We had a good night at The Shadow's Respite, with the exception of a few minor incidents. The shrimp were mostly sold out, leaving only a few pounds, and the new garlic shrimp platter was a hit, which had been instrumental in helping sell as much of the crustaceans as they had.

I tried something I should have thought of before to lessen my burden of serving and collecting money after the meal, a leftover from my days on earth. Look, owning a tavern was new to me. Owning anything was new to me. I made mistakes as often as I made good decisions. It was one thing to dream of owning an establishment like this. It was another to do it well. I placed the daily menu near the entrance. Milo had pretty good handwriting, so I had him write the items and food prices on a chalk slate on the counter near the entrance. As people entered, they ordered their food, paid, and took a scrap of paper to their table, but only if it was really busy. With only three main courses, keeping track of what was ordered was easy unless all the tables were full.

There was some skepticism about eating shrimp as a staple in Everspring. This was a farming village, and not everyone had tried seafood. However, my patrons were coming around.

I wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time that night. It had been another busy evening at The Shadow's Respite, which had come to a close, and as I ran the numbers in my head, I realized we'd turned a profit. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The nine tables hadn't been full all night, but the booths had been a different story. They'd become quite popular, especially among couples on dates and families looking for a cozy spot to enjoy a meal together. It warmed my heart to see the tavern becoming a place where people wanted to gather and create memories.

I glanced over at Milo, who was diligently cleaning the main room. The kid had really stepped up, and I made a mental note to thank him. I also needed to ask about his sister, Jessara. If she was looking for work, I'd like to interview her. However, an interview was a bit of a stretch. I hadn't interviewed any of my staff. Milo had been foisted on me as an apprentice, and Grondak had also been foisted on me, but by a huge orc named Urzan, who didn't understand what 'taking no for an answer' meant.

Now that it had quieted down, I stood behind the bar and served drinks to a few stragglers. I surveyed the remaining patrons. Most were nursing mugs of summer ale, though there was the occasional call for a mixed drink. My cocktail recipes weren't very popular. I still made them for my friends, and Seraphina was a big fan of the Orange Blush.

One younger fellow, dressed in leather armor, caught my eye. He'd left his sword near the door, as per my policy. I'd implemented a weapons check system to protect the new furniture from accidental dings and scratches. It seemed to be working well so far.

As I stocked and cleaned, I couldn't help but notice how few people wore weapons in Everspring these days. The war had been over for months, and a sense of safety had slowly returned to the town.

The young man sat sipping his ale and staring into space. Occasionally, he'd mutter something under his breath. His brow furrowed in concentration or concern.

"Everything alright there?" I asked, leaning on the bar.

"Oh, yes. I'm fine," he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.

I decided to press a little further. "I'm Varix. What's your name?"

The young man hesitated for a moment before answering, "Raynard. Raynard Sunblade. I like your tavern. It's nice. Drinks are good."

"Thanks. It seems like everyone in Everspring likes Summer Ale. I'm glad I can keep it in stock. Another one?"

"Sure." He nodded, reached into a coin pouch, and put four silvers on the countertop.

I picked them up, added them to the cash box behind the bar, and poured him a fresh drink.

"S'good," he said.

"I haven't seen you in here before. I have a terrific dish in the back if you want to try it. Seared shrimp and tossed in butter and garlic."

"Oh. No, thanks. I just needed to relax and have a few ales."

We chatted briefly, exchanging pleasantries about the weather and the tavern. As the conversation progressed, Raynard seemed to relax a little. Finally, after a long pause, he admitted, "I... I've been trying to join the guard but have trouble keeping up in drills. My weapon skills are lacking." He looked down at his ale. "I come from a long line of fighters. I should be better than this."

As Raynard spoke, Garin, the ghostly paladin, perked up on his barstool. The spectral warrior said, "Perhaps I can assist with this one.”

"That must be frustrating," I said, side-eyeing Garin. "What kind of weapon do you prefer?"

Raynard sighed. "I've been training with a sword, like my father and grandfather. They were all right-handed, so I've been forcing myself to fight that way, too."

"I'm sorry?" I looked up and asked. "You're naturally left-handed?"

Garin's ghostly form leaned in, "Ah—the classic paradox of wishing to be like previous generations. I had a lad like this in my first unit. He decided to hold a sword with his right hand and shield with his left, assuming that his left hand was dominant and therefore more likely to hold a shield more firmly."

"Shields and swords seem so boring. Tell me, Garin. Did you ever learn a few spells beyond laying on hands as a paladin? I have to admit, it sounds delicious," Ophelia simpered.

"I'd like to lay hands on you, alright." Garin held out one hand and mocked a choking grip.

"Oh, my, darling." Ophelia sighed.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Bah." Garin waved her off. "Your friend, Caden. He fights with a handicap, doesn't he?"

I almost snapped my fingers at Garin's words.

"You know," I told Raynard. "I have a friend named Caden."

"Caden Ashfall?" Raynard perked up.

"That's him."

"He's Alic's brother. Alic is the captain of the guard. He's the one I need to impress."

I nodded. "I met Caden at a healer's camp. I got hit pretty hard during a battle and lost my memory." I touched my forehead for emphasis. "Early on, Caden tried to help me recover my memories. We picked up swords and had a mock fight. I was terrible at it. One thing that caught my eye was how fluid Caden was with the sword. He was injured and lost a few fingers on his right hand. Do you know what he said to me?"

"No. What?"

"He said he was originally a right-handed fighter but said, ‘Right hand or left doesn't matter. It's all swordplay,’ or something to that effect."

"Tell him it makes no matter how he fights. An enemy isn't going to care which hand you fight with. What they will care about is finding your weakness and exploiting it," Garin told me. "Once exploited, they will run you through."

I passed on Garin's words.

Raynard looked up, surprise evident on his face. "But... my family tradition..."

I shook my head. "A true warrior uses every advantage they have. If you're naturally left-handed, embracing that could make you a formidable fighter. That's what I learned from Caden. It might even give you an advantage, because an enemy won’t expect it."

As I spoke, Garin nodded approvingly. The ghostly paladin continued to offer advice, which I relayed as best I could without seeming to be talking to an invisible mentor.

"Have you tried practicing with your left hand?" I asked.

Raynard shook his head. "No, yeah, I... A little."

"Give it a try," I suggested, feeling Garin's encouragement. "Start with basic forms and work your way up. You will be surprised at how much more natural it feels."

As we continued to talk, with me passing on Garin's decades of combat experience disguised as tavern wisdom, a change came over Raynard. The slump of his shoulders began to lift.

"You know," Raynard said, finishing his ale, "I think I'll give that a shot tomorrow. Thank you, Varix. You've given me a lot to think about."

"No problem, Raynard. I hope you'll stop by again and let me know how it went."

"I'll do that."

I smiled, satisfied. "Glad I could help. Remember, a true warrior adapts and overcomes."

As Raynard left, a small smile on his face, I caught Garin's approving nod.

After the last patron had left, I sat down at the bar with a drink and enjoyed the quiet.

Grondak finished banging around in the back and came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Hello, Grondak. How was today?"

"Today like every day!"

"I mean… how was the work? Did you have fun?"

"Fun in raid! Fun in pillage! That's what grand da’ claim!"

"There is also fun doing an honest day's work, wouldn't you agree?"

Grondak shrugged noncommittally. "Grondak go home!" The young orc turned and left for the night.

"Hey, Milo. How did he do tonight?" I asked Milo after the orc was gone and out of earshot.

Milo came out from the back. "He didn't need as much direction today. He seems gruff and angry, but he's funny in an odd orc way."

"That's good to hear. I keep expecting him to storm out of here and never return."

"He likes to talk about battles and fighting, but hasn't done much of that himself. He said his dad kept him in camp cleaning gear and digging latrine holes."

"That explains a lot. Has he run into any trouble in town?"

"Not that I know of. I think he keeps his head down when he's coming or going from work."

I worried about the orcs and Lady Churl. There had only been peace for a few months, and orcs and goblins running around Everspring were still met with distrust.

I gestured for him to come to the bar. “Want a beer? Or would you rather have Summer Ale?"

"Beer for me. I like the bubbles."

"Who doesn't?" I grinned and poured him one, and one for me as well.

Milo walked over and plopped down on a stool. I put the drink on the bar and slid it across to him. He took a sip and nodded. "This is good. Thanks."

I leaned on the bar, trying to appear casual. "I wanted to ask you about your sister, Jessara."

Milo shrugged. "She's okay, I guess. She can be mean, sometimes."

I chuckled. "I actually meant how she is with work. I heard she's looking for a new job."

Milo's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. She's a good worker. She's always willing to cover if someone at her job is out sick. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was thinking about offering her a job here at The Shadow's Respite. We could use another server, especially with how busy we've been lately."

Milo nearly choked on his drink. He coughed and sputtered for a moment before regaining his composure. "You want Jessara to work here? With us?"

I nodded. "Of course, it would be on a trial basis at first, to see if she's a good fit. What do you think?"

Milo scratched his head, looking uncertain. "I don't know, Mr. V. I mean, she's a hard worker and all, but..." He trailed off.

"But what?" I prompted.

Milo sighed. "It might be good to test it out, just to see if we end up getting into a fistfight or something worse."

I fought back a laugh. "Do you two get into fistfights often?"

Milo grinned. "Not since the pie incident last year. Let's just say there was a lot of flying crust and filling. Mom banned us from the kitchen for a week. When she couldn't hit me in the face with any pie, she punched me really hard." Milo touched his upper right arm and rubbed.

I couldn't help but laugh at the image of Milo and Jessara covered in pie, duking it out in the kitchen. "Well, I promise there will be no pie fights here. At least, not without proper protective gear. We'll get pie shields made. Maybe Alic can bring some by."

Milo chuckled. "Alright, Mr. V. I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a shot. I'll talk to Jessara and see if she's interested."

"Great. If she is, send her my way. I'd love to chat with her about the job."

Milo finished his drink and hopped off the stool. "Will do. Thanks for the beer, and for considering Jessara. Even if she is a pain, sometimes."

I smiled. "Hey, that's what siblings are for, right?"

Milo laughed and headed for the door. "Night, Mr. V."

"Goodnight, Milo. See you tomorrow."

Jessara sounded like she was a firecracker. If she came on board, and got into frequent fights with Milo, it might be great just for the laughs. She also might have potential if she was anything like Milo.

I finished my drink and started turning down the lamps.

Lady Churl had already turned in and was probably snoring away in her little goblin home in the basement under the tavern. I yawned and trudged up the stairs. It was time to get some sleep, right after I got out of these clothes and took advantage of the hot water in the bathroom.