“Wow! That tastes shockingly good for something that’s nearly pure alcohol!” said a man with absolutely no respect for the culinary arts. Chef had long since mastered the technique of making things taste better than they should, and alcohol was a much lower bar than goop. Obviously, things would taste better when they were prepared to a quality recipe than he could ever make them taste just through sheer numbers, but these men had a much lower bar than he did.

Not that he’d tried his latest creation yet on account of the promise he’d made earlier. But could anyone really fault him if he wanted to have just a taste?

“Oh? Then maybe I should try—“

“No!”

A chorus of rapidly sobering voices filled the patio, indicating that the passage of time was thus far insufficient to clear them of whatever trauma Chef had inadvertently given them last week. He’d asked exactly what had them bothered so much, but they were unwilling to speak the details. Any of them. The level of their solidarity, while frustrating on this point, was also what gave Chef the confidence that he could continue his operation here without any annoying surprises.

As if summoned by his optimism, a stranger walked into the clearing.

“Welcome to The Hidden Gem, what would you like to eat or drink?”

The newcomer had a goblin’s fashion sense, wearing a nice cloak that covered most of his body and left his features to the imagination of those bored enough to care. Said stranger looked around for a little bit before stating the exact or not-so-exact purpose of his visit.

“We meet again, proprietor of The Hidden Gem. I’m afraid I need a moment of your time, both yours and your underling’s. If you would be so kind.”

The guy he’d definitely never met before began to wander into the woods as if it was a guarantee than he’d follow. Even baby goblins knew better than to follow strange men in rags away from the cave, and Chef refused to be stupider than baby goblins.

Of course, Nerick showed up next to him in short order, taking a break from socializing with the patio of drunk patrons while Chef was hard at work pretending to not drink. It was a skill, he’d discovered, to drink something so delicious without drawing any attention to it, but fortunately these people hadn’t spent enough time with him to realize he didn’t normally drink anything in the first place.

It didn’t hurt that his newest drink happened to be clear like water. Unfortunately, the taste was only marginally better than its lookalike. His customers would get their wish of a sober Chef, but only because drinking the mead was a lot more obvious. Stupid beautiful golden liquid.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Come on, Chef. We should probably follow him and hear what he has to say.”

He looked at his underling, enjoying the feeling of the word as it moved through his mind, and wondered where the man would rank in terms of goblin intelligence. Below an infant, apparently.

“We don’t follow creepy guys into the woods, underling. I suppose your human upbringing failed to prepare you for the cruelties of this world, but don’t worry. Your good friend and boss is here to protect you.”

His grunt, not to be confused with his employee since he actually paid shadow guy, looked at him as unimpressed as ever.

“He’s not a stranger. We both met him last week. Remember? Actually, no of course you don’t. Just come along, ‘boss.’”

The word was dripping with sarcasm that left the goblin feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he was still new to the practice of saying things that he didn’t mean without the intention of deceiving people, so seeing such a master at work left him in awe. But on the other hand, he really didn’t like any of the things that Nerick implied before having the audacity to walk away from him.

He hurried after his underling, following the creepy guy into the woods.

“First of all, I meet lots of new people all the time and can’t be expected to remember them all,” he said, walking through a series of bushes he didn’t care enough to walk around while Nerick raised an eyebrow at him.

“Remember all of them? Chef, we have half a dozen people who practically live here now, and I doubt you know a single one of their names.”

His underling continued to be insubordinate, slandering the good name of the goblin with lies and deceit. He was quite familiar with both of his favorite human guests, and neither shadow guy nor armor lad had given him any indication that he had their names wrong. Nope, not even once. But Chef simply ignored the bad behavior of his underling, refusing to give the man the satisfaction he so craved by getting a rise out of the goblin.

“Second of all, am I not your boss? I argued for your employment and pay and stuff.”

A flat look was all the response the man needed to give him.

“You don’t pay me.”

Or not, apparently.

“My bosses never paid me.”

His partner in crime sighed while shaking his head. It was one of the three default actions for the man, right behind looking incredibly awkward.

“Did you really think that they were good bosses, then? And do I need to once again explain the differences between human and goblin society?”

“Please no.”

The first lecture had lasted half a day before their meeting with the baron and the second took their entire day trip back. He wasn’t even allowed to carry the man, meaning it was two miserable days of Nerick impressing upon him, repeatedly, the importance of customs and etiquette and whatever other nonsense humans so frequently spout.

Chef couldn’t take any more education; his body just wasn’t equipped for that kind of abuse.

“Then you’ll just have to take my word for it. We’re business partners, so you have to talk to me before making any more major decisions. No more just saying the first thing that comes to your head without thinking it through and consulting me first. Alright?”

Chef gave his best noncommittal grunt to the outrageous demand. It was one thing, and a mostly accurate one at that, to say that neither of them worked for the other. But to suggest that the goblin would stop to think through his answers before giving them, let alone discuss them with someone else ahead of time, was absolutely insane.

It was fortunate, then, that his mentally unsound partner had such a reliable goblin to look out for him.

Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll take it from here.

Chef steeled his resolve inwardly while nodding along to his crazy companion’s request.