“Too many cooks,” I sang to myself as I pondered my next choice.
In addition to the chefs, I also needed to assign a quartermaster. Similarly to our new overseer, the quartermaster’s task was to supervise the storage and distribution of ingredients and consumables, ensuring rations were shared equally, and that the chefs were operating at maximum efficiency.
After some careful scrutiny of my remaining blank slates, I selected an unusually slender gnome. He was so pale that he almost appeared translucent. His hair was mouse-brown, like Benin’s, and hung in lank strands down to his shoulders like rats’ tails.
I’ll name you Rattail, I thought as I assigned him the ‘quartermaster’ vocation.
Rattail blinked his big, pale gray eyes in surprise and then went to check on the cooks.
“You know, he looks a lot like Gneil,” said Ket. “I wonder if they’re related?”
“It’s a small tribe. They’re all related,” I pointed out. “It’s a miracle none of them have webbed fingers.”
We watched Rattail get to work, critically examining ingredients and taking stock of the remaining supplies of rations.
“Did you choose the skinniest gnome on purpose this time?” asked Ket accusingly.
“Of course. You can’t trust a tubby quartermaster.”
As promised, the chefs proved their worth from the get-go. They rapidly grew skilled at butchering the game brought back by the scouts and at utilizing parts of the animals that had previously gone to waste.
Perhaps I should have made Swift and Cheer chefs a long time ago, I thought, remembering their sheep-brain soup.
The higher quality of the chef-made food also noticeably improved morale, probably because it was now being prepared by individuals with an awareness of how flavors were supposed to work. Our ingredients also stretched further than before, and as the cooks grew more skilled with practice, some days we even had leftovers, which Rattail would order to be sliced and rolled in rock salt to preserve it. That way it could be stored and eaten later on the journey.
After a couple of days one of the cooks unlocked the advanced vocation of ‘butcher.’ I assigned it to him immediately, along with the unimaginative yet memorable nickname ‘Butcher’. After some deliberation, I named the other five chefs as well.
“Really, Corey?”
“What?”
“Swede? Sugar? Spice?”
“Don’t forget Skillet and Bones,” added Bekkit.
“Seriously? This is what you’re naming them?”
“Are you really surprised, given his track record?”
“What’s wrong with my names?” I demanded. The sprites just shook their heads and grumbled in response.
The cooks came with even more benefits than anticipated. Much like the builders could with materials, chefs could Assess ingredients, gaining their basic information blueprints and eventually unlocking new recipes.
They’d already identified the nuts Ris’kin had gathered from her new squirrel companion. They were called ‘furynuts’—which also happened to be what I’d nicknamed our new squirrel, much to my sprites’ chagrin—and apparently their unique properties meant they could be used to brew something called “Fury Juice.”
Fury Juice
(Consumable)
Induces a berserker-like rage. The drinker’s speed, pain resistance and damage output are increased, while their defense and damage resistance are reduced.
Duration: 1 minute
Despite having identified the nuts, the chefs did not attempt to incorporate them into their regular cooking, instead leaving them on the ingredient pile. According to Bekkit, they wouldn’t make use of anything that could potentially cause negative status effects when consumed unless specifically commanded to.
Probably for the best.
This fury juice would undoubtedly have its uses, particularly in combat. A squad of gnomish berserkers led by someone like Hammer would make pretty excellent shock troops. For now, though, I decided to have my cooks focus on creating dishes that would provide the most nourishment and the most useful bonuses to the entire tribe.
Not to be outdone by the advancements of the cooks, clothiers and carpenters, my builders too had made great strides in their work, despite—or perhaps because of—Buttress’s re-assignment to overseer.
One of our biggest problems so far had been accommodation. The gnomes had had the foresight to pack the thatched roofs from the old gnomehomes for the journey, but as we’d soon discovered, they couldn’t be utilized fully without a proper frame to support them, meaning they were less efficient and could shelter fewer gnomes.
The solution had, admittedly, taken some intervention.
Not for the first time since assuming my current position, I lamented my inability to converse directly with my denizens. Instead I was forced to convey impressions of what I had in mind to Gneil and the other acolytes, who then used a combination of repeated explanations and physical theater to try and demonstrate my innovation to the craftspeople.
In the end, I resorted to seeking help from Coll, who’d spent the entire time laughing at my acolytes’ charades. After informing him sternly that we were not here for his amusement, I sat back and indulged in some of my own as the massive human clumsily attempted to assemble the new structure himself.
“No, no—that support needs to fold inward, not outward! Look, like this.”
It was only after recruiting Binky to the cause that the builders finally seemed to understand the concept. One by one, their faces lit up with dawning realization, and they immediately disassembled their previous attempts and started afresh.
Eventually—
Blueprint acquired!
Portahut
It was a thing of beauty. The frame had eight legs (obviously). The ends met and crossed over each other at the top, like the protruding poles of a tipi, but the structure’s shape was octagonal rather than conical. A loose wall of hides was hung over the sides and fastened in place at the bottom, and the rolls of roof thatch could be attached before the entire frame—made from spidersilk and branches—was hauled into its upright position using a clever pulley system.
According to the Augmentary, the new hut could house up to ten gnomes—more than twice the capacity of the improvised tents they were currently making do with, and using the same amount of thatch. I queued in another nine of the portahuts; the prototype had taken two and a half days to complete, but the process from now on would be much quicker now
