The city of Guildford was in an uproar.
Freya, recently crowned "Queen of Red Tape" and still glowing faintly with bureaucratic trauma, found herself roped into yet another quest—this time under the dubious banner of culinary diplomacy. The Guild Council, in all their questionable wisdom, had decreed a grand event to unify all factions: a city-wide BBQ competition. Because nothing screams political stability like competitive grilling.
Pixel hovered by her shoulder with a checklist made entirely of edible rice paper. "Okay! So you're registered under the Adventurer's Culinary Society—which is just you and one extremely confused kobold named Steve."
"Steve thinks paprika is a type of dragon," Freya muttered, eyeing the crowded central square where makeshift grills were being constructed out of magically reinforced stone. "We're doomed."
"Don't worry! I downloaded seventeen barbecue techniques from alternate timelines, including one from a dimension where meat is sentient and sues you for overcooking."
"Very comforting," Freya deadpanned.
---
The competition was hosted in Flameheart Plaza, a suspiciously flammable open square surrounded by rival guild tents, each flying gaudy banners and leaking aromas that made even vegetarian monks question their vows.
The rules were simple:
1. Prepare a main course that impresses the Guild Council.
2. Avoid using explosive ingredients.
3. Do not summon meat-based demons—again.
Freya set up her cooking station, which consisted of a frying pan, a stolen cauldron, and a cursed ladle that whispered culinary advice in Old Elvish.
Her competitors were fierce:
The Alchemists' Guild was brewing meat through molecular transmutation.
The Necromancers had reanimated a rack of ribs and taught it to self-baste.
The Bardic Coalition was singing their sausages to a perfect medium-rare.
Freya sighed. "Why is everything I enter always secretly a magical arms race?"
Steve the kobold poked his head out of a meat locker, holding what looked suspiciously like a basilisk haunch. "This still wriggle. We win, yes?"
"Only if it doesn't wink at the judges."
---
Phase One: Ingredient Gathering.
Each team had ten minutes to raid the mystical farmer's market for ingredients. Freya dashed through a gauntlet of aggressive vendors, including a radish that threw shade—literally—and a chicken vendor who swore her eggs could levitate.
She secured dragonfruit, a slab of marbled chimera steak, and a pouch of spice labeled, "Caution: May Induce Existential Crisis."
Pixel chirped, "That spice once made a king renounce his throne and become a mime. Good stuff!"
---
Back at the station, the pressure mounted. Time: 30 minutes to cook.
Freya began channeling controlled fire magic under the cauldron while Steve attempted to chop onions and accidentally started a side quest involving crying spirits. Pixel recorded everything for potential future lawsuit documentation.
"Alright," Freya said, flipping the chimera steak with a flair that would make a hibachi chef weep. "Let's get weird."
She infused the meat with a temporary blessing of flavor, summoned a drizzle of lemon rain from a passing citrus cloud, and sautéed dragonfruit slices in hope and regret. The smell made even the necromancers glance over and nod approvingly.
Suddenly, her ladle began speaking. "Thou hast summoned the sacred Sear. Thy flavor destiny approaches."
"Shut up, you're a spoon," she hissed.
---
Judging Time.
The Guild Council—comprised of one wizard, one talking goat, one sentient hat, and someone's grandmother—approached.
Each dish was presented with fanfare, fireworks, and in the bard's case, a backup choir.
Freya offered her Chimera Flame Grill Surprise with humble confidence. The meat was tender, the flavors harmonized like a bard's lullaby, and the spice made the talking goat briefly reevaluate its life choices.
The sentient hat burst into tears. "It's… it's like tasting a memory I never lived."
Grandma nodded slowly. "This reminds me of my first love. He exploded during a magical souffle accident."
Freya blinked. "Thanks... I think?"
---
Unexpected Twist: Sudden Sabotage!
Just as the winner was about to be announced, a rival guild—The Order of Overcooked Ogres—unleashed a sabotage spell. All grills went berserk, belching flames and summoning elemental meat beasts.
Freya's steak grew legs and tried to run.
Pixel panicked. "Emergency protocol! We're in a barbecue boss battle!"
The plaza erupted into chaos. Meatballs rolled like cannonballs. Sausages tangled around limbs. One kebab achieved sentience and began reciting Shakespeare.
Freya sprang into action.
"Steve, to the sauce cannons!"
"WHAT'S SAUCE CANNON?"
"The cursed ketchup bottle! Aim for the ribzilla!"
Fighting alongside culinary warriors, Freya slathered, skewered, and sautéed her way through the chaos. Her cursed ladle glowed, her chimera steak headbutted a ham hulk, and the necromancers started reanimating bacon strips for backup.
At the climax, Freya leapt onto the back of the Meat Golem King, dipped her fingers in the Crisis Spice, and jabbed them into the creature's spice node.
It shrieked, "TOO ZESTY!" before imploding into a tasteful meat platter.
Silence fell.
Pixel floated down slowly. "I have never been more proud. Or more terrified."
---
Aftermath.
The plaza was a smoldering wreck of delicious rubble. Judges reconvened atop a throne of brisket bones.
"Due to unexpected monster marination, we judge based on flavor... and bravery."
Freya won by unanimous, slightly teary-eyed vote.
Her prize? A golden spatula engraved with her new title: "Barbecue Battlemage."
Achievement Unlocked:
+10 to Culinary Combat
Unlock Spell: Sear Nova
New Title: "Sauce Sovereign"
Steve received a new apron that read: "I Grilled With Death and All I Got Was This Apron."
---
As the sun set and the scent of victory-basted chimera filled the air, Freya reclined on a stack of well-done pork chops.
Pixel asked, "So… want to sign up for the Magical Bake-Off next week?"
Freya grinned. "Only if there's pie combat."
A shadow passed over them. It was the Bardic Coalition with a lute-powered pie launcher.
Freya cracked her knuckles.
"Round two, then."