Intensive Training: The Ports of Surset, #3.5

By Ubriel Bryne and Amy Norton

During the events that take place in the Ports of Surset, Book Three: The Second Order, Sca is called away by Chef Ranie Thorin. She offers him the opportunity to become the heir to her culinary empire. Sca leaves his friends and all that is happening to learning everything the chef has to teach.

While embracing lessons in the kitchen, Sca will face his own self-doubt and the challenge of a new relationship.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ubriel Bryne Books
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201459307

Ubriel Bryne

Ubriel Bryne’s writing is sometimes whimsical and sometimes flippant but always full of creative imagery. She has been writing for two decades and released a few shorter works here and there. Her debut science fiction novel series, The Ports of Surset, was released in 2020. The full series is available on Kindle Unlimited. The Starling Nightcastle series is Ubriel’s urban fantasy debut.

Book preview

Chapter 1. Too Wet

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Scadrien? We’re leaving now. Chef Ranie Thorin’s once rich voice filtered through the rooms of the grand house like breathy music from a reed flute.

Sca stepped out of the kitchen, his hands covered in stringy, wet dough. Leaving?

Em, the chef’s devoted, personal aid and monk, grinned as he stepped up beside the chef and held a thick coat up for her. Chef has a doctor appointment, remember?

Sca blinked rapidly and lowered his eyes to his hands. He frowned at the sticky dough as he nodded. Right. That’s today?

Chef huffed as she shrugged to settle the coat across her shoulders. Too wet. Start over.

Sca focused on the dough all over his hands and nodded. I know. I don’t understand it, though.

That recipe is a tricky one. Chef pursed her lips and leaned with both hands on her cane. It’s worth mastering it, though. She narrowed her eyes and looked up at her final student. The trick is the temperature and humidity. Freeze the butter for ten minutes. Fold it in. She nodded once sharply and turned, a waddling rock from foot to foot. It will give you plenty of time to clean up this disaster before you try it again. She lifted a hand toward the door and Em pulled it open.

Sca nodded, still consumed with the perplexing mess clinging to his fingers. The thump of the closing door drew his eyes and he realized they’d gone. He sighed and resisted the urge to scratch his temple, then his nose. He frowned back down at his hands and turned for the kitchen. With the mixing bowl in the sink, he ran water into it and rinsed the goo from his fingers. As he dried them and glanced around at his work surface to plan the steps of cleaning, he spied the empty butter dish and snapped his fingers. He’d almost forgotten to chill the butter. He moved through his tasks, butter in the freezer, mixing bowl washed, counters cleaned.

He’d been at the chef’s personal estate for almost a week now. When he’d first joined her, they had met at the original Philendrotone restaurant. From there, Chef had whisked him away to visit more than a half dozen franchises. She’d introduced him to her hand-picked head chef’s at each restaurant and sat through the uncomfortable, but necessary, interviews. Two such chefs had seemed ready to storm out when they realized Sca was going to be the chef’s heir, and their new boss. Somehow, by the end, Chef had managed to smooth their ruffled feathers, and Sca had gained their respect, however grudgingly.

They’d been on their way to the estate, Chef, Em and Sca together in the chef’s ornate personal transport, when they’d gotten word of the armies converging on the valley beneath Ostinentem. Em had been inconsolable, watching news broadcasts and bemoaning the lack of response from any of his contacts in the Orders. Sca considered trying to explain what he knew of the situation, but refrained. How would he explain everything he and his friends in the Andran Company had discovered? In the end, he’d simply commiserated over hot drinks in the evenings after Chef had gone to bed.

He'd largely put it out of his mind as they’d arrived at the grand house where he now stood, elbow deep in hot, soapy water. Chef’s personal tutelage kept him too busy to think of much more than the recipe at hand on most days. He rinsed the dish in his hand and placed it in the drain board. If freezing the butter was helpful, perhaps chilling the mixing bowl and kneading counter would be as well. He picked up a bowl and shoved it into the refrigerator. Turning to the kneading surface, his glass of iced tea caught his eye. He stopped and growled. Beads of condensation ran down the sides of the glass. Since beginning this training, he sometimes felt like a child learning to measure antmint chips for his first batch of cookies. He looked around the kitchen, turning in slow circles as he thought.

His mind wandered, not for the first time, to the activities of the rest of the members of the Company. He needed to check in with Hassi. Was the boy up to the task of supervising the upgrades? Why couldn’t Rana have supervised the upgrades and court her ex afterward? Hassi had better not let them mess up his kitchen. He would have handled the upgrades himself, but the chef hadn’t had time, had even less now, to wait for him to personally oversee that project. He’d known the chef had a lot to teach him, but even now he wasn’t sure he realized the scope of the chore.

Chef Ranie Thorin, his mentor and one of the most impressive women Sca had ever met, was dying. She wouldn’t say of what, except that it was degenerative, and she didn’t have time to waste. She wanted Sca to be the heir to her empire of restaurants, frozen foods, cooking and kitchen equipment, even a short line of chef’s clothing. It was an incredible opportunity.

A field of furrows settled across his brow as he crossed the kitchen floor toward the walk-in cooler. What if he hadn’t been Chef’s first choice? Was there someone else who might show up to claim the chef’s estate? After all these weeks, he still hadn’t found a way to broach the topic.

During his trip to meet her, he’d run a query for every cookbook, interview, guest appearance, amateur video, or bad joke he could find on the chef and her company. He’d committed most of the chef’s repertoire of modern recipes to memory before he’d arrived. That had helped with the staff and supplier interviews, but not as much with this