’m saying, or explained in a single conversation. A lot of it you have to… learn through experience; by doing it over and over again.”

“Ah. Okay.” Said Lefty, pausing for a moment to ponder the words. “So those guys out there were like, really experienced and talented or whatever?” He said, gesturing vaguely towards the lower floors of the tabernacle.

The kicken’s face tightened as he thought of the three men who had prepared the meal they were now eating. He had been nothing but kind and professional to them, and yet they had treated him so poorly. It was infuriating. Ol Blu had been trained to put his emotions aside, to not let a foul attitude ruin the good mood of his masters… but Lefty was not his master… not yet at least. So instead Ol’ Blu spat onto the floor and allowed himself to rant.

“Pah! Those pathetic grumpsters are barely chefs. Cooks at best. Took them three days to make this bread and it's barely even magical!”

If Lefty found this outburst shocking or annoying he didn’t show it. He just kept eating his bread so Ol’ Blu continued.

“I know this is all new to you lad, but trust me when I say that an actual food mage could whip up something like this up in an afternoon if they wanted to! But bread like this is barely worth their time! I've had meals that fill you up for days! I’ve had stew that’ll keep you warm in the dead of winter! Sweets that will cure your cough in seconds. And that's just from regular mages! Any shop in The Capital can sell you that stuff!”

“Now a true food meister, there's some magic lad. I've heard they can make meals powerful enough to bring people back from the dead! ...It's probably not true, but they must be able to do something amazing to start rumors like that!”

“Interesting.” Said Lefty, taking another bite of the delicious bread. He didn’t sound very impressed, but Ol Blu could see in his eyes that he was fascinated. The kicken was already learning to read the boy’s mannerisms.

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Blu decided that this would be a good opportunity to break away from the topic of magic, and address the other thing Lefty had asked him about the previous night.

“As for the Food Tabernacle, it’s a monument. There’s ten of them in total, spread all over Att, built by the mad king Scaevolus. I assume you’ve heard of him, right?”

“Yeah, he’s the king.” Lefty said finishing up a mouthful of bread,

Blu breathed a sigh of relief, at least the boy knew this.

And then Left did something that made the old kicken gasp. He held up two fingers on his right hand and placed his hand over his heart. “Life is duty, and duty is service to the state.” He said, his voice somehow sounding even more lifeless “All praise King Scaevolus, may he reign forever.”He added, before closing his two fingers together and giving his hand a firm shake.

“Who the Khhel taught you to do that!” Ol Blu said, perhaps raising his voice a bit too high.

Lefty actually flinched a bit, blinking a few times before finally saying. “Uhhh…. Everyone? I- I don’t get it? Is that… wrong?”

Ol Blu stared in disbelief. “Lad… Scaevolus hasn’t been king for a looong time.”

Now it was Lefty’s turn to stare in disbelief. “Wha?” Was all he could stammer out.

“And making those kinds of hand gestures… these days… is likely to get you punched in the face.”

“Wha?!” Lefty said again, but louder.

“Yeah lad. Closing the Y is practically an insult. It means peaceful negotiations are no longer an option. You do that anywhere on Att and it means you’re looking for a fight!”

Lefty stared blankly at Blu, his mouth hanging open “...but we never fight anyone.”

“Tell that to those chefs out there,” Ol Blu replied.

“No, I mean before that. Back home. We do this all the time.” Lefty said, rapidly opening and closing his fingers at Blu as if the kicken had somehow forgotten.

“It’s like… a greeting… I don’t know. Everyone just does it. You know: “Good morning.”, “Life is duty.”, “Sleep well?” “Yeah, Glory to Scaevolus” “The latrine needs cleaning again.” Every day it’s the same old-”

Lefty stopped mid sentence, as being struck by something “Wait… did you say he’s not even king anymore?! How did that happen? Who’s king now? Do I even have duty?!”

Ol Blu sighed. They were going to be here a while.