Into the Fire: A LitRPG Fantasy Cooking

Adventure (Morcster Chef Book 2)

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 INTO THE FIRE
©2022 A.J. Nadir

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 C O NT E NT S

ALSO IN SERIES

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Thank you for reading Into the Fire

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 ALSO IN SERIES

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 CHAPTER ONE

Arek waited until an hour after brunch to tell his friends about the
doomsday clock that had etched itself back onto his claws. After all,
there was no point ruining a perfectly good meal with a problem as
mundane as imminent destruction.
Once everyone but Ming had finished eating, Arek drew their
attention to himself. He ignored the pit growing deeper at the bottom
of his stomach and held his hands out so the others could get a
better look as they spoke. The gentle, pulsing green glow of the
runes backed his words up, leaving no doubt that his magic had
returned.
“That’s kind of cool,” Ming said, finishing off the last piece of
apple pie and licking her lips clean. “Not the uncontrollable insanity
part, but... at least you’re strong again. Magic is fun.”
“I have an enchanted dagger,” Belmont said. Arek noticed that
the man had a hand wrapped around the hilt of his bright pink staff,
no doubt prepared to summon a shield if Arek went insane. The
thought was oddly comforting. “We could etch the runes off again. Or
do you believe that you’ve already lost control? Actually, if you had,
would you even know?”
“Relax, Belmont,” Malissa said. “If Arek had already lost control,
he’d be slinging magic everywhere. Judging by the fact that he’s just
sitting here, I suspect that he’s fine for the time being. That being
said, we should probably contact Magus.”
“That would be a good idea,” Arek agreed. “I’m certainly feeling
the desire to use magic again, but I don’t believe it’s enforced by
anything other than my longing to, well, use magic. It doesn’t seem
to be influenced by an external force, which is somehow more
concerning. As for the dagger, it’s worth giving it a shot.”
“I’ll go find Magus,” Ming said, pushing her chair back and rising
to her feet.
“Don’t channel a huge amount of pure magic in the middle of the
city!” Malissa called after Ming as the small mage darted away.
Ming cackled in response, running out the door and disappearing
into the morning crowd.
“Well, that’s not good,” Malissa said. “How did things go so wrong
so quickly?”
“Sorry,” Arek said.
“It’s okay. We’ll deal with it. We’ve gotten this far, so don’t you
think for a moment that we’re going to get brought down by a bunch
of fancy green lines.”
“Less talk, more stabbing runes,” Belmont said, sliding a dagger
across the table to Arek.
The blade shimmered with a faint blue light. It would have been
impossible to notice if the orc wasn’t intentionally looking for it.
Arek lifted the dagger and pressed the tip into his claw. He drew
a deep breath and gritted his teeth against the pain. The orc
increased the pressure, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand
as the blade bit deeper into his hand. He dragged it along a claw,
carving a thin line through dozens of miniscule runes.
“Well, that seems to have worked,” Malissa said.
The runes lit up. Before any of them could react, the furrow Arek
had carved into himself lit up with the same color as the runes. When
the light faded a moment later, the cut was gone.
“You ruined it,” Belmont grumbled. “You are a bad luck charm.
First you walk next to the river and get yanked in, and now this.”
Arek peered at his claw. His brow furrowed and his lips thinned.
“It never did this before. That arch did something to the runes.
They’re different.”
Belmont stood up and made his way over to stand beside Arek.
He kept a good bit of space between them and kept his staff
clutched tightly in one hand.
 “Let me take a look,” Belmont said. “I might recognize some of
them.”
Arek offered him his hand. Belmont took it and raised it to eye
level, examining the runes with a frown. Several adventurers sent a
glance in their direction, and one of them let out a cheerful whistle.
“Nothing I recall,” Belmont sighed. “They’re strange. The style
seems similar to the rune on the arch, but more modern. It’s like a
mixture of the two types. I’m sure Magus will be of more help.”
“You’re quite friendly with Magus,” Malissa said, tilting her head
slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you compliment someone so
seriously or without looking like you sat on an anthill. What
happened between you two?”
“Absolutely nothing. He’s just a very capable mage.” Belmont
crossed his arms. “He might have also given me a book or two, but
that’s a topic for later. We need to make sure our chef doesn’t
explode.”
Just as the last word came out of Belmont’s mouth, a dull thrum
ripped through the guild. It was just a noise, but it passed with
enough force to make Arek feel like his bones were shaking.
Belmont leapt to his feet, raising the staff and preparing to
summon a shield before the group. The other adventurers in the
tavern reacted similarly, although they were slightly slower to the
draw than Belmont.
Ming strode back into the tavern with a sheepish smile on her
face. Magus stormed in behind her. A cute nightcap sat askew on his
head and he wore a long, flowing bathrobe. It might have looked
regal, had it not been bright pink.
“What is it with you lot and summoning me by mimicking an
explosion in the city?” Magus snarled, pausing to break down
coughing for several moments before resuming his tirade. “Have you
never heard of a message spell? You don’t have to use enough
magic to blow up a dungeon!”
“I don’t know a message spell,” Ming said meekly.
“I’ve got a bubble and a healing spell,” Belmont said.
“Some basic summoning magic for my daggers, but that’s it,”
Malissa added with an embarrassed grin.
 “I know one, but I don’t think it would be wise for me to be using
any magic at the moment,” Arek said.
“You know one?” Magus asked, his eyes narrowing. “And you still
let this little goblin call me with a pillar of pure magic in the middle of
the city? What is your prob—wait. You know a spell?” The mage
flicked his hand, summoning a dome of energy around the group to
block out the watching adventurers.
“That’s why I called you,” Ming said. “It’s a little urgent. Arek is
gonna blow up.”
“I don’t know where you all got the idea that I’ve become
explosive,” Arek said. He turned to Magus and raised his hand.
“However, there is still a cause for worry. It appears the dungeon
changed more than Ming’s eyes.”
“Explain,” Magus ordered. He coughed into his sleeve, but his
inquisitive eyes didn’t leave Arek for a second.
It took a few moments for Arek to go over the history of his runes.
Magus’ eyes narrowed once the orc had finished speaking. The pale
mage shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle.
“You played me. When I asked if you were magical, you said not
inherently. I suppose an external enchantment wouldn’t count. Very
clever. Makes me even more curious about your past.”
“My past is not the immediate concern,” Arek said. “Can you look
at the runes? We have already attempted to destroy them with an
enchanted dagger, but they repaired themselves.”
Magus walked around the side of the table and peered closer at
Arek’s claws. A thoughtful frown crossed his face as he scanned
them.
“Interesting. Very interesting,” Magus said, rubbing his chin. “I
don’t recognize these at all. They’re just like the runes in Ming’s
eyes. However, if you’ve had problems controlling yourself in the
past due to the runes, we can’t afford to delay like we can with Ming.
Arek, you’ve got a Truesight Artifact, right? Use it, please. Is
anything off?”
Arek shrugged and pulled the eyepiece out, examining himself.
 Vaugh-Arek
Male Orc, Age 29

Magical affinity: Runes

Magical power: 89 th Percentile
Magical energy: 55 th Percentile
Physical power: 82 nd Percentile
Karma: -3,802: C-Rank Adventurer
Guild: None

“Nothing is different,” Arek said, putting it away.

“What should we do?” Belmont asked. “If we get a stronger
weapon, we might end up chopping Arek’s fingers off. Besides, what
if the runes are controlling him? If we don’t understand what they do,
he could be under someone’s influence!”
“I don’t think someone else could have cooked like that,” Malissa
pointed out. “I highly doubt whoever made the arches in the dungeon
was also a professional chef.”
“That’s… a fair point, actually,” Belmont admitted. “That doesn’t
mean they couldn’t somehow influence Arek in the future, though.”
“Belmont is correct,” Magus said. “However, I’m not aware of any
method to remove the runes without completely chopping your
hands off. We have no idea what they’ll do if faced with a powerful
magical attack.”
“I find the removal of my hands to be a mild inconvenience,” Arek
said.
Magus sighed and rubbed his forehead, as if Arek’s answer had
itself greatly inconvenienced him.
“Very well. The first order of business is to run a field test. We
need to find out if you are going to lose control of your abilities in a
controlled environment.”
Magus raised his hands upwards. The air crackled and the group
vanished, leaving behind nothing but the smell of ozone.
They snapped back into existence in a wide-open field. Everyone
other than Magus and Ming promptly fell to the ground as their chairs
vanished from beneath them.
“Give us warning before you do that!” Malissa snapped.
“Sorry,” Magus said, but he didn’t sound particularly apologetic.
“Now, Arek, test your magic. Fear not, I will subdue you if you find
yourself unable to control your abilities. We’re far enough away from
the city, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Arek slowly rose to his feet. He glanced down at his travel bag,
which had somehow teleported along with them. The flap was still
slightly askew. He could make out the red patch within the small gap.
The damn thing felt like it wanted to be seen.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Arek asked. “What if the desire to
overuse my magic comes back the moment I cast a spell?”
“You claim to be a chef, but you’re still an adventurer,” Magus
replied. His tone darkened and the air around him crackled with faint
blue energy. “For the moment, it looks like the runes will be a part of
you for the near future. When you inevitably get into trouble and your
team needs your help, you’re going to use the runes. Now, what
happens if you hold off now and go insane then? You become a
liability to your own team. An uncontrolled weapon is no better than
an enemy.”
“Hold on now,” Malissa said. “We contacted you for help, but
you’re not going to be ordering anyone other than Ming around. Arek
could go insane from using the runes! You have no place making
that decision for him.”
“Logically, Magus is correct,” Belmont said slowly. He ignored the
glare Malissa sent his way as Magus gave him an approving nod.
“However… I believe I am going to side with Malissa. We’re talking
about Arek’s life, not the outcome of a dice game.”
Magus rolled his eyes and turned to Ming. “Have you also
decided to become a philosopher?”
“Nah, I’ll just go with whatever Arek wants,” Ming said with a
shrug. “I trust him.”
Arek felt a bead of sweat trail down the back of his neck. He
swallowed and clenched his hands, setting his brow in stone and
giving Magus a firm nod. “Thank you, everyone. However, I think
Magus is correct. I cannot progress without making sure I am not a
threat to the party.”
A grin started to cross Magus’ face.
“I’m well aware that half the reason you want me to do this is
because you want to see an orc use magic,” Arek said, wiping
Magus’ smile straight off. “It just happens to be the best course of
action.”
“I am a scholar first and foremost,” Magus said with an
unapologetic shrug. “Do not fear. If you lose control, I will subdue
you without serious harm. These runes might be dangerous, but they
will not permit you to stand against me.”
The man’s words were a mere statement of fact, not an insult.
There was surely no doubt in Magus’ mind that he could stop Arek if
worse came to worst.
“Best get your shields ready, Belmont,” Arek said, drawing a deep
breath and walking several strides away from the party. “You might
need them.”
 C H A P T E R T WO

It was a strange feeling, yearning to call upon the magic within the
runes while simultaneously wishing they had never returned.
Unfortunately, when the lives of his companions were on the line,
Arek’s trepidation took backseat. The orc cracked his neck.
Years had passed since Arek had last attempted to draw upon
the full power of the runes. The occasional spell he’d cast to help
with cooking had drawn so little power from the already-damaged
runes that the orc hoped he’d forgotten how to properly access them
in the first place. There was no such luck.
The moment Arek’s mind drifted to casting a spell, he felt power
start to thrum within his hands. He swallowed and narrowed his
eyes. There was no backing away.
“Get ready,” Arek warned. He shoved old memories to the side as
he dredged up a spell he hadn’t cast in ten years. He mentally
brushed the spiderwebs away, bringing the knowledge to the
forefront of his mind.
Within the span of a second, brilliant green lines etched
themselves into his claws as individual runes lit up. The air around
Arek’s claws crackled. Energy exploded forth, stretching outwards
and expanding like an elastic bolt of lightning.
The green light grew darker, forming into a thick pillar about the
width of a fist and a half. One end expanded, forming into a large,
wicked blade. It had a slight curve that sharpened at the tip. Details
continued to slowly appear from within the light. The forms of furious
warriors and furious beasts decorated the entire shaft. Arek reached
out and grabbed the construct. It hummed in response to his touch.
 The light dimmed further before stopping at just a few shades
lighter than jade. The blade of the weapon seemed to hum slightly,
and the light at its edge was significantly brighter than the rest of the
weapon.
Arek kept his hand as far away from his body as he could. He
held the staff gingerly, as if it were about to explode.
“That’s an interesting spell,” Magus observed. He watched Arek
closely, his inquisitive eyes drinking in every detail. “That’s a
guandao, if I’m not mistaken. Not many mages bother summoning
weapons. It’s much more effective to fight someone from far away.”
“I am not a mage,” Arek said curtly. His voice was so tense that it
could have cut a steak.
“I’m not here to argue semantics,” Magus said. “Feeling any
urges to go on a killing spree?”
“You can’t just ask him that!” Ming whispered. “You have to be
more polite.”
“And how would you do that?” Magus asked, cocking an
eyebrow.
Ming cleared her throat and turned to Arek. “Ah…are we looking
any tastier than normal? Like we’d go well atop a bed of spinach,
drizzled with a lemon vinaigrette?” Ming paused. Then she licked her
lips. “Actually, that sounds kind of good….”
“I’m afraid not,” Arek said. “And, for the record, meat tends to pair
well with a salad that has more of a bite. Arugula might be the better
option, if you were so inclined.”
“You’re both psychopaths,” Malissa grumbled, doing her best to
take the situation seriously. She failed miserably at keeping the grin
from her face as Ming nodded thoughtfully in response to Arek’s
words.
“Just for educational purposes, do you think a person would taste
good?” Ming asked. “And, while we’re talking about knowledge at
that stuff, would they be best medium or medium-rare?”
“Do not answer that,” Belmont warned. “She was already an inch
away from eating a fishman. We do not need to encourage this
further.”
 Arek’s mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat. As far as
the orc could tell, not a single trace of unnatural desire towards the
magic had appeared. A miniscule amount of the tension left his
shoulders.
“Of course. It was just meant to be a joke to lighten the situation.”
Arek waited for a few moments until Belmont glanced in Magus’
direction. Then he mouthed “medium-rare” at Ming and gave her a
wink.
Belmont didn’t see Arek, but he spotted the gleeful grin on Ming’s
face and immediately glared at Arek.
The orc shrugged, then dismissed the spell. The guandao
shattered into thousands of little motes of light that shimmered and
launched back into his claws. The runes faded back to gray.
“I’m not feeling anything yet,” Arek said before any of them could
ask. “It’s almost concerning, actually. There’s no way my runes were
repaired and improved for free. There has to be a drawback, and I’d
much rather know it than be in the dark.”
“Indeed,” Magus agreed, pursing his lips. “I recommend you all
stay within the city for the next few days. I have already started
scouring the libraries for any information relating to Ming’s eyes. I will
add your runes to the list, Arek. However, it does not appear as if
there are any immediate consequences to your magic. I don’t believe
you are a danger to yourself or the public, so you are free to do as
you please.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. The guild has been very effective at
solving our other problems,” Malissa said, frowning.
“We’re doing the best we can,” Magus said with a frown of his
own. He coughed into his sleeve. “It is impossible to believe how
deeply rooted that woman’s organization is. I don’t know why she
was foolish enough to challenge Belmont in the middle of the guild,
but this is churning up to be quite the conspiracy. It might be one of
the biggest scandals that the guild has ever had. So, for your own
safety, I strongly recommend against speaking of it further. Rest
assured, we are working to reach a satisfactory result.”
“Was that a threat?” Belmont asked, tilting his head slightly.
 “A warning,” Magus said. “Do not misunderstand my words. You
have nothing to fear from me. However, there are many in the
adventurer’s guild that would kill to keep the news of such a scandal
quiet. Politics are a very dangerous game, and you’ve inadvertently
stumbled into what may very well be the largest match of the
decade.”
“That’s not dramatic at all,” Arek said dryly. Magus, whose chest
had puffed out slightly in pride during his speech, seemed to deflate
as his epic moment was ruined. “The adventurer’s guild loves getting
into pissing matches with people. This wouldn’t be the first time one
of their enemies has infiltrated them, and it won’t be the last. I think
we’re a little more concerned as to why Belmont has been dragged
into it.”
“That being said, we’ll be playing it safer than usual,” Belmont
said. “The circumstances are irrelevant. We can’t take any risks for
the foreseeable future, or at least until we know who we’re dealing
with.”
“That is probably a wise decision,” Magus said. “I promise we’ll
do our best to bring more information to light soon.”
Their conversation petered off into an uneasy silence, with the
four of them awkwardly watching Magus. The blue-veined mage
coughed into his sleeve and cleared his throat loudly.
“Well, I think we’ve done what we needed to. Arek, I recommend
you avoid using your magic for the time being. I’ll contact you the
moment I find any useful information. With that being said, unless
anyone has any reason to stay here further, I’ll be taking us back to
Riverfall.”
“Can I have a new spell to learn?” Ming said, doing her best
puppy-dog eyes in the older mage’s direction. “I figured out the first
one, and it’s kind of boring.”
Magus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A faint blue
light lit up at the tip of his finger and he traced a line through the air.
The line split open into a tiny portal and he reached inside, hunting
around for something. He found it after a few moments and pulled
out a tiny white book that wasn’t much larger than his hand.
 “There are several spells at your level within this book. It’s quite
rare, so please—”
Ming snatched it from his hand and eagerly started flipping
through the pages, practically salivating at being able to cast more
than one pure magic spell.
“—be careful with it,” Magus finished. He let out a weary sigh and
turned to Belmont as he pulled another, much thinner book from his
bag. This one was a pale beige, with dozens of dark runes inscribed
on the front.
“And this one is for you,” Magus said, handing it to Belmont.
The armored man produced a thin black cloth from within his
travel pouch and wrapped it around his gauntleted hand before
taking the book. “What’s this?”
“You need a mentor or an incredible amount of money to learn
new spells,” Magus said, rubbing the back of his head. “You didn’t
get one during your exam, so I felt that it was my duty to step in.
Temporarily, of course. Just until you find a new mentor. The other
two books are just the basics. This one is more appropriate for a
healer.”
“I see. Thank you,” Belmont said, wrapping the book in the black
cloth and putting it into his travel bag.
“Well, then, it’s time to get back,” Magus said. “I have quite a lot
of work to do. A good bit of it will be explaining to the guild that the
giant spike of energy was due to an overeager apprentice rather
than a powerful magical artifact. So, is everyone ready?” He let out a
racking cough and grimaced, then wiped his mouth with the back of
his sleeve.
Before any of them could respond, pure magic arced out of his
hands and enveloped the group. Bright blue light lit up the clearing.
When it faded, they were all gone.
The Happy Sunflowers appeared in the bottom floor of the
adventurer’s guild, several feet away from the table they’d been
sitting at before Magus had arrived. The mage hadn’t come along
with them, and their arrival drew the attention of several adventurers.
“Well, that was…something,” Malissa said, letting out a weary
sigh. “I suppose we got mostly good news, though.”
 Ming grunted in what might have been agreement. Her nose was
buried in the book Magus had given her, and the small mage didn’t
seem particularly interested in tearing her gaze away from it.
“It’s still concerning,” Arek said. “Not to sound like Belmont, but
we need to be on our guard. If Ming and I were both affected by that
portal, it’s possible you and Belmont were as well. If even Magus
doesn’t recognize what the green runes are, we have to assume that
they’re dangerous.”
“You’re right, but is there really anything we can do about it?”
Malissa asked. “Magus is already checking the library. If we sit
around constantly worrying, all we’ll do is make it harder on
ourselves.”
“It is better to be overprepared than the alternative,” Belmont
said. “If we don’t know what your runes do, we should prepare for
the worst. We could barricade ourselves within our rooms and wait
until Magus finds further information.”
Malissa crossed her arms and shook her head firmly. “No. Being
careful is one thing, but we shouldn’t live in fear of something that we
don’t know. As long as we’re in the city, Magus can show up and
help if things go really badly.”
“What are you suggesting?” Belmont asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, we’ve got a good number of people watching us at the
moment,” Malissa said, lowering her voice. “Regardless of what we
do, I think it’s time to get a move on. We’ve got some time to kill, and
we just finished a dungeon. I think we should pay a visit to the
auction house.”
“I certainly wouldn’t mind that,” Arek said, nodding. “But not yet. I
like to cook when I’m stressed, and I think my runes reactivating is
sufficient cause for stress. I know we just ate, so I’ll keep the portion
small.”
“None of us are going to object to that. I know magic can drain
your energy, and we’re all quite active now that you force us to get
up before the sun.” Malissa gave the orc a smile. “I don’t think a little
extra food is going to hurt any of us.”
Ming was less subtle. She tore her gaze away from the book and
threw her hands into the air with a cheer. Several people in the
crowd glanced in their direction, but many of them were regulars at
the tavern.
The Happy Sunflowers’ antics had started to become something
of an expectation rather than a surprise, and the novelty had quickly
worn off. Almost everyone returned to their meal after rolling their
eyes or scoffing in Ming’s direction.
“What are you making?” Ming asked, clutching her new book.
She licked her lips like a predator.
“Nothing too complicated this time,” Arek said. “We don’t want to
spend all day cooking. If Voulier will let me use his kitchen, I think I
know exactly what we need. Malissa, are you going to be helping?”
“If you’ll let me,” the tall woman said, nodding. “I’ve been having a
lot of fun learning so far.”
“Good,” Arek said. “That’s how it should be. Now we just have to
hope Voulier doesn’t mind us bothering him again.”
Ming and Belmont claimed a table while the other two made for
the kitchen door. It swung open before they were halfway there,
revealing a rather irate-looking Voulier. The man angrily stroked his
moustache and adjusted his hat.
“You’re late,” he said irritably.
“How did you know we’d be coming?” Arek asked as the two
stepped inside and Voulier shut the door behind them.
“There was a ruckus in the dining room. Everyone other than you
is always polite and silent.”
“That’s fair enough, actually,” Malissa said as she bit back a
laugh.
“Don’t worry,” Arek said. “This won’t take too long. I’m just going
to be making some fried rice.” The disguised orc paused for a
moment, then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, could I
buy some rice off you?”
“If it’ll get you two out of my kitchen faster, you can have it,”
Voulier snapped. “Chop chop. Get to your spot and cook. Unlike you
adventurers, the rest of us have a real job to do.”
The other cooks, who were all watching Voulier’s exchange with
the Happy Sunflower members, quickly turned back to their stations
and pretended to be busy.
 Voulier stormed over to a cupboard and started rooting around in
it while Arek and Malissa walked over to their station. The tall woman
grabbed the apron from the hook on the wall on the way. The orc
couldn’t help but notice that while the wok had already been placed
on the stove, there were no signs of the station being in use by one
of the other cooks.
Arek set his travel pack aside and started placing some of the
spice jars from his bandolier on the table. Voulier shuffled by them,
practically tossing the sack of rice onto the countertop before
vanishing behind the island in the center of the room.
“Malissa, could you start by washing the rice? It’s important to get
rid of the starch so it doesn’t stick together. Just pour it into a bowl
and fill it with water. Swish it around a bit and then pour it out. Do
that two or three times.”
Malissa nodded. She finished tying her apron on and got to work.
The bag of rice was rather small, so she dumped the entire thing into
a clean bowl on the counter and stuck it under the faucet.
While Malissa worked, Arek placed two small vials and a bigger
canister on the counter. He turned to locate Voulier. The small chef
was already striding towards him, half a dozen ingredients cradled in
his arms. Voulier placed them on the countertop and crossed his
arms.
“Anyone can make fried rice, but few can make it well. Let’s see
what you’ve got.”
“Very well,” Arek said, a smile crossing his features. He let go of
the gold piece in his pocket, which he’d planned to pay the other
chef with, and assessed what he had to work with.
Voulier had procured several eggs, three thin red peppers, a few
green onions, a small pile of shrimp, and a healthy amount of garlic.
“I’ve got the rest of what I need,” Arek said before Voulier could
dart back to get more ingredients.
“Why are you telling me that?” the shorter chef said. “I don’t care.
Any chef worth his salt will be carrying the other ingredients.” He
huffed and crossed his arms, hiding a bottle of soy sauce behind his
back.
 Arek turned so that Voulier couldn’t see his smile. Malissa had
already finished washing the rice, so Arek commandeered the sink to
wash his hands. He then washed the produce and set it aside to dry.
“Do you know how to cook rice?” Arek asked.
“I do, actually,” Malissa said. Her inner brow raised and she
pressed her lips together. “My mother taught me—before the
kobolds.”
“I’m sorry,” Arek said, setting the bowl down and turning to face
the woman. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“It’s fine,” Malissa said. She blinked quickly and turned away.
Taking a pot from the wall, she poured the rice into it before adding
water and setting it over the stove. “I’m replacing the bad memories
with good ones.”
Arek couldn’t find an appropriate response, so he settled for
taking his cleaver and finely mincing several cloves of garlic before
tossing them into a bowl.
While Malissa cooked the rice, Arek got another bowl and
cracked the eggs into it. He used the spoon to whisk them together
and set that bowl aside as well.
“The rice is done,” Malissa announced. Her voice had returned to
normal.
“Great timing,” Arek said. “For fried rice, we actually want to have
day-old rice. It fries much better. Since I don’t think we want to wait
that long…”
He set the wok over the stove and turned the heat on. The orc
raised a hand over the pot of rice, preparing to use magic. Then he
paused. A slight frown crossed his face and his hand lowered a few
inches.
“Is it safe for me to cast my magic? What if it gets corrupted by
my runes?”
“Did you have trouble controlling your magic when you tested it
out in the field with Magus?” Malissa asked.
“Well, no,” Arek said.
“Then it’s probably fine. You can’t live in fear, Arek. That’s
Belmont’s shtick, and I think even he’s getting tired of it. We’ll deal
with life as it comes.”
 The orc swallowed. He nodded and raised his hand back over the
rice. One slow breath later, gold light enveloped the rice. Several
minutes later, Arek lowered his hand. He let out a relieved sigh and
shook his head.
“It’s funny. I should have been the one giving you the comforting
words, but it somehow turned out the other way around.”
“It happens,” Malissa said with a slight smile. “That’s what friends
are for.”
Arek stopped to look at Malissa for a moment. A complex
expression flashed over his face. Then he nodded, his lips curling up
in the barest hint of a grin.
 CHAPTER THREE

The orc got back to work, taking the thin red peppers and cutting
them into tiny discs. He then poured a healthy glug of oil into the wok
and tossed the garlic in.
“Could you chop the green onions?” Arek asked. He offered his
cleaver to Malissa, who took it reverently. She stared down at the
knife for a few moments before getting to work.
Several seconds later, the fragrant aroma of frying garlic started
to rise from the wok. Arek scooped up the chopped peppers and
added them into the pot. The oil crackled and hissed as the new
ingredients touched it. Malissa finished cutting the green onions, so
Arek added them in as well.
“Garlic cooks very quickly, so we don’t need to give it long on its
own,” Arek explained as he stirred everything together with a
wooden spoon. “Peppers take a few minutes. We want to really fry
them, not just warm them up. Frying will help bring a lot of their
natural flavor out.”
Once the orc was satisfied, he removed a thin disc of pepper to
show Malissa. It had browned along the edges, but it wasn’t burnt.
Arek removed all of the vegetables from the wok, placing them into a
bowl.
He picked up the bowl of beaten eggs and poured it into the wok.
The orc added in a sprinkle of salt as well. He let everything sit for a
few seconds before he started mixing it together.
“We just want the eggs to be barely cooked,” Arek instructed. “If
we let them completely finish, they’ll be dry when the dish is done. At
the same time, we don’t want them to be wet and undercooked.
Nobody wants their fried rice to be goopy. Take a look and let me
know when you think the eggs are about ready.”
Malissa nodded and stepped forward to get a better look at the
eggs. Arek handed her the spoon and allowed the woman to stir
everything together.
“I think it’s ready,” Malissa announced a few moments later. She
handed the spoon back to Arek, who gave her an approving nod.
“Just about right,” he agreed, scooping the eggs out of the wok
and putting them into a bowl. “They could use a few more moments,
but we’re taking that time talking anyways.”
Arek took the shrimp and put them into the wok, flipping each one
when they turned opaque after just a few seconds. As soon as they
did, he removed them from the hot metal and set them aside.
Arek grabbed the pot of rice and dumped it back into the wok. He
let it heat, breaking up a few clumps that had formed, then followed it
up with all of the other ingredients. He stirred everything together as
quickly as possible to make sure the eggs, peppers, and onions
were well distributed throughout the rice. As he stirred, he added a
healthy glug of both sesame oil and soy sauce.
He picked up the two vials he’d set on the counter earlier and
popped the tops off. He shook a healthy amount of each one into the
dish, stirring constantly as the rice started to crackle and pop.
“Any idea what I’m adding now?” Arek asked.
“Salt, maybe?” Malissa asked. “Although I don’t know why you’d
add it twice. I would have guessed pepper, but both of those are
white.”
“You’re quite close, actually,” Arek said. “One of these vials has
white pepper. It’s much lighter than black pepper, and works well for
a milder dish such as fried rice. We don’t want to overpower the
flavor of the rice or the eggs.”
“What’s the other one have, then?”
“White gold,” Voulier said, appearing behind Malissa. She bit
back a surprised curse and turned to look down at the chef.
“What’s that?”
“One of the keys to amazing fried rice,” Voulier said, giving Arek a
begrudging nod. “It comes from Red Mount, and it’s a type of salt. It’s
absolutely incredible at boosting the flavor in just about every savory
dish. It works well in fried rice.”
“And there you have it,” Arek said, more than slightly smug.
“Fried rice.”
Voulier snatched a spoon and took a heaping spoon to taste. He
popped it into his mouth, not breaking eye contact with Arek the
entire time. He chewed slowly and then swallowed. Then he gave
the orc a single nod.
“It’s okay,” Voulier said. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” Arek said, inclining his head respectfully as he started

cleaning up the workspace. “We’ll be out of your hair now. I
appreciate you letting us use your kitchen.”
“It’s no pro—ah, don’t get used to it,” Voulier said, stuttering over
his words. “If word gets out that I’m running a charity case, the guild
will be overrun with entitled fools. I’ve only allowed you to cook here
because of your extraneous circumstances.”
“Whatever the reason, we still appreciate it,” Malissa said, smiling
at the mustached chef.
Arek finished up washing the bowls and set everything out to dry.
He slung his pack over his shoulder and picked up the bowl of rice.
Malissa grabbed several bowls and utensils. As the two of them
started towards the door, Voulier cleared his throat.
They paused when Voulier shuffled over to them and thrust a
paper package into Malissa’s hands.
“It was lying around the kitchen, picking up dust,” Voulier said
gruffly. “I would have just thrown it out, but maybe you can make
some use out of it.”
“Thank you,” Malissa said, surprised.
“Now get out!” Voulier snapped. “You are distracting my cooks.”
He waved a hand threateningly as the two scurried out the door
while hiding their grins.
The other two Happy Sunflowers members were still at the same
table. Both of them had their noses buried in the books that Magus
had given them. As they approached, Belmont’s stern gaze snapped
up to meet them.
He relaxed slightly when he realized who was walking over to the
table, setting his book down and wrapping it back up in a black cloth.
Ming was oblivious to their presence until they were within sniffing
distance.
Her nose twitched and she glanced up, casting a predatory grin
in the direction of the bowl of fried rice.
“What did you make?” Ming asked.
“Manners, Ming,” Belmont reminded. “It’s ‘thank you for cooking
for us.’ You’re going to anger someone important if you keep that
up.”
“Thank you for cooking for us,” Ming said, making a face at
Belmont. “What did you make?”
“Fried rice,” Arek said. He set the bowl down on the table.
Belmont grabbed Ming’s shoulder before she could dive forward.
“No hands in the bowl. I don’t want to get sick, and I know all too well
where those grubby little hands of yours have been. Use a utensil.
Even Arek uses a utensil, and he was raised in the wild. I think.”
“You’d be correct,” Arek said. “Although the first thing I was
taught how to do was use a utensil. It was quite important in my
tribe.”
“Really?” Malissa asked. It wasn’t often that Arek talked about his
past, but the orc had lived quite the interesting life, so every scrap he
dropped was like buried gold.
“Yep,” Arek said. He lifted his meat cleaver a few inches out of his
travel pack and smirked at the party. “They taught us how to use a
knife pretty early on. I’ll admit we didn’t get around to spoons and
forks, though.”
“Oh, get stuffed,” Malissa said. She rolled her eyes and set the
bowls out. She served everyone a portion and then sat down, setting
the package Voulier had given her on the table.
Arek chuckled. He noticed a flicker of a smile cross Belmont’s
face, but it vanished before it took hold. The armored man wouldn’t
be caught dead laughing at a joke.
 Ming brought her bowl closer. She curled her lip up at the spoon
and glanced at Malissa. The tall woman was looking down at her
bowl of rice. Ming’s eyes gleamed as she snatched her bowl and
tipped it back into her mouth, devouring the entire portion in three
rapid bites.
“This is really good! Thanks, guys!” Ming mumbled through a
mouthful of food.
Arek used the comically small spoon in his hand to get a taste of
the rice himself. He was tempted to take a page out of Ming’s book,
but after seeing the look Malissa was shooting the small mage, he
decided against it.
The fried rice was as good as he remembered it. The grains were
just crisp enough to give the bite texture, while the egg was soft and
flavorful. The dish had a smoky flavor with just a hint of salt that was
like a command in his mind to take another bite.
He obliged, this time getting a shrimp in the spoonful as well. It
was flavorful and slightly charred, just enough to add a bit of a
crunch. The rice wasn’t oily, but it still coated the inside of his mouth.
“It turned out quite well,” Arek agreed. “I’ll admit that I’ve had
better, but I think we’ve done a pretty good job.”
“It’s amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever had rice with this much
flavor,” Malissa said after swallowing. “I’ve had fried rice before, but
it’s never tasted like this. What did you do that was so different? I
saw you cooking, and it didn’t seem like you changed that much.”
“What do you think it was?” Arek challenged her. “You’re right,
fried rice is a very common recipe. Nearly every recipe has the same
basic ingredients. The toppings can be changed however you desire,
though.”
“The toppings? No. That’s not the difference I’m tasting.” Malissa
started out slowly, but her words grew more confident as she
continued. “The toppings would absolutely affect the dish, but not
like this. It’s like everything just has more… flavor. The meat tastes
meatier, and the dish seems more like a single conglomerate of
flavor rather than a bunch of different ingredients that ended up in
the same location.”
“So what do you think it is?” Arek pressed.
 Malissa’s lips thinned and she crossed her arms, thinking.
“Everything,” she said after several moments. “I don’t know much
about cooking fried rice, but I think it was the combination of how you
cooked each ingredient individually so that they wouldn’t burn or
undercook. I’m sure the white gold did something too, since I’ve
never heard of it.”
“Very good,” Arek said with a wide grin. “You’re right on the
money. I’m no expert on fried rice, but as far as I know, you’re
correct.”
Malissa nodded slowly, taking the information to heart as
everyone continued to eat. She was the first to finish. She pushed
her bowl away and pulled the package Voulier had given her closer.
She carefully tore open the packaging. White cloth peeked out at
her from underneath it. Malissa pulled it out of the package,
revealing a pure white apron. It had several pockets on the front and
was completely unmarred.
“Collecting dust, huh?” Arek asked with a chuckle. “That looks
like quite a nice apron.”
“I can tell,” Malissa said, running a hand along the smooth fabric.
“I should thank him.”
“I don’t think he’d appreciate it if you walked in there and said,
‘thank you,’” Arek replied. “I think we know enough about Voulier to
understand that. You’re much better off showing him his gift went to
good use. Make a dish that you’re proud of and let him taste it.”
Malissa nodded slowly. She folded the apron up and carefully
placed it in her extradimensional bag, sending a glance at the
kitchen before turning back to the table.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.
“So long as we don’t have to pay both of you for cooking,”
Belmont said, his lip curling in what might have been a small smile.
“There’s no ‘we!’ I’m paying all of Arek’s salary,” Ming grumbled,
stuffing some more fried rice into her mouth. “You’re just a moocher.”
Belmont shrugged, not denying it. “You made the deal, not me,
though I’m more than happy to profit off it. It’s not like ten gold is
going to break anyone’s bank, though. Especially not anymore. We
can earn a respectable amount of money in the F-rank dungeons.”
 “Speaking of money, why don’t we check out the auction house?”
Malissa said. “Now that we’ve eaten, I don’t think anything is holding
us back.”
Ming glanced up from her bowl the moment Malissa said the
word “auction.” “I second that. I like wasting money, and the guild still
owes us money from Greenridge. There’s no point letting it burn a
hole in our pockets.”
“That could be a good idea,” Arek conceded. “I’ll admit that I have
no desire to remain cooped up any longer. I would very much like to
check out what rare ingredients the auction has.”
Belmont crossed his arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.
Don’t forget about the strange magic on Ming and Arek, though.
We’ll have to keep a very close eye on both of them. Until we know
what happened, we must be wary of everything. For that matter,
Malissa, both of us need to be aware as well. We could be
compromised and not even know it. There’s no reason for the energy
to only have affected Arek and Ming.”
“We’ll be careful,” Malissa promised. “We’ll still be inside the city,
so it’s not like we’ll be far from help if we really need it.”
With their course decided, the Happy Sunflowers left the
adventurer’s guild.

Arek’s Fried Rice

2 cups of jasmine rice

1 and ½ cups water
3 tablespoons flavorless oil
2 eggs
As much peeled and deveined shrimp as you can handle.
(12 ounces is a good start)
1-2 green onions: Pinch of salt
Pinch of white pepper
2-3 tablespoons soy sauce
1-2 tablespoons sesame oil (to taste)
4-5 serrano peppers or 1 bell pepper (diced or chopped,
respectively)
Pinch of MSG (optional): Thoroughly wash the rice and
cook it per instructions.

If possible, refrigerate overnight. If hungry, forge

onwards. It’ll still taste good.

1. Heat wok over medium-high and add a dash of oil.

Crack 2 eggs into a bowl and mix them together before
adding into the wok. Keep them moving until they are just
a tad undercooked, then remove from wok.
2. Add the shrimp to the wok and cook just until it turns
opaque, then remove it as well.
3. Add the peppers and fry until they start to show a bit of
color. Then, in an unexpected twist, remove those too.
4. Add rice back into the pan and cook until it is warm.
Add in the eggs, then the shrimp and peppers. Pour in
soy and sesame oil and sprinkle MSG, white pepper, and
a pinch of salt.
Taste the rice and add seasonings if needed. Enjoy while
sending smug looks at any watching haughty chefs.
 CHAPTER FOUR

It had been several years since the Happy Sunflowers visited the
auction house. Luckily, the city had a vested interest in leading
travelers to it. Riverfall taxed every item sold in the auction, so there
was no shortage of signs pointing the group in the right direction.
They traveled towards the north side of the city, passing through
the endless rows of identical buildings for several minutes. The road
was quite well traveled and lined with a multitude of shops hoping to
draw the attention of adventurers headed to or from the auction
house.
The road expanded as it merged with several other paths.
Beautiful green shrubbery and multicolored flowers of all sorts lined
the path. The farther they got, the more extravagant the greenery
grew.
At the end of the path was the auction house. However, it was
anything but a simple house. Huge would have been inadequate to
describe it. The massive gray building easily stood six stories high. It
strongly resembled a colosseum. There were large, open windows
on the bottom three levels, while the top three were closed off.
There was a single massive doorway with the doors swung wide
open. Huge marble carvings flanked it. A large crowd had gathered
before two heavily armored guards who were blocking the entrance.
“Is something going on?” Malissa wondered as they joined the
crowd of waiting people. “I don’t remember them regulating if people
could enter.”
A bald man with a curly beard glanced in their direction.
 “They announced that a rare weapon was going to be sold
today,” the man said. “When big stuff like that goes for sale, it draws
a lot of people to the auction. That brings out more sellers, so it’s a
self-feeding loop. If you guys haven’t been to a big auction before,
you’re in for quite the treat. Us small fry have no chance at getting
the rarest stuff, but who knows? We might be able to get our hands
on a cool little knickknack.”
Malissa thanked him. The crowd seemed to be growing rowdier
by the second. People pushed and shoved against each other, each
vying for a better view of the auction house entrance. One person
bumped into Arek, and his illusion flickered for an instant before
snapping back into place. Luckily, everyone was so busy trying to
see into the colosseum that nobody noticed it.
“I hope the crowd starts moving soon,” Arek said to Malissa,
leaning close so he wouldn’t have to yell over the din. “My illusion
isn’t going to hold up to dozens of people constantly bumping into
me.”
“We’ll leave if it doesn’t,” Malissa promised. “Unless you think we
should leave immediately?”
The crowd surged forward abruptly. The unstoppable tide of flesh
picked the Happy Sunflowers up and forced them towards the
auction house.
“It’ll be fine!” Arek yelled.
There was no way to communicate quietly at this point. The only
person who had any space around him was Belmont, and that was
only because anyone foolish enough to press against him got
impaled on his spiny armor.
“What’ll be okay?” Belmont called.
Someone bumped into Arek and the illusion flickered again.
Belmont’s brow lowered and his lips thinned. “Ah. That.”
The armored man stepped in front of Arek, forcing the crowds
back with a pink shield. Several people shot nasty looks in their
direction, but they quickly diverted their gazes when they met
Malissa or Belmont’s eyes.
“Is it really wise to irritate people like this?” Arek asked, breathing
slightly easier now that there weren’t people squishing against him
from every direction.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ming piped up. She’d stuck behind Belmont
the entire time, completely avoiding the mulling crowd. That was
probably for the best, as the first person to run into her would have
probably squished the small mage.
“Ming is right,” Malissa said. “The heavy hitters are already in the
auction house. Only the small fry like us have to wade through the
crowd to get inside. Besides, it’s not like we’re intentionally
antagonizing people. They’re the ones trying to push into us.”
“Fair enough,” Arek agreed.
They huddled around Belmont and his protective shields, slowly
making their way through the crowd towards the entrance. It took
nearly ten minutes just to reach the doors. The guards were allowing
a stream of people in at a constant rate.
A thin man watching from the sidelines dashed forward, muscling
past the crowd. He darted behind the guard and tried to leap through
the doors. An invisible force knocked him out of the air. He shot
backwards several feet, crumpling to the ground with a cry of pain.
Nobody seemed particularly sympathetic towards him. A few people
even jeered.
“I see they take their security quite seriously,” Arek observed.
“They wouldn’t be able to sell anything of value if they didn’t,”
Belmont said.
“I bet they’ve got a bunch of really tasty food,” Ming said
dreamily.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Malissa said, glaring at the small mage.
“You’re welcome to bid with your share of money, but if you don’t
win, we’re not getting into another fight, you hear me?”
Ming waved her hand dismissively. Malissa frowned, but they’d
reached the front of the crowd. Even with Belmont’s shields keeping
people at a distance, holding the horde of people back would be a
death sentence.
The four of them approached the doors. Arek could feel the eyes
of the guards boring into him. Somehow, he knew for a fact that the
two men had completely seen past the disguise. For an
uncomfortably long second, the guards turned to watch the Happy
Sunflowers enter the auction house.
Then the crowd surged forward once again. The guards turned
back, and the Happy Sunflowers slipped away into the much more
peaceful innards of the colosseum.
The room sloped sharply downwards like a sinkhole. Thousands
of wooden chairs arranged in neat circular rows surrounded a huge,
extravagant stage. Statues of golden dragons twirled around the
edges of the stage, prostrating them before it.
Four large braziers floated above the stage, lighting it with a
warm glow. The rest of the room was dimly lit with faint torches that
made it difficult to see the surroundings. For some reason, not a
single speck of light from outside had seeped in past the doorway.
The ceiling was far above them, shrouded in so much darkness that
Arek couldn’t even make it out. There were at least two floors above
them that the orc could spot, and he suspected there were even
more beyond that.
“Follow me, please,” a man with a smarmy voice whispered in
Arek’s ear. He spun, barely keeping himself from smacking the
shadowy figure standing beside him. “I am here to guide you to your
seats. Please move quickly.”
Unable to even exchange a glance in the syrupy blackness
surrounding them, the Happy Sunflowers opted to trail behind the
employee. They were led away from the crowd and the little
remaining light coming from the doors. The man led them down
several flights of stairs and into a row before gesturing to a group of
empty seats.
“You may sit here for the duration of your stay at the Dragon’s
Dance Auction House,” the man said, inclining his head in what
might have been a bow. “Have you attended an auction with us
before?”
“Once,” Malissa said. “It was a long time ago, though.”
“It is a pleasure to have you back. I presume you do not have an
account with us, then?”
“I’m afraid not.”
 “No problem at all. However, I will need to verify the amount of
gold you have on you. We need to ensure that you can afford to
back up your bids. If you set up an account, this process can be
expedited in the future.”
Arek didn’t have to see Belmont to know the man was frowning.
He hid a chuckle and pulled his sack of coins out of his travel pack.
He handed it to the employee.
“I know how much I’ve got in there,” Arek warned.
“Of course, sir. I wouldn’t think of it,” the man said.
Arek’s gaze narrowed and he watched the employee like a hawk
as the man shuffled through his bag. Once he finished, Arek took the
bag back and counted through it himself. It was practically
impossible to tell what the coins actually were, but it weighed about
the same. Arek resolved to count his money before he entered the
auction house in the future.
The employee scanned through all of the money the group
offered him. When he got to Belmont, the man woodenly placed a
single coin in the employee’s hand.
“Is one gold all you’ve got today? I’m afraid you won’t be able to
buy anything with a single gold,” the employee said with mock
disappointment.
Belmont wordlessly took his coin back from the man, placed it on
the armrest of the chair beside him, and placed a second coin in the
man’s hand.
“You can’t be serious,” the shadow-cloaked man said. “Do you
really think I’d be foolish enough to steal from a customer in the
middle of the auction house?”
“Yes,” Belmont said, removing the coin and placing yet another
one in his hand. “That’s three, by the way. Just in case you lost
count.”
He repeated the process until he’d gone through fifty coins. The
man huffed and complained the entire time, but Arek noticed he
didn’t actually leave. Once Belmont had finished, the man threw up
his hands and made a disgusted gesture towards their chairs.
“Just sit here and wait for the auction to start. It should be about
half an hour,” he said before storming back towards the door.
 Belmont swept his coins back into his bag and sat down on a
chair. He sent an uncomfortable glance over his shoulder and placed
his hand on his travel pouch.
“I do not like this new darkness spell they’re using,” Belmont said.
“It makes it far too easy for a thief to make away with our belongings.
Keep a close eye on your bags, everyone.”
“For once, I don’t think you’re being paranoid,” Malissa agreed.
“This wasn’t here the last time we visited. They’ve clearly made a
few upgrades, if we can call it that.”
Ming harrumphed and crossed her arms. “They better have
something worth eating,” the small mage grumbled. “How did that
guy even know how much money we had? I can barely tell the
difference between a silver and a gold with this light.”
“He was probably using some sort of spell that let him see in the
dark,” Arek suggested. “Maybe an enchanted item. Who knows?
Maybe the auction house is selling dark vision pendants and is trying
to show how useful they’d be by making it impossible for everyone to
see anything.”
They chuckled as they sat down. At the very least, nobody would
be looking too closely at Arek’s illusion. The orc hugged his travel
pack to his chest and turned to peer back at the entrance. He could
still see the crowd pouring into the building, but it was difficult to
track where they were going. The moment they stepped away from
the door, they seemed to blend in with the rest of the room.
He turned back and sat normally, trying to get comfortable on the
hard wooden chair. There was a strange box poking out of the
armrest that made it difficult to rest his hands properly. Arek frowned
and leaned down so he could get a better look at it.
“It’s the bidding button,” Malissa said, noticing Arek’s interest. “It
doesn’t work yet, but when you see something you want to bid on,
you press that button and say how much gold you’re willing to
spend.”
“Are you telling me that every chair in this room is an enchanted
item?” the orc asked, his eyebrows raising in shock. Even in his
travels on the other side of the kingdom, a show of wealth in this
proportion was ridiculous.
 “I—huh. I guess I am,” Malissa said with a frown. “How do they
have so much money?”
“Probably from mugging stupid tourists who let their employees
shuffle through their money in the dark,” Belmont grumbled.
Arek wasn’t exactly sure how long they sat in the darkness. The
stream of people from the crowd slowly dropped to a trickle.
Somehow, not a single seat near the Happy Sunflowers had been
taken. Arek could just barely see a few dark forms shifting around
near the stage and at the other end of the room.
“I wonder how many people are actually here,” Arek said quietly.
Something about the atmosphere made him want to remain silent.
Maybe that was the point. “It’s so hard to see who else is in the
crowd that if you told me we were alone, I might have believed you.”
“The room is about half full,” Ming said.
The four of them turned to her in surprise.
“You can see?” Belmont asked.
“A bit. There are faint outlines around people. Some are easier to
see than others, though.”
“An effect of whatever was done to your eyes, perhaps?” Belmont
asked. He shifted in his chair, moving so he could keep an eye on
Ming. “Are you noticing any strange feelings or other nonstandard
reactions?”
Ming scratched her chin and tilted her head. “Well, I’m a little
hungry.”
“We should contact Magus,” Belmont said, crossing his arms.
“Something might be trying to take over Ming’s body.”
“Belmont, if something was really trying to control Ming, I doubt it
would give her night vision first,” Malissa said. “I agree that this is a
side effect of that spell, but I don’t think it’s dangerous—unless Ming
feels uncomfortable?”
Ming shook her head. When she realized that they could barely
make out the motion, she repeated it aloud.
“Then there we go,” Malissa said. “So far, all that spell has done
is helped us. That doesn’t mean I trust it, but I don’t think we should
drop everything and panic at something like this. Magus is already
looking into things. If something was seriously dangerous, he’d find
us.”
Belmont drew a breath, then let it out and shook his head. “I
suppose you’re right. But the moment something feels off, we’re
finding Magus immediately.”
A low rumble filled the auction house. The Happy Sunflowers
turned to see the massive doors grinding shut behind them. The last
traces of daylight winked out, although that didn’t really affect the
dark building. The torches around the stage dimmed. Then fire
erupted out from them, reaching several feet into the sky. The flames
lowered to a more reasonable level, revealing a tall man standing in
the center of the stage.
He wore a tall purple top hat with a matching suit. Gold buttons
traced down his lapel, and his cuffs were trimmed with shimmering
dragons that resembled the ones surrounding the stage. He dropped
into a bow so low that his nose nearly touched the ground.
“Good adventurers!” the announcer called. “Welcome to the
Dancing Dragon. For those of you that do not know me, my name is
Alfons. I will be your host for tonight. Now, before we begin, I would
like to draw your attention to a few ground rules. First, please locate
the large wooden button on your right-hand side and press it.” His
voice was impossibly loud and incredibly slimy. Arek had absolutely
no doubt the man could sell a pair of wings to an angel.
Arek reached out and followed Alfons’ instructions, pressing
gently on the wooden box. It slid into the chair with an audible click
before raising back up to its original position. Alfons waited for a few
moments to allow everyone to test out the button before he
continued.
“That is how you will bid. Simply state the amount of money you
are putting up after you press the button. So long as you don’t
scream, nobody else will be able to hear you speaking. However, I
will announce the current highest price. You may also notice that, if
you are on the first floor, it is impossible to see your fellow
adventurers. That is a privilege reserved for the higher floors. This is
to ensure your safety and stop would-be robbers from liberating the
winners of the auction from their prizes.”
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that he might be lacking in the executive faculty. His disposition of
business was orderly and rapid. His power of analysis, and his skill in
classification, enabled him to despatch a vast mass of detail with
singular promptness and ease. His Cabinet meetings were admirably
conducted. His clear presentation of official subjects, his well-
considered suggestion of topics on which discussion was invited, his
quick decision when all had been heard, combined to show a
thoroughness of mental training as rare as his natural ability and his
facile adaptation to a new and enlarged field of labor.
With perfect comprehension of all the inheritances of the war, with
a cool calculation of the obstacles in his way, impelled always by a
generous enthusiasm, Garfield conceived that much might be done
by his administration towards restoring harmony between the
different sections of the Union. He was anxious to go South and
speak to the people. As early as April he had ineffectually endeavored
to arrange for a trip to Nashville, whither he had been cordially
invited, and he was again disappointed a few weeks later to find that
he could not go to South Carolina to attend the centennial
celebration of the victory of the Cowpens. But for the autumn he
definitely counted on being present at three memorable assemblies
in the South, the celebration at Yorktown, the opening of the Cotton
Exposition at Atlanta, and the meeting of the Army of the
Cumberland at Chattanooga. He was already turning over in his
mind his address for each occasion, and the three taken together, he
said to a friend, gave him the exact scope and verge which he needed.
At Yorktown he would have before him the associations of a hundred
years that bound the South and the North in the sacred memory of a
common danger and a common victory. At Atlanta he would present
the material interests and the industrial development which
appealed to the thrift and independence of every household, and
which should unite the two sections by the instinct of self-interest
and self-defence. At Chattanooga he would revive memories of the
war only to show that after all its disaster and all its suffering, the
country was stronger and greater, the Union rendered indissoluble,
and the future, through the agony and blood of one generation, made
brighter and better for all.
Garfield’s ambition for the success of his administration was high.
With strong caution and conservatism in his nature, he was in no
danger of attempting rash experiments or of resorting to the
empiricism of statesmanship. But he believed that renewed and
closer attention should be given to questions affecting the material
interests and commercial prospects of fifty millions of people. He
believed that our continental relations, extensive and undeveloped as
they are, involved responsibility, and could be cultivated into
profitable friendship or be abandoned to harmful indifference or
lasting enmity. He believed with equal confidence that an essential
forerunner to a new era of national progress must be a feeling of
contentment in every section of the Union, and a generous belief that
the benefits and burdens of government would be common to all.
Himself a conspicuous illustration of what ability and ambition may
do under republican institutions, he loved his country with a passion
of patriotic devotion, and every waking thought was given to her
advancement. He was an American in all his aspirations, and he
looked to the destiny and influence of the United States with the
philosophic composure of Jefferson and the demonstrative
confidence of John Adams.

THE POLITICAL CONTROVERSY.

The political events which disturbed the President’s serenity for

many weeks before that fatal day in July form an important chapter
in his career, and, in his own judgment, involved questions of
principle and of right which are vitally essential to the constitutional
administration of the Federal Government. It would be out of place
here and now to speak the language of controversy, but the events
referred to, however they may continue to be source of contention
with others, have become, so far as Garfield is concerned, as much a
matter of history as his heroism at Chickamauga or his illustrious
service in the House. Detail is not needful, and personal antagonism
shall not be rekindled by any word uttered to-day. The motives of
those opposing him are not to be here adversely interpreted nor their
course harshly characterized. But of the dead President this is to be
said, and said because his own speech is forever silenced and he can
be no more heard except through the fidelity and the love of
surviving friends. From the beginning to the end of the controversy
he so much deplored, the President was never for one moment
actuated by any motive of gain to himself or of loss to others. Least of
all men did he harbor revenge, rarely did he even show resentment,
and malice was not in his nature. He was congenially employed only
in the exchange of good offices and the doing of kindly deeds.
There was not an hour, from the beginning of the trouble till the
fatal shot entered his body, when the President would not gladly, for
the sake of restoring harmony, have retraced any step he had taken if
such retracing had merely involved consequences personal to
himself. The pride of consistency, or any supposed sense of
humiliation that might result from surrendering his position, had not
a feather’s weight with him. No man was ever less subject to such
influences from within or from without. But after the most anxious
deliberation and the coolest survey of all the circumstances, he
solemnly believed that the true prerogatives of the Executive were
involved in the issue which had been raised, and that he would be
unfaithful to his supreme obligation if he failed to maintain, in all
their vigor, the constitutional rights and dignities of his great office.
He believed this in all the convictions of conscience when in sound
and vigorous health, and he believed it in his suffering and
prostration in the last conscious thought which his wearied mind
bestowed on the transitory struggles of life.
More than this need not be said. Less than this could not be said.
Justice to the dead, the highest obligation that devolves upon the
living, demands the declaration that in all the bearings of the subject,
actual or possible, the President was content in his mind, justified in
his conscience, immovable in his conclusions.

GARFIELD’S RELIGION.

The religious element in Garfield’s character was deep and earnest.

In his early youth he espoused the faith of the Disciples, a sect of that
great Baptist Communion which in different ecclesiastical
establishments is so numerous and so influential throughout all
parts of the United States. But the broadening tendency of his mind
and his active spirit of inquiry were early apparent and carried him
beyond the dogmas of sect and the restraints of association. In
selecting a college in which to continue his education he rejected
Bethany, though presided over by Alexander Campbell, the greatest
preacher of his church. His reasons were characteristic: first, that
Bethany leaned too heavily toward slavery; and, second, that being
himself a Disciple and the son of Disciple parents, he had little
acquaintance with people of other beliefs, and he thought it would
make him more liberal, quoting his own words, both in his religious
and general views, to go into a new circle and be under new
influences.
The liberal tendency which he had anticipated as the result of
wider culture was fully realized. He was emancipated from mere
sectarian belief, and with eager interest pushed his investigations in
the direction of modern progressive thought. He followed with
quickening step in the paths of exploration and speculation so
fearlessly trodden by Darwin, by Huxley, by Tyndall, and by other
living scientists of the radical and advanced type. His own church,
binding its disciples by no formulated creed, but accepting the Old
and New Testaments as the word of God, with unbiased liberality of
private interpretation, favored, if it did not stimulate, the spirit of
investigation. Its members profess with sincerity, and profess only,
to be of one mind and one faith with those who immediately followed
the Master, and who were first called Christians at Antioch.
But however high Garfield reasoned of “fixed fate, free will,
foreknowledge absolute,” he was never separated from the Church of
the Disciples in his affections and in his associations. For him it held
the ark of the covenant. To him it was the gate of Heaven. The world
of religious belief is full of solecisms and contradictions. A
philosophic observer declares that men by the thousand will die in
defence of a creed whose doctrines they do not comprehend and
whose tenets they habitually violate. It is equally true that men by
the thousand will cling to church organizations with instinctive and
undenying fidelity when their belief in maturer years is radically
different from that which inspired them as neophytes.
But after this range of speculation, and this latitude of doubt,
Garfield came back always with freshness and delight to the simpler
instincts of religious faith, which, earliest implanted, longest survive.
Not many weeks before his assassination, walking on the banks of
the Potomac with a friend, and conversing on these topics of
personal religion, concerning which noble natures have an
unconquerable reserve, he said that he found the Lord’s Prayer and
the simple petitions learned in infancy infinitely restful to him, not
merely in their stated repetition, but in their casual and frequent
recall as he went about the daily duties of life. Certain texts of
scripture had a very strong hold on his memory and his heart. He
heard, while in Edinburgh some years ago, an eminent Scotch
preacher who prefaced his sermon with reading the eighth chapter of
the Epistle to the Romans, which book had been the subject of
careful study with Garfield during his religious life. He was greatly
impressed by the elocution of the preacher and declared that it had
imparted a new and deeper meaning to the majestic utterances of
Saint Paul. He referred often in after years to that memorable
service, and dwelt with exaltation of feeling upon the radiant promise
and the assured hope with which the great apostle of the Gentiles
was “persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor principalities, nor
powers nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth,
nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of
God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
The crowning characteristic of General Garfield’s religious
opinions, as, indeed, of all his opinions, was his liberality. In all
things he had charity. Tolerance was of his nature. He respected in
others the qualities which he possessed himself—sincerity of
conviction and frankness of expression. With him the inquiry was
not so much what a man believes, but does he believe it? The lines of
his friendship and his confidence encircled men of every creed, and
men of no creed, and to the end of his life, on his ever lengthening
list of friends, were to be found the names of a pious Catholic priest
and of an honest-minded and generous-hearted free-thinker.

THE ASSASSIN’S BULLET.

On the morning of Saturday, July 2d, the President was a

contented and happy man—not in an ordinary degree, but joyfully,
almost boyishly happy. On his way to the railroad station to which he
drove slowly, in conscious enjoyment of the beautiful morning, with
an unwonted sense of leisure, and a keen anticipation of pleasure, his
talk was all in the grateful and gratulatory vein. He felt that after four
months of trial his administration was strong in its grasp of affairs,
strong in popular favor and destined to grow stronger; that grave
difficulties confronting him at his inauguration had been safely
passed; that troubles lay behind him and not before him; that he was
soon to meet the wife whom he loved, now recovering from an illness
which had but lately disquieted and at times almost unnerved him;
that he was going to his Alma Mater to renew the most cherished
associations of his young manhood, and to exchange greetings with
those whose deepening interest had followed every step of his
upward progress from the day he entered upon his college course
until he had attained the loftiest elevation in the gift of his
countrymen.
Surely, if happiness can ever come from the honors or triumphs of
this world, on that quiet July morning James A. Garfield may well
have been a happy man. No foreboding of evil haunted him; no
slightest premonition of danger clouded his sky. His terrible fate was
upon him in an instant. One moment he stood erect, strong,
confident, in the years stretching peacefully out before him. The next
he lay wounded, bleeding, helpless, doomed to weary weeks of
torture, to silence and the grave.
Great in life, he was surpassingly great in death. For no cause, in
the very frenzy of wantonness and wickedness by the red hand of
murder, he was thrust from the full tide of this world’s interest, from
its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into the visible presence of
death—and he did not quail. Not alone for one short moment in
which, stunned and dazed, he could give up life, hardly aware of its
relinquishment, but through days of deadly languor, through weeks
of agony, that was not less agony because silently borne, with clear
sight and calm courage, he looked into his open grave. What blight
and ruin met his anguished eyes, whose lips may tell—what brilliant,
broken plans, what baffled, high ambitions, what sundering of
strong, warm, manhood’s friendship, what bitter rending of sweet
household ties! Behind him a proud, expectant nation, a great host of
sustaining friends, a cherished and happy mother, wearing the full,
rich honors of her early toil and tears; the wife of his youth, whose
whole life lay in his; the little boys not yet emerged from childhood’s
day of frolic; the fair, young daughter; the sturdy sons just springing
into closest companionship, claiming every day and every day
rewarding a father’s love and care; and in his heart the eager,
rejoicing power to meet all demand. Before him, desolation and great
darkness! And his soul was not shaken. His countrymen were thrilled
with instant, profound, and universal sympathy. Masterful in his
mortal weakness, he became the centre of a nation’s love, enshrined
in the prayers of a world. But all the love and all the sympathy could
not share with him his suffering. He trod the wine-press alone. With
unfaltering front he faced death. With unfailing tenderness he took
leave of life. Above the demoniac hiss of the assassin’s bullet he
heard the voice of God. With simple resignation he bowed to the
Divine decree.
As the end drew near, his early craving for the sea returned. The
stately mansion of power had been to him the wearisome hospital of
pain, and he begged to be taken from his prison walls, from its
oppressive, stifling air, from its homelessness and its hopelessness.
Gently, silently, the love of a great people bore the pale sufferer to
the longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God should will,
within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifold
voices. With wan, fevered face tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze,
he looked out wistfully upon the ocean’s changing wonders; on its far
sails, whitening in the morning light; on its restless waves, rolling
shoreward to break and die beneath the noonday sun; on the red
clouds of evening, arching low to the horizon; on the serene and
shining pathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a
mystic meaning which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let
us believe that in the silence of the receding world he heard the great
waves breaking on a further shore and felt already upon his wasted
brow the breath of the eternal morning.

AFTER THE ORATION.

The eulogy was concluded at 1.50, having taken just an hour and a
half in its delivery. As Mr. Blaine gave utterance to the last solemn
words the spectators broke into a storm of applause, which was not
hushed for some moments. The address was listened to with an
intense interest and in solemn silence, unbroken by any sound
except by a sigh of relief (such as arises from a large audience when a
strong tension is removed from their minds) when the orator passed
from his allusion to differences existing in the Republican party last
spring. Benediction was then offered by the Rev. Dr. Bullock,
Chaplain of the Senate. The Marine Band played the “Garfield Dead
March” as the invited guests filed out of the Chamber in the same
order in which they had entered it. The Senate was the last to leave,
and then the House was called to order by the Speaker.
Mr. McKinley, of Ohio, offered the following resolution:
Resolved, The Senate concurring, that the thanks of Congress are
hereby presented to the Hon. James G. Blaine for the appropriate
memorial address delivered by him on the life and services of James
A. Garfield, late President of the United States, in the Representative
Hall, before both houses of Congress and their invited guests, on the
27th of February, 1882, and that he be requested to furnish a copy
for publication.
Resolved, That the Chairman of the Joint Committee appointed to
make the necessary arrangements to carry into effect the resolution
of Congress in relation to the memorial exercises in honor of James
A. Garfield be requested to communicate to Mr. Blaine the foregoing
resolution, receive his answer thereto and present the same to both
Houses of Congress. The resolution was adopted unanimously.
Mr. McKinley then offered the following:
Resolved, That as a further mark of respect to the memory of the
deceased President of the United States the House do now adjourn.
The resolution was unanimously adopted, and in accordance
therewith the Speaker at 1.55 declared the House adjourned until to-
morrow.
CIVIL SERVICE.
 Improvement of the Subordinate Civil
Service.

Speech of Hon. George H. Pendleton, of Ohio, in the Senate of the

United States, Tuesday, December 12, 1882.
On the bill (S. 133) to regulate and improve the civil service of the
United States.
Mr. Pendleton said:
Mr. President: When I assented yesterday that this bill should be
informally laid aside without losing its place, I had no set speech to
deliver, nor had I the intention of preparing a speech for to-day. I did
not intend to hold up the bill here as an obstruction to any business
before the Senate, or as an aid in passing any measure that might
receive my approbation, as my good Friend, the Senator from Kansas
[Mr. Plumb], so politely intimated. The bill providing for a bankrupt
law was very speedily, and to me unexpectedly, disposed of
yesterday, and this bill was called up several hours earlier than I
supposed it would be, and I thought the convenience of the Senate as
well as of myself would be subserved if I had an opportunity to
condense what I had to say on the subject.
The necessity of a change in the civil administration of this
government has been so fully discussed in the periodicals and
pamphlets and newspapers, and before the people, that I feel
indisposed to make any further argument. This subject, in all its
ramifications, was submitted to the people of the United States at the
fall elections, and they have spoken in no low or uncertain tone.
I do not doubt that the local questions exerted great influence in
many States upon the result; but it is my conviction, founded on the
observation of an active participation in the canvass in Ohio, that
dissatisfaction with the methods of administration adopted by the
Republican party in the past few years was the most important single
factor in reaching the conclusion that was attained. I do not say that
the civil service of the Government is wholly bad. I can not honestly
do so. I do not say that the men who are employed in it are all
corrupt or inefficient or unworthy. That would do a very great
injustice to a great number of faithful, honest, and intelligent public
servants. But I do say that the civil service is inefficient; that it is
expensive; that it is extravagant; that it is in many cases and in some
senses corrupt; that it has welded the whole body of its employès into
a great political machine; that it has converted them into an army of
officers and men, veterans in political warfare, disciplined and
trained, whose salaries, whose time, whose exertions at least twice
within a very short period in the history of our country have robbed
the people of the fair results of Presidential elections.
I repeat, Mr. President, that the civil service is inefficient,
expensive, and extravagant and that it is in many instances corrupt.
Is it necessary for me to prove facts which are so patent that even the
blind must see and the deaf must hear?
At the last session of Congress, in open Senate, it was stated and
proven that in the Treasury Department at Washington there were
3,400 employès, and that of this number the employment of less
than 1,600 was authorized by law and appropriations made for their
payment, and that more than 1,700 were put on or off the rolls of the
Department at the will and pleasure of the Secretary of the Treasury,
and paid not out of appropriations made for that purpose but out of
various funds and balances of appropriation lapsed in the Treasury
in one shape or another, which are not by law appropriated to the
payment of these employès. I was amazed. I had never before heard
that such a state of affairs existed. I did not believe that it was
possible until my honorable colleague rose in his place and admitted
the general truth of the statement and defended the system as being
necessary for the proper administration of the Treasury Department.
Mr. President, we see in this statement whence comes that
immense body of public officials, inspectors, detectives, deputies,
examiners, from the Treasury Department who have for years past
been sent over the States for the purpose of managing Presidential
conventions and securing Presidential elections at the public
expense.
 I hold in my hand a statement made before the committee which
reported this bill, showing that in one of the divisions of the Treasury
Department at Washington where more than nine hundred persons
were employed, men and women, five hundred and more of them
were entirely useless, and were discharged without in any degree
affecting the efficiency of the bureau. I read from the testimony taken
before the committee. Every gentleman can find it if he has not it
already on his table. The statement to which I refer I read from page
121 of report of committee No. 576:
The extravagance of the present system was well shown in the examination of
the Bureau of Engraving and Printing by a committee of which I was chairman. Of
a force of nine hundred and fifty-eight persons five hundred and thirty-nine, with
annual salaries amounting to $390,000, were found to be superfluous and were
discharged. The committee reported that for years the force in some branches had
been twice and even three times as great as the work required. In one division—
I beg Senators to listen to this—
In one division a sort of platform had been built underneath the iron roof, about
seven feet above the floor, to accommodate the surplus counters. It appeared that
the room was of ample size without this contrivance for all persons really needed.
In another division were found twenty messengers doing work which it was found
could be done by one. The committee reported that the system of patronage was
chiefly responsible for the extravagance and irregularities which had marked the
administration of the bureau, and declared that it had cost the people millions of
dollars in that branch of the service alone. Under this system the office had been
made to subserve the purpose of an almshouse or asylum.
In consequence of this report the annual appropriation for the Printing Bureau
was reduced from $800,000 to $200,000, and out of the first year’s savings was
built the fine building now occupied by that bureau.
And again, on page 126, this same gentleman says:
My observation teaches me there is more pressure and importunity for these
places—
That is, the $900 clerkship—
and that more time is consumed by heads of Departments, and those having the
appointing power, in listening to applications for that grade than for all the other
places in the Departments combined; and that when it is discretionary with a
Department to appoint a man or a woman the choice is usually exercised in favor
of the woman. I know a recent case in the Treasury Department where a vacancy
occurred which the head of the bureau deemed it important to fill with a man. It
was a position where a man’s services were almost indispensable; but the
importunity was so great that he was compelled to accept a woman, although her
services were not required. In consequence of this importunity for places for
women a practice has grown up in the Treasury Department of allowing the
salaries of the higher grades of clerkships to lapse when vacancies occur, and of
dividing up the amount among clerks, usually women, at lower salaries. In the
place of a male clerk at $1,800 a year, for instance, three women may be employed
at $600. Often the services of a man are required in its higher grade, while the
women are not needed at all; but as the man can not be employed without
discharging the women he can not be had. The persons employed in this way are
said to be “on the lapse.” Out of this grew the practice known in Departmental
language as “anticipating the lapse.”
In the endeavor to satisfy the pressure for place more people are appointed on
this roll than the salaries then lapsing will warrant, in the hope that enough more
will lapse before the end of the fiscal year to provide funds for their payment. But
the funds almost always run short before the end of the year, and then either the
“lapse” appointees must be dropped or clerks discharged from the regular roll to
make place for them. In some instances, in former administrations, the employès
on the regular roll were compelled, under terror of dismissal, to ask for leaves of
absence, without pay, for a sufficient time to make up the deficiency caused by the
appointment of unnecessary employès “on the lapse”. Another bad feature is that
these “lapse” employès being appointed without regard to the necessities of the
work, for short periods and usually without regard to their qualifications, are of
little service, while their employment prevents the filling of vacancies on the
regular roll and demoralizes the service.
In one case thirty-five persons were put on the “lapse fund” of the Treasurer’s
office for eight days at the end of the fiscal year, to sop up some money which was
in danger of being saved and returned to the Treasury.
Mr. Maxey. Do I understand the Senator to say that that
testimony was taken by the Senate Committee on Civil Service and
Retrenchment?
Mr. Pendleton. Yes sir. This testimony was taken in the month of
March, I think, of the present year.

Says this gentleman further—

I have no doubt that under a rigid application of this proposed system the work
of the Treasury Department could be performed with two-thirds the number of
clerks now employed, and that is a moderate estimate of the saving.
Mr. President, a Senator who is now present in the Chamber and
who will recognize the statement when I make it, though I shall not
indicate his name, told me that the Secretary of one of the
Departments of the Government said to him, perhaps to the
Committee on Appropriations, at the last session, that there were
seventeen clerks in his Department for whom he could find no
employment; that he did need one competent clerk of a higher grade,
and if the appropriation were made for that one clerk, at the proper
amount according to the gradations of the service and the
appropriation for the seventeen were left out, he could, without
impairing the efficiency of his Department, leave those seventeen
clerks off the roll; but if the appropriation should be made the
personal, social, and political pressure was so great that he would be
obliged to employ and pay them, though he could find no
employment for them.
Need I prove, Mr. President, that which is known to all men, that a
systematic pressure has been brought upon the clerks in the
Departments of the Government this year to extort from them a
portion of their salary under a system which the President himself
scouts as being voluntary, and that they are led to believe and fairly
led to believe that they have bought and paid for the offices which
they hold and that the good faith of those who take from them a
portion of the salary is pledged to their retention in their positions?
I have said before upon the floor of the Senate that this whole
system demoralizes everybody who is engaged in it. It demoralizes
the clerks who are appointed. That is inevitable. It demoralizes those
who make the appointment. That also is inevitable. And it
demoralizes Senators and Representatives who by the exercise of
their power as Senators and Representatives exert pressure upon the
appointing power.
I repeat that this system, permeating the whole civil service of the
country, demoralizes everybody connected with it, the clerks, the
appointing power, and those who by their official position and their
relations to the executive administration of the Government have the
influence necessary to put these clerks in office.
Mr. President, how can you expect purity, economy, efficiency to
be found anywhere in the service of the Government if the report
made by this committee to the Senate has even the semblance of
truth? If the civil service of the country is to be filled up with
superfluous persons, if salaries are to be increased in order that
assessments may be paid, if members of Congress having friends or
partisan supporters are to be able to make places for them in public
employment, how can you expect Senators and Representatives to be
economical and careful in the administration of the public money?
I am sure there is no Senator here who will forget a scene which we
had upon the last night session of the last session, when the Senator
from Iowa [Mr. Allison], the chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations, the official leader of the Senate, rising in his place
with the last appropriation bill in his hand, and the report of the
committee of conference, made a statement to the Senate of the
result of the appropriations. He stated that the appropriations that
were made during that session amounted to $292,000,000—I throw
off the fractions—and he felicitated the Senate and himself as the
organ and mouthpiece of his party, that this was an excess of only
$77,000,000 over and above the expenditures of the year before.
Instantly the Senator from Connecticut [Mr. Platt] rose in his place
and reminded the Senator that there would be a deficiency in the
Pension Bureau alone of $20,000,000 or $25,000,000. The
honorable Senator from Georgia, who now occupies the chair [Mr.
Brown], inquired of the chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations whether there would be any deficiencies in the
expenses of the current year, or whether the statement was supposed
to cover probable deficiencies in addition to the appropriations, and
the honorable Senator from Kentucky [Mr. Beck], certainly as
familiar with all these subjects as any member of this body, rose in
his place and said that notwithstanding the utmost scrutiny of the
Committee on Appropriations, undoubtedly at the end of the fiscal
year the ordinary deficiencies would be found.
Two hundred and ninety-two millions of dollars of regular
appropriations; $20,000,000 of deficiency in one bureau alone, the
usual deficiencies occurring during the course of the year of
$20,000,000 more! As if this were not enough, my honorable
colleague arose in his place and took up the tale and called attention
to the fact that the permanent appropriations amounted annually to
one hundred and thirty-seven or more millions of dollars. According
to his statement made in that speech, which I am sure nobody will
forget, the expenditures of the Government during this present fiscal
year would amount to $402,000,000 or $403,000,000—nearly $9 a
head for every man, woman, and child in the United States—more
money than was appropriated for all the expenses of the Government
during the first forty years of its existence, I will venture to say,
though I do not speak by the book.
Harbor and river appropriation bills of $18,000,000! Thirty-two
new buildings commenced in the States, almost every one of which
has had buildings before! Two million five hundred thousand dollars
appropriated for the commencement of those buildings, for laying
the foundation! Before they are finished $25,000,000 more will be
needed to complete them! While these enormous appropriations
were being made there came up from the country a demand for a
revision of the tariff, which was confessedly greatly needed; for a
revision of the internal-revenue laws, which was equally necessary;
for a reduction of taxation pressing so heavily upon all the interests
of the country. Our honorable friends upon the other side of the
Chamber chose to answer that demand by a bill repealing the taxes
upon perfumery and cosmetics and bank checks, and met with a
sneer of derision and ridicule every effort that was made on this side
of the Chamber for a reduction of taxation.
Mr. President, it was these methods of administration, it was these
acts of the Republican party, which made it possible for the
Democratic party, and other men who prized their country higher
than they did their party, to elect in Ohio a Democratic ticket by
eighteen or twenty thousand majority, and elect sixteen out of the
twenty-one members of Congress assigned to that State. I say elected
sixteen, perfectly conscious of the fact that thirteen of them only
have received their certificates at present. If three of them, against
whom the aggregate majority is only sixty votes, do not receive
certificates under the action of the returning board or under the
powers of our judiciary which have been invoked, they will be seated,
as they ought to be, at the beginning of the next session of Congress
in the other house.
Under the impulse of this election in Ohio, upon these facts and
influences which I have stated as being of great importance there, it
became possible for the Democratic party and its allies, whom I have
described, to elect a Democratic governor in New York, in
Massachusetts, in Kansas, in Michigan, and various other States in
which there has been none but a Republican governor for many years
past. The same influences enable us, having accessions to our ranks
from Iowa and Wisconsin and Michigan and Pennsylvania, to have at
the beginning of the next session of Congress an aggregate of
perhaps sixty or more Democratic majority in the House of
Representatives.
Mr. Hale. Will the Senator from Ohio let me ask him a question
right here? As he is confining himself very closely to the civil service
of the Government, I should like to ask him one question here
relating to that. He has appealed directly to the Chairman of the
Committee on Appropriations, who was not present at the time,
although he has just come in. The Senator from Ohio has alluded to
the remarkable speech made by the chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations upon the expenditures of the Government at the last
session, and the wonderful scene that was exhibited there at that
time. In that speech on the expenditures of the Government, by the
chairman of the Committee on Appropriations, was the admission
that the aggregate expenditures were seventy-odd millions of dollars
more than the year before—remarkable when in that speech of the
Senator from Iowa, the chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations, he showed that every dollar was accounted for by
deficiencies on the part of the previous Democratic Congress and by
the increase of pensions and some other matters.
Mr. Pendleton. I remember the speech of the Senator from Iowa
very well; I have quoted it repeatedly from the Record, in which I
found it. I did him no injustice; I know he will not believe I would
intentionally do him injustice at any time. I stated then, I stated a
moment ago, I have stated it on the stump, I repeat it now, that the
Senator from Iowa in that speech said that the appropriations for the
current year were $292,000,000, and that they were $77,000,000 in
excess of those made for the last year: and I might have added if I
chose to make it a partisan affair, that the last Congress was under
Democratic control.
Mr. Hale. And did he not account for every dollar of that
$77,000,000 increase? But I think I will leave it to him, as he is
present now.
Mr. Pendleton. Undoubtedly he accounted for it, for he gave all
the items that went to make up the $77,000,000.
I am confining myself more closely, Mr. President, to the
discussion of the reform of the civil service of the Government than
the Senator seems to apprehend. I was showing to him the causes of
this very remarkable revolution in public sentiment which we have
seen as exhibited by the last election. I attributed that result in great
measure to the defects in our civil-service system and to the
demoralization which, arising there and in its practices, has reached
the other departments of the Government.
Mr. President, I was about to say when the Senator from Maine
interrupted me that I begged gentlemen on this side of the Chamber
and I beg the Democratic party throughout the country not to
mistake this result of last fall as a purely Democratic triumph. It was
achieved by the Democratic party with the assistance of men of all
parties upon whom their love of country sat heavier than their love of
party. It was a protest made by an awakened people who were
indignant at the wrongs which had been practiced upon them. It was
a tentative stretching out of that same people to find
instrumentalities by which those wrongs could be righted.
The people demanded economy and the Republican party gave
them extravagance. The people demanded a reduction of taxation
and the Republican party gave them an increase of expenditure. The
people demanded purity of administration and the Republican party
revelled in profligacy; and when the Republican party came to put
themselves on trial before that same people the people gave them a
day of calamity.
I beg that my colleagues on this side of the Chamber may
remember, I desire that our party associates throughout the country
shall remember, that the people will continue to us their confidence
and increase it, that they will continue to us power and increase it,
just in the proportion that we honestly and fairly and promptly
answer to the demands which the people have made, and which were
thus responded to by the Republican party. They asked revenue
reform and they received none. They asked civil-service reform and
they obtained none. They asked that the civil service of this
Government should not either as to its men or its expenditures be
made the basis upon which political contests were to be carried on,
and they received for answer that that was an old fashion and a good
method of political warfare.
I beg gentlemen upon this side of the Chamber to remember that if
they desire to escape the fate which now seems to be impending over
their adversaries they must avoid the example which those
adversaries have set them.
Mr. President the bill which I have the honor to advocate to-day,
and which is reported by a committee of the Senate, is the
commencement, in my humble judgment, of an attempt to answer
one of the demands which the people have authoritatively made. I
speak advisedly. It is the commencement of an attempt to organize a
system which shall respond to one of the demands which the people
have made.
I suppose the most enthusiastic supporter of this bill will not
pretend that it is perfect. I suppose he will not pretend that upon the
adoption of this bill a system will immediately spring into life which
will perfect and purify the civil service of the Government. But it is
the commencement of an attempt to lay the foundations of a system
which, if it shall answer in any reasonable degree the expectation of
those who by experience and faithful study have framed it, it will in
the end correct the abuses to which I have alluded, and which have
been delineated by no enemy of the Republican party or of the
Administration in the report which I have read to the Senate.
The bill has for its foundation the simple and single idea that the
offices of the Government are trusts for the people; that the
performance of the duties of those offices is to be in the interests of
the people; that there is no excuse for the being of one office or the
paying of one salary except that it is in the highest practicable degree
necessary for the welfare of the people; that every superfluous office-
holder should be cut off; that every incompetent office-holder should
be dismissed; that the employment of two where one will suffice is
robbery; that salaries so large that they can submit to the extortion,
the forced payment of 2 or 10 per cent. are excessive and ought to be
diminished. I am not speaking of purely voluntary contributions.
If it be true that offices are trusts for the people, then it is also true
that the offices should be filled by those who can perform and
discharge the duties in the best possible way. Fidelity, capacity,
honesty, were the tests established by Mr. Jefferson when he
assumed the reins of government in 1801. He said then, and said
truly, that these elements in the public offices of the Government
were necessary to an honest civil service, and that an honest civil
service was essential to the purity and efficiency of administration,
necessary to the preservation of republican institutions.
Mr. Jefferson was right. The experience of eighty years has shown
it. The man best fitted should be the man placed in office, especially
if the appointment is made by the servants of the people. It is as true
as truth can be that fidelity, capacity, honesty, are essential elements
of fitness, and that the man who is most capable and most faithful
and most honest is the man who is the most fit, and he should be
appointed to office.
These are truths that in their statement will be denied by none,
and yet the best means of ascertaining that fitness has been a vexed
question with every Administration of this Government and with
every man who has been charged with the responsibility of its
execution. We know what is the result. Pass examinations have been
tried; professions have been tried; honest endeavors have been tried;
a disposition to live faithfully up to these requirements has been
tried; and yet we know and the experience of to-day shows it, that
they have all made a most lamentable failure. We do now know that
so great has been the increase of the powers of this Government and
the number of officers under it that no President, no Cabinet, no
heads of bureaus, can by possibility know the fitness of all applicants
for the subordinate offices of the Government. The result has been,
and under the existing system it must always be, that the President
and his Cabinet and those who are charged with the responsibility
have remitted the question of fitness to their own partisan friends,
and those partisan friends have in their turn decided the question of
fitness in favor of their partisan friends. The Administration has
need of the support of members of Congress in carrying on its work.
It therefore remits to members of Congress of its own party the
questions of appointment to office in the various districts. These
gentlemen, in the course of their political life, naturally (I do not find
fault with them for it) find themselves under strain and pressure to
secure a nomination or a re-nomination or election, and they use the
places to reward those whose friends and families and connections
and aids and deputies will serve their purpose.
I put it to gentlemen, particularly to my friends on this side of the
Chamber, because you have not the opportunity to exercise this
patronage as much as our friends on the other side, whether or not