The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the common room of Azalea Hall. My portable magic oven hums as I pour more MP into it. The cheaply put-together sign with the words ‘Chosen Cookies. A dozen for 2 Copper.’ bleeds from the heat. The jar with four copper coins sits sadly on the wooden table.

  This is some bullshit. It’s a weekend morning, where in the hells is everybody? Literally not a single person has stopped by to buy some cookies. The four pieces of copper in the jar are mine. I thought it would get the ball rolling, but the ball’s not even here. I can’t roll a ball that doesn’t exist.

  Sitting in shame, I take a bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies. This is sad. I’m supposed to be The Chosen One, and I can’t even draw a crowd to buy cookies. Is it the shape? I look at the Chosen Cookies. I made them so that they would look like me winking. Who wouldn’t want to eat me?

  Wallowing, the entrance opens as a classmate walks in from the snowy cold. It’s the purple-haired Elf from the advanced class, Viola… something. Wait, she seems like the popular type. This is my opportunity!! I’ll get her to try my cookies, and then she’ll tell all her friends about it. I’ll be drowning in money.

  Wasting no time, I call out to her. “Viola? Is that you? Oh my Gods, how long has it been?” I say, trying to sound friendly.

  Viola takes a second as she takes off her scarf. “Uh, Chosen One, we were in class yesterday,” she says with a hint of nervousness and confusion.

  “Oh, no need to fret about that. Come have a seat,” I say a bit forcefully.

  “Oh, uh, I was going to-”

  “Nonsense. Please, have a seat.”

  Viola walks with a flabbergasted expression and sits across from me. As she does, I put on a friendly smile.

  “How is school treating you, Viola?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

  “It's been good. I managed to rank 3rd on the Placement Exam, which… I’m proud of,” Viola says with a hint of hesitation.

  “Hmm.”

  “What, I am proud of it… It’s impressive, but…,” she defends, obviously hiding something.

  “But?” I say as I slide a plate of cookies her way.

  “I feel like I want to do something else, but my parents are expecting so much from me. I’m the successor and, of course, the eldest. I’m supposed to set an example,” she says as she bites into a cookie. “They even want me to join the Tea Club and make connections, but what about what I want?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I want to join the Artist Club. I want to draw art and learn to sculpt,” she says as she takes another cookie.

  Wordlessly, I nod along as I take another batch out of the oven. “Hmm.”

  “You’re right. Life is too long for me not to explore what I’m interested in. I’m going to join the Artist Club. Thank you, Chosen One,” she says, leaving a gold coin in the jar.

  As she leaves the Hall, I quietly nod to myself. Huh, I don’t know how I helped, but I sold some of my cookies. Plus, I think I did a good thing. I’m not entirely sure if it is a good thing, but I’m going to look on the positive side of things and call it a good thing.

  Now I just- The entrance to the Hall opens as Dryad with red roses in her hair walks in. That’s Ruby, I think. She’s also a classmate and soon my next customer.

  “Ruby! It’s been so long! Come sit, let's talk,” I say in a friendly tone.

  “I was actually going to-”

  “Nonsense. We’re classmates. We should talk.”

  “I guess I can spare some time,” Ruby says as she takes the seat in front of me.

  “So, how’s the family?” I ask, hoping to find something interesting to talk about.

  “Uh, well, actually, I recently had a fight with my sister,” Ruby says.

  “Please go on.” Not taking my eyes off her, I slide her a plate of fresh cookies.

  “It all started the day before yesterday. My sister is what I would call unmotivated, and she’s been in this club basically lazing around,” Ruby explains as she takes a cookie.

  “That sounds rough.”

  “I keep telling her that she should take her studies seriously or else she’s going to be sorely underprepared when she succeeds our father. It’s like she doesn’t even care,” she says as she takes another cookie.

  “Sounds like it,” I say, watching her eat cookie after cookie.

  “You know what? If she won’t take the position of successor seriously, I’ll have to step up. Thank you, Chosen One,” Ruby says, leaving a gold piece in the jar.

  As she leaves the Hall, I put another batch of cookies in the oven. Good for you, Ruby. Sometimes you have to take things that don’t belong to you. Really, it’s their fault for not guarding their things from would-be thieves.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It is a bit odd that people keep showing up and just venting at me. Well, smelly Doug did say I have a calming aura about me. Usually, it doesn’t help much on the streets, but it sure does help selling cookies.

  The door to the Hall opens yet again. Another classmate of mine walks in. He’s a Dwarven man with blond hair. What was his name again? Oh, uh, Blaine? No, William! That’s what it is.

  “Hey, William, come have a seat,” I say with a jovial smile.

  William does a hard turn and takes a seat wordlessly.

  “How’ve you been?” I ask, somewhat worried that I can’t read him.

  He doesn’t say anything and just stares deep into my soul.

  “I see,” I say, slowly sliding the plate of cookies over to him.

  William gently picks one up and eats it. A couple of minutes of silence later, he’s eaten the plate clean. He then stands up, gives me a heartfelt nod, puts a gold coin in the jar and then leaves.

  What the fuck? No, really, what was that? He didn’t say a single word and then gave me the most sincere nod I’ve ever seen. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to break down in tears from how sincere that nod was. My classmates are a bunch of weirdos.

  The door to the Hall opens, and a hint of excitement fills me until I see who it is. Penelope shakes the snow off her coat as she gets warm near the fire. As she warms up, she turns to me and rolls her eyes.

  “Got a problem, Penelope?” I ask, with a hint of annoyance.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just wondering when they started to allow charlatans to sell goods in the Hall,” she says with a haughty attitude.

  “Still running with the charlatan angle? You would think you’d get some better material by now?” I say as I pump more MP into the oven.

  Rolling her eyes, she walks over to the oven and fills it with her MP. “Are you really going to keep this broken thing?”

  “Just because it’s broken doesn’t mean it’s useless,” I say as I pull another batch of cookies out of the oven.

  Penelope sits across from me with her arms crossed. “What are you doing here?” she asks out of the blue.

  I gasp dramatically. “I didn’t realise you couldn’t read. It says ‘Chosen Cookies. A dozen for 2 Copper’,” I say, sarcastically.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she says, a bit peeved.

  “Ah. Copper is a form of currency. You use it to buy things and services. Here, you can use it to buy cookies,” I tease.

  “I mean, why are you here? Why are you impersonating The Chosen One?” she asks seriously.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am The Chosen One and I’m selling cookies,” I [Lie].

  “It’s like talking to a wall, but more stubborn. You obviously aren’t doing this alone. Are you a spy? Are you just in it for the money? Do you know where the real Chosen One is? An answer to any of those would be helpful,” she pries.

  I let out a deep breath and let myself visibly relax. “Penelope, I’m going to be honest with you. I do know where the real Chosen One is.”

  “Well, spit it out,” she says, eagerly.

  “He’s…” I lean in closer as I look around for any eavesdroppers. “He’s talking to you right now,” I [Lie].

  “I’m not going to get anywhere with you, am I?”

  “Nope, cookie?” I say, offering a plate of cookies.

  With a sigh, she goes to grab the cookie, but before she can, I pull the plate away. She glares at me with a look that could kill. I gesture over to the jar. She rolls her eyes and plops two copper coins into the jar. With a smile, I hand her the cookies.

  As she takes a bite, she exclaims, “These are… actually good! Did you make these?!”

  “Well, not to brag, but I am The Chosen One.”

  With a full mouth, she retorts, “That has nothing to do with cooking.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say something, not The Chosen One?”

  “I’m going to get you one of these days. I don’t know when or how, but I will get you,” Penelope says with a full mouth.

  “What are you going to get me?”

  Penelope growls and then looks around. “I’m surprised Hopper isn’t with you.”

  “That’s actually why I’m down here. He’s practising his [Skill] in the dorm room. Which made it chilly up there, so I came down here to sell cookies,” I say, remembering the icicles that were starting to form in my room.

  “Well, you certainly picked a bad time to sell cookies,” she says, with a knowing tone.

  “Why? Isn’t the weekend the perfect time to sell cookies?”

  “Usually, but this weekend there’s a festival going on.”

  “Festival? What festival?” I ask incredulously.

  “The Winter Festival. It’s held at the beginning of every year at the capital,” she explains.

  “I’ve never been to a festival. Is it nice?”

  I think back on the festivals I almost attended with smelly Doug, but I thought better of it, AKA we weren’t allowed in. It was probably for the best anyway. People get uncomfortable when I go into stores. I can just imagine what a festival would be like.

  “What do you mean you’ve never been to a festival?” she says with a worried look.

  “I’ve never been to one. What’s so weird about that?” I ask, hiding my embarrassment.

  Penelope mulls a thought over and then gives out a long, exhausting sigh. “I haven’t gone yet. Do you want to come with me?”

  I give her a long blink and then look around at my pathetic cookie stand. I’m probably not going to get any more customers, and Hopper is turning our room into an icebox. It’s not the worst idea. I always did want to go to a festival. They seem fun, and it’s a great place to make some coin, but I get the feeling Penelope won’t let me steal, scam, or cheat. I have nothing better to do.

  “Ok. That sounds fun, but fair warning, I don’t know what you do at a festival,” I say as I start to pack up my stuff.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you what to do. Have you ever eaten caramel apples?” she asks.

  “Nope, but it sounds delicious,” I say as I start to carry my stuff up to my room.

  “It is. It’s an apple covered in caramel. It’s brown and on a stick,” she says as she carries the oven.

  “Well, I’ve had brown apples before, but I can assure you they weren’t covered in caramel.”

  As we reach the door to my room, I quickly open it to reveal an icicle-covered room. In the center of the room is Hopper, who has a layer of snow on him. Not wanting to bother him, I place my stuff right at the doorway and close the door.

  “Should we ask Hopper to join us?” she says.

  “Not today. I think he’s busy creating an iceberg.”

  “Fair.”