The kitchen was filled with the sounds of the crackling fire and the soups and stews boiling and bubbling. There were also the rhythmic grunts from Old Man Willum who was sweating and kneading his second pile of dough, with the first pile already having been turned into loaves of bread that were browning away inside the oven.
Richard joined in on the symphony with a few occasional coughs caused by smoke as he fanned the flames and added firewood as needed. It wasn’t a lot of work but he silently crouched down and continued acting busy while sweating in the intense heat.
It was awkward to be standing/sitting around doing nothing when your employer was working hard in the same room. It didn’t matter if you didn’t have any work or if you were very diligent and completed the work ahead of time. Just the fact that your boss is working and you aren’t is uncomfortable.
The only good thing about the experience was the aroma inside the kitchen. Mixed with the smoke was the smell of the different soups and stews and the freshly baked bread. Richard had to wipe away the saliva dripping from the corners of his lips. Old Man Willum seemed to be a great cook.
Since he couldn’t go out of the kitchen until the old witch was done with her meal, Richard continued fanning the flames that were already roaring and trying and failing to help Willum. Finally, after an excruciatingly long 10-15 minutes, a shout was heard, “The soup was great Willy. See you tomorrow.”
Just when Richard was about to sigh in relief, another shout was heard, “You too little server boy!” The sigh was stuck in his throat as Richard froze up. Old Man Willum stuck his head out of the door and shouted cheerfully, “See you tomorrow Grandma Holly!”
Willum then turned to Richard who was still frozen in place and scolded, “What are you doing? Get out there and start taking orders and serving the guests! And try not to annoy any of them this time.”
Guests? What guests? The whole inn is empty!
Richard was confused. There was no one in the entire inn other than Grandma Holly who just left and the two of them. But that confusion was quickly cleared up when he heard a commotion outside.
When Richard went out of the kitchen, he understood Willum’s words. People began streaming in from the front door as if they had been waiting for a while. No, Richard was sure that they were waiting. A few guests from the second floor also began coming down.
The whole town is scared of Grandma Holly. They were probably waiting for her to be done with her meal and go away before coming in.
While Richard was lost in thought, a short man with a blonde braided beard approached Richard and spoke to him, “Who are ya, boy? Are you Willy’s new helper? Go get me some grub already.”
Is he a dwarf? He looks and dresses like what I imagine a dwarf would be like, but I don’t know.
The other guests who had already found their seats also began shouting. “Willy, get me my bear stew and bread.” “Veggie stew, Willy!” “Bread and potato soup here!”
Old Man Willum came out of the kitchen and spoke with a raised voice, “This kid here will work as the server from today so call for him for any orders.” He went back into the kitchen after that.
There was a brief moment of silence and then a storm of shouts drowned out Richard who ran back and forth between the tables and the kitchen to deliver the orders already prepared by Willum. From how Willum was quickly plating all the orders without even having to listen to the guests, it was clear that most of the guests were regulars at the inn.
Richard had no experience working as a server even in his past life. So, it was a very stressful first day at work for him with many mistakes. It was a learning moment for him. Although, more than serving he learned creative and strange dwarven curses.
For every late or mistaken order at the table with dwarves, Richard heard them shouting things like, “Oh my golden balls, why is this kid so clumsy!” “For the sake of Goddess Brewna’s beard, get my stew already!” “Stonebelly’s bollocks! This isn’t what I ordered.”
Dwarves weren’t the only fantastical race that Richard served. There were also pointy-eared, blonde-haired beings that Richard thought were elves. Unlike what he had read in fantasy novels, they didn’t seem to be exaggeratedly beautiful other than their skin being paler than others. They were also incredibly nice to Richard.
Unlike the Dwarven curses, soft and encouraging words flew out of the elves’ mouths “Oh, it's fine, it is your first day.” “Leave it be, it doesn’t matter if I have a different stew for a day.”
Except for a table of four elves and two tables of a dozen dwarves, the rest of the guests were all humans. Or at least they seemed human to Richard. He wasn’t completely sure at this point. For all he knew, they could be shapeshifters, vampires, werewolves, or any number of other fantastical beings.
After a couple of hours of continuous service, the guests at the inn began to thin out with only a few of them remaining. Old Man Willum patted the tired Richard on his shoulders and spoke encouragingly, “Although you were clumsy, it wasn’t too bad for your first day of work. Clean up the dishes while I replenish the stew. You can have a couple of hours of break after eating.”
Motivated by the prospect of getting the most out of his break, Richard quickly cleaned up the dishes while lamenting why there weren’t any dishwashers even if there wasn’t a spell for doing the dishes.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
I don’t even remember the last time I did this many dishes. Mom would have been proud of me.
Richard had the bear stew with bread that was ordered by most guests and his eyes widened at the first bite. He was expecting it to be quite delicious because of the aroma, but when he actually tasted it, it was indescribably delicious. He even questioned Old Man Willum if it was really made of bear meat.
Old Man Willum was satisfied with Richard’s reaction. He puffed up his chest with pride and answered, “Most people expect bear meat to taste gamey and chewy but with my family’s recipe, it becomes extremely tender and flavorful. It is a recipe passed down through tens of generations. Just this cauldron of stew has been going for five hundred years.”
Richard was amazed at the age of the stew. The fire in the bear stew has been going for over five hundred years with ingredients added to it every day after serving the guests. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the flavor developed over centuries but Richard hadn’t tasted anything like that before.
After a busy first shift at work, Richard wanted to go out to explore the town but he was too tired and needed to conserve his strength for the next shift. From what Willum told him, lunch service lasted even longer, sometimes stretching into the evenings without breaks until dinner.
A hectic day of serving customers, washing dishes, and cleaning tables continued for Richard long into the evening. But it didn’t get any easier in the evening. If anything it only got a lot more difficult. Just as the sun started setting, people began ordering mead and beer with their food.
Just when Richard started to get bogged down by the increasing number of orders, a large man in his late twenties approached Richard. He looked to be six and a half feet tall with bulging muscles and broad shoulders. With his hair cut short, he had a baby face that didn’t exactly match his body type.
The man was wearing what seemed to be a tiger pelt as a skirt and only a leather strap across his torso to hold a sword. If not for his face, which could only be described by using words like adorable, and cute, Richard would have guessed him to be a typical barbarian from a fantasy world.
“Are you the new guy hired by Old Man Willy? I am Volkar Thirdborn. I work the evening shift here as the bartender here. Nice to meet you.” Volkar extended his large palm toward Richard.
Once again, the contrast between the man’s huge size and his voice gave Richard a shock. One would expect a deep, gravelly voice from a man who looked like a tank made out of muscles but Volkar had the voice of an angel. It wouldn’t be surprising if he started belting out ballad songs.
“Ah! Yes. I am Richard Thomas. I started working here today. Nice to meet you too.” Richard shook the large hand of the polite barbarian thrice his size. His hand up to his wrist disappeared in Volkar’s palm.
“Hey Volkar, how long until I get my mead?” A guest shouted out, breaking up the first meeting between the two employees of Bear & Beer.
“Coming right up!” Volkar shouted and turned to Richard, “See you around. Let’s do our best.” With that, Volkar ran up to the bar counter, leaped right over it to the other side, and began filling the orders.
After Volkar arrived, it got a lot easier for Richard but he still had to move around between the many guests while holding a tray full of food and mugs of alcohol. It was probably the longest he had ever walked in his life. His leg muscles were beginning to burn with pain.
If I had a smartwatch on, it would probably show that I walked 20 kilometers. I didn’t know that servers had to walk entire marathons every day in such a small space.
Richard had never thought about the waiters in his past life. They were just beings that existed to be summoned with a raise of a hand or a wave. Who would ever think about how much they walked or from where? You summoned them and they summoned food, and that was the extent of the relationship between you and the waiters.
But when it was him doing the job, Richard was able to truly appreciate the ungodly amounts of walking a waiter had to do, especially if they were the only ones serving the entire inn.
At this rate, won’t my leg muscles look like those of a professional athlete?
While fantasizing about the muscles he would have in the future, Richard continued serving the annoying dwarves who drank the alcohol like they had a separate dimension in their large guts. He had to run to their tables the most but they were seated the furthest from the bar.
When it got dark outside, Volkar lit up the candles and lamps to light up the place. While everyone else seemed not to mind it, Richard was disgusted by the burning smell of the candles made of tallow.
The aroma of Willum’s food that existed in the inn was completely overpowered by the foul stench coming off of the army of tallow candles. The battle was very brief with the burning tallow surrounding the aroma from all sides and crushing it in one fell swoop. It was an overwhelming victory for the foul smell of the candles.
Richard continued his work while gagging at the stench that was stinging his nose. Even after a couple of hours of service, he couldn’t get used to the smell. But at the very least, he was able to bear it somewhat without scrunching up his nose all the time.
He didn’t know the time since there was no clock around but from what he guessed from the sunset, it was anywhere between 10-12 o’clock in the night when Willum came out of the kitchen with his body and clothes soaked in sweat and shouted, “We are closing now. Those who don’t want to become a practice for Volkar’s princess throw should get out on their own.”
It was surprising for Richard to see an owner treating his guests in such a rude manner. In his past life, there would already be a barrage of one-star reviews, viral videos, and news articles on the internet that would try to close down the inn. But this was a medieval world. Here, when you shout at the customers, they just shout back at you. Especially if they are drunk dwarves.
And so, Richard got to witness the miraculous sight of Volkar’s ‘princess throw’. Like any sane person, Richard was curious about what is a princess throw. Old Man Willum explained it to him while taking a drag out of his wooden pipe.
“Volkar over there is a barbarian hero in training. He wants to become a hero who saves princesses from dragons. But he ran into a problem where he couldn’t carry the princess while fighting. So, Volkar created a new throwing technique where you throw the princess far away but she has a safe soft landing. As you can see, he is still perfecting the technique.”
Richard turned to look outside where Volkar was picking up the unwilling customers and throwing them far into the street. Unfortunately, none of the customers had a soft landing.
“Why can’t he just put down the princess and let her run away while he fights?” Richard asked while looking at a man throwing other men tens of meters away.
Old Man Willum shook his head while blowing out a puff of white smoke, “Many people have pointed that out. But Volkar is adamant that his throw is faster than a running princess. That’s a barbarian for you. Once they start something like this, no amount of logic can stop them. How do you think Gorm ‘the mountain pusher’ pushed a mountain out to cover the underground lair of Gearthrax?”
I feel like there is a lot of lore there that I don’t know but I get the general idea. Barbarians work outside the realm of logic. So is it magic?