The sun still held its throne above the tower. What felt like a lifetime had only passed in minutes. Bells tolled in the distance. A serenade to a town that appeared normal. Leave the stench, the execution and the carcasses lying around.
Lina and Vierna walked, hands clasped like they'd been stitched together. Two silver-haired girls drifting through a silver-marble town.
No one could say for certain if the execution still weighed on either of them. Maybe their last thread of sanity had already snapped. Or maybe they were just pretending they were fine. Indoctrinated or not, one thing was clear: after all that, they both needed normalcy. Because maybe, just maybe, a trace of normalcy could bring back a sliver of humanity.
“What’s that smell?” Vierna asked.
“You just noticed it?” Lina wrinkled her nose. “That’s the mana beast carcasses. Over there.”
She pointed to a cart being dragged across the plaza stacked high with limp, spined bodies still dripping faint trails of black ichor.
“Sometimes I really worry about you. How do you miss—”
“Not that, you dolt,” Vierna cut in. “The good smell. From that store.”
She pointed again, this time at a narrow tavern nestled between a butcher and a bakery. The air around it shimmered faintly. Steam, probably. Meat and broth drifted faintly through the stink.
Lina blinked. “You’re telling me you can smell stew while corpse juice is being dragged five lems away?”
Vierna nodded, straight-faced. “Maybe my nose is enchanted. I remember in one of the books, there was a spell that filters olfactory input by—”
“Gods. You’re doing the thing. The nerd thing.” Lina slumped forward like a scolded student.
What? It was a real spell. Though the translation had a typo, ‘scent cloaking’ got mistranslated as ‘stench cloaking.’ Big difference. Honestly, that book was full of—
“Ahhh, I got it, please stop torturing me!” Lina groaned, dragging her hands down her face.
Vierna’s face showed a faint hint of disappointment that Lina didn’t appreciate a good book analysis.
“Well, since we don’t have anything else to do, let’s just hit it,” Lina said with a stretch.
“And honestly? That… ‘food’ if you can even call it that served at the research facility.”
She made a face. “Damn, I know we kinda decided it was our heaven or whatever, but…”
“…shouldn’t food from heaven come in colors? Not just grey?”
The food at the research facility was, in fact, grey.
Pale grey protein blocks. Ash-grey porridge. Sometimes a watery grey soup that pretended to be stew.
Despite how it looked, the researchers had tested it thoroughly.
Twenty percent more fiber than the average city ration. Fortified with stabilized mana compounds. Shelf-stable for seven years in a sealed box.
“Haha, okay, but I remember that bread you brought. It wasn’t gray, per se. Aren’t you just exaggerating?” Vierna said.
“Look, Vier,” Lina replied, hands on hips, “You are smart, nerdy type, but that kind of ‘smart’? It didn’t bring that not-gray food in research facility, you need to be as street smart as a camel.”
It turned out that smuggling even a nearly-plain piece of bread into the research facility was like sneaking a division of Reich troops into an Imperium fortress. It required tactical genius, nerves of steel, and according to Lina “the cunning of a camel.”
“Camels are not smart, you know. According to a book I read, they—”
“Hey!” Lina barked. “I was willing to let it slide when you insulted camels. But challenging me? On my specialty? Camels are my life’s work, Vierna. I’ll have you know I graduated with honors from the Einhartturm Hall of Knowledge majoring in Cameltology.”
Apparently, Cameltology was one of the top five majors chosen by people with vivid imaginations and an unsettling reverence for camels.
“Interesting,” Vierna said, tilting her head. “But the picture in our room told a different story. I don’t remember any book mentioning camels with a musket attached to their hump.”
“It’s Malkurus!” Lina declared, absolutely serious. “He fought in the Great Camelpocalypse against Cameltophia Dynasty. How can you, who probably read the entire Einhartturm’s Secret Archive, not know about it?”
She defended her drawing with the zeal of a kid swearing their crayon dragon once burned down a castle.
“To be honest,” Vierna said, “I did see a book that mentioned Malkurus.”
Lina froze mid-step. Her eyes widened.
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yes. But Malkurus wasn’t a camel. He was a writer. Specialized in basic mana manipulation stances. His work on tri-anchored casting was actually quite influen—”
“No. Please. Let’s just go eat, okay? I’m starving.” Lina walked faster towards the tavern.
Vierna muttered something about scholarly neglect, but followed.
The tavern was nostalgic.
Fire flickering in its brick-lined hearth, tables are arranged in a way to encourage conversation. Someone had thought about comfort. About people.
The smell of mana beast lingered faintly from the windows, but it was chased off mostly by steam rising from pots behind the counter. Onion, marrow, a hint of spice.
Despite the attempt to mask the smell, the tables were empty, save for one.
A lone boy sat near the entrance, half-shadowed by firelight. Dressed plainly. Just another quiet patron.
“Oh, I didn’t expect another customers! And such pretty ones, too.”
The tavern keeper emerged from behind the bar, an old woman with kind eyes and stiff joints, moving like a retired knife still sharp enough to slice bread. Two other girls stood behind her, one was older, one was a child. Maybe the tavern keeper’s daughter and granddaughter.
“We were just about to close,” the woman said, waving them in. “That darn beast stench keeps almost everyone away. But you two, come. Sit. Sit.”
Lina and Vierna took their seats near the fire.
“Omi! I’ll have soup. Meat. And some bread.” Lina said, casual and confident
The old woman noticed the scar, but said nothing.
“Of course. And your sister?” she asked, glancing at Vierna.
“Good day, Omi,” Vierna said, proper as ever. “I’d like… meat dipped in sugar, please. And I’m sorry, but I’m not Lina’s biologic—”
“No, no, please forgive my sister,” Lina cut in quickly, wrapping an arm around her with a too-tight hug. “She got dropped on the head as a baby.”
She smiled sweetly. As if that explained everything.
Vierna blinked. Then, slowly, nodded as if this too was a logical outcome.
The old woman laughed.
“Oh stars,” Omi said, wiping her hands on her apron. “You mean sweet-pork pie, maybe? Glazed roast? Something festive?”
Vierna just tilted her head, utterly serene.
“If it’s meat dipped in sugar,” she said, “then yes.”
Lina choked.
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She’s serious.
She actually meant it..
“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman muttered, still chuckling as she shuffled back.
As Omi left them be, Lina leaned forward.
“You remember that?” she asked thinking back to the time she’d jokingly demanded ‘meat dipped in sugar’ while teaching Vierna the storage spell.
“Of course,” Vierna said.
Her voice was calm. Matter-of-fact.
“It was a joke, Vierna! A joke!” Lina groaned.
“I know,” Vierna replied, head tilted again. “But now I’m curious.”
Lina buried her face in her hands.
They talked after that. About everything and nothing at the same time.
They joked about Halwen’s face during the speech how he’d looked like someone caught between vomiting and praying.
They circled back to Lina’s camel drawing, which had now achieved near-mythical status. What surprised Vierna wasn’t the absurdity it was the consistency.
There was an entire saga behind Malkurus the Musket Camel:
A timeline spanning three wars, two dynasties, and one brief love affair with a desert empress who was also half-goat. Color-coded maps. A glossary. Cultural notes on the Cameltophia Dynasty.
And what made it worse?
Lina had it all archived in a storage spell.
Properly tagged. Indexed.
She’d even prepared separate folders:
“Lore Primer,” “Character Bios,” “Pitch Notes in Case of Adaptation.”
“How can you write something that elaborate?” Vierna asked, her voice tinged with disappointment like she couldn’t believe Lina used her brainpower on a comic instead of studying magic. “If you put even half that effort into your spellwork —”
“No way, girl. Writing about Malkurus is way more fun,” Lina said, deadly serious.
Just then, Omi returned.
She carried two wide wooden trays, both steaming, both impossibly fragrant.
She placed the first one in front of Lina.
“For the brave one with a normal appetite,” she said with a wink.
Lina’s eyes lit up.
Thick slices of stew-soaked bread crusty and golden soaked in a broth dark as umber, shimmering with tiny pools of rendered fat. Next to it, a heap of slow-cooked ironback sow shoulder, shredded and tossed with root vegetables, dusted with black pepper and dried rosemary. A drizzle of onion reduction glistened across the top like lacquer. On the side: a fire-roasted carrot bulb, slightly charred, sweet enough to smell through the steam.
Lina didn’t speak. She just stared reverently.
Then Omi placed the second tray in front of Vierna.
It was… meat. With sugar on it.
Specifically, a thick-cut ironback flank, pan-seared until crisped on the edges, then drizzled with a thin coat of caramel. The finish wasn’t even. Someone had tried to dust it with coarse sugar like finishing salt. The crystals remained, un-melted, twinkling like decoration on something that should never sparkle.
Vierna stared at it with quiet serenity.
Omi offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, little one. That’s the best I could manage from your ‘meat-dipped in sugar’ request. Sweet-pork pie takes hours, and…”
She paused, brushing her brow with her sleeve.
“Glazed roast needs the butcher’s kiln. That fire’s been cold since yesterday. No one’s dared relight it yet.”
Vierna nodded. “This will do.”
Lina was too afraid to watch Vierna eat the crystallized meat disaster.
So instead, she focused on her own plate.
The first bite hit like an ambush.
Savory heat flooded her tongue the kind that came not just from temperature, but from depth. The broth was thick and velvety, reduced to near gravy, carrying the mellow sweetness of slow-roasted onions and marrow fat. It clung to the stew bread like honey on stone seeping into every grain, softening the crust just enough to bite through with a satisfying tear.
The ironback sow was fall-apart tender, each shred soaked in umami so rich it left behind a whisper of smoke. It wasn’t spicy, but warm, hints of bay leaf, garlic, cracked pepper, and something faintly citrus hidden deep in the reduction. Maybe lemon root. Maybe just magic.
The roasted vegetables weren’t garnish. They bit back caramelized on the edges, skin blistered, with sweetness that sharpened into tang the moment her teeth broke through. Even the carrots had soul. Even the turnips tasted like they’d been given time to dream.
She nearly moaned.
After two years of nutrient-optimized gruel, twenty percent more fiber, hundred percent less joy this was ambrosia. This wasn’t just food. It was memory. It was proof the world could still be generous.
She took another bite, slower this time.
Then another.
Lina was too focused on eating to look at Vierna. She wanted to but how could she, with this in front of her?
And then, it was gone.
She sat back, blinking breath shallow, chest full.
Like she'd just been yanked out of pearly heaven and dropped back into a crooked wooden chair inside an almost empty tavern, with the scent of stew clinging to her collar and the ghost of flavor still on her lips.
Her arms felt heavy. Her belly, warm. Her heart… uncertain.
Then, finally, with as much courage as she could muster,
Lina looked at Vierna.
And braced herself for the worst.
But instead of finding Vierna grimacing or politely tolerating her has been meal…
Lina found her in a trance.
Eyes half-lidded. Shoulders at ease.
A small, unguarded smile touched her lips quiet and steady.
It was unsettling.
She looked like someone who had found the meaning of existence: meat dipped in sugar.
Lina blinked.
This was the same girl who once called the research facility heaven
who let needles carve her bones without blinking.
And yet none of that had earned her even half the serenity she now wore… eating
“meat dipped in sugar”.
God help them. Apparently, all she ever needed was caramel.
Lina stared at her friend angelic, entranced, radiant in the firelight.
“You’re priceless,” she said.
Vierna finally looked up, calm as ever.
“Lina,” she said, utterly serious, “you are a genius.”
This was the first time she had ever tasted meat dipped in sugar.
At the orphanage, meals were rationed plain soups, cheap staples, whatever kept you alive.
And the research facility? Forget it. Food there was engineered, not cooked.
“I… what?” Lina blinked.
She wasn’t much better off. Her family hadn’t been rich, and for the last two years she’d been stuck in the research facility.
And Halwen? Sure, he worked with the Arkmarschall and had money but he rarely visited, and he’d always been strict about what Lina ate, even before the Facility.
One week, he made her eat nothing but boiled lettuce because “her weight percentage was off by twenty percent.”
Neither of them had known, truly known that food like this was supposed to be delicious.
Vierna gestured to the plate with delicate precision like presenting evidence before a tribunal.
“The sugar doesn't mask the meat,” she said. “It frames it. The caramelization sets off a Maillard reaction under the glaze. It deepens the umami then contrasts it. “
“It was like—”
“Watching a prince and princess doing a waltz,” said a voice across their table.
Both girls turned.
It was the boy who sat earlier, older than them by a small margin. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and dark trousers, posture easy, voice calm.
Vierna leaned forward, eyes bright.
“I know, right? At first lick, you think the glaze is off. Too sharp, too sweet—”
The boy nodded, “Like dessert gatecrashing dinner.”
“But then,” Vierna said, eyes narrowing, “your tongue reaches the meat…”
“…and it’s not chaos. It’s union,” he said, leaning forward too.
“Sweet clings to fat like ink to parchment,” Vierna murmured.
“Salt bows to sugar, like a knight before his queen.” he added, solemnly.
“It’s not just cooking, it was an union of two worlds” she said, reverent now.
“It’s alchemy, an equivalent exchange of sour and sweetness” he whispered.
“The kind that rewrites your taste buds,” she breathed.
“The kind that dissolves kingdoms and starts romances,” he declared.
They both sat back, blinking.
“…or maybe it just tastes really good,” both of them say at the same time with the same pitch.
The two of the would-be poet laughed like they just say the funniest thing on earth.
Lina blinked.
How did this happen?
She still remembered when Vierna barely spoke, barely reacted. Quiet. Cold. The kind of girl who only answered when pressed.
Back then, it might’ve seemed like shyness.
But now?
She’d just pulled off an entire theater act in front of strangers, over meat dipped in sugar.
Where had that confidence come from?
Had her belief in the system really unlocked this?
Or had it always been there, waiting?
Lina wasn’t sure. But seeing her like this... it warmed her heart, just a little.
Maybe belief in the system wasn’t so bad after all.
The boy placed a hand over his heart, bowed just enough to be absurd, and spoke with a flourish:
“I see I have stumbled upon a gem no, a star no, two blazing constellations amidst the sand to which I was so cruelly cast. Fortune, it seems, has a sense of drama.”
His words danced, theatrical and indulgent, like someone raised on stage plays and mirror rehearsals.
“Alas, my true name lies sealed beneath a vow most sacred sworn under moonlight, witnessed by a weeping statue, and notarized by a minor spirit of confidentiality.
But please call me Albrecian von Solenshade, Keeper of Flavor, Heir to the Forgotten Fork.”
He gestured with exaggerated reverence to Vierna and Lina, as if narrating a ballad.
“And now, if fate allows me the indulgence, may I learn the names of the desert-hearted maiden and the scholar of sweetness who’ve turned this dull day divine?”
Vierna rose smoothly from her chair. With zero hesitation and alarming precision she placed one hand over her chest, mirrored Albrecian’s bow, and replied:
“Then let the winds of serendipity carry this reply, O Alb of black threads and silver tongue. I am Vierna of the Most Serene city Einhartturm, blade of book and bearer of curiosity. And this,” she gestured gracefully to her still-stunned companion, “is Lady Lina of the Bread Court. Slayer of grey rations. Master of sugar and meat.”
Albrecian beamed, hands clasped like he’d just witnessed a royal decree.
Lina, however, just stared.
Speechless.
This wasn’t the Vierna she knew.
This wasn’t “quiet nod when spoken to” Vierna.
Or “banters like a mule when forced to joke about cafeteria trays” Vierna.
This… this was some new, terrifying evolution.
A synchronized nerd frequency had been struck and apparently, it bypassed all known social protocols.
Was this how nerds courted each other? Lina thought.
Through synchronized theatrics and questionable food metaphors?
Because Vierna wasn’t just warming up to this boy—
She was glowing.
And this guy? He wasn’t even a magic nerd. Just adjacent.
So if she ever meets an actual magic nerd?
Lina shivered.
She’d probably marry him on the spot.
No hesitation. Just ritual circle, vows, boom.
“I now pronounce you nerd and nerdier.”
Lina stared at her plate, defeated.
I need to start reading spellbooks.
Should Malkurus become a real character in Of Moon and Magic?
