It was just after four in the afternoon and a commotion was already starting outside. After Ayla hung up her cloak, pulled off her belt and dagger, and washed her face, feet and hands, she felt ready to face the night. Fraz had returned, entering through the rear entrance. He told Gabby that tonight’s ale delivery would be on time and that she should expect a kitchen full of dwarves.

  Over the hour, Ayla, Fraz, and Tess made sure everything was wiped down and prepared for their impatient guests. They ensured clean glasses, vacant tables and a hot blazing fire. As they made their final rounds, Fraz left the ladies to go turn on the portal anchors. While washing the last table, Ayla noticed the portal roar to life, spinning dazzling green light.

  When five o’clock rolled around, Fraz asked Ayla to open the door, seeing as it was her first night as a barmaid and all. She was more than happy too.

  With great anticipation, she told herself, “Look forward, Ayla,” and she swung the door wide open.

  “Welcome to Witchwicks!”

  The first customer to step over the threshold was a small goblin, tealish and missing an eye, grumbling with a lazy flick of the wrist, “Get out of my way!” He hobbled in, bee-lining for a table. He was followed by a rowdy crew of other goblins, and one gnome who was very much out of his element. They hopped into their respective seats, carrying on some conversation about a mine they had regretted working in.

  After the goblins, a few orcs wandered in. One of them simply grunted with a nod while the others spoke in Orcish. They were shoving each other, gesturing to a table. Ayla couldn’t tell if they were angry or having a good time. Their green furrowed brows, stained tusks and throaty language made it difficult to tell. It was clear they were here for drinks. Outside of bulldozing into each other, they ordered their drinks at the bar and found a table.

  Next came the pirates, smelling of sweat and sea, teasing each other as they stepped out of the portal. Ayla thought she heard one of them mention a drinking game, a rematch for whatever occurred the night before. Their captain followed them in.

  The pirates were followed by a few knights, tired, but conversing. Ayla wondered if they’d just come off some distance battlefield.

  The bulk of the crowd this evening were adventurers, diverse groups of dungeon divers made up of dwarves, gnomes and humans spanning a variety of occupations from rogue to ranger. They piled in, finding their tables, reflecting on their journey thus far and making plans for the road tomorrow.

  Towards the back of the line were high society types mixing with scoundrel mercenaries and assassins. There were also half giants eyeballing the orcs, dwarven scientists testing the boundaries of technology and alchemy, and human hunters looking for a place to put their feet up.

  Fraz’s words echoed in Ayla’s mind, “Witchwicks attracts all types.”

  Ayla and Tess spent the first hour hastily scratching down orders and rushing them to the pass-through. The first order Ayla took down came from the band of high sea marauders, at Tess’s request.

  “I don’t think my poor cheek can take any more,” she said, rubbing her butt.

  “No problem,” said Ayla.

  She approached the table. The captain, at least Ayla assumed he was the captain due to the lavishly decorated and oversized hat, tossed a bag of coin her way. He was a fit young man, well dressed and animated. He ordered two roasted chickens and some of Witchwicks famous apple pie.

  “I also want a slice of blackberry too. Oh, and bourbon! Get me a bottle of Zarawind’s Starfyre for the table! I’m craving a little taste of home.”

  “Yes, sir!” she said, jotting down his order. “Are you Captain Micah, per chance?”

  Pleasantly surprised, the pirate leaned forward, twisting the end of his black mustache. “It seems legends regarding our daring exploits have finally reached Witchwicks!” He tilted his head, “Finally,” he said to himself. Looking back, he roared, “I am indeed Captain Micah! My ship is the Obsidian Longspear! Of course, you already know that. Tell me, my radiant beauty, what have you heard about me, er, us?” Captain Micah nodded to his crew.

  Ayla’s only impression of Micah was his hands-on interaction with Tess. “Oh, just that you’re really good at sinking ships. It was so many too! What was the number again?”

  She tapped her lips, looking up was if trying to recall. Captain Micah couldn’t bear the silence.

  “Indeed, it was two hundred! Not just the navy, though. We’ve dared explosive conflicts with the undead ships south of Zarawind too, and, and…” he looked to his crew.

  They started speaking over each other, “Yeah, yeah, zombie buccaneers! Even tangled with some outlaw wizards on the coast of Hana!”

  “Sounds amazing,” said Ayla. “Let me put your order in.”

  When she returned to the bar, Fraz was in a heated discussion with a dwarf sitting at the counter, “I told you, we don’t want your mangy shit here, Ox.”

  “It comes from the Emerald Sea itself!” exclaimed Ox. He was frantically waving his hands over a bronze statue of a squid. “They verified it at Mageburn! I swear it!”

  “Really, Ox? You’re telling me there’s a slip?” He held the statue upside down, “This is your handwriting!”

  “Come on, Fraz, you know I’m good for this. You know it’s authentic!”

  “I don’t know that, Ox.”

  “Look, look here! It wards off the undead! Useful these days, yeah?”

  “For all I know it could draw them in. I’m not buying it. I’m not pawning off your wares. Why can’t you pay off your tab like normal? Bring in the coin next time.”

  “I don’t have the coin, Fraz.”

  Ayla watched Fraz push in, keeping the conversation more private. Whatever he said, he struck a well of fear in Ox, whose eyes widened and skin paled. She turned her attention to a patron waving their arms. After his order, it was another, and then another, and she spent the next hour just keeping up with the customers.

  After each order, she hung the slips on the hooks. The slips tore off and flew into the kitchen, hovering in a row just above Gabby’s eye line. She zoomed around the kitchen, waving her hands, wiggling her fingers, controlling a storming flurry of prepped ingredients, fried foods and clean dishes. She plated each meal efficiently, and then flicked her fingers towards the pass-through where Ayla caught the dish and served it to the right customer. She might have mixed up a few orders, but she was getting the hang of it.

  At one point, she nearly bumped into Tess.

  “How is every table already full?” asked Ayla, feeling a little winded. “That has to be what, sixty? Seventy people?”

  Tess raised her eyebrows, grinning. “Seventy-ish. A few tables have more than six chairs around ‘em. You’re doing great.” Then, unexpectedly, Tess raised her finger to tap the bottom of Ayla’s chin, but she awkwardly stopped herself. “I was just going to say that: you’re cute too. They like ya.”

  Tess turned and skipped to the counter and shouted a few drink orders at Fraz.

  Was every interaction going to be weird like this, thought Ayla. Now she’s insecure around me and that’s my fault. How do I explain it? Should I? She looked back at the crowd and a customer waved her down.

  A problem for another time, she thought. Thankful, she glided over.

  “Yes! How can I help you, sir?”

  The customer was a thin man with a tight jacket and fit plaid cap, lowered just enough to shadow his eyes. His voice was sandy, “The parlor open for business?”

  “Let me check for you, sir.” Ayla wandered over to the parlor door, dodging the orcs who were engaged in a lively conversation, spilling their drinks and dropping their food. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peaked through the parlor door window. It was empty. She looked over her shoulder at the inquirer and pointed up to say, “Just one moment!” Ayla headed for the bar.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Hey, Fraz, there’s a customer interested in using the parlor. Is it available?”

  “Yeah, who is it?”

  “The gentlemen, there, in the flat hat.”

  Fraz looked over the counter, but he couldn’t quite see. He bent over and stacked a couple of fruit crates and used them to peak over the crowd. He saw who she was pointing too. He made eye contact with the customer and then pointed to the giant clock above the bar. He pointed up with one finger and mouthed, “One hour.” The customer nodded. He immediately led five men into the parlor. They closed the door behind them.

  “It’s on a schedule?”

  “Yeah. Most jobs don’t take longer than an hour to discuss so they should be out by then. Any longer and you’ll find yourself with a group conspiring to overthrow the crown, which has happened once, I admit it. So, I keep it short. The shorter the meeting, the less likely the criminal activity they aim to commit is so grand that the guard will have to come around. You got someone there, waiting for ya.”

  Ayla nodded, meeting the customer’s eyes. It was the woman she’d met the night before. Stunning beauty, wide brimmed hat, baggy crimson jacket and skirt, and fierce eyes. She was waiting by the front door, seemingly annoyed. Ayla approached her with a smile, tucking strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Hi! Can I help you?”

  “You’re working here now?” she asked sharply.

  Was that disdain in her voice? Ayla maintained her smile, “I do.”

  “You smelled like a corpse last night.”

  “I had a rough one,” said Ayla, slightly put off by her directness. “Is there something you’d like to order? Or?”

  “Tell Gabby that I am here for my package. Give her this.” The woman pulled a folded piece of paper from her cleavage. “Don’t look at it. Just give it to her.”

  Ayla gave a short nod. That lady is very, very uptight. She politely took the paper, getting a waft of sweet cherry. Hm, at least she smells nice. When she entered the kitchen, she was blinded by a flash of green and knocked back by a thrust of wind. She squinted, collecting herself and witnessed three open portals and dwarves rolling kegs of beer in and down to the cellar.

  “Hey! Glad to see the order came through.”

  Gabby folded her arms, “Yeah? They’re late. Might have to dock their pay.”

  “Oh, come on, Gabby,” said one of the dwarves, “we’ve been looking forward to your deviled eggs all day! Fraz promised! Don’t tease like that!”

  Gabby winked at the dwarf, who chuckled to himself and returned to his work.

  “There’s a woman here for you, asking about her package.” Ayla handed the paper over.

  “That’s Jasmine.”

  “She’s very… curt.”

  Gabby opened the folded note and said, “But she’s a fine chef.”

  “She doesn’t look like a chef.”

  Gabby revealed the note. It was a recipe for a dessert Gabby was eager to try. “I’ve never heard of an ice cream sundae before!” She thought for a moment. “Hazelnuts? Hm. Looks like we’re going to need more milk and larger ice cabinet. Oh, right! Her package.” Gabby opened her cupboard of seasonings. She pulled out a box from the back, small and sealed. It was navy blue lined with tiny golden symbols. It had a bronze latch.

  “Take thisss directly to her,” said Gabby, handing the box to Ayla. “No one else.”

  Was Ayla doing something she shouldn’t? Is this some sort of illegal exchange? She was excited, but nervous too. The whole point of coming to Witchwicks was get a fresh start. The last thing she wanted to do was commit a crime that could draw attention to herself.

  “I know that look,” said Gabby, “You aren’t doing anything I wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Just make sure that Jasmine is the only one who takes this box. No one else.”

  “Okay.” Yeah, you sound really confident, Ayla.

  “Thanks, sssweetie.” Gabby turned back to the dwarves. “I think I’m going to start eating these deviled eggs now.”

  There was a collective groan from the cellar, “No, Gabby! Wait! Wait! We’re almost finished!”

  Ayla smiled, leaving them be. She held box of seasoning against her stomach and exited the kitchen. Jasmine had immediately locked eyes with her, then down, keeping a close eye on her package. Ayla handed it over, feeling as if she had just taken part in some high stakes, secret exchange. Jasmine unlatched the small box and squinted, scrutinizing its contents. Satisfied, Jasmine strained a tiny bow.

  “Good evening,” she said and before Ayla could respond, she left.

  “Okay, then.” Ayla dug into her front pocket, fishing for a blank scraps of paper. “Back to the normal ones.”

  The rest of the evening raced by. Every other hour offered new opportunities to see fresh faces. Ayla met two lovestruck half-giants who were on a first date. She met more than a handful of dwarves throughout the night, some roguish and mischievous, others pompous and aristocratic. At one point, a dark violet portal scattered light from the stone frame. A figure, dark robed and hunched stepped though, followed by a lingering icy myst. His arrival caused the tavern to go silent, but only for a moment. The bard cleared his throat and quickly picked up the tune and the crowd continued to eat, drink and engage in merry conversation as if nothing happened. The robed figure sat with the aristocratic dwarves.

  That wasn’t the only absurd event this evening. A little later, two of Micah’s crew challenged each other to a swashbuckling show of talent. They were getting a little too competitive and it took Cara’s allure to calm them down. She just happened to come out of her room at the time, something the Witchwicks crew was very thankful for.

  “Now, gentlemen,” she said, resting on the rail and leaning over the balcony. The pirates stopped clashing swords, eyes darting up at her emphasized bosom. Even through the pipe tobacco haze and their drunken vision, they saw her beautifully shining skin. They looked up, hanging on every word dripping from her wet, lush lips.

  “Now put those swords away before you poke someone’s eye out. Don’t make me come down there. I have a whip and I’ll use it.”

  Oh, how they wanted her to. They quickly sheathed their cutlasses and took their seats, falling in love with every step she took, swaying her waist and flicking her tail. She closed her door, and the two pirates looked over at their captain.

  “Get ahold of yourselves, you sloppy mutts.” he said disappointedly. “Have I not taught you any decorum? We might be pirates, but we aren’t scoundrels. It’s like I don’t even know ya.” Ayla rolled her eyes, As if you have room to talk.

  The gentlemen in the parlor left at their appointed time. One of them stayed behind to give Fraz extra coin for letting them use his establishment. He was grateful. The dwarves in the kitchen stayed a little longer than normal, enjoying their deviled eggs and watching Gabby work her magic as she fired up the oven, washed the dishes, prepped the meals and so on with elegant hand waving and hissing incantations.

  Tess had asked Ayla to handle a pair of wizards sitting near the fireplace. She was afraid of being morphed into something reptilian. Ayla had no problem seeing to them. They didn’t order any food. They requested a pint – each – of Leandra’s Black. When she delivered their drinks, she asked if they were from around the area. She was curious if they might know of anything regarding the necromancer from the night before.

  “We aren’t from here,” said the wizard on the left. He stroked his thin, white beard.

  While cleaning his glasses with a star patterned clothe, the other on the right said, “We come to Witchwicks from our world because we can’t actually do magic here. The rules are different, you see.”

  “Gives us a break,” said the one on the left. “Our magic zaps us, so to speak.”

  “So, we like to meet here and catch up from time to time,” said the other.

  “Time,” said the one on the left, “We don’t get much of it, so live it well!”

  They chuckled and tapped their pints together before sipping away.

  Time. We don’t get much of it. Ayla checked her apron for paper and pencil. She appreciated what the wizard had said. She scribbled the words down.

  “Live it well,” she whispered to herself. I’m going to try.

  As the evening ended, not that anyone could tell thanks to the eternal darkness outside, customers slowly left either by the front door or by some colorful, reality bending portal in the wall. As Cara followed out the last of them, she handed over her key and said she’d be back in a month, her usual time. Fraz stuffed her key in the front pocket of his apron.

  Tess and Ayla started to clean up. They collected the remaining dishes, wiped down tables, swept and mopped. Tess lamented, for the dozenth time according to Fraz, that Gabby didn’t use her sorcery to clean the tavern when she very well could. Fraz, for the thirteenth time, reminded Tess that Gabby’s magic was regulated to the kitchen. The only exception was pass-through. He didn’t specify why, but the conversation ended there.

  When they finished, Gabby said goodbye to everyone. She was glad to have met Ayla and looked forward to getting to know her more. Before leaving she waved Fraz over. He leaned against the kitchen door frame and Gabby whispered something to him.

  “Great work tonight,” said Tess, leaning against a table. She made sure her gloves were good and tight.

  “Thanks. I might have messed up a few orders…”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re too cute to be mad at for long.”

  Gabby waved to the ladies. She disappeared into a green portal that sucked in and disappeared. Fraz offered to walk Tess home. She accepted and winked at Ayla.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” said Fraz. “Why don’t you call it a night. I’ll lock up.”

  “Thanks, Fraz. See you, Tess.”

  They exited the tavern together, stepping into the grim fog.

  Ayla stood in the silence for a moment. She heard crackling from the giant fireplace. The wooden floorboards creaking underneath her feet. Everything else was silent. It smelled of baked goods, beer and pipe smoke. She thought about the pirates from Zarawind and their hilariously absurd tales. She thought about the deathly spectre and the noble dwarves. She reflected on the giants on their date, which seemed to go very well, and the two old wizards. She thought about how many orders she messed up. She counted four, no, five fingers.

  Her eyes wandered up to the black chandelier that hung over the tavern, imposing, bold and ever burning. It gently swung from side to side. She wondered what caused that. There was no breeze, no rumble produced by a boisterous crowd, yet it swayed ever so slightly.

  She started to get sleepy. “That’s a night,” she said to the tavern. “Thanks for a great first day.”

  She headed for her room. After locking the door, she made a small fire and turned on the hot water for a bath. As the tub filled, she glided back to the fire. She retrieved the pansy from her apron breast pocket and set it on the mantle, to the right of the skull. She untied her apron and tossed it onto the chair. She sat down by the fire, waiting for the tub to fill.

  She reflected on her day. Fraz’s limp, Gabby’s mystical ways, and what little Tess shared about her past. And magical cabinets and limegnashes, she thought. It was a little chaotic, but still, it was a good day too. Her ears perked up. The tub was nearly full.

  When she went to bed, she held up the piece of paper she scribbled on earlier. On one side it was the heist notes, and the other it read, “We don’t have much time, live it well.”

  She made a small crease in the paper so that it could stand up on the bedside table. She rolled on to her side and placed note in front of her dagger. She pulled the covers up to her chin, reflecting on those words. It wasn’t long before she was fast asleep.