The injured, lumbering (yet strangely invigorated, just this morning) man subtly counted out ten platinum coins and pressed them into the priest's hand. Reservation played across Keystone's face for a moment before the ministrations of the Cleric washed over him, a sentiment he expressed. "Maybe not [i]entirely[/i] without scars? I earned 'em hard, Sir Cleric. Got stories carved into my skin lotsa places, make a proper Bard have to take notes. Punching out this Glith fellow's a respectable tale to share."

In the end he sighed and allowed divine splendor to erase the rest of his hurt. It may well have been the first time the Tyr's Chosen saw a man depressed because of their healing arts. Keystone thanked him nonetheless and shook the priest's hand firmly. Just as he was about to turn and leave, the again-whole pugilist remembered something. "Hey there, good sir..." he dug in his pocket for a souvenir from his fight with Glith, "I don't suppose you've got any knowledge of something like this, do you?" 

Keystone produced what remained of the blood seal and held it out to the senior Cleric. "Questing, you see. Continuing the work Raa an' I started weeks ago. Looking for new things to follow up on." 

***

A short time later, Keystone found himself back at the marketplace and in the company of his new friend. Strangely, the thought of what Shein-Fang said, about some manner of evil still around him, briefly darkened his thoughts. Some form of Glith perhaps, or his charge Kaylee? One of his new friends? Red Wizards spying on him, for reasons unknown, or maybe just one wizard - the one who started all of this by offering that reward. Dead, true, or at least turned to stone. He seemed the kind to plan for\little contingencies like getting choked out and turned into a statue. 

Or maybe he was just being paranoid. While not allowing himself to drop guard entirely, he did force himself to relax a bit. He survived his last big trial by combat, if barely, met good people, got re-provisioned. He meant to take a breather and plan out his next move - Kaylee was still trapped. Whether that meant setting her soul free to depart our earthly plane or giving her an honest chance at life, he could not say. All he was certain of right now is that he was going to walk the marketplace with Saran and spend the rest of the day cooking.

He toured the foodier areas of the square, asking Saran the occasional question, selecting the right items or the local approximate. It surprised Keystone how many familiar things he could procure from this place; Telflamm lived up to its role as a center of trade. Most of the discussion he initiated with his mysterious companion had to do with epicure. He was asked to teach, but couldn't help asking many of his own questions.

By the time he was satisfied with the ingredients and kitchen staples, Keystone had a stout staff balanced on his shoulders, laden with sacks and baskets. Various packages of seasonings and small goods wrapped in paper were snug in most of his pockets. Whether from pride or obligation, the sizable culinarian declined any help from Saran, instead asking if she would keep an eye out for him in the crowds. 

To his credit, he did attempt non-food, non-beast-of-burden conversation: "That is a lovely robe you've got there. Does it mean something? I've seen the like about lately."

***

Upon return, Keystone unloaded and got straight to work. From his traveler's pack, he procured a bundle of canvas and leather that he held reverently, unrolling it on the nearby table. It turned out to be an apron, brimming with various small cooking blades and utensils. He shed his outer clothing and strapped on the apron, changing immediately from a formidable practitioner of the pugilistic arts to a culinary field marshal, inspecting the ingredients and tools before him as one would an army at their command. In polite and direct tones, he half taught, half directed Saran in one task as he busied himself with another. 

"Beautiful, that. Make sure you pack the beet sugar around the fatback... excellent. Now, when it's wrapped up in the dough and cooked off, it'll keep for bloody ever. Bacon Scones! I'll check on the Gallantine o' Pheasants and sherry veloute. ...good, slather the rendered fat over the pastry, and.... bake off when the heat gets high... Got this for a moment?"

Uncharacteristic of his normal resting demeanor, Keystone seemed light on his feet and positive of expression. He usually wasn't like this unless he was pummeling someone senseless. He exited the room with a platter, laden with with toasted slabs of bread, layered with chunky red-and-black bean paste liberally topped with a crumbly, marbled local cheese. This and an assortment of stonefruit were left outside, in a then uncluttered area of the smithy proper. He politely rapped the edge of the plate with his knuckles to inform of its presence to Rocksteady and his apprentice, and returned to the confines of the dwelling for more work. 

"Now, here's something that's not part of my cuisine, nor yours... been working on it for quite some time, y'see, 'till I got the recipe down right. My gift to travelers and very busy folk." Keystone worked a simple dough on the main table, flour covering the majority of its surface as he labored, cutting and pulling the dough as needed until it formed long, impossibly thin strands. "It's like dumplings, right? But long and thin, you folk call 'em noodles. Noodles where I'm from're shorter, broader affairs, but we'll get back to that."

Keystone gathered up an armful of the lightly floured pasta and deposited it into a pot of boiling, salted water for about a minute. After it was strained out, the massive craftsman formed the noodles into rough nest shapes, densely packed but still separate starchy threads, and flash cooked them in oil for just a few seconds. "Now then, the dumpl.. er, noodles are fully cooked, but the oil's removed all of the wetness from 'em, eh? They will keep like this [i]forever[/i], or until the mice have at 'em."

A smile swept across his face, and the otherwise beater of wholesale posterior began emphasizing his speech with angular hand gestures, "Now, here's the best part: All you need do now is drop them in hot water and cover for a couple of minutes, and they're done. Fully done. Put on a kettle, done. Usually, I like to cook 'em up with bits of meat n' seasonings or desiccated veggies, whatever I can [i]ram in[/i] there, y'understand, but it sets alone very well if you just need something to fill your belly."

"It ain't perfect yet. Almost. I think I'm really on to something with this, though."

Keystone wet a towel and cleaned up the main table, paying special attention to the floor around it. The changeover from the penultimate to the last round of items going into and on top of the stove was just about to take place, and cooking with Master Keystone was drawing to a conclusion for the day. From the look of the spread so far, the members of the Rocksteady household had a great feast ahead of them for their next two meals, plus enough preserved and preservables to last them a week or two. 

A feeling of tired pride washed over Keystone as he sat down and treated himself to a mug of ale (not Avar's!). Wistfully, he thought aloud, "All those pastry leftovers - might have to make bread pudding for tomorrow's breakfast, eh?"