The sailors loomed closer and closer, their hands eager to grab her and throw her into the dark sea. Melina wondered whether she could even reason with these men, their eyes seemed blind from fear. But then she noticed Brock standing among the sailors, his expression mixed with confusion.
Perhaps, I could convince Brock to believe me. He doesn't strike me as an unreasonable man. If he were to vouch for me, perhaps others would follow.
"I merely tried to help in any way I knew I could," she said, slowly shuffling closer to the cook. "I didn't want everyone here to die."
Brock's expression hardened and for a moment she feared that she had done herself in. The man walked up to her and gripped her shoulder.
"Do you all really believe that this child could have sent the monster upon us?" he asked the sailors.
"Don't let her looks deceive you. Witches are masters of camouflage. They can change themselves to look innocent," the old sailor bellowed.
"Yeh!"
"He's right!"
What witches? There's no such thing. I'm pretty sure that I used to be the closest thing this world had to a witch before, but I certainly could not shapeshift. Only a few rare monsters can do that.
"If I had wanted you all dead, then why would I come aboard this ship? I would have died along with you," Melina argued.
"She's exactly right. Besides I doubt a witch as you call her would put up with all the chores I made this girl do," Brock agreed.
"Enough of this bullshit," the Captain growled, raising one of his arms. The sailors instantly stopped their advance. "This child shares information on how to safely pass by a monster and you want to throw her overboard? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves? A bunch of adult men getting scared of some ancient superstitions and ganging up on a little girl. It's disgusting!"
All of the sailors lowered their gazes, except for old man Peter who was first to accuse Melina. "But, Captain,we have never encountered a leviathan here before!"
"So that's instantly her fault? You know monsters can travel to other places right? This bay is filled with fish. Is it really that surprising that one of them has wandered in here? Now, enough of this nonsense. If I hear of this from someone again, I'm throwing them overboard. Back to your stations, you cowardly land rats!"
The sailors slumped and then turned to return to their respective workstations. Most of them looked like guilty puppies, except for a rare few who kept glaring at Melina before leaving. None of them dared to say anything back at the Captain anymore.
"Sorry about that, lassie. These old sailors and their superstitions. One would think modern people don't believe in such nonsense anymore, but when they need a scapegoat then they're quick to remember them," the Captain said. Brock sighed in relief and released his grip on Melina.
"That's why I told you to remain below deck," the chef grumbled, poking Melina's forehead with his finger. She touched her forehead and looked at him with a guilty expression.
"If she had remained below deck, then we'd have a fight on our hands. And I'm not sure whether we could have won it. Even if we could have, many would have died and gotten injured," the Captain said, then smiled at Melina. "Thank you, lass!"
"You're welcome," she mumbled, still a bit shaken from the whole situation.
"Even so you have disobeyed an order from your direct superior. You're going to receive punishment," Brock said sternly, and the Captain nodded in agreement.
"Alas, that is true. Order on the ship must be maintained!"
"Punishment?" Melina looked at the chef, wondering what kind of punishment would he even give her. Would they flog her? She has heard of sailors getting flogged for disobeying orders, but would they really enact a physical punishment? She shuddered at the thought of having the whip hit the fragile skin on her back. It would surely leave scars and could leave her immobile for several days, maybe even a week.
"You'll be in charge of washing dishes from now on. All of them," Brock said sternly and Melina blinked at him. It took her a moment to register the enormity of the task, and then she paled, remembering the number of plates she had to put on the dining table.
"But then I'll be doing nothing but wash dishes all day," she protested.
"Then you'll be washing the dishes all day. On ship the word of your superior is absolute. Doesn't matter that you're not part of the crew," Brock said, and Melina slumped.
"There, there, lass. It'll just be for two days. You'll be free to go once we reach Sunglow Town," the Captain smiled at her encouragingly.
"Yes, I'm sure you'll manage. You're quite a tough cookie from what I've seen," Brock said. "Now, then—enough prattling. Let's get back to work. The breakfast dishes need a good scrubbing."
Melina sighed, already dreading the mountain of plates awaiting her. But on the bright side, she would not be thrown overboard. Brock put his hand on her back and gently guided her towards the stairs while shielding her from the view of other sailors. From the corner of her eye, she saw some angry glances in her direction.
That's what I get for stepping out of line. But at least I managed to prevent any fighting. We'd all be on the bottom of the sea if we attacked the leviathan. Certainly wouldn't be a fun way to start a new life.
With a heavy heart and sullen mood, Melina returned to the kitchen where she was promptly put to work washing all the breakfast dishes. To say that the task was arduous would be an understatement. Not only was there a whole mountain of dirty dishes to wash, but the fact that they were on a ship only inhibited her further.
First of all, she had to put any leftovers in a special bucket which would later be either used as bait for fish or food for seagulls. Second, the amount of water she could use was very limited—one pot of boiled water and one pot of cold water for rinsing. Third, the ship didn't have any convenient plate dryer rack so she had to wipe every single plate, utensil, and cup dry with a towel.
I still can't believe that they wanted to throw me overboard. I knew sailors were superstitious but is that really all it was? Or could this relate to the skill
No, no, now I'm just overthinking it. These people cannot remember those events because they never really experienced them. I am probably the only one who knows what happened. Or rather what could happen. But I'm not going to let it happen again. I won't let the Church find me and instead live as a baker in a faraway town. As long as nobody finds out that I have access to the System, everything will be fine.
So Melina's thoughts kept going back to the incident with the sailors and the leviathan, as she cleaned one plate after the next. Her fingers had already turned all wrinkly from the water and her arms were getting tired from all the plate scrubbing and then wiping them. There was an increasing pile of wet towels building up next to her, and at one point it felt like the task would never end.
But after what felt like an eternity, she finally wiped the last fork dry. Melina slumped down onto the small stool, hoping to get a moment of rest when Brock strode into the kitchen, carrying four dead chickens by their necks.
"Time to prepare lunch," he announced, and Melina barely suppressed a groan. This was going to be a long day.
Clean the vegetables, peel the vegetables, cut the vegetables, and throw them in the pot. Try not to peel off my skin or cut my fingers. Throw the peel, clean up the chopping board, clean the counter, bring out the plates to the dining hall, and put the roasted vegetables on the plates. Go back to the kitchen.
One would think that all these tasks aren't so bad—it wasn't anything like fighting an oversized monster that could swallow you in one gulp. But when the sheer quantity of work you had to do was this much, at some point you start wishing you would be fighting a monster. The monotony of the task was making Melina feel like she would go insane.
At least I gained another level and a new skill. An extra stat in
[Refined Edge: Enhances user's ability to cut, chop, and slice vegetables, herbs, meat as well as other cooking ingredients with high precision and speed. At Rank F can be used 3 times a day for 5 minutes each.]
Five minutes isn't long when looking at how long I've been chopping these vegetables, but the duration will likely increase at a higher rank. Quite honestly, I'll take whatever System throws at me if it'll make my job easier.
"Hey, girlie!" Brock called out, startling out of her contemplation. She eyed the man warily, fearing that she'd be set to do another task. "Come and eat with me today!"
Brock offered a plate of roast vegetables and chicken, and Melina took it gratefully. They each sat down on one of the small stools in the kitchen. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward silence as they began to slowly nibble at their food.
"Why aren't you eating with the crew today?" She asked after a while.
"Because I am mad at those fools for trying to throw you overboard. Senile old coots should get a flogging for spouting such nonsense. Throwing a child overboard," Brock grumbled angrily and stabbed into the chicken with such ferocity, that Melina feared the plate would break. She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just put a piece of chicken in her mouth and chewed.
It was cooked to perfection, juicy, and nicely seasoned. Obviously, it had been Brock to do the majority of the cooking since Melina was up to her ears with other tasks. Although she doubted she could cook the meat so perfectly.
"I'm really sorry that happened to you, Melina. They are good lads usually, but seeing that monstrosity must have fogged their brains over," Brock continued after a brief pause.
"It was quite a monster," Melina said, not knowing how to respond. Saying "it's alright" didn't feel proper, because she wasn't exactly alright with it. In fact, she made a point of avoiding the sailors, which was rather easy with all the work she had to do in the kitchen. Melina stared down at the plate, her appetite diminishing.
"Even so, you held your nerve quite well. I expected a girl to be more scared, but you were braver than many of the so-called seasoned sea wolves. Not to mention that your knowledge of the beast saved our hides," the chef smiled at her, and she looked away, not daring to meet his gaze.
"I was saving my hide as much as I was saving yours," she replied glumly.
"Still, you have my thanks. I'll make sure that nobody bothers you until the journey is over," he said, taking a bite of some of the vegetables.
"Thank you. That is reassuring," she nodded gratefully and chewed on a sweet carrot, some of her appetite returning.
"Of course. Now tell me, why are you heading to Sunglow Town? The place is riddled with various monsters, you know," Brock asked. Melina chewed on her carrot slowly, thinking about how to best answer the question. She decided to admit the truth. Some of it at least.
"I'm hoping that the baker in Sunglow Town will accept me as his apprentice. The guild in Tuvia City doesn't accept orphans as apprentices, but the receptionist was kind enough to point out that there was a master looking for an apprentice in Sunglow."
"Gilbert is actually looking for an apprentice? I never thought I'd see the day," Brock laughed heartily.
"You know him?"
"Of course. We sail to Sunglow all the time, and he's got the best bread in all of Alemahria. But the man always seemed so adamant about not taking apprentices. I wonder what changed," the chef scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, according to the receptionist he hasn't really accepted anyone as his apprentice yet. He's rejected everyone," Melina said, a slight frown appearing on her face as she once again began to worry about what she would do if Gilbert would not take her on as an apprentice.
"So he is still as stubborn as ever. But I can tell you something that might make him willing to accept you," Brock said.
"Really?"
"Yeah. First, and I believe this is kind of obvious, but you must show him your willingness to work hard. It is likely he won't give you any important jobs at the start but rather just give you the grunt work. You must tough it out," the chef said, eating some more of his vegetables. Melina nodded, eating her own food enthusiastically while listening to him.
"Second, remain humble. Never brag about what education you've had or what you have learned. He doesn't care for that stuff anyway—the man himself is a living legend so none of that will impress him. The Late Queen herself wanted him as her personal chef after all," Brock explained.
"Even the Queen?" Melina gaped. She never expected the man to be of such high caliber. Now she understood why he had rejected all the previous apprentices—he was no doubt looking for the best one.
It seems like I have a gargantuan task ahead of me.
"Oh, yes. He rejected her—the man absolutely hates nobles, but the reputation remained with him. I believe it is well-earned. But don't worry, he might seem scary, but in fact, Gilbert is a fair man. If he'll see in you what I did, then I'm sure he'll accept you," the chef said with a satisfied smile, finishing the last of the meal. Melina smiled at him and nodded.
"Thank you! I really hope you're right," she said, looking down at the vegetables on her plate.
"Work hard and your efforts will surely be recognized. Now, eat up and rest for a bit. There'll be a lot of dishes to clean after lunch," Brock said, quickly cleaning up his own plate and leaving the kitchen. Melina groaned.
It was the evening of their third day at sea. During this time, Melina continued helping Brock in the kitchen and dealing with the mountain of dishes after each meal, she felt like she had been out in the wilderness fighting monsters. Her hands felt like they were about to fall off at any moment, she was exhausted from the bad sleep. The only consolation was that she was steadily gaining experience.
[Name: Melina Dufour]
[Level: 4]
[Class: Cook]
[Intelligence: 5]
[Agility: 5]
[Strength: 6]
[Skill: 7]
[Charm: 5]
[Active Skills: 1]
[Refined Edge – Rank F]
[Passive Skills: 2]
[Archmage's Shadow.]
[Chef's Intuition – Rank F.]
It's not much, but at least it's some progress. I wonder if I'm close to reaching Level 5.
"Excited to leave the ship?" Brock asked her as she was wiping some of the last plates dry.
"I think I'm more nervous than excited," she admitted, thinking of what she would do once they arrived in Sunglow. It was already getting late, so she couldn't go to the bakery today. Meaning she'd have to find an inn where to stay which meant expenses that she really wanted to avoid.
"Understandable. But I get a feeling you'll like it there," Brock said with a smile, helping her wipe down some of the last plates.
"Why?" she arched her eyebrow and looked at him. They didn't exactly know each other for long so she wondered how he came to that conclusion.
"You seem like the perfect type for Sunglow—unassuming and quiet on the surface, but with a lot of strength underneath. I believe you'll resonate with the people living there well," the chef explained.
"I hope so…" she said, returning her gaze to the plate in her hands.
Would it even be wise for me to get close to people? They could discover that I am a System user. No, I don't want to risk that chance. I'll keep up appearances and interact with people when necessary, but I'll try not to get too close to anybody.
A loud horn resounded through the ship, signaling that they had arrived at the port. Melina and Brock shared a look and quickly finished wiping down the last of the plates.
"It was a pleasure to work together with you, Melina! I wish you good luck in Sunglow Town. But if it doesn't work out, then I am willing to take you on as my assistant," Brock said and extended a hand toward Melina. She stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then shook his hand.
"Thank you… That means a lot," she said, feeling as if a heavy weight was lifted off her shoulders. With this, even if Gilbert did not accept her as an apprentice, she still had a backup plan. Although, she'd rather not work on a ship where the crew tried to chuck her overboard.
"No problem. I'd always appreciate a good assistant. Those are hard to come by," he said, and the two of them said their goodbye, Melina rushing to get her meager belongings from her sleeping place in the haystack. As she ran onto the deck, she saw how the sun was slowly beginning to set on the horizon and how it shone over the pier and the rooftops of the town.
It was a small town, she could tell right away. However, as she gazed over the tiled rooftops, cobblestone streets, and the sturdy stone wall that surrounded the city, she felt her heart filling with excitement. If all went well, this town would be her home for the foreseeable future.