“You’re not focusing on your magic,” said Artyom as he tapped the little girl’s shoulder.

  “How do you know?” she asked, her eyes still closed. She must have been about eight years old, and wore a simple blue dress and brown pants.

  “I can see your magic, it went still because you forgot to move it around.”

  “Oh…”

  Artyom never expected to volunteer at an orphanage. Well, an orphanage for kids from another world. His organization had one set up for rescued kids from Earth too young to take charge of their lives and he’d spent plenty of time there to check up on all the ones he rescued. But here, he had a different motive.

  “Don’t worry, just try to clear your thoughts and try again,” he said with a smile.

  “Okay!” the girl replied, squeezing her eyes even tighter shut.

  “My my, you have quite a way with kids,” said Sister Elery, stepping up behind him. She flashed him a kind hearted smile which he halfheartedly tried to return. “Ever consider retiring here once the Dark Lord is defeated?”

  Artyom shrugged. “There’ll always be another Dark Lord, so I can’t take it easy so soon.”

  “But certainly there’ll be decades of peace before anything of the sort-”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure your peace will last centuries, if not more. My services will be needed elsewhere.”

  “I see. You’re quite a traveler then.”

  “Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. It’s a wide world out there, and I’m always needed somewhere or another.”

  “Then I’m grateful that your journeys have brought you here. Is what you said true, that Rotte isn’t the only magically gifted child here?”

  “That’s right, a couple of them like this girl here have the talent for spellcraft. They just need a couple of years of practice to be able to put it to good use. Might as well get them started early.”

  “And perhaps the goddess will grant them a Skill for their efforts to speed up the process.”

  “That too,” replied Artyom easily. He remembered their previous argument about Skills versus organic training, but it wasn’t that he discounted the efficacy of the former; just that too often he had to make due without it.

  “Right, well it’s almost lunch time. I’ll head to the kitchen to prepare everyones’ meals and after eating, we can head to the sermon.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Sister Elery turned around and walked out of the room to the kitchen.

  Once she was out of sight, Artyom let out a sigh. He didn’t hate being here, it was honestly quite nice, but he was worried about what might soon happen.

  The last of the clues he needed to piece together the mystery of the undead finally landed in his lap earlier that day, and he’d put them together to find an almost perfect answer. Sure, there was a missing part or two, but everything else fit in so well that he could fill them in later.

  But right now he had a plan. If his theory was correct, the culprit would make another move today. And by being here right now, he’d be able to catch them red handed.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  It took another half an hour before Sister Elery called everyone to the dining room.

  By then, all the kids were already restless from trying to meditate on empty stomachs, which Artyom found completely understandable. Doing any kind of hard mental work on an empty stomach was never fun. Especially as a child.

  He and the kids filed into the expansive dining hall at a surprisingly calm and sedate pace, one likely having been drilled into them by the priestess. The floor was covered in a well varnished wood, with a series of tables placed in several long rows, and a pair of chairs placed on either side at regular intervals.

  Artyom let the others take their seats and found one for himself next to Sister Elery.

  “Let me help serving-”

  “No need,” she said with a bright smile. “[Serve the Masses],” she said with a clap.

  Instantly, wooden bowls appeared in front of everyone and began to fill up with food. It was some kind of wheat porridge with vegetables and grilled fish. It might not have looked like the sort of fine dining Tommy and the rest of the party were probably used to, but the smell it gave off was heavenly. It epitomized the homely rustic feeling many soul food restaurants and mom and pop diners tried so hard to capture back on Earth, but beat them all out by a mile.

  Artyom rushed to take a bite before stopping himself and looking towards the priestess.

  “Thank you goddess for this bounty, and please continue to bless us with these fortunes,” Sister Elery recited with clasped hands.

  The other kids did the same before grabbing their forks and digging in.

  Artyom did the same soon after, savoring every bite.

  “I’m glad you like it,” said Sister Elery with a light chuckle. “It’s only thanks to my Skills I can make food this good for so many like this. [Copycat Cook] and [Hundredfold Bites]. The first lets me cook one thing and have the process be applied to something else, and the second makes one dish turn into a hundred. They work together to let me cook two hundred meals at once, something impossible with natural ability alone.”

  “I’ll give you that,” said Artyom between bites. “But it sounds like the only reason the food is as good as it is is because of your own natural abilities as a cook.”

  Sister Elery blushed. “And I’ll give you that.”

  “How long did it take you to get Skills like those? It must have taken a lifetime, how did you make due before then?”

  “Interestingly enough, not long at all! I got it soon after I started taking care of the kids, and obtained a wide variety of Skills just when I needed them. It helps when the goddess has your ear,” she said with a wink.

  Artyom nodded. “How wide are we talking? Anything particularly strange?”

  “Well,” began Sister Elery, deep in thought. “There’s one that tells me when any of the kids are going to make any of the shrubbery on the grounds into a happy bush because they don’t want to run inside to use the bathroom!”

  Artyom let out a chortle alongside the priestess. When the two calmed down, his expression turned somber. “It might be a bit rough to ask, but do you have anything to protect the kids from another warband attack?”

  The color drained from Sister Elery’s face.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Artyom. “I mean with the story you told me earlier, about how Lensa helped the town fight off the last attack, if something like that betrayal happened again, is the town ready? I could tell Tommy to maybe even keep Lensa here if that’ll help.”

  The priestess began to regain her composure and let out a shaky breath. “T-thank you for your concern. Thankfully I do have a Skill for that too, though I only received it after Lensa left on her quest. It would be best to send one of you to the frontier instead, where children are most at risk.”

  Artyom nodded with a guilty look. “Thanks for humoring me, and sorry for the trouble.”

  Sister Elery wordlessly nodded back and focused on her meal.

  The entire atmosphere of the room was ever so slightly askew after that, with even the children eating in comparatively greater silence than before. But being children, they soon grew bored with the lack of noise and began talking to each other loudly once more.

  With a renewed vigor, everyone finished their meals in good spirits, and with another use of her Skills, the bowls and cutlery were cleared.

  They all soon found themselves walking out of the dining rooms and then manor in an orderly fashion towards the church on the other side of town.

  Artyom had to admit to himself, he felt a little bad purposefully digging up Sister Elery’s worst memories, but they’d contained the last few clues he needed to finalize his theory. And in a few moments, he’d have a chance to confront the culprit. Possibly even red-handed.