"Wow," was the word on everyone's lips as a diverse crowd, including humans, imps, minotaurs, and centaurs, lined up at the tent's entrance. Considering all of the incredible feats of architecture in the world, this tent didn't rank, but at that moment, it was the most impressive tent anyone there had ever seen.

Creatures of every kind were queued inside the tent. Bob and Richard had organized two lines to take orders. They moved their table to the tent's far end, away from the entrance, so customers wouldn't have to stand in the rain. Soon, the two lines extended outside the tent. The rain didn't deter anyone; all waited patiently for their turn. Most patrons wore cloaks, and some had made makeshift shelters for several to stand under. Bob had suggested making some of those makeshift tents for customers to buy, but Richard told him to shut up; they had enough to worry about.

Kent and his family had long gone showering the Orcs and Batty with compliments. Batty quickly became an expert barista. Although Rose loathed the term "barista," Batty assured her of its accuracy. Coffee, lattes, and breakfast was being served at a fast pace.

Even as the rain eased, the line did not. More and more lined up for breakfast.

Someone at the back yelled, "I won't get breakfast until lunch!"

Further back, another shouted, "Shut up, I won't get breakfast until dinner." Laughter rippled through the line.

Richard mumbled, "Lunch and dinner."

"What was that, Chief?" Bob asked, accepting gold from an elf.

"Everyone talks about lunch and dinner," said Richard, receiving gold from a dwarf. "Maybe we need to serve lunch and dinner too."

"That's a lot of work for us, chief," Bob replied. "We can barely keep up. Mick and Rick run as fast as they can, and the twins can only cook two meals at a time."

Richard accepted silver from a Lammasu, reassuring her that the milk was sourced respectfully.

Doug patrolled the line like a sheepdog watching over his herd. A few unruly customers were given a stern glare from Doug, but most waited for the amazing breakfast they had all come to eat.

The morning was going well for everyone until mid-morning when a commotion caught the attention of Chief Richard. Summoning another Orc to cover for him, he stepped outside to investigate. He found a group of humans holding signs. Although he couldn't read them, their message was clear.

A woman stood at the center, around whom others marched with their signs chanting, "Orcs go home."

"You there," the woman demanded, pointing at Richard, "bring me your manager immediately!"

Approaching the woman, Richard introduced himself, "I'm Chief Richard; how can I help you?"

"I'm Ms. Fytistone, representing the League of Species Relations," she stated, indicating the continuing protestors.

"League of Species Relations, and you want us to go home?" Richard asked.

"Glad you understand," Ms. Fytistone said, smiling, "Hope you have a safe journey home."

"They don't need to leave just yet. I just got here, and I'm hungry," interjected a familiar voice. Mayor Hamilton gave a big smile to Chief Richard. "Are you hungry, Battleaxes and Greg?" The Mayor said to the collective Battleax clan. The barbarians nodded.

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"I could eat a dragon!" Battleax suddenly said, "Uh, metaphorically, of course."

"Of course," said the Mayor.

"Well, the town charter says no permanent buildings unless permits are requested and granted. And I checked, there are no permits for this," Ms. Fytistone waved to the tent, "This thing."

"Ah, well, uh, if that's all we need to do," the Mayor said, reaching into his vest pocket and producing some papers. "Chief Richard, would you like to apply for a permit?" He handed the documents to Richard, who took them gingerly as if the Mayor had given him a snake.

"Daddy!" Batty yelled, running up to the group.

"Ah, my sharp ax, how did last night go?" Asked Battleax, embracing Batty.

Batty gestured behind her, "We made a tent."

"Aye, it's impressive, too," Battleax said, looking at the large tent.

"You know, daddy orcs can swim," Batty said with a wink.

"Excuse me!" Ms Fytistone yelled, "Mayor, you just can't walk up here and offer to give a permit to, uh, these orcs. This must be put before the council."

"True," Hamilton said, "But the Mayor can give a temporary permit. Let's see, that would be me," he added with a malicious smile, "And I will grant them a permit."

Batty walked over to Richard and took the papers from him. She began to explain point by point the regulations of the permit. Hamilton and Fytistone glared at each other.

"So, I sign this and pay a fee, and we get a permit." Chief Richard asked.

"Yes, and then the council will vote for a permanent permit and license at the next meeting," Said Batty.

Chief Richard nodded in understanding, took a pen from the Mayor, and made his mark on the paper. The Mayor beamed with excitement.

"Good, good, ah, this is wonderful." The Mayor said, patting his ample belly.

"This isn't over." Fytistone sneered, "My people will not stand for this. We will picket this disgusting restaurant until everyone understands it's not worth their time."

Doug approached the Chief, who nodded at him as they both planted their feet, ready for a confrontation.

"As mayor," Hamilton said, stepping between the orcs and the protesting humans, "I have the authority to assign a constable to certain areas in and around our town. Battleax, I believe you have some experience. What do you think?"

Battleax began to giggle, not with the pleasantness of a small child receiving candy but with the unsettling glee of a madman eager to dissect his victim. "I accept."

The Mayor continued, "Good, good. I also deputize all of the other Battleaxes and Greg."

The collective Battleaxes and Greg began to giggle, creating a terrifying sight that prompted many onlookers to avert their eyes. Even Greg, in his all-black robes and nunchucks, had an aura of terror around him.

“Wait just a moment, Mayor!” Fytistone shouted. "I believe you have overstepped your authority. We will not stand for this." She turned for support, only to find her protesters had retreated to the far edge of the clearing.

"You're doing good, Fy!" One shouted.

Fytiston let out a shout of frustration and stomped away, the protesters trailing behind her.

"I wish I could say she's gone, but she'll be back," Hamilton said, tucking the papers into his vest pocket. He turned to Richard. "Congratulations on your new restaurant. Nice tent."

"This is the biggest tent I've ever seen. Good work!" Battleax said.

"Thank you," Richard said to both. "Why don't you come in and have breakfast? I take it we have much to discuss."

Batty gave her dad another hug before dashing off to assist with the coffee. The others entered the tent and settled at an empty table while Richard was relieved to see the line dwindling.

"This tent is nice, but you need something more permanent. Like a big building." The Mayor said.

"This tent seems to be working fine." Chief Richard said.

"Yes, yes, but high winds and lightning can be an issue." The Mayor said.

Richard rubbed his face with frustration and said, "I wish people wouldn't give the gods ideas."

"Don't worry, Chief Richard; we are good at coming up with our own ideas."

Richard turned to look up at a woman who was easily a head taller than him. She could have passed for a Plainsperson if not for her robust build. She appeared to be an oversized human with a noticeable glow.

"I am Seareaz, the goddess of breakfast and coffee," she said as she sipped her coffee. "And I approve of this latte." After a pause, she added, "You have my blessing for now." Then she walked out of the tent. Wide-eyed, Richard, the mayor, and the Battleaxes watched her leave.

"Double congratulations, Chief," The Mayor exclaimed, "You've been blessed."