[Flashback] Mustard Creed

[Orin Fenix]

37th of Winter, 510 AV

Orin had woken up with a grin on his face this morning. It was his second day of freedom and he was determined to make the most of it. Yesterday his foray into making mayonnaise and finishing off his vinegar mixture had gone so well that Orin was confident he’d be able continue his success with sauces. Today, now that Orin had a supply of vinegar on hand, he’d be tackling the problem of mustard. He had a good supply of seeds on hand, and Orin would be trying to make both regular mustard and a slight variation on the recipe.

It was a fairly lengthy process, so Orin wanted to get started as soon as possible. He pulled out his mortar and pestle, his two bottles of vinegar, both the white wine and cider varieties, his garlics and onions, his olive oil, and his salt. Next, Orin pulled out several pots, pans and bowls. It could never hurt to have too many containers out, and if they went unused, Orin could always put them back, no harm done. It was much more difficult to grab another item in the midst of cooking than to have it all simply just set out right from the start. Orin took up his mother’s knife. It was worn, but lovingly so, and Orin traced the blade for a second, in a bittersweet motion. Still, today was a day for joy for Orin, and he resolutely banished all thoughts of the past from his mind.

Orin took up the garlic and peeled it open, picking the cloves out as he went. He began slicing them into smaller and smaller pieces, until he’d done all he could with the knife. Orin took out a pan, and, holding it near the edge of the table, swept his chunks in. He pushed them around until they were evenly spaced, then put the pan down. Orin had already stoked the oven this morning, and it should be at a good heat by now. He placed the pan into the oven, and closed the door.That step finished, Orin filled a bowl with water then placed his mustard seeds inside. Unlike the garlic, they needed to be moist before Orin could do anything further with them. It would take about two bells for the garlic to dry out enough to be ground into powder and the mustard seeds to soak. So Orin had some to spend on something non-cooking related once.

Orin picked up one of his kitchen knives, and began a series of careful jab and slice patterns. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but ever since the day that Aleeza had taught him the basics of daggers, Orin had been trying to keep his hand in. He was using just a forward grip, though he was planning to use the reverse grip later, which had a completely different set of motions attached to it. However, Orin hesitated. He’d overheard two guards trading training routine tips recently. Apparently, all of them started with some type of warm-up to avoid injury. It could be anything that simply got the body moving. While Orin didn’t think that any of the attacks he was working on would hurt his body, it was probably a good idea to get in the habit now, so it didn’t feel strange later.

Grabbing his cloak by the door, Orin stretched slightly in the weak winter sun. Then, he broke into a jog. He figured a couple of laps around the cottage would do nicely. And the fresh air would probably do Orin good. He smiled as his boots crunched through the snow and the wind picked up to chill Orin’s exposed face. But overall, it was actually quite nice to be out and about.

[Orin Fenix]

Somehow, Orin’s easy jog had turned into a full out run, and he didn’t quite know how it had happened. Probably it had been the result of letting his mind drift and then his speed gradually increasing until he had hit his max pace. Which, admittedly, was not very fast. But it certainly felt that way to Orin. Finally, he came to a panting halt by the door. He put a hand out on the wall of the cottage to steady himself as he bent nearly in half, trying to catch his breath. But that would completely defeat the purpose of Orin attempting to keep his body limber during his limited workout. So, Orin went back inside. Immediately sweat broke out on Orin’s body as he went from the freezing outdoors to the cozy and he removed his cloak and his shirt for good measure.

Orin’s next step was to practice falling. It shouldn’t like an inane idea, but apparently there was a proper way to fall. A person was supposed to slap the ground, hitting with their hands and forearms. So, although Orin didn’t want to think about the bruises he’d probably be acquiring, it seemed like an important skill to master. So, he pitched himself forward and tried to get his forearms in position. Unfortunately, he was falling at an angle and stretched out one hand to catch his fall. It jarred his wrist and Orin landed in a tumble, instead of the controlled manner that had been described. Orin gritted his teeth, but got right back up and tossed himself to the ground again. This time, though still painful, Orin fell properly and it wasn’t nearly as bad. He practiced that, ignoring the growing pain in his forearms, until he could do it without thinking. Not only did it lessen the pain of the fall, it also allowed Orin to recover significantly more quickly. He could get up faster, or roll from one side to the other as needed.

That skill mastered, for today at least, Orin picked up his knife from earlier. This time, he was using his reversed grip. Recently, Orin had been practicing spinning into a backhand slash. It supposedly was a useful offensive and even defensive maneuver that would either seriously wound an opponent behind or to one side, or force them away. The problem was, beyond its difficulty, that it exposed your front, but in a one on one fight it shouldn’t matter all that much. Placing his weight on his back foot and holding his blade in the ready position in his right hand, Orin pivoted and threw the blade out in a mix of a stab and a slash. Depending on where the enemy was, it would either slice them or penetrate. It made Orin feel powerful, that he could actually use this to fight off an attacker that came at him from behind. Of course, he’d have to actually get a dagger first.

Realizing he had no idea how much time had passed Orin set his knife aside, and went to take the pan out of the oven. He poked one of the garlic pieces and watched in satisfaction as it crumbled. He scraped the contents of the pan carefully into the mortar and pestle then ground the garlic carefully into powder. Now he could move on to the next step of the process.

[Orin Fenix]

Pouring the ground garlic into a bowl, Orin gave his mortar a quick dip to get rid of any remaining particles. Seeing as he was mixing them together later on anyway, it probably didn’t matter, but it was good policy to try not to mix any of the herbs, spices, and plants together until one meant to. Sometimes, their properties would combine in mysterious ways that were not at all safe for consumption. So, it was a habit for Orin to clean the mortar between each use. It didn’t have to be extensive unless there was visual residue. Orin gave it a quick swipe with a clean cloth. Now he was prepared to work on the mustard seed. He separated the water through the seeds through the simple expedient of placing his hand around the edge of the bowl and tipping it. The water drained out and his hand blocked the seed from going with it. He threw his handful into the mortar and then scraped out the rest of the seed using his hand.

Taking up the pestle, Orin began grinding it repetitively against the seed. It felt good to be doing what he loved with no restrictions. Eventually, Orin heard the telltale change in the sound when it was finished. He scooped out the substance and put it into a new bowl. Taking out his cider vinegar, Orin slowly poured it in with one hand while he mixed it with the spoon in his other hand. Soon, it reached the semi-solid state that Orin had been waiting for. Orin chose not to add any honey to sweeten the taste. He wanted it to be slightly hot. Also, the derivative he’d be working on later would use honey and Orin didn’t want the honey to get too overpowering. Instead, he dumped his garlic powder in with the rest and stirred it together thoroughly.

Unfortunately, Orin now had to wait for it to combine. It would take a few bells at least, so Orin was once again left to his own devices. If Orin had been more dutiful he would probably be doing minor repairs and touch ups around the cottage. But Orin couldn’t stomach the idea of performing the role of dutiful ward on this day of all days. So, Orin decided to pick up where he left off in regards to his martial skills.

Orin went through his punches and his kicks. He honestly didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing with them, but they seemed a useful compliment to his rudimentary skills with the dagger. Orin went from right arm to left arm to right leg to left leg. It was slow and careful, and Orin was almost certain that he wasn’t doing it right. The movements felt ungainly and Orin gave up his attempts as hopeless after a while. Instead, Orin picked up his knife and began practicing his overhand and underhand stabs in the forward direction. When Orin felt especially confident with his right hand, he switched the dagger to his left. Although Orin’s right was his dominant hand, he was trying to make sure his fighting abilities were equally good with both. After all, if his main hand got injured, Orin didn’t want to be helpless in a fight.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin had spent his two and a half bells quite productively. He’d set up an obstacle course of sorts using the chairs, the table and the bench that the family ate at. Orin had then practiced making his way through it in various different ways. He had crawled on and under the table, rolled and dove over the bench, stepped on and around the chairs, and all sorts of other combinations. He was covered in bruises from when he’d misjudged his distances, which happened quite frequently, but Orin thought it was good for him to be working on his pain tolerance and physical awareness. He was quite bad at it, but he had to start somewhere he supposed. He had worked up quite a sweat.

After a while, when he’d started feeling more comfortable, Orin had thrown imaginary opponents into the mix. Orin had turned his movements into dodges of fake strikes, trying to put a piece of furniture between where his daydreamed foe was standing and attacking. And, at the end of a dodge or a roll, Orin had tried to come up and turn it into a strike. Sometimes he practiced with the dagger, holding onto it as he worked his way around and then ending in a slash or a lunged stab. Other times, he roll then sprang to his feet and kicked or punched. All in all, it was a surprisingly good workout, especially for Orin who had never attempted anything like it before in his life. He was panting by the end of it and sweat was pouring off of him. Luckily, he’d never put his shirt back on from earlier. Wiping off the worst of it, wincing slightly as his various aches and pains made themselves known to him. Still, it was overall a pleasant feeling.

Orin washed his hands thoroughly then walked over to check on his pot. He dipped a spoon in and took a cautious taste. It was wonderful, with just a slight kick to it and Orin made a pleased sound. It was the best mustard Orin had ever tasted, if Orin said so himself, which he did. Or thought to himself more accurately. Still it had turned out better than Orin could have anticipated. And now he could experiment with it even more.

Taking out garlic and onions, Orin peeled them and minced them finely. He took a new pot and filled it with the white wine he’d removed from the drinks cabinet yesterday. It felt good not to have to worry about getting caught out with it, considering Orin had taken it from the locked cabinet. Of course, the key wasn’t exactly well hidden and Orin had quickly found the spot where the father of his foster family kept it. Pouring a portion in, Orin replaced the cork then tossed his onions and garlic in. Setting it on his stove, Orin let it boil then pulled it to a slighter cooler spot so it dropped to a simmer. He flipped his hourglass over, and waited the five chimes it measured. As soon as that was done, Orin pulled it off the stove.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin poured his wine, garlic, and onion mix into a bowl and let it sit there, cooling. Then, he went to various shelves and pulled out the rest of the ingredients he’d need including olive oil, honey, and salt. He went to his mustard and measured out around a third of it into a pan. Orin scrubbed out the pot the wine had been in and filled it with a bit of water. He set it to boil then grabbed the honey pot and the tongs. Placing the honey into the water Orin let it heat up until the honey became more fluid as Orin tilted it slightly from side to side.

Taking up his now cooled wine, Orin poured it through his hand to prevent the solid chunks of onion and garlic getting into the rest of the mustard. He tossed the pieces into the trash when all the wine was through. He blended the wine and the mustard together fully, and then added two scoops of the still warm honey, a spoonful of olive oil and a few dashes of salt. He gave it a few stirs then set it all on a low heat.

He remembered that he had to watch it closely at this point to make sure it thickened properly. So, as he turned it over carefully with his mixing spoon, Orin kept a careful eye on it. It gradually got thicker and thicker until it finally reached the proper consistency, or so Orin hoped. He took the new mixture off the stove and grabbed a jar. The contents of the pan went into it and Orin sealed it carefully. Next, Orin took up his plain mustard from earlier and stored that away as well. Both of them were placed in the pantry. The cooler temperatures there would help stabilize Orin’s sauces and keep them from spoiling. Unfortunately, Orin would have to wait two days before this latest one was ready for consumption. Still, Orin felt an eagerness grow in his stomach as he contemplated everything he could do with his new concoctions. And, now that Orin knew how to do it, as long as he had the time and the privacy, nothing was stopping him from doing it again.

However, the family was due to arrive back tonight, so Orin should do his best to tidy up. He cleaned up his various pots, pans, bowls, cups and utensils and put them back where they had come from. Next, he had to replace the chairs, bench, and table. The chairs were fine and Orin only ran into minimal issues wrestling the bench. However, the table refused to budge when Orin’s wearied limbs tried to lift it all at once. He was reduced to lifting one end, shifting it slightly down, then switching sides, until the heavy table was back in its proper place. Orin was reasonably certain the scuffmarks would go unnoticed. He had no idea how he had managed that earlier with no trouble. Still it was back in place now.

Seeing as he still had some time to spare, Orin picked up his knife again. He slipped it into it’s sheathe, and began practicing drawing it as quickly and as smoothly as possible. If an opponent came up to him, Orin didn’t want to waste a single tick on getting his weapon out and at the ready. So he went back and forth from standing with it sheathed to crouching with it held at the ready. He also practiced the two completely opposite draws necessary to pull the knife out in a reverse grip and a forward grip. Ever so slowly, Orin found his speed and his grace improving.

[Katelyn Marks]

Due Rewards

“After nourishment, shelter, and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.”

― Philip Pullman

 

Orin

Skills
➢ Planning +2
➢ Organization +2
➢ Cooking +3
➢ Observation +2
➢ Philtering +2
➢ Unarmed Combat +1
➢ Running +1
➢ Endurance +2
➢ Acrobatics +2
➢ Dagger +3
➢ Tactics +2

Lores
➢ Planning: Never too Many Bowls
➢ Cooking: Mincing Vegetables
➢ Cooking: Mustard Recipe
➢ Acrobatics: Controlled Fall
➢ Dagger: Quick Draw

Comments: Another good read. You also mixed it up a little this time, which was nice. I was able to give you quite a bit.

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