After what seemed like the entire village, though it was probably only a hundred or so people, turned out for the chili cook, I was left with a mess to clean up, a goblin who wanted to live under the building, and a couple of brooding orcs who weren't sure what to do with their lives.

I didn't have a chance to count the coins I had collected the night before, thanks to Doan urging the attendees to donate. I took them to my room and put the bowl in a drawer. There was a lot there, primarily coppers, but more than a few silvers. Some gold sovereigns hung around in the mass. I wondered if there was a bank in the village or if the residents resorted to burying money in their backyards like my Uncle Frank. That guy had been off his rocker. After he had passed away, his kids had spent days digging up his money jars. I chuckled at the thought—I guess some habits die hard, even across different worlds.

Caden had thoughtfully left me with a restorative, which I drank in two swallows. The minty, oily liquid was a welcome relief as it found my belly. The coating down my throat immediately got rid of my urge to vomit. It tasted like toothpaste and olive oil—definitely a weird combo, but hey, it worked. Who was I to complain? This was the kind of thing that might result in world peace back on earth.

Ragna and Doan kindly showed up to help me with the cauldron. Cooking in it had been a hell of a job. Cleaning it was even worse. I don't even want to think about how heavy the damn thing was. It took the three of us to lay it on its side.

"I can probably cut you a deal on this if you want to do more large cooks," Ragna informed me as we scrubbed the inside with rock salt and lemon halves and splashed water inside to rinse it clean.

"Oh yeah? Is this buy one get one free kind of deal?" I joked, earning a snicker from Doan. “Because one’s enough.”

"I don't want to haul it back. I'll give it to you for, oh…" She stood, bent backward with her hand on her lower back, until a couple of vertebrae popped. "I don't know."

"You can always leave it and come up with a price later on. I'll take it."

"Just give it to him, mother. When's the last time you used it?" Doan said in exasperation.

"Leave off, son. I'll settle with Varix, in time," Ragna said.

I did want the pot. It was enormous and could hold a tremendous amount of stew, and it might come in handy if I launched my outdoor side hustle once the tavern was up and running and I was making money. Not a food truck, but more a food wagon. I had plans to set up an outdoor location to sell sandwiches, paninis to be exact, to the lunchtime folks.

Once it was clean, we left it on its side, and I went at it with some clean rags to get the water out. We wrestled the beast back into place, and I built up a small fire to heat the bottom and then rubbed grease in to maintain its nonstick surface. Take that, Teflon.

"How old is this thing?" I asked.

Doan shrugged. Ragna looked up, put her hand under her chin, and said, "Got no idea. It was in the shop when I bought the place. It's been rolled out for the occasional event, but mostly sits in a corner of the shed."

"When you figure out what you want for it, let me know as long as it’s not part of my soul. I need that.”

"Make more stew soon!" Urzan yelled.

Urzan and one of his lieutenants might have left during the night and returned at some point. Or they had crashed out here after a food hangover. They'd both put away a lot of ale, but neither had seemed much affected by the alcohol. It probably took a lot to get those monstrously large dudes drunk.

"Guys," I said, laughing, and pointed at Urzan's side.

He and his friend sat on the ground and tossed what looked like rocks with runish markings worked into the sides. It was clearly some kind of dice game. I couldn't follow the rules, but there was also a lot of punching involved.

"What?" Urzan said.

"Can you lose the weapons?"

At some point, Urzan and his buddy had both strapped on their belts, which contained an assortment of knives, long blades, and an axe. At least they were seated and didn't have spears strapped to their backs next to shields.

"Oh! Orc prepared! Defend Varix tavern!"

"You're prepared to scare people off? Sorry to be a Debby Downer, but until recently, orcs were fighting some of the people in the village. And, guys, no one is going to try and break into this place. I don't have anything worth stealing."

"Debby Downer?" Ragna said quietly.

Doan shrugged.

"Big pile of money here!"

Urzan looked at me, at Doan, and at his lieutenant. They grumbled something in their guttural language.

"Varix smart! As always! Smarter than Orc! Not Stronger!"

"I won't ever be stronger than you, Urzan. You're built like you use hobbits to floss your teeth."

"You speak truth! Urzan have no idea other funny words! Moktar, also remove weapon!"

Urzan stood and removed his belt. His lieutenant did the same once Urzan snapped something in orcish at him. They placed their weapons together against the wall, and away from where they were playing their game.

“Thanks, guys! You’re the best orcs around.”

“This is true!”

Urzan and Moktar returned to their game. He picked up his dice pieces and threw them. His friend growled and pumped his fist once. Urzan hauled off, punched Moktar, and looked at his closed fist.

"What are you guys playing?" I asked them, because my curiosity finally got the better of me.

"Bloody knuckles! First to have bloody knuckle win!"

"I’m sorry. You guys punch each other, based on a dice roll…”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Not dice! Knuckle!”

I couldn’t help it. I walked over to look at the ‘dice’ and realized they were probably knuckle bones from…what? I had no idea, and didn't want to know.

“Uh. Okay, weirdos. Carry on."

Urzan picked up the knuckles, tossed them, and uttered what sounded like an orcish curse. I left them to their peculiar game and went back to work.

Once we finished with the cauldron, I bid farewell to Ragna and Doan since they needed to return to their forge. I retrieved my coffee mug and headed out to get my daily fix. As I locked the tavern, Urzan yelled, "No need to lock! Orc watch!"

"Okay, thanks. See you guys later," I said, waving at them. Frankly, I was too scared to ask them to leave my property.

As I made my way through the bustling streets of Everspring with Milo's empty coffee mug in hand, a cheese vendor's cart caught my eye. The wooden cart was adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures, each seemingly guarding the treasure trove of cheeses. The blocks were impressive, ranging from the classic cheddar to brie, allegedly infused with the essence of moonlight. How you got moonlight into cheese was beyond me, and probably beyond the old woman selling cheese. But who was I to question reality here? This fantasy world had an actual hangover cure.

Approaching the vendor, I inquired about cheesecloth. To my delight, she had a few feet available for sale. I gratefully purchased the cloth and thanked her profusely.

With my new acquisition, I continued to The Whistling Kettle and ordered my usual coffee. I pulled out the cloth and showed it to Milo. "This is cheesecloth."

"That's great, Mr. Varix. Are you planning on making cheese for the tavern?" Milo asked. "I like cheese, but my stomach doesn't like it so much. Are you planning to make some good stinky cheese? The worse it smells, the better it tastes. At least, that's what I've found."

I chuckled. "This cloth can be used as a filter. Do you have a pair of scissors I could borrow?"

Milo rummaged under the counter and produced a pair of old, hand-hammered scissors. I carefully cut a large square of cheesecloth and laid it on the counter.

Taking the coffee container, I measured a generous portion of grounds from Milo's container and bundled them in the cheesecloth. I ripped a string from the top, and tightly tied the bundle.

"Could you swap out my used mug for a clean one and fill it with hot water?"

He nodded, and poured steaming water into a clean mug. I took the makeshift filter, and dunked it into the steaming liquid, allowing it to steep.

"Oh, it's like you're making tea," Milo remarked.

I nodded in agreement. "This would work even better if the coffee could be slowly poured over the grounds, allowing it to drip into the cup."

"Good to know, Mr. Varix."

"Alright, then." I took my coffee, paused, and impulsively asked, "Are you happy at this job?"

"I guess. It's better than cleaning up after pigs. That was my last job."

"Oink. Oink," I said and grinned.

"They don't sound like that. They mainly squeal and sound like you're killing them. I don't think they liked me very much."

I couldn't help but like Milo, even if he was a little dopey. He reminded me of the character Dylan from Modern Family.

"If you ever, um…" Milo swallowed loudly and looked away.

"Pardon?"

"If, you know, if you ever need extra help at The Shadow's Respite, maybe I could, um, maybe I could come work for you."

"You know what, Milo? You might be a good fit. I'll get back to you soon," I said, sipping my freshly brewed coffee. The cheesecloth method was a definite improvement.

Milo nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Mr. Varix. I can't wait to work for you! Your tavern is going to be the best in Everspring! That Baron guy is going to cry himself to sleep at night."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his earnest, if a bit dopey, compliment. "Thanks, Milo. I appreciate the vote of confidence. We’ll keep working on that coffee. Have a good day, buddy.”

“You too, Mr. Varix!”

With a wave, I left The Whistling Kettle and made my way through the bustling streets of Everspring. I had one last stop before heading back to the tavern. I needed to close out my room at the inn.

As I entered, the innkeeper greeted me with a nod, and I made my way up the creaky wooden stairs to my room. It wasn't much, but it had been a place to lay my head while I got the tavern sorted out.

I gathered my few belongings and shoved my extra clothes into my bag. As I rummaged through the contents, ensuring I had everything, my fingers brushed against the voyager scrolls at the bottom. I paused for a moment, considering them. Maybe I should burn them, or bury them, just like I should do with the staff. I pushed them back down and closed the bag.

I pulled Morthisal's staff from under the mattress. The wood was smooth and cool beneath my fingers. With a sigh, I slung my bag over the end of the staff, feeling a bit like a vagrant as I hoisted it over my shoulder.

Giving the room one last glance, I returned downstairs and spotted the puff pastries. “Can I have one for the road even though I’m checking out?”

“Ah. Mr. Varix. We’re sorry to see you leave, but The Shadow’s Respite is a lovely, erm, location. Of course you can have a puff pastry. With my compliments.”

“Thanks!” I said. I left the key with the innkeeper and stepped back into the bright sunlight. The walk back to the tavern was short and sweet. Inside, I made my way to the small room I had claimed as my own and unpacked my goods, but didn't disturb the voyager scrolls. I needed to find a place to hide them, and I also had thought of a great idea for the staff during my walk.

A space under the tavern could have been used for hiding people, or storing items during the war. It was about a dozen feet deep, and the entrance was through a trapdoor under a rug in the back.

It was Lady Churl who had found it after she’d investigated the place for me, and said she'd be staying the night there. Maybe she could dig a hole and hide the scrolls and the staff. I would do it if she were reluctant, since she hadn’t been willing to dispose of them before.

I sat on the bed and examined the staff's crown in the light filtering through the adjacent window. About a dozen miniature, grotesque faces were frozen in perpetual, voiceless howls.

“You are one ugly piece of crap."

I sat down, put the staff lengthwise over my lap, and pushed both ends. The wood bent, so I applied more pressure. I figured eliminating it would be easier if I could break it in half. I could bury the pieces miles away from each other. Or I could try burning them. I considered smoking some meat with them, but I was afraid Morthisal’s stench would somehow be attached to the food.

I pushed harder, but the staff stubbornly snapped back into shape.

“Stupid staff.”

I stood up, put the end against my foot, and leaned into it. I put all my weight against the staff, but it stubbornly refused to come close to cracking.

Sitting on the bed, I held the staff in one hand and studied it, running my other hand over the smooth surface. All of a sudden, it felt alluring to me. Why hadn't I seen it before? It was really quite lovely. The craftsmanship was second to none.

A tingling started in the palm of my hand, near the cursed ring, and spread up my arm. The ring felt like it was buzzing, sending sharp tingles through my finger.

“What in the hell?” I threw the staff down.

The floor shook when it struck.

“Darling! I see you’ve decided to embrace your better half. It’s about time. You know, this entire village could be subjugated in a day. You already have an orc warband at your disposal.”

Ophelia stood in the door, literally in the door, with only half of her body visible.

"Go away, Ophelia. I’m not going to go back to Morth’s old ways. Not gonna happen. Nope. Never. Got it? Now, why don’t you go downstairs and find a nice barstool to haunt?”

"Oh, darling,” Ophelia laughed. "Pick up the staff and remove that ghastly amulet. Embrace the dark. I can teach you a few words. Nothing too complicated. A few to take the edge off, shall we say?" She grinned.

I took a towel from beside my wash basin and used it to pick up the staff so my hands wouldn't touch the cursed object, and shoved it under the mattress.

"Ophelia, if you keep nagging like this, I might start charging you rent."

"That’s adorable. Remember, I don't do rent—I haunt for free."