Recipe: Dirt-Wrapped Rocks
It’s generally thought that rocks don’t burn. They certainly are fire-resistant, by and large. What a lot of people don’t know is that there’s some rocks that do burn properly. Me and a friend discovered this recipe one day while we were hankering for something to eat along a mountain range. Turns out, oil shale burns pretty well!
Ingredients:
4 rocks oil shale
Volcanic ash
Dirt, preferably low-lying surface dirt
Directions:
1. Rub the oil shale in the volcanic ash, to help it simmer.
2. Sprinkle on the dirt to tast
3. Heat the oil shale with any flame source. Torches that’re hot enough will probably work, we didn’t try!
4. Serve! Serves 1+.
My friend said it was “pretty disgusting”, but edible, the same way that anything’s edible if you try enough. As for me, I didn’t have any! I just cooked it.
The Housekeeper
Once, a noble baron searched far and wide for a housekeeper to look after his family: wife, mother and son. He did not wish to hire more than one, for staffing had always been a bother to him, and he had no intention of giving his family a shoddy servant. One day then, while browsing the market, he came upon a good choice.
She was a young woman who had forgotten her name, and wished for her master-to-be to pick one. She had fair skin, and short hair of a platinum shade that he had never seen save on jewelry. She had one dark eye, for the other was covered by an eyepatch, apparently from an injury.
The baron chose her. Why is not clear: her appearance would be the best guess, yet if he had known of her skills at the time, they would certainly factor into it. She was a skilled housekeeper, and listened well to the commands she was given. At several points, it is said, she even drove out thieves who came for his riches. At the same time, she was attentive and unobtrusive: so much so, in fact, that the house’s lord could go days without seeing her, yet she would insist she had been working tirelessly all along, and the manse’s cleanliness agreed.
One day, however, she informed him that he had a meeting with his fellow barons at a mansion on the outskirts of town. No such meeting had been scheduled with him, however: only with his rival barons, who brought weapons and soldiers with them. Still the baron ambled, going to the meeting he had supposedly agreed to, and there he was killed.
"Well, my lord, your father’s seat at the table really suits you,” the housekeeper remarked as she later stood over his heir. “Hopefully you’ll manage in his place.”
“Yes, I will,” the noble son said, smiling, “but I will need your help.”
The housekeeper’s smile remained serene. “Sorry, but you won’t have it. It’s time I moved on…”
The noble son’s heart sank, for those words pierced him to the narrow. “What do you mean?” he asked. But as he reached out to clutch her arm, the housekeeper had already vanished.