The sun rose behind the hills, casting golden rays over the village square, now unrecognizable from its usual quiet self. Brightly dyed banners crisscrossed overhead between trees and rooftops, the scent of roasting meat wafted through the air, and a lively hum of conversation and laughter set the tone for the day.
The Harvest Festival had officially begun.
By midmorning, the village square was teeming with energy. A troop of children ran giggling through a maze of booths, their hands sticky from candied nuts and honey-rolled apples. A trio of older women sold flower crowns braided from wild marigolds and blue thistle. Local craftsmen displayed their wares: hand-forged tools, carved bone trinkets, and simple woven cloth dyed with berry stains.
In one corner, a juggling performer tossed wooden torches into the air while a crowd clapped and cheered. A circle of teenagers danced to the rhythm of a string trio that played a foot-tapping folk tune, drawing in clapping toddlers and even a few laughing elders.
And at the center of it all—Ken's stall.
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The scent of sizzling boar skewers and crisping flatbread had created a magnetic pull that drew villagers in from every corner. Ken's makeshift kitchen pulsed with motion and heat. He and his helpers moved in perfect rhythm—slicing, wrapping, grilling, flipping.
The skewers hissed on the grill, the berry syrup glistened in the morning light, and the line stretched halfway across the square.
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His prep team—three villagers he'd handpicked—were already moving with practiced rhythm: one chopping, one wrapping food, and one tending the fire. The blacksmith, now dubbed "Grillmaster Bram," flipped skewers over hot coals with surprising delicacy.
Ken adjusted the chalkboard menu one last time, now beautifully outlined with charcoal swirls:
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KEN'S FESTIVAL MENU
🌿 Wild Boar Skewers – glazed with garlic-herb sauce
🔥 Goat Sausage Wraps – served on spiced flatbread
🐟 Plum-Crusted River Fish – crispy and sweet
🍯 Honey-Crisp Cakes – with berry syrup drizzle
🥬 Grilled Root Wraps – vegetarian option
🍖 Boar & Onion Stew (Limited Claypots) – first come, first serve!
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The first customers approached well before the official bell. Farmers, merchants, even a few council members.
And then... a line began to form.
Ken stepped forward, took a deep breath, and welcomed the first guest.
---
Some customers bought samplers to sit and eat under the shade of a nearby tree. Others walked through the festival, happily munching as they browsed games and contests. At least a dozen stopped just to thank Ken with a full belly and an even fuller smile.
Even Mayor Corran, the town's silver-bearded leader, made a point to buy the boar stew and loudly proclaimed it the best festival dish in years.
Ken managed a proud, if exhausted, smile.
Everything was ready.
---
By midday, the square was packed.
Children licked syrup from their fingers, elders chatted over shared skewers, and a trio of local musicians played beside his booth. Ken was moving like clockwork—grilling, wrapping, seasoning—his hands faster than ever.
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> [Fire Control EXP +15% → 25%]
[Ingredient Prep EXP +10% → 30%]
[Seasoning Sense EXP +10% → 25%]
[Food Packaging EXP +10% → 70%]
---
He felt it—his growth. Every dish came together cleaner, quicker. The layering of flavors, the heat control, the knife work—it all flowed with precision and heart.
Then he saw them.
From across the square, three newcomers: a young girl with a curious gaze, a second girl with a sharp smirk, and a broad-shouldered man wearing a faded cloak. They looked like travelers—modestly dressed, yet unmistakably observant.
They blended in well... maybe too well.
Ken's eyes narrowed as the first girl approached. There was something about her—posture too refined, eyes too aware.
"Good afternoon," she said brightly. "Is this the famous cooking stall I've heard all the townspeople talking about?"
Ken gave a cautious nod. "You're here early."
"We like to eat early," she said with a smile.
"What'll it be?"
"All of it," the second girl replied.
"All of it?"
She winked. "You only get one first impression."
Ken motioned to his assistant, plating the full spread for them—each dish placed with care on a shared wooden tray.
As the girls stepped aside to a nearby table, the man—clearly a bodyguard despite the outfit—stayed back, watching silently.
---
From their corner table, Elira took the first bite of a goat sausage wrap and paused. Her eyes widened.
"This… is better than anything I've had at the capital," she whispered.
Reya stabbed a honey-crisp cake with her fork and grinned. "You nobles are seriously underestimating village food."
The knight remained quiet, chewing slowly, but his brow lifted in clear surprise.
Elira watched the boy at the stall—calm, focused, sleeves dusted with flour. "It's definitely him," she said softly.
Reya leaned closer. "So what now?"
Elira smiled. "Now? We eat. Then we talk."
---
Across the festival square, dancers continued their routines, a pie-eating contest drew cheers from kids, and a barrel-balancing game ended with a soaked apprentice falling headfirst into a trough of pickled cabbage.
By late afternoon, the music changed. A soft lute melody floated from the main stage as couples swayed beneath the growing shade. Bonfires were stacked nearby, waiting for nightfall.
Ken refilled the honey-cake batter for the third time, and Bram shouted over the fire, "You're gonna have to build a permanent stall at this rate!"
Ken laughed, chest warm with joy and exhaustion. "I'd settle for a chair right now."
---
As twilight settled, orange flames danced in iron sconces, casting long shadows and making the banners glow like embers.
Ken served his final round of hot meals as stars began to pierce the indigo sky. Families gathered on blankets around fire pits to share stories, and kids played with spark-flicked sticks dipped in natural phosphor powder—harmless but dazzling.
At their corner table, Elira and her companions were finishing their second plate.
"I've never had anything like this," she said, licking a smear of glaze from her thumb. "I want to talk to him. Thank him."
Reya leaned in. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"I'm not sure," Elira replied, smiling as her eyes lingered on Ken. "But it feels right."
The knight remained silent, gaze focused. "He's too sharp. He already suspects something."
"Then maybe he deserves to know," Elira whispered.
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