Taste of Magic: Ambassador's Voice

"I never expected that we'd get something this fancy in our little town!"

"Mommy, could we have some of those tiny pastries too."

"At least a box of them for me, please!"

"Hey, leave some for others!"

The customers were more than excited to get their hands on the new puff pastries.

"Do not worry. Cream puffs will become a regular item in our bakery," Melina said to the customers with a smile. "Just make sure you eat it the same day. They do not stay fresh for long."

"Who'd be able to keep these delectable pastries uneaten?" Remi said, stuffing the third cream puff in her mouth. Other customers looked at her with jealousy.

Melina had snuck one of the healing pastries along with Remi's batch, as she did for every adventurer that came that morning. She was a bit worried about the moment when people would start noticing the healing properties. But hopefully, the fact that not every cream puff was healing would make it a bit less obvious.

She had also invested a few of her stat points in again. It strengthened the effect of , not to mention the way people perceived her. After all, if they found Melina as the friendly, charming girl who heals people with her pastries, instead of some scheming System user, they'd be more inclined to keep everything under wraps.

Not that she believed that her pastries would remain a secret. The question was—how long would it stay a secret? And what could she do to protect herself from the Church?

There was another concern in her mind as she sold the pastries. Hours ticked by but Alistair was still nowhere to be seen. He had been late the previous day so perhaps he was delayed this morning too. An early patrol in the Guild?

But soon lunchtime came, and in the end, he never did come to the bakery. This was the first time he hadn't come. Melina couldn't help but feel that it had to do something with the letter. Had he already deciphered it? She had coded it rather thoroughly, part of her selfishly hoping that he wouldn't be able to find the hidden meaning in the letter.

But there was no way for her to know and nothing she could do about it. So instead she did her regular cleaning and then headed into town with a money pouch in tow. They had made a nice profit that morning and she hoped that somewhere she'd be able to find what she needed to make proper healing food.

For that, she needed a waffle iron. A new waffle iron. Master Gilbert had some in the shed but it was already rusted beyond saving. So for the first time since coming to Sunglow, Melina was going to visit the local blacksmith.

"I hope we can find the right address," she muttered to Sienna, looking at a strip of paper. Gilbert refused to come with her. Apparently, he and Etan, the blacksmith, didn't see eye to eye. The problem was that it was located on some narrow side street near the port, and Melina was not very familiar with that area.

The weather wasn't very pleasant either. A cold wind was blowing from the sea, not exactly strong enough to be classified as a storm, but still very unpleasant. The closer she got to the port, the colder it became as the trees and buildings didn't shield her from the wind anymore. By the time she saw the sea, her hands felt like icicles and she considered going back to the bakery.

Sienna was even more dissatisfied by the cold wind, hiding underneath Melina's dress and sticking close to her skin for warmth. She'd occasionally let out a dissatisfied chitter, indicating her wish to return home.

"We'll find the blacksmith soon enough and then we'll be warm, I promise," Melina soothed the wyrm while looking at the street names written on the buildings. None of them said "Wave Street 3", so she kept walking along the promenade, peeking into the sidestreets.

Wind kept howling and soon Melina had already made her way to the port.

"Did I miss it?" She pondered, seeing that there were not that many side streets left for her to inspect. "Maybe I should ask somebody for directions."

Melina walked up to one of the nearby sailors, who was busy tying a large crate with a rope.

"Excuse me, do you know where Wave Street 3 is?"

"Oh, you're looking for the blacksmith? He's at the very end of that small street over there," the sailor said and pointed to the very end of the promenade.

Of course, it is located as far away from the bakery as possible. If I had known it would be this cold, I would have come another time. But I've made it this far, so might as well get it done.

Melina thanked the sailor and was about to continue on her way when something caught her eye. A large ship nearby had several people boarding it. Some were carrying crates, some livestock. Probably a merchant ship heading out to sell their wares.

"I wonder where they are sailing?" Melina asked aloud to nobody in particular.

However, the sailor who had given her directions replied nonetheless. "We're heading north. Going to try and sell some of our goods in Fenrora."

Melina flinched at the mention of Fenrora. It was the home of Duke Sinclair. Alistair's home.

No, don't be silly. Just because the ship is heading to Fenrora doesn't mean that Alistair will too.

But as she looked at the sailors bustling about, she noticed somebody among them who clearly wasn't a sailor. A certain nobleman with black hair and golden eyes. He climbed aboard the ship and disappeared from Melina's sight.

Alistair is heading north after all. That means he decoded my letter.

For a moment, Melina felt like the world was turning. She realized how much she had actually wanted Alistair to remember their time together.

Foolish. Selfish. Let him go, Melina. You have no right to cling to him. None.

With a determined stride, Melina turned and left, walking towards the end of the promenade. She did not notice that a set of golden eyes watched her from afar until she disappeared behind the corner of the street.

"You want me to make a waffle iron?" The blacksmith, a man so bulky he could rival Barrett in size, snorted out derisively. He had sleek, black hair with a few grey strands along his temples and cold grey eyes. Melina felt absolutely tiny under his stare.

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She could somewhat understand why her request for waffle iron seemed silly. His shop had a wide array of weapons—swords, daggers, spears, halberds, you name it. They were weapons of excellent quality too, Melina could tell that he was a skilled blacksmith. However, any sort of mundane things were completely missing. She didn't see any garden tools, kitchen knives or anything of the sort.

"Yes, please," she said, forcing out a shaky smile. Perhaps, she could have made a more convincing and confident appearance had she not seen Alistair board that ship. But Melina felt rather shaken by the fact that she wouldn't see him for some time. Perhaps, even never.

"I am an artist, not some apprentice. My swords and shields are crucial for this town's survival. The people in the Guild depend on my creation. Yet you dare to trouble me over a waffle iron?" Etan narrowed his eyes.

"Is it a busy time? If so, I can come some other time," Melina said. She understood the importance of weapons for defense. While the creation of healing waffles would also help the Guild, the weapons were certainly more important.

"Well… no. But that doesn't mean I will waste my time on something as mundane as a waffle iron!"

Oh. So this is why Master Gilbert and Etan don't get along? I'm sure he came here with similar requests in the past, only for it to end in a fight.

"It is not mundane. If you provide me with a waffle iron, then I'll be able to supply Sunglow with delicious waffles that will improve the spirits of both townsfolk and the adventurers." Melina persisted. She would not back away so easily.

"It's just another food item. Nothing more," Etan shook his head stubbornly.

Tough nut to crack. Very well. Let's hit it where it hurts.

Melina activated and sighed dramatically. "What a shame! I had really hoped that the best blacksmith in all of Grenardia would be able to fulfill my simple request. After all, waffle iron requires precision. It needs to be able to distribute heat evenly down to the last millimeter. But perhaps I've asked for something impossible."

"Best blacksmith in Grenardia?" He blinked in surprise. As Melina had expected he fell for the oldest trick in the book—flattery. Along with a little hit towards his pride. "Wait, what do you mean impossible? You think I can't make a damned waffle iron?"

"But you've said that you create works of art. I understand. Although I know nothing about weapons, I can see the skill and mastery needed to create these swords and shields. Anyone can see that. But waffle irons are just… boring. They do not look interesting. I came to the wrong place."

Melina was about to turn and leave, but just as she had expected, Etan called out to her. "Wait a moment, girl! I never said that I won't make it."

"You will?" She instantly turned around, giving him the most charming smile she could manage. Good thing she invested her stat points in . It felt like it came to her more easily than before.

"Damn right, I will. Do not underestimate me. I'll make the best waffle iron you have ever seen. Give me your name so I can write down your order."

"Melina Dufour."

The blacksmith paused, peering at Melina to study her face. "You're Gilbert's apprentice aren't you?"

"Is that a problem?" She asked. Hopefully, the feud between the two men wasn't so bad that he'd outright refuse her.

"You look a lot like… Nevermind. Come back in two days and I'll have your waffle iron ready," he said and gave her a shooing motion as if she were some pest getting in the way of his work.

But Melina had already achieved what she wanted and didn't mind leaving. One thing did strike her as odd. He was about to say that she looked like somebody. Was he referring to Gilbert's wife?

[You've made . You've gained + 3 exp.]

[Congratulations! You've reached Level 11.]

Melina looked with satisfaction at her fresh batch of cream puffs. They looked great. Her piping technique has gotten much better and spillages have become less frequent. Not to mention that she was gaining levels at a rapid rate thanks to her experiments.

Let's check the status screen. I need to decide where to invest the stat point.

[Name: Melina Dufour]

[Level: 11]

[Class: Arcane Baker]

[Familiar: Sienna — Ember Wyrm Level 48]

[Intelligence: 16]

[Agility: 8]

[Strength: 9]

[Skill: 19]

[Charm: 10]

[Unassigned stat points: 1]

[Active Skills: 8]

[, , , , , , , ]

[Passive Skills: 3]

[, , ]

"What are you looking so smug about? If the cream puffs are ready, then put them in the chill box. We got no time to muck around," Gilbert grumbled. In his defense, they were running a bit late this morning as Melina had taken a bit too much time with the cream puff filling.

"I just wanted to decide where to invest my stat point," she said.

"Just put them in and return to work. First customers will come soon and we don't have anything on the shelves yet," he said. Melina sighed and hurriedly put the cream puffs in the chill box. They didn't keep them displayed in the bakery due to their short shelf life. Instead, Melina kept a few samples on display. At the end of the day, Sienna would eat them.

Master Gilbert had been right to rush her. They had barely managed to fill the shelves when the first adventurers were already knocking on the door.

"Good morning, Miss Melina," Barrett greeted her with a wide smile. "How are you today?"

"I'm good. Thank you for asking, Sir Barrett," Melina said suspiciously. Barrett was acting a bit… odd. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course. Why would everything not be fine?" Cold sweat started to form on his forehead.

"You're being far too obvious, you dolt," Remi chided, then looked at Melina with a worried expression. "There's something you should know, Melina."

"What?" Melina grew tense at the elf's seriousness. Remi usually remained cheerful even in tense situations. Was there some news about the Church? Were they coming to Sunglow sooner than expected? Has somebody already discovered her healing pastries?

"Well… You see. Captain Sinclair left Sunglow yesterday. Don't get me wrong, he didn't leave forever. But he won't be back for a while. I thought you should know," Remi explained dejectedly.

Melina exhaled in relief. "Oh, I already knew that."

"You did?" Barrett asked. "He left in quite a hurry yesterday. Didn't think he'd have time to stop by the bakery."

"Oh, he didn't. I saw him board the ship," Melina said nonchalantly. It was actually rather painful to admit that he hadn't even come to say goodbye. But he wasn't obliged to do that. It was ridiculous of Melina to even expect that.

"Are you alright?" Remi asked cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Melina lied, putting on her business facade. "What would you like to order?"

Barrett and Remi didn't say anything more. They probably realized that Melina didn't want to talk about the topic. However, she still felt their piteous glances in her direction. Thankfully, the flow of customers quickly turned Melina's attention away from her unpleasant thoughts.

It was a nice morning. People were eagerly asking for the cream puffs, and Melina slipped in the healing version to those who looked under the weather or had some noticeable injuries. Most of them went to the adventurers again as almost all of them usually had a bruise or two somewhere.

Everything was going smoothly until a small girl came into the bakery, clutching three pink tulips in her hand. Everyone regarded the girl curiously and she, along with her mother, waited in the line patiently.

"How can I help you this morning?" Melina smiled at the child when their turn came.

The girl stammered nervously, her cheeks turning bright red.

"Go on. Don't be shy," her mother encouraged.

"I wanted to give these to you, Miss Baker!" The girl said, offering the tulips to Melina.

"Why thank you very much. May I ask what I have done to deserve such beautiful flowers?"

"It's thanks for the delicious cream puffs," the girl said, then leaned closer to Melina, standing on the tips of her toes. It appeared she wanted to whisper something to Melina. She bent down over the counter. "I know you put magic in them."