The Benevolent Butcher Glutton

"Dear chef, you wouldn't be thinking of reneging on our deal, now would you?" Grayson asked, tilting his head curiously.

The chef stared intently at him. "I don't believe a word you said. Whispering with that bird on your shoulder, there must be some trickery afoot. You don't seem like someone who's spent years in a kitchen!"

"True, I've been out of professional kitchens for quite some time, but my skills haven't been dulled," Grayson replied, composed.

"Then prove it," the chef challenged, throwing a cleaver directly at Grayson, which thudded onto the table in front of him.

"It's all because of you, you little rascal!" Grayson shot a glare at Elyra, then pulled the cleaver from the table and asked the chef, "Could you provide the ingredients I need, like oil, salt, vinegar, and the like?"

"Of course!" The chef gestured, and a row of cabinets flung open, revealing an assortment of condiments and spices. Grayson grinned and made his way down the line, pausing at the cheese.

Tasting a pinch, he then fed a morsel to Elyra before slicing a larger piece and returning to the table, tasking Elyra with fetching ingredients.

"You'd better share half with me after you're done!" Elyra chirped expectantly.

"Deal, it's all yours," Grayson promised with a smile. He began by pulverizing his thinly sliced tuna into a paste, with Elyra providing eggs and a bowl.

As Grayson was about to whisk the eggs, Katheren and Seraphine peeked in. The chef reached for his axe upon seeing strangers, but Grayson gestured for him to stay his hand.

"They're with me, no need to worry! Ladies, come in. I'm making a midnight snack," Grayson beckoned them in. Katheren and Seraphine cautiously entered, sizing up the intimidating chef before joining Grayson at the table.

"Watch as the Huntsman shows off his culinary prowess," Grayson cheered, whisking the eggs before combining them with the tuna, chili powder, chopped scallions, pepper, and flour into balls.

"Elyra, wait until they're done!" Grayson chided, flattening the balls into patties. He then wrapped chunks of cheese with the tuna, forming balls again, and set them aside for frying.

With the meatballs crisply fried and set on a silver platter, the kitchen filled with an irresistible aroma. The cheese's smooth texture complemented the spiced fish, creating a symphony of flavors.

"Try one?" Grayson offered the chef, who was already reaching for the platter. The chef's expression softened as he savored the fried delight, praising the dish for its crispy exterior and flavorful interior.

"You won, you may leave. When I'm done here, I'll try making these myself," the chef murmured through mouthfuls.

"Enjoy your meal," Grayson said, gesturing to Katheren and Seraphine. He retrieved a small bowl of meatballs, offering one to Elyra, who was dealing with a mouthful.

"Philosophers say that gluttons are the least dangerous creatures in the world because all they think about is food, leaving no time to harm others," Grayson mused, looking back as Elyra snatched the last meatball from the bowl.

"Are you sure a philosopher said that?" Katheren asked in a low voice, just as Elyra swiped the meatball from her hand.

"Probably," Grayson shrugged with a smile. "Our chef fits that description perfectly. He may be an undead butcher with no qualms about killing, but he can't resist good food—it's in his nature."

Suddenly, a loud crash interrupted them. A huge anchor smashed through the wall, landing right before the startled Elyra.

"Wow!" Frightened, Elyra morphed into a fluffy owl, clutching the last meatball and taking refuge behind Grayson. Katheren quickly snatched it up and popped it into her mouth.

As Grayson was about to call out to Elyra, the heavy tread of a giant figure approached, lifting the anchor with ease. Grayson prepared to respond when a sharp whizzing sound came from behind. He swiftly flung five blades, deflecting three flying daggers.

A wiry man holding a harpoon emerged, his belt laden with gleaming knives. His sly eyes surveyed them, a wild beard giving him a savage look.

"I take it there's a third?" Grayson gauged, retracting his blades.

As he finished, a shadowy figure lunged at his back, cold steel aiming for his heart. Grayson, faster than the shadow, dodged and deflected the blow with his claw. A second blade came at his arm, and he leaped back.

The spectral figure pressed onward, dual blades creating a tempest of slashes. Grayson, nimble as a wraith, closed in and landed a solid kick to the gut, astonishing the ghostly foe.

"How can you touch me?" the dual-wielding spirit exclaimed.

"If I couldn't touch you, I wouldn't dare come here," Grayson remarked, flexing his clawed fingers.

"Who are you people?" the spirit demanded, malice lacing his tone.

"I am Grayson, just a ranger, and these ladies are my companions. We're here to conduct business with Captain Jaxton," Grayson replied coolly, facing down his three hostile opponents.

Pointing to the burly man with the anchor, he said, "You must be the third mate, Chocolate." Turning to the man with the harpoon, "And you, the second mate, Joe." His gaze landed back on the dual-wielding spirit. "As for you, you're the first mate, Mack, aren't you?"

"How do you know so much about us?" Mack asked, surprised.

"Because I can read minds! Simple as that," Grayson boasted with a sly grin.

"Nonsense! No one can read the minds of the undead!" Mack retorted.

"Is that so? But I just did," Grayson chuckled. "Anyway, I'm here to see the captain. Where is he? Surely he's not hiding from me."

"Meeting the captain won't be easy," Mack sneered, with Joe and Chocolate stepping forward threateningly. "You'll have to get past us," Mack said, setting the stage for the confrontation.