Somewhere in the very nice part of Eirmagen is a grand townhouse with tall windows and ornate moulding. Go around the side, and there is a narrow alleyway that hides an unmarked and unassuming door. It opens to the kitchen beneath the house, the sort of place where nobility has never bothered to tread. Even then, the kitchen was certainly built to impress. With custom, extravagant cabinetry lining the walls and top-of-the-line refridgeration units, not to mention weeks' worth of dry goods in the pantry, the opulence is not subtle.

Yet, instead of a bustling kitchen staff, it is manned by a single person. A wiry, weaselly sort of man who looks more suited to haunting dive bars than working with the upper class. In fact, he does not seem especially hard at work today.


Oh, sorry? A guest? I wasn't expecting guests, I don't often get visitors down here. Probably for the best since I am, you know, working. Or I ought to be, anyway. I'll admit I've been slacking off a bit, on account of I could really use a day off. It's been a hot minute since I've had any real time away from here. That's the thing about working for the upper crust, you know. The pay is better'n I'd be getting working in restaurants, but my patron doesn't understand why she can't get every last second of my time. Maybe I've got my own life and my own affairs that I'd like to- Forget it. Once I get started on all that I'll never stop.

Listen, if you're going to stick around, try to at least make yourself useful around here. You could get to work washing up produce or peeling potatoes, if nothing else. You're certainly not Anzo and I doubt you've got half his work ethic, but I guess you'll do.


I've been working in kitchens since I was a wee little thing. See, I got my start washing dishes at a restaurant in one of Sebek's classier boroughs. A place called The Heights, if you've ever been. Anyway, I paid my dues scrubbing grime and slogging through nasty water. But I quickly cozied up to some of the back-of-house fellas, and they talked up a real big game to get me out of the dish pit and into the kitchen. I was, what, 14 years old by that time? Ended up getting a lot of good culinary lessons from world-weary, chain-smoking middle aged men. Joke's on them, I'd already seen enough of the world to know how much stock to put into their little life lessons. But learning proper knife techniques, learning how to tell when the meat was done and when the veg needed more time over the flame? Those are the lessons that'll shape a man, let me tell you.

I got pretty good at the game. Made me feel properly proud of myself, right? I was finally not only learning but perfecting a legitimate art. I didn't stay for too long at that first restaurant, because you never stay in one place for long in this business. Of course, I was so young back then that it truly felt like forever. Looking back, I was only there for maybe two years before I caught the scent of higher standing elsewhere. More control over what was happening in the kitchen and all of that. Higher wages, for whatever that was worth, though not enough to make a man move across the city. I was chasing the experience. I knew that no matter where I went, I'd be able to supplement my income through all the old tricks. But if someone was offering me more control over what was happening in the kitchen? Hoo boy, that offer smells like blood in the water, if you catch my drift. You only get good at cooking with practice, and let me tell you, I've had some practice. Learned from the best, then set down on my own path.

Funny story, after I left a job for reasons that ought not to be discussed, I managed to land an interview for the position of a private chef. The patron was some eccentric noble-type right here in Eirmagen, just behind the front lines. Exciting stuff! Anyway, her old chef had left to enlist, so there was a vacancy in her kitchen. I told her I'd studied at the culinary academy back in Sebek, and she had no way of telling if that was the truth or not. She ran me through a test of a full day's worth of meals, and the old so-and-so couldn't tell the difference between a classically trained chef and a street urchin who'd clawed his way into respectability. Not sure whether that says more about me or her, but I'm choosing to believe it means I'm just that good at the craft.

Glad that it happened, because it's a pretty sweet gig. Just me down her, and I don't even have to talk with my patron! She's a real oddball, only ever wants to communicate through notes. Talked to me once and never again. Fine by me! All that means is I've got full control over the kitchen, over the ingredients, the equipment... My domain, really. If I hadn't landed the job, I'm sure I'd have been off to some other opportunity, which means Anzo and I never would've crossed paths.


Oh yeah, Anzo. Maybe you've heard of him? Anzo Ayers. Great big handsome fella, real quiet and mysterious. Try not to get too drawn in, I've already staked my claim. A wonderful fellow, really. A bit too modest for his own good, but that's all part of the charm, isn't it? Him and I are getting married after the war, or so he says. Me? I'd rather get it done now, but Anzo's just being Anzo about the whole matter. He keeps saying things like he can't make that kind of commitment unless he knows he'll be around to fulfill it, which- I'll admit it's been frustrating.

But I trust him to uphold his word. That man's resilient, I've got to have faith he's going to make it through this. And I know he's not just leading me on. First of all, that's simply not his nature. You wouldn't believe it if you've ever met him, but trust me when I say he's not as dour as he looks. He's so beautifully sincere, and the only time he ever lies is when he tells me not to worry about him. Anzo tells me he loves me, that we're going to build a life together after all of this is over, and I believe him.

The two of us have so much fun together, in the meantime. When Anzo's on leave he'll come sneak down here to visit with me, and oh, he's just so helpful. My very own sous chef! He's a great sport, he never has any complaints about prepping for me. Of course I feed him well for his troubles! And of course this kitchen is quite private, so we get plenty of quality time together. I'll let you use your imagination.

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and they must've been thinking of Anzo when they wrote that down. He loves everything I make, and I'd consider it flattering, but the man's standards for what constitutes a good meal are rock bottom. I could hand him a bowl of plain rice and he'd slurp it down like a starving dog. Still, I've gotta give him something worthwhile, because that's what love's about, right? He's prepared to eat slop off the floor, so I'm gonna cook him up some proper cuisine, because that's what Anzo deserves.

You wouldn't believe the things the two of us get up to while I'm on the clock. I'm marrying Anzo for sure. Love of my life, right there.




NAME: Huxley
PROFESSION: Private chef
BORN: Sebek, Sebekid Province
RACE: Nenn
D.O.B.: 12/04/14,474
AGE: 33
HEIGHT: 5 ft 8 in
WEIGHT: 142 lbs




Sloppy
Quiet
Lazy
Serious
Mean
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Neat
Outgoing
Active
Playful
Nice






There's a lot of easy money to be made in this world, you know. I got my start the same way all my peers did- picking pockets, sneaking little things out of shops, nothing too complex. Of course I got pinched for it a couple times, but I was pretty good at talking my way out of any real punishment. I'd get my day in front of the judge and convince 'em I was just a poor wretched orphan trying to make his way in this big, bad world. I could cry on command as a kid, which helped sell it real well. They'd send me back to the orphanage, I'd bust my way back out, and the whole thing would start over. Well, my luck ran out around the same time my voice started dropping and I wasn't so cute anymore, and I got myself chucked in jail proper. Didn't care for that very much! In the end it was only about two months before they kicked me right back out to make room for all those bigger fish that were getting fried. But that was enough for me to know it was time to learn less overt ways of taking.

These days my business is cards. See when it comes to gambling, skill will only take you so far, because luck is the name of the game. Though when you can rule out luck, those bets become a lot safer. It never hurts to keep a spare ace or two up your sleeve, if that's what it takes to keep yourself in the green.

Listen, when you're making your living this close to the front lines, you run into a lot of young soldiers who are suddenly waving around a lot more money than they've ever known how to handle. Plenty of 'em are keen for a night of cards or a couple round of darts, and a lot of them are too deep in the sauce to notice when you switch throwing from your left hand to your right. I know how it sounds, but the sad reality is most of these kids are never going home. All that money would go right back to the crown if I wasn't getting my cut. You know what I'm doing with that money? I'm turning it into assets that'll outlast the war. I'm thinking long term, here.

I've seen enough banks close in the past three years. The paper money we're throwing into the pot won't be worth much if things keep going the way they're going. But gold? Jewelry? Any merchant will take that. Don't tell nobody, but I've been squirreling my assets away in places no one's ever gonna look. I've got some investments hiding all around Eirmagen that'll buy me a comfortable life no matter who's left in charge when all is said and done. Listen, I've got a family I plan to build, and I've got no interest in any of us scrounging through the rubble when this is all over. You can be mad about it, I'm just being practical here.



Just between you and me, I've had a couple different names in my time, enough to forget which one I started out with. At one point I was Thomas, but it got stale quickly, and I never cared to be called Tom or Tommy. Couldn't tell you why, just made my skin crawl. I was also Walter at one point, which I rather liked. But I had to give that name up after only a short time because, well, I made someone rather angry, and it seemed best that I disappear for a little while. I still sort of think I look like a Walter, don't you?

But Huxley suits me best, I believe. Borrowed the name off some dead scientist. I don't recall what it was he was known for, but I remember thinking it was quite interesting. Huxley was his surname, actually, but I haven't got one of those, so I took it as my given name. To tell you the truth, I'm rather tired of changing names, and I'd like to keep this one. I've been in trouble a few times since I picked it, but I've just been swapping out surnames. Can't recall what I've got right now. Burke, maybe? Don't quote me on that, I'd need to look at my papers.

Family names have never meant much to me, and I don't recall what my mother's was. In the orphanage I was just plain ol Huxley- or whatever my name was back then. No one went by their surnames for very long in that crowd. A bit of pain behind clinging onto a family name when your mama's four years overdue for picking you up, see? So if you thought I've changed my first name too many times, you'll be clutching your pearls over how many surnames I've run through.

Would I like a name to hold onto? Well, sure. I'd like to live the sort of life where I didn't have to keep changing who I am! Some of that's my own doing, sure, but these days? The crown is handing out conscription notices like candy at a parade. If a summons to the nearest training camp comes for a Mister Burke, then maybe I'm not Mister Burke anymore. I mean, look at me. Do I look like the kind of man built to fight a war? Best case scenario I'd get to be a camp cook, but it sounds like even those fellas have to take up arms these days. Listen, I don't know how Anzo does it, but I know I can't. I just can't. So forget you ever met Mister Burke because he won't be showing up for service any time soon.

I don't know. The war's going to be over some day, and I won't have to think like this anymore. Maybe I'll get to be Mister Huxley Ayers and I'll never have to change my name again, because we won't be living in that kind of world anymore. I don't know. I'm awfully tired these days. Maybe I'm just getting older.




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  • That suit is the most expensive thing he owns

  • Working hard or hardly working am I right fellas

  • Huxley and his long-distance boyfriend

  • Character concept sketch

  • by Chaos / chaos_7_panic

  • by Tiki / hibiscus_palmtree07

  • by Tiki / hibiscus_palmtree07

  • by Liztuft (offsite)

  • by Panksage (offsite)

  • by lavabeast (offsite)






God's Bones, how long have I been talking? And you just let me?! I still have so much to do, and you're just- You aren't helping at all! You've done nothing but waste my time! Get out!
Out out out out OUT!








gallery coding by Nex
all art, story, etc by me
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