“Alright, the timers are ringing and both contestants are removing their pies from the oven!” Jeff announced and moved back to the desk. “Any comments before we begin the judgements?”

“I get to eat pie,” Vita touted, swaying her head and the eating utensils she had gotten out of nowhere. “I like pie.”

On the other end of the table, Rave nodded three times and raised a finger, as if she was a teacher pointing something out. “Way I see it, the problem here will be to withhold a perfect score from both of them. Fresh pie is, like, super good.”

“Hard to disagree with any of those wise words!” Jeff sat down and gestured at the contestants. “Now, if the opponents may bring the finished products to us! We will judge them in three categories: looks, taste and creativity! In that order! Every judgement will be made after both pies have been consumed with eyes, mouth and brain! Also, you will find a glass of water before you, specifically modified to act as the ultimate palette cleanser, do use it between taste tests!”

“Ya know we’re sitting right next to you?” Rave asked.

“Your screaming is annoying,” Vita agreed and stared at the announcer. The ever-present oddity around her ramped up over two seconds. Where John sat, it was a mildly unpleasant feeling, like someone dragging chalk over all of his fingernails. At the centre of the table, Jeff leaned away from her as if she was a fire that continuously birthed ephemeral carrion beetles. Her dark hair was tossed around by some invisible force. “I want pie.”

“They’re already on their way! Relax, please, relax! It feels like my toenails are curling up, except all over everything!” the hype-man begged and let out a sigh of relief when the pariah’s aura ebbed away. Little did he know that another demanding woman was about to descend on him.

Aclysia stopped before the table and looked between the three judges and the plates in front of them. “Where is the plate for my Master?” she asked in a sweet, somewhat demanding tone. “Surely, you do not expect me to bake a pie for you and let you eat it while my John has to watch and wonder how it tastes?”

“O-of course not,” Jeff immediately conceded with a stutter. “One plate for the special guest, coming right up!”

John was mildly amused by this. If he had wanted any pie, which he most likely would once they were close enough to smell, he would have just grabbed some from Rave’s plate. Seeing Aclysia act out her obsession over him in little ways like this was adorable in its own way though. That aside, he liked that it put Jeff on the spot. ‘I wonder if he’s that nervous because he is getting generally wary of the women in this room or because of Aclysia’s reputation with journalists.’

Regardless of the answer, he was soon presented with what had been requested and things resumed. Wendy approached the table, and both placed their work down. While Aclysia folded her hands before her lower body and bowed before the jury, the redhead turned towards her opponent.

“My pie will totally obliterate your pie!” she declared with an overemphasized laugh. “It will be a cake-tastrophe!”

“Cakes and pies are different kinds of baked goods, your pun is inappropriate,” Aclysia countered and turned to face her opponent.

“Oh, no need to be so stuck up about it.” Wendy shook her head in a mocking fashion, making her twin braids fly. “But before your pie-ty makes you touch little boys I-“

“Do not insinuate I would touch any male aside from Master in any sexual fashion,” Aclysia warned and narrowed her eyes. “I have no tolerance for such accusations.”

“D-duly noted!” the banter came to an immediate end, as Wendy had the social awareness to know when she had stepped on a landmine. “Let the pies do the talking, then!”

The lid of her creation flopped about like a pair of lips, “Yeah, you bloody wankers!” Everyone, aside from Wendy, who stood in a boastful pose, stared at the apple pie. “What, have you never seen a talking apple pie before?” the baked good asked, steam rising with its every word, barring testimony to its state of fresh bakedness. It was a very hot apple pie, that was for certain. For some reason, he also sounded Australian.

“Can’t say I have.” John cleared his throat, rapidly growing uncomfortable with the idea of eating something that could still talk. The Abyss still managed to surprise him on such occasions. “So, what do you think about being made to be eaten? Does that stress you? I want to know if I should feel bad about the fact that you smell delicious.”

“Aww, listen to this considerate cunt,” the apple pie said with a smile, which was among the weirder things John had seen in his life. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’m made to be eaten, you get me? Was baked by that redhead beauty behind me and my whole life’s joy is to be tasty! Pretty sure I’ll just die if I get cold anyway, so quit shitting like a dog and enjoy me while I’m still fresh!”

“Can do,” Rave nodded.

“I’m digging it!” Jeff pumped his fist.

“An interesting recipe…” Aclysia admitted.

“Pie.” There weren’t many words Vita had to add.

‘This is so weird, am I on drugs?’ John thought, while everyone else just accepted what was going on. ‘Have I been dreaming all of this from the start? Am I about to wake up and find out that I have to go to Ashcroft in a minute? Frank is going to bully me and I’ll have arms like twigs again. Well, on the plus side, I won’t be blind anymore.’

While the Gamer experienced a minor existential breakdown, the jury judged on the first category. They looked at both pies. Rave was the first to speak up. “So, neither of these looks all that impressive,” she let her thoughts be known. “Aclysia, your topping is a bit more creative, but Wendy went for that old-school criss-cross look and new is not always better. But, as I said at first, neither are all that great on the looks. I’d give Aclysia’s pie a 5 and Wendy’s pie a 6.”

“I accept your wisdom, Mistress,” the weaponized maid bowed her head.

His girlfriend appearing impartial like this was good for John, fundamentally. It wouldn’t look great if she berated Aclysia at all points, that would make it seem like his harem was full of internal strife. As untrue as it was, everything could be bent if there were only snippets and a desire to put a certain spin on things.

“Let’s keep the scoring until we cut them and have seen the slices,” Jeff told Rave. “The inside of the pie is as important as the outside, after all. If you would cut your creations.”

That was among the rare occasions that John agreed with the hype-man. Everyone eagerly waited for the pies to end up on their plates. With some worry, John looked at the talking apple pie, but the semi-sentient baked good had no reaction to having several slices taken out of it. The Gamer wasn’t sure whether he would have found it weirder if the pie had screamed in pain or enjoyed getting cut up, so the silence was definitely preferable.

Each of the large plates was loaded with a proper slice and John felt the saliva gathering in his mouth. The sweet smell of cooked apples reached his nose, combined with the sugary sweetness of the glaze Aclysia had used and an exciting magical tingle from Wendy’s pie.

“Oh yeah, smell me, daddy!” the slice of the very hot apple pie exclaimed in a deliberately overexaggerated fashion, and John was immediately taken aback again. Looking over, he noticed that every individual slice had its own consciousness. It was weird again. Not just because John absolutely loathed being called that. The pie laughed.

The Gamer discovered that he didn’t like his food to have humour.

“Hmmm,” Jeff hummed into the microphone. “I don’t have any disagreements with what was said about the outside, but on the inside, Aclysia’s pie is way better.” He took a fork and gestured for the camera, while John inspected things for himself. “As you can see, Aclysia’s three layers are masterfully made. Not quite sure what she used to make it so the apple sauce became this firm through the baking process.” Jeff poked the middle layer, which had become like thick marmalade. It allowed the sauce to stay, mostly, in its layer despite being cut. “Whatever she used, though, it looks fantastic.”

“I admire the craftsmanship of the layering of the apples,” Vita added and gestured at the other two layers. “Very thin slices and equally spaced throughout, it makes for a very pleasant visual, now that they are cut at the overlap. Compared to that, Wendy’s pie doesn’t have much to offer.”

“What they said.” Rave nodded in agreement, and attention shifted to the creation of the goddess of fast food. “The apples are just put in there in random sized slices, there are no extra layers and the only thing that’s really stand-out is some sort of rainbow shimmering around all of it. It’s kinda impressive, but it also reminds of an oil spill, and I don’t like the idea of eating oil spills.”

“It likely originates from those two sheets she made with magical ingredients,” John threw his opinion in there. “They melted during the baking process and seeped into everything. If I was to take a guess, that’s also where the pie’s ability to talk comes from and why he will ‘die’ once the entire pie cools down.”

“Fuck me sideways, you’re a smart cunt too!” the (now only) pretty hot apple pie declared.

“So,” Jeff kept things on track, “I say that Aclysia wins handily on the internal decoration front. My final score on looks would be 7 points to her and 6 to Wendy.”

“5 and 5 from me,” Rave let know. “Probably because I’ve seen her pies so often already, but Aclysia’s way of doing things doesn’t impress me that much anymore. The oil spill makes me detract a point from Wendy though.”

“I’ll give this one to Aclysia for the effort – 7 and 5 points, respectively,” Vita added. These judgements put Aclysia ahead with 19 versus Wendy’s 16 points. Not a huge lead, but a good start. “Can we eat now?”

“Yes, to the tasting phase!” Jeff exclaimed and grabbed his fork. There was momentary silence as they all dug in.

John started with Aclysia’s pie, strictly because the alternative would take a jumping over a mental hurdle. He cut off the outer corner with his fork and loaded it into his mouth. The initial burst of flavour was a pleasant note of light sourness, surviving in the apples of the lowest layer throughout the backing process. The apple sauce mixed with his saliva to soon fill his mouth with a middling sweetness. Finally, once chewing reduced all of it to pulp, the sweetness of the glaze-covered crust and intense apple flavour of the highest level mixed into a level of sugary goodness that left a pleasant aftertaste in his mouth.

Although it drove him to finish the entirety of that pie immediately, he had to go for the other one as well. After helping himself to a gulp of the palette cleansing water provided for his girlfriend, he went to try the talking baked good. Thankfully, it kept its lid shut while John took the bite.

The texture was interesting. All of the different chunks made for a slightly different feeling between his teeth. They were all small enough that they had cooked through completely, so there was no problem on that front. As far as the taste went, all of it was frontloaded and simply kept up while John chewed. The pie was delicious and tingled pleasantly in his mouth, notes of cinnamon, honey and sweetened lemon juice all mixing with the natural apple flavour.

The jury was given time to extensively taste both pies. That was to say, Jeff didn’t raise his hand to tell people to stop until they had all finished up and only crumbles were left on the plates. “So,” he cleared his throat in a way that was likely meant to hide a burp, “those were both delicious and I will give both the full 10 points. I just can’t make up my mind.”

Rave nodded. “Both were absolutely delicious, dunno what else to give aside from the full score.”

“They were pies,” Vita said and looked down on her plate, raising it to get a second serving. While Wendy and Aclysia obliged the request, the kind of hot apple pie spoke up again.

“Glad to hear I was delicious! My life’s goal has been fulfilled! Now I can cool down in peace.”

“Well, as far as creativity goes…” Rave breached the final subject and gave Aclysia a sorry look. “I really liked the triple layer with different flavours you were going for, but Wendy’s pie talks.”

“Both were pie’s that were well made,” Vita munched on her second serving, “but one of them talked.”

“Going from slightly sour to nice and sweet, covering the pleasant side of an apple’s taste spectrum, was really creative!” Jeff echoed the initial statement of John’s girlfriend. “But that very hot apple pie talked.”

“We’re all delicious here,” the baked good in question spoke, his lid slowing down as he cooled below the necessary threshold to sustain his sentience, “but I… talked…”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, John heard a thunderstorm elemental pay her respects to the talking treat. Aclysia received her scores for a total of an extra 21 points, while Wendy got the whole 30, putting the final count at 70 versus 76.

“Victor is Wendy and Florida!” Jeff declared the end result. “This means that the condition goes through, unless the winning guild feels differently. What do you say, Wendy?”

“I say, I made a pie that talked and I am a goddess,” the redhead crossed her arms and propped up her breasts a little, “and that my body fluids taste like whatever I cooked last!”

“We didn’t need to know that, but interesting nonetheless!” Jeff shouted back at her. “About the bet though?”

“Well, although she wasn’t as good as me,” Wendy gestured at her face as she smiled smugly, “my opponent did tie with me in the taste category, and that’s really impressive. Although you’re also three people that are probably super easy to please. Anyway, I say we oblige the Gamer a little bit and change the implemented condition to: ‘John Newman will try his best to arrange a meeting between the leaders of the Florida guild and the Horned Rat.’”

That meant that John wouldn’t be in violation with the terms if Richard decided to be a dick. It also meant that the Gamer wouldn’t have a right to attend that meeting. “A gracious change,” he nodded thankfully. Even if his paranoia whispered to him that they must have been planning something absolutely awful if he wasn’t allowed to partake in it, this was still in his overall interest. Paranoia was best heard, not heeded.