I rolled out of bed, stretched, and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing I had slept without the nightmares of Dark Lord Morthisal. I didn't remember a single dream from the night before. Seraphina has stopped by and dropped off a gem for me to put under my pillow. It was a little turquoise gem with several black lines burned deeply within like tiny lightning strikes. She hadn't been able to stay late because several early morning jobs required her to help people with their Market Day prep.

Milo and Jessara showed up for an early shift to help me prepare for the Market Day.

With Gerta's bag of cornmeal, an equal part of flour, a few tablespoons of sugar, a few eggs, some milk, and a little salt and pepper, I created a batter that was the perfect consistency for the dogs.

Milo arrived early with Jessara in tow. I didn't need much cooking prep as much as I needed them to help me set up for the day.

Jessara glanced around and asked, "Is Grondak coming in early, too?"

I nodded. "Yes, I'll need his help to move some of the heavier items to our location for Market Day."

"He'll come in super handy. Can you show us the location? We'll start taking things out there."

"I mainly need help bringing items to the market," I explained.

As if on cue, Grondak stomped in. He grumbled, wondering why they were supposed to be here so early.

I greeted Grondak warmly, even though he stood awkwardly, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands, and the sight of Jessara tended to make him a little more tongue-tied than usual. "Good morning, Grondak. So glad you could come in early today."

"Grondak sleepy! But Grondak here!"

"Yes, you are, big guy," I said, walking around to pat him on his muscular upper arm. Then I moved to the kitchen to quickly heat water in a large pan with a healthy dose of coffee grounds floating within.

"What make!" Grondak pointed at the pot.

"Have you ever tried coffee?" I asked him.

Grondak shook his head, wiped his nose, and then sneezed. He looked around, and there my cat strutted around, trying to get pets from Milo.

Milo leaned over and said, "Nice kitty."

The cat arched its back, purred, and then turned around and tried to bite Milo. He pulled his hand back and recoiled.

"Not nice," Milo admonished the cat.

"Morth. I named him Morth."

"That's appropriate," Milo said and side-eyed the cat.

I poured a round of coffee for the crew and pushed a mug toward Grondak.

He took it and sniffed, then crinkled his wide nose. "Not smell good!"

"That's fair," I said. "Try it. It's hot, so be careful?"

Grondak shrugged and took a large gulp. He recoiled, probably not from the heat since I had observed his father down half a bowl of steaming stew without missing a beat, but from the flavor. Grondak sputtered and then placed the mug back on the booth.

"Taste like bad decision!"

I laughed and realized I should be careful with my old earth slang.

"Try adding stuff to it. I like my sweet and creamy," Jessara said.

She went behind the bar, took out a bowl of sugar, and went into the kitchen to retrieve some cream. Jessara returned and added a healthy dollop of cream and a few teaspoons of sugar, then stirred the coffee. She pushed the coffee across the table and said, "Try this."

Grondak's eyes darted between the cup of coffee and Jessara. He made up his mind and took another orc sized gulp. He lowered the mug, barely hid a grimace, and looked at Jessara. "Taste better."

Once Grondak and the rest of us had finished our coffee, he picked up our empty mugs and thoughtfully put them in the sink to be washed later.

I took Grondak and Milo out back.

"See that huge pile of bricks over there by the food wagon? The ones we use to set up for big cooks? Those need to be moved to our market day site. I'll go with you first to show you where to set up."

With the assistance of Jessara, Grondak, and Milo, I moved all the necessary items to the market. Milo had the forethought of running back to his mother's shop and borrowing a wagon, which made hauling everything to the market spot much easier.

We wound our way through the marketplace. The layout was much the same, but there were a host of new vendors showing their wares.

Along the way, I greeted Ragna. She had set up a blacksmith's stall with an impressive array of handcrafted tools and weapons. "Good morning, Ragna. Are you ready for the big day?"

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"I'll be more ready when my boy Doan shows up," Ragna said as she pulled out a small cast iron pan and hung it from the frame over her display.

"Good luck, Ragna. I'll save you some treats from my stall."

"That would be wonderful, Varix!"

Yarrow Bramblewick's table was simple: a white tablecloth, a few baskets of straw, and a number of colorfully filled vials resting on it. I greeted him as well and was thankful I didn't need to buy a restorative.

A traveling minstrel rolled out a large blanket of colorful patches all stitched together. He'd chosen a location at a street corner, on a slight rise, where he could play for at least a dozen people. He had a harp and several flutes laid next to him.

I located our spot. It was modest in size, and Roland had the foresight to let me set up where I was clear of any homes or shops. We'd be able to build our brick oven without fear of setting half the town on fire. Next to me stood a matronly woman in a flour-dusted apron. She was setting out trays of fragrant, golden-brown meat pies. They smelled wonderful, with their flaky crusts glistening in the morning sun.

I surveyed the stall across from mine, curious about the mysterious setup. The vendor had claimed a double-sized spot, which seemed unusual for the market. I hadn't noticed any other locations that large.

Several tables had been arranged in a neat row, each draped with a crisp white cloth that obscured the contents beneath. A large frame ran overhead, also covered by a white sheet, concealing whatever structure or signage it supported.

As I directed Grondak and Milo to start unloading our supplies and setting up the stove, I couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath those coverings. I caught a glimpse of movement behind the stall. A figure darted back and forth, making final adjustments and preparations. Whoever they were, they seemed intent on maintaining an element of surprise until the last possible second.

Grondak hefted the large sack of cornmeal over his shoulder and asked, "What that?" He gestured with his free hand towards the mysterious stall.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, my gaze still fixed on the setup. "But it looks like they've got something big planned."

Milo said, "Maybe it's a new vendor from out of town. I haven't seen anyone local claim a spot that big before."

I nodded, considering the possibility. Everspring had been attracting more visitors and merchants since the end of the war, and the Market Day celebration was sure to draw even more newcomers to our town.

I stacked bricks into a makeshift oven and left a hole in the center, but staggered the bricks on top to create a surface for the pan to sit on and also leave room for heat to exhaust. Milo returned to get the rest of the ingredients while I stoked the fire. Soon, flames were barreling up the chimney I’d created.

Once everything was in place, I turned to Grondak and Jessara. "Why don't you two head back to the tavern and help Lady Churl with prepping for dinner? Take a break when the market is underway, and enjoy the afternoon. I'll pay you for your time, of course."

“Really? You’ll pay us for walking around the market?”

“I will, indeed. You came in early to help me set up, and the least I can do is reward you for your time.”

“That’s so generous, Mr. V. Thank you,” Jessara said with a huge smile.

I was generous, but I was going to have to start tightening our financial belt soon. This little venture needed to pay off.

Grondak looked down, crossing his arms over his chest. I frowned. "What's wrong, Grondak?"

The orc huffed, his voice low and gruff. "No place for orc! Human people no like Grondak!"

“I wasn’t thinking.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, Grondak. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The woman setting up her meat pie booth must have overheard our exchange. She took pity on the distressed orc, picked up what appeared to be a large honey-glazed pastry, and held it out to him with a warm smile. "Here. Have a sweet honey cake at the house. Enjoy it, and don't you worry about what anyone else thinks of you."

It was easy for her to say that, and I appreciated her kind gesture. The truth was that the hate for the orcs and other green skins wasn't going away anytime soon. The best I could do was to continue trying to foster peace with the kind folks of Everspring and the orcs.

Grondak's eyes widened in surprise. He accepted the cake with a grateful nod, his tusks showing in a genuine smile. "Grondak say thank you!" he rumbled before turning to head back to the tavern with Jessara.

“That was very nice of you,” I told her.

“I know who you are and what you did for the town. The entire village might have burned down without the orcs,” she said, referring to the deal I’d struck with Urzan and the other orcs a few weeks ago when Everspring had come under attack. "Happy to put a smile on that one's face. That was a smile?"

"Probably. He's a moody teen."

I thanked her again and got back to work. Her little gesture had meant the world to me, and I'm sure to Grondak as well.

Milo returned with the batter and sausages, placing them in a crate with a block of ice to keep everything cool. The festival was still quiet, with only a few early stragglers wandering around. The market wouldn't officially open until noon, giving me time to prepare.

As I mixed the batter, there was a commotion from the market entrance. A procession of immaculately dressed individuals, all in white with button-up smocks, arrived, led by a man at the head of the small parade. They marched directly to the booth across from mine, the one that was shrouded in mystery.

With exaggerated moves, they pulled away the white cloths, revealing a near-full kitchen setup. A large cart, drawn by a couple of younger men, arrived, piled with thin pans covered in white towels.

The leader of the group was dressed in a crisp white smock that buttoned up the side. He removed a red and white striped hat from under his arm and placed it on his head with a confident air.

Above the tables, a colorfully hand-painted sign was unfurled, proclaiming the grand reopening of The Wandering Boar, now featuring a chef named Darius Goldenspoon.

The group leader, who I assumed was the new chef, barked orders at his assistants. They scurried to arrange the thin pans on the tables, revealing what appeared to be some sort of pastry or tart in one, small game birds in another, and other steaming foods I couldn't make out from where I stood, in yet another.

They placed a sign on the table, but I couldn't make out the prices.

I turned my attention back to my own setup, determined not to let this unexpected competition rattle me. I had faith in my sausage popppers, the corn dogs I planned to introduce to the people of Everspring.

Milo, who had been helping me arrange the sausages, leaned in and whispered, "Isn't that the tavern that's been trying to steal your recipes?"

I nodded, my jaw clenched. "It is."

"What are you going to do?" Milo asked.

"We're going to sell these cheap and barely make a profit, so people will come to The Shadow's Respite to check out the rest of our menu items.”

Across from me, the snooty chef had so far ignored me. As I put the first few sausage popppers out for passersby, he looked at them, then at me, crossed his arms, and smirked—an expression which then turned into a sneer.

Oh. Okay. It's on, buddy.