Salt Fat Acid Magic [Nom-Fiction | Food Fights | Culinary Academy]

They're here for me.

A freezing chill worked its way up Julienne's arms, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. He thought he had overcome the fear of death that had manifested itself during the truffle hunt, but now he realized that the fear hadn't gone away at all. It had simply grown dormant deep within him like lava beneath a volcano.

And now it erupted.

His body acted on its own. It took a step back. His arms folded over his chest, his hands grabbing the opposite shoulder. He couldn't blink, leaving his eyes to water. His trembling jaw caught his tongue between his front teeth. His hearing sharpened. The clamor and outcries of the guests passed by with a buzz, but the conversation between Honovi and Gristle came in crystal clear.

"Invisible?" Honovi kicked off the wall and moved past the Gluttons that jumped up and retreated to the far corner of the room. "What makes you say that? What happened to Melo?"

"I was on the door, Melo was on the battlements. I couldn't see him, but I heard something happening. Then he fell. Bloody. Dead."

Every muscle in Julienne's body tensed. If he got any colder, he'd freeze to death.

A Glutton grabbed Gristle's shoulder. "Get me out of here!"

Gristle pushed the man's hand off of him and continued. "A second later, before I could react to Melo, there was another thud. A bunch of dirt kicked up. My guess is someone jumping down. Guards on the battlement said they saw Melo fighting the air."

Flames flickered on Honovi's fingers as he walked to intercept anyone that might come out of the kitchen. The heat unfroze Julienne enough for him to stumble back and assess the room. The Chancellor of Culinary Arts was crying and whimpering. Half a dozen Gluttons whimpered with him, the other half dozen sharpening their fear into anger as they demanded something be done. Nori was trying to get Flambé and Hollyhock to get up, but neither had the strength. And sitting in the middle of the chaotic room, Waldorf held his wife's shoulder down with one hand while he casually snacked on a scone.

"Do we know anyone that can turn invisible?" Honovi asked.

"Shit, I didn't know you could turn invisible." Gristle took position near the center of the room, the sour smell that emanated from him choking Julienne.

"I didn't either. Only thing I know that is invisible is the Kuutsu."

"Yeah? So is it one of you people?"

A faint irritability showed on Honovi's face, but he stayed focused on the mission. "Like I said, I didn't know a person could become invisible. Are you sure that's what's happening?"

"No, but if that door opens up and no one's standing in it, I expect you to flame out."

"Oh, I'm ready. Either door. There's a balcony entrance to the kitchen."

Julienne stared at the kitchen door. If Mindy came through that door—which she might given the commotion happening in the dining room—Honovi would burn her to a crisp before she knew what was happening. If Yarrow opened the door and Honovi didn't kill him quickly, everyone would burn.

"Wait!" Julienne jumped between Honovi and the kitchen door. "We still have Chefs in there."

"I'm not here to protect them," Gristle hissed.

Julienne looked at Honovi in the hopes that he was the more reasonable one. Honovi seemed to read his mind and nodded. "Bring them in here. But keep that door closed tight behind you."

Julienne hopped into action, but he only managed one step before Gristle grabbed him by the sleeve. For as tall and lanky as Gristle was, he would have torn Julienne's sleeve off before letting go.

"That door's not opening."

Julienne tried and failed to jerk away. "They could be in danger."

"I don't give a shit."

Julienne tried to leap away again, prompting Gristle to fling him to the ground behind Flambé. Nori graced him with a split second of worry before returning her attention to the grand king.

"Come on," she said as she pulled Flambe's arm up. "Let's get you home."

"I need…a second," Flambé gasped.

"It could be dangerous," Hollyhock groaned.

And then a chorus of Gluttons added to the mayhem.

"Who is out there?"

"Quit sitting around and go kill them!"

"We need an escort out of here!"

Gristle stood tall over Julienne. "Stay down."

"Ease off," Honovi said. "He's practically royalty."

"Practically."

Waldorf's wife broke down and sobbed.

"Come on," Nori pleaded.

And then Waldorf silenced them all with a heavy slap on the table. Everyone in the room turned to him. He did not raise his voice or rush his words. This was all nothing but a mild inconvenience to him. He started with his wife, giving her a cold look that froze the tears in her eyes and stopped her shaking. Then he turned to Gristle.

"Let him up."

Gristle stepped back. Julienne stood and looked at the front door. Had someone been watching it through the chaos? Was the assassin in the room with them already? Waldorf cleared his throat, drawing Julienne's attention.

"You'll return to the kitchen and continue the dinner service."

"What?" Julienne asked, Gristle and Honovi both echoing him by a shadow of a second.

"I came here to eat," Waldorf stated. "You are here to cook for me. You two are here to protect me. As long as we continue to play our roles, the night might be salvaged yet."

Honovi's face drooped with sadness. "But Melo…"

"His death is insignificant so long as you two continue to play your role."

Honovi flinched.

"Sorghum!" Waldorf yelled.

A Glutton came stumbling forward. "Ye—yes?"

"Inform the elder Julienne of the intrusion. Have him mobilize every Labruscellan guard to secure the restaurant."

Sorghum trembled and stared at the door. "Bu—but it's dangerous out there."

"You're too insignificant to warrant an assassin. Now go before it becomes more dangerous for you in here than out there."

Sorghum trembled one last time and started slowly creeping toward the door as if it might whip open at any moment. But Julienne stayed frozen to the spot. Sorghum wasn't important enough to be assassinated, but Julienne was. Someone had already tried, and now they spent their days in the deepest jail in Ambrosia City.

Or did they? Julienne had never seen Neccio imprisoned. Maybe he had never been imprisoned at all. Maybe he had been taken all the way down to the deepest levels of the dungeon and there was a handshake and a passage of money and he went out some secret exit. He had the money to outbid Uncle Julienne, he had the money to bribe his way out. If not at the moment of his arrest, maybe now. Maybe he had spent the last few months figuring out his escape and he was halfway to Labrusca but made one quick stop to hire someone to finish the job left undone.

But what if the assassin was after Uncle Julienne?

"Wait!" Julienne called out.

Sorghum turned with the tentative smile of someone who hoped he might be excused of his duty. "Yes?"

"Make sure my uncle is safe."

Sorghum stiffened his upper lip and scoffed. Waldorf drummed his heavy fingers on the table, driving both Julienne and Sorghum to action. Gristle escorted Sorghum out the front as Honovi escorted Julienne into the kitchen.

Mindy was only a few steps away from coming through the door herself. Julienne shuddered to think of what would have happened to her if they were just a few seconds slower to enter.

"I was just coming to check on all that noise," Mindy said.

Honovi shoved Julienne through the doorway and stopped it from swinging open again.

Julienne looked beyond Mindy to the balcony door. "Has that door opened?"

"The door?" Mindy looked back. "I don't…think so? I've been busy. The cranberry emulsion is—"

"Has that door opened?"

"Not that I saw." Yarrow barely gave the door a glance as he worked four different pans.

"No clue," Oliver said. "What's up?"

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The walls of the kitchen stretched away from Julienne. The counters grew tall enough to hide a dozen assassins. A knife had been left out on Uncle Julienne's pod. When did any of his Chefs not clean their station? If an invisible person grabbed the knife, would it become invisible too? And why were the details of the room melting away?

Julienne vomited on the floor. An unrecognizable breakfast splattered onto Mindy's shoes.

She jumped back and groaned. "Whoa!"

"Whoa-hoa!" Oliver laughed.

"Are you okay?" Yarrow asked.

Acid burned Julienne's throat and nose. He blew something out of his nose and pointed at the balcony door. "There's an assassin in the walls."

Metal scraped on metal and Julienne braced for impact. He remembered the machete that had sliced him.

But there was no machete. Yarrow had cast his pans aside, thrown down his towel, and marched to the door at the ready.

"Don't open it!" Julienne urged. "They think they're invisible."

"Whoa," Oliver sighed.

Acid dripped from Yarrow's fingers. "So they could be in here already?"

Mindy supported Julienne and leaned him against the wall. "Have you been poisoned?"

Julienne's head swam. He couldn't take any more possibilities. "No. I don't—I don't know. We need to—they might be in the room with us."

"No one panic," Oliver said. "I have an idea."

He uncorked a bottle of wine and took a sip.

"Really, Oliver?" Mindy scolded. "Now's not the time."

He lifted a finger to his mouth to shush her. Julienne swore he saw him smile.

Oliver's cheeks filled up, his finger came down, and he blew out an unbelievably dense stream of bubbles. They fanned out, covering Uncle Julienne's pod. Oliver took another drink and blew another burst, sending the first array of bubbles scattering into the far corners of the room. Two more times, and they circled around Julienne and Mindy, popping when they touched them. Two times after that, and a rough horizontal layer of bubbles filled the entire room just above counter-height. Oliver jumped to stand on top of the counter and look down at the rest of the kitchen.

"And now they fall…"

They waited and watched as the bubbles slowly descended to the ground. None popped early.

"I think we're good," Oliver said with a proud grin.

Mindy let out a nervous laugh. Yarrow returned his attention to the balcony door. Julienne slid down the wall and held his head in his hands.

"What do we do?" Mindy asked.

Julienne opened his mouth to speak but sobbed instead.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Mindy crouched down and put her arm around him.

Julienne took a deep breath, his stomach rumbling and threatening to spew again. "Waldorf says we have to cook."

Yarrow scoffed. "Fuck Waldorf."

"Keep your voice down," Mindy scolded. "Forget it, Julienne. He can't expect us to cook right now."

Oliver chuckled. His sense of humor remained steadfast despite the circumstances. "You've met him, right?"

"We have to," Julienne insisted. "We're stuck in here with them for who knows how long. You want to deal with them getting hungry?"

"They'll send us out as bait," Oliver added. "Or eat us!"

Mindy scowled at Oliver. "Now is not the time for jokes."

"Now is the perfect time for jokes. Look!" Oliver pointed at Julienne. "He's about to laugh!"

Julienne threw up again.

Mindy barely got out of the way this time. She took several heaving breaths, infected by either Julienne's anxiety or his nausea. "Okay! Don't worry! We'll cook. We can do this. I can do this. Julienne, you just rest for a second. Yarrow, you—"

"I'm watching the door," Yarrow declared.

"Okay." Mindy looked at Oliver. "Me and you, then."

"Oh, baby, I've dreamed of it."

"I wonder what Cress would say about that."

"Point taken."

"Good. Now get down from there." Mindy ran to Yarrow's abandoned pans and stirred and flipped and moved everything so that it wouldn't burn. Julienne just sat next to a puddle of vomit and watched, his vision narrow and blackened around the edges.

Oliver hopped off the counter. "What am I making?"

"Something to pacify our guests," Mindy answered.

"I already put my sleepy whiskey in the scones."

The ridiculousness of the name pierced the veil of Julienne's suffering. Sleepy whiskey.

Mindy finished attending to the pans and took a moment to collect herself. "Okay. How else can we use the whiskey? Whiskey glaze? Whiskey glaze. Whiskey-glazed carrots. Whiskey-glazed sprouts. Let's turn these beans into chili and give it a good pour. And then we'll do a whiskey cream sauce for…"

Julienne watched Mindy work, fear giving in to amazement. He had only ever seen her cook up close, and in the chaos of the kitchen, never had a chance to truly appreciate her talent. She was always working on two things at once, this sauce and that meat, that stock and those vegetables. If she ever had a hand free, she used it to brush back her beautiful blonde hair. She made effort seem effortless. If she had a third arm, it'd probably be busy too.

Oliver was no slouch either. He shadowed Mindy, adding spice or alcohol or little pinches of herbs. But he did not move with her efficiency. Instead, he spun and took zigzagging steps and swung his hips around as he moved from one station to the next.

"I don't think they're here for you," he said as he smashed a clove of garlic with his wrist. "This is like, the most guarded you've ever been. You seen Waldorf's security?"

Julienne almost—almost—laughed at Oliver's nonchalance.

"If someone wanted to kill you, they'd grab you going down Restaurant Row."

And anxiety closed its grip back around Julienne.

"No, they must be after Flambé or Waldorf. My guess is Waldorf. I heard a couple stories at work of failed attempts."

Mindy shook her head. "You heard. How drunk were they?"

"Well, I could still understand them, couldn't I? Apparently they had to evacuate some other restaurant. I guess if you're going to try to kill a Glutton, there would be worse plans than waiting outside a restaurant."

Julienne stood and braced himself against the wall. Vomiting had left aftershocks in his stomach and acid in his throat, but his full field of vision returned with some controlled breathing. In. In. In. Out.

He stumbled over the washbasin, regaining confidence in his footing with each step. By the time he made it across the room, he felt good enough to fill a bucket with soapy water and carry it back to his mess.

"You okay?" Mindy asked.

"I can't—" Julienne coughed to clear the raspiness in his voice. "I can't sit around and watch you do everything." Julienne dumped the water on the floor. The sound drew Yarrow's attention for just a moment before he turned back to the door. Julienne touched the burn marks on his forearm and started with the mop.

He told himself he was okay. Yarrow wouldn't let anyone through the balcony. He could have had a bright future as a guard with the way he stood at attention. Honovi and Gristle were probably just as alert in the other room.

Julienne was safe from anything outside the restaurant. He just had to worry about the people in it. He just had to stay calm. Breathe. In. In. In. Out.

"Chili, huh?" Oliver asked. "Not very fine dining. I thought this place was supposed to be nice."

Mindy walked into the interior of the U-shaped pod—something non-Julienne's did at their own risk. But Julienne didn't mind. In fact, the moment that she stepped into that leadership position, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He finished cleaning and took Mindy's usual spot.

"Whiskey-glazed carrots, right? These are thick. I'll score them. Pass me my knife."

The edge of Julienne's knife wavered and shook over the first carrot. He gave in to fear and looked at the balcony door as he pushed the knife down.

"Look where you're cutting," Mindy instructed.

"Right." Julienne took a deep breath and tried—and failed—to steady his hand. He couldn't control his body, so he sought to control his mind. He could find a way through this. His mind made him afraid, but his mind didn't want to be afraid. There had to exist some rationale that could end the contradiction.

Someone was out there, and Melo was dead. Maybe that was it. Whoever the assassin was had killed one of the most acclaimed fighters in Ambrosia City. They'd kill Julienne without breaking a sweat. So why did it matter if Julienne was ready for someone to come through that door? If they came through, either Yarrow would kill them, or they'd kill Julienne. If they didn't, then Julienne just had to worry about the Gluttons. Yeah, he could work with that. He breathed. In. In. In. Out.

A few minutes later, he pushed a cart toward the swinging door. "Julienne coming through," he announced. After a sufficient pause, he pushed through the door, letting the cart slowly inch forward and preparing himself to dive away at the first sight of incoming flames.

Nothing came but Waldorf's complaint. "Finally. We've been starving in here."

The tables had been refilled with guests who had drowsy, heavy eyes, and Honovi and Gristle still seemed as tense as Julienne had left them, but it was the group on the floor that drew his attention. Nori and Hollyhock were sat and looking down at Flambé, who laid flat on the ground, his crown cast aside.

Julienne stopped in place.

"Well, hurry up!" Waldorf complained.

Flambé's chest did not rise and fall. A cold dread washed over Julienne. "He's not…"

"He's fine," Waldorf droned. "Now bring me my plate."

Julienne spotted the glisten of tears in Nori's eyes. Was it over? Had the world ended?

"Now!" Waldorf shouted loud enough to shake Julienne.

"He's resting. He'll be okay," Hollyhock said. But it was clear she didn't believe it. "He's just gathering his strength. Once the guards come, everything will be fine."

The front door jostled from the wind. Everyone but Waldorf turned with fearful expressions, none more fearful than Julienne's. His stomach tensed, and he took a long, controlled breath so that he wouldn't vomit on Waldorf's food. He'd probably be executed on the spot. Julienne reminded himself there was nothing to be done for the things outside the Cafe. He could only control what happened inside it. And so he pushed the cart around Flambé's limp body, hearing just the faintest rasp of breath coming from the sickly king, and served Waldorf his plate.

Waldorf wriggled his fingers near his smiling, closed eyes. "Mmmm. What do we have here?"

Julienne stared at the food and pretended he was serving to anyone other than the Grand Glutton. "Alright. For this round, we're building on a flavor profile. You might have noticed a faint hint of whiskey in the scones—"

"—of course I did."

Julienne smiled and nodded. "That flavor is the string that ties this dish together. We have whiskey-glazed carrots, potato mash served with a whiskey gravy that has a bit of sugar to give it that sweetness, and a whiskey cream sauce served over tenderloin."

To Julienne's surprise, Waldorf hovered over the plate but did not start eating.

"That's the theme? Whiskey?" Waldorf sighed. "I thought Cafe Julienne prided itself on its narrative strengths."

The taste of blood filled Julienne's mouth. He swallowed down his nausea. "Given everything that's happening, I thought it most important to just serve plentiful, delicious food."

Waldorf chuckled, bouncing up and down in a chair that had been custom-made and triply reinforced. "Very good, very good. I think that should be the model of all restaurants going forward. Bergamot!"

The chancellor jumped in his seat. "Yes, Grand Prince Waldorf?"

"When my father finally dies, remind me to review the curriculum at the Academy." Waldorf considered the bite of carrot on his fork, then his father on the ground. "Unless it's later today. Then I won't need reminding."

Julienne saw Nori tense. And he saw Gristle see Nori tense. The guard positioned himself to handle either her or the front door, whichever moved first.

"Of course, Grand Prince Waldorf," Bergamot said. "Just the Academy? Or all Culinary Academies?"

Crack!

Waldorf bit into the carrot. "Hm. I suppose they could benefit from my guidance as well."

"They certainly could, Your Grace."

Julienne pushed the cart to the next guest. He didn't need Waldorf's validation of the dish. It was food. It was edible. It was plentiful. That was all it took for these people. Some of the Gluttons took food off the plate before Julienne could finish setting it down. The non-Glutton members of Flambé's council kept as quiet as they always had in the presence of Waldorf and his entourage. Julienne resented those council members as much as he did the rest. A real man wouldn't have abided by such monsters. But then again, maybe a real man wouldn't serve them dinner either.

He'd have to make his stand another day. For today, with the threat of death looming both outside and inside the restaurant, Julienne just pushed his cart back into the kitchen, cooked a bit, loaded it back up, and went out to serve those he hated. On his third trip around, a group of Acorn Guards came in and gave the all clear. Flambé was rushed out along with Nori and Hollyhock, and some of the other guests had fallen asleep in their chairs from Oliver's sleepy whiskey, but Waldorf's demeanor remained unchanged through the announcement of their safety. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and ate a crumb from the cloth.

"Now that that's been settled, tell me, young Julienne, what is our next course?"