As the sun dipped below the horizon, I opened the doors of The Shadow's Respite for another evening of business. The warm glow of candlelight and enchanted gems, courtesy of Seraphina, filled the tavern, casting a cozy ambiance over the polished wood tables and booths. My eyes roved across the place I had created: the tables, chairs, booths, the now working fireplace, the bar with its rich varnish, and the wonderful barstools with scroll-worked backs and comfortable cushions.

Then there were the ghosts.

Ophelia sat with her arms crossed, glaring at me. She’d been chattering on and on, so I had removed the ring for about an hour. Jessara stood near the bar, greeted customers, and took orders. I'd introduced a new system where she handed out small pieces of paper with numbers on them, making it easier for her and Milo to find tables when the food was ready. It had been working well so far, with patrons appreciating the efficiency. At least, that was what a few patrons had mentioned. As much as my tavern was influenced by restaurants on earth, not everyone in Everspring had been a fan of being seated, ordering food, and waiting. Small steps.

As the first customers trickled in, I moved around the tavern, greeting familiar faces and welcoming newcomers. "Evening, Mr. Guslan," I said to a regular as he settled into his usual spot at the bar. "What’s it going to be tonight?”

“Varix, my friend. There is only one drink I come here for.”

Old Man Guslan was as tough a man as they came, but there was a drink he liked just as much as Roland Hightown. Peach ale was too sweet for me, but they seemed to love it.

I poured him a mug from a cask behind me, tilted the container, and found it was nearly empty. After handing the drink to Guslan, who sat back and took a few deep gulps, I leaned around and yelled into the kitchen. “Milo. Can you grab a fresh cask of peach ale?”

“That’s the last one, Mr. V.”

I stopped. “What?”

“We never got our delivery.”

Scratching my head, I tilted the cask again. I could get maybe two or three more pints out of this, and I was expecting Roland to stop by later.

“Pardon me for a moment,” I told Guslan.

“Take care of business, young man. Don’t mind me.”

“What’s going on with the ale?” I asked Milo as I entered the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” Milo replied. “Fie Vinter said there was a delay the other day, but she hasn’t returned since.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?” I asked Milo.

“Sorry, Mr. V. It got away from me. With the whole Market Day prep and stuff, I forgot to mention it.”

I shook my head. I should have been on top of this. There was no reason to get mad at Milo because it wouldn’t have changed the fact that we didn’t get some of our regular liquor deliveries.

This meant I would have to steer Guslan to other drinks so I could save a little for Roland. He liked to come in once a week, drink a few mugs, and chat while staring at his commemorative plaque. I’d had it made by Doan out of copper. A scribe in Everspring had engraved it.

As the evening wore on, I found myself with more free time than usual. I used it to chat with our customers, determined to make their experience memorable.

"How is everything, Mr. and Mrs. Greenholt?" I asked an older couple who had started coming in once a week for the new dish. The woman was a recent convert to my spicier items. Her husband didn't speak much. His typical position was leaning forward at the table, inhaling chicken wings as fast as I could bring them out.

"Um, um, um." He looked up and nodded at me.

She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Delicious, as always, Varix. Though I think my tongue might never recover!"

I chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

“You should. Sausage and shrimp. What a wonderful combination.”

“You can thank Shellen at The Jolly Cleaver for the sausage.”

“I’ll be sure to mention to her how good it tastes. The garlic is rich and wonderful.”

Mr. Greenholt looked up and uttered a few more "Um, um's" before returning to his wings. I went in the back to retrieve another plate for him.

As I walked away, I barely hid my frown. Half of the tables were empty. Half!

Later, I stepped outside momentarily and scanned the streets for any sign of unusual activity that might explain our slow night. The town seemed quiet, with only a few people milling about—nothing out of the ordinary.

I considered walking over to The Wandering Boar to see if they were experiencing the same lull, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I found. As I turned to head back inside, I spotted Roland Hightown approaching. "Evening, Roland," I called out. "Here for a drink?"

Roland nodded and followed me into the tavern. He brushed off his shirt and then took a seat next to Guslan. The two greeted each other amicably. “Friend, Varix. I wouldn't say no to a mug of that peach ale you've been keeping on tap."

I grinned and poured him a mug of his favorite brew, hiding a brief moment of panic that it would run dry before he'd had a second one. As I handed it over, I noticed his gaze drift to the small plaque above the bottles behind the bar. I'd had it engraved specially for him: "Dedicated to the best estate steward Everspring has ever known! Mr. Roland Hightown."

Roland chuckled, shaking his head. "Every time I see it, I want to tell you it’s a bit much, Varix. Is it?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I shrugged, picking up a cloth to give the plaque a quick shine. "Not at all, Roland. I've never heard a bad word uttered about you. It's the least I could do."

Roland's expression turned serious as he glanced around the nearly empty tavern. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you should know Baron Swiftwood still has it out for you, despite the king's intervention. He was humiliated when His Majesty made him kneel in the streets after visiting you."

I frowned. “I know. He wasn’t exactly a good sport at Market Day today.”

“I saw. I tried to speak with you and try a delightful Sausage Popper, but there was practically a mob in front of your location. Was that your young orc dishwasher as the center of attention?”

I chuckled and related the story of Jessara and Milo bringing a group of young women by the booth to help drum up business. He chuckled. “You always find a way, Varix.”

“It wasn’t me.” I shrugged. “They took the initiative.”

“A fine crew you have here. A fine crew. For the most part.” Roland coughed.

The distrust of the green skins might never leave this town. I couldn’t say I blamed them, but I liked my crew. My friends. Even big and goofy Grondak. I found it was best to keep them in the back during meals, and they both understood, though it sucked they had to be hidden away like shameful secrets.

“Thank you, Roland." I diplomatically brushed over his casual racism. "I’m pretty fond of them.”

Roland sipped his peach ale, then looked up and asked, "Varix. Were you aware Kieran Darkrune is in Tidewater Harbor for the rest of the week? I'm taking a wagon to hear him. If you can get away from work, you should go. You know, one thing the baron does not have is live entertainment. You could add a small stage near the fireplace. I imagine music and stories would bring in more business."

"Kieran Darkrune? Sorry, who is he?"

Roland sputtered around his drink. "Why he is the greatest living bard! His voice is like that of the gods."

"Oh, that guy," I said, still unsure who this bard was.

"I'm surprised Baron Swiftwood has not hired him yet. Everspring has grown so that a bard of his stature might consider performing here for a few weeks."

"Is he expensive?"

"Most assuredly. Perhaps this is why he's not been hired at The Wandering Boar yet."

I filed that info away. I knew nothing about hiring talent, but how hard could it be? Until a few months ago, I had known nothing about owning and running a tavern. Half the days, I still felt like that.

“I always find Roland’s visits refreshing and entertaining. His face grows red every time he comes in to look at his plaque, and he smiles. It’s a small smile, darling, but it’s there. He is a rather fine-looking man,” Ophelia said.

“I thought you fancied the young orc,” Garin said with a chuckle.

“You mind your own business who I fancy.” Ophelia shushed him.

I stifle a cough to cover my laugh. Ophelia had the hots for Roland? To be fair, my dead ex-wife seemed to like just about any man who came into the tavern. I was glad I had no memories of Morthisal’s relationship with her.

As the night drew to a close, I bid Rolan, Guslan, and a few others a good night. They left with friendly waves and a single handshake was the custom in Mythralon.

I sat down and counted the meager takings. It was our worst night yet. With a heavy heart, I gathered my crew.

"I won't sugarcoat it," I said, looking at their expectant faces. "Tonight was rough, and I think we all know why. Ever since the king arrived and humiliated Bertram Swiftwood, he’s had it out for me."

“Reckon he had it out for you before then,” Lady Churl said. She’d come out of the kitchen but still carried her chef-murder-knife in one hand.

Grondak cracked his knuckles. "Grondak can smash competition!"

Lady Churl nodded enthusiastically, brandishing her new knife. "Aye, I said it before and I says it again. We pay ol' Swiftwood a visit. Bet he'd change his tune right quick."

I couldn't help but laugh, despite the situation. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather not have to resort to murder."

Churl shrugged. "Aye. Reckon it’d be too much fun anyway, boss."

I clapped my hands together, forcing a smile. "Alright, team. This is just a temporary setback. Tomorrow's another day, and I have a feeling a good night’s rest will help us feel better. Let's get cleaned up and call it a night.”

After the place was clean, the dishes set out to dry, and the pans and silverware were washed, I sent everyone home with a few silvers as a bonus for their hard work at Market Day. I should have hung onto every coin I could, but my employees deserved a bonus.

I sat at the bar, ready to discuss the day with my ghostly companions. Maybe one of them would have some insight or a solution that didn’t involve Lady Churl sneaking in and slitting throats.

As I mixed an Orange Blush there was a light knock on the back door.

I opened the door to find Seraphina smiling and carrying a small package wrapped in plain brown paper with a white string around it.

“Seraphina,” I smiled at her. “Come in. I’m so glad you’re here.”

"Hi, Varix." Seraphina stepped in as elegantly as ever. She was clad in a midnight blue dress that hugged her figure and left her shoulders exposed. The rest of the fabric was adorned with glittering patterns that suggested stars scattered across the night sky. Her raven black hair cascaded over her shoulders.

I closed the door and then my mouth. I'm not sure in which order.

She leaned in, put her hands around my neck, and pulled me in for a deep kiss. After a time, we pulled away. “Uh,” was all I could muster.

“I brought you something,” she said and proffered the package.

“What is it?” I asked, accepting the gift, though by the feel, it was a book.

"Open it and see." Seraphina grinned.

Walking to the bar, I placed the package on the surface to cut the string and remove the wrapping. The book was bound in supple, deep burgundy leather that felt soft and luxurious. Embossed on the cover were intricate, swirling patterns reminiscent of the mystical runes Seraphina used in her enchantments.

My name was written in the center of the cover, elegantly inscribed in flowing gold script: "Culinary Creations of The Shadow's Respite."

The edges of the pages were gilded with gold. Opening the book, I found the paper to be thick and perfect for both writing and sketching. The pages were divided into sections for ingredients, instructions, and notes, with delicate line illustrations of various herbs and kitchen utensils adorning the corners.

On the inside cover, she had penned a message:

For Varix,

May this book be filled with recipes that bring joy to your patrons and warmth to your heart. Your culinary magic rivals any enchantment I could ever create.

With love and admiration,

Seraphina

“My god, Seraphina. I… I don’t know what to…” I flipped through the blank pages again, fought back a heartfelt sob, and looked up at her. “This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.”

Seraphina’s smile was all that mattered at that moment. Then she was in my arms again.

“I’m so glad you like it.”

"Like it? I love it. It's so nice I don't want to write in it."

"What good will a cookbook be without recipes?"

"You're right," I said and we kissed again.

As we went upstairs, Ophelia said, "Calling it a night, darling? Do us all a favor and ask Seraphina to put one of her silencing gems in place. Thank you."

On my way to the stairs, I looked over my shoulder and told Ophelia, "You can mind your own business."

Ophelia's laughter followed me up the stairs.