Srsli
patreon
3: The Roaring Inn
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 13:14:31 +0000 UTCI woke up late the next morning with Martin’s words still fresh in my mind. After dressing, I made my way through the quiet halls of the Temple, stopping at the statue in the main hall.
“Dear Goddess,” I murmured softly, “I still don't know what you have planned. Any guidance would be great.”
As expected, there was no answer.
Leaving the Temple, the faint aroma of roast chicken drifted past me again. It was strange—I’d never seen any sign of poultry in or around the Temple, and yet that scent always seemed to linger.
The market was only a short walk away. Despite its name, it wasn’t at the centre of town but rather on the western side. This was where most of the food stalls were, along with the two inns. Remembering what Martin had suggested, I wandered between the stalls, scanning over vegetables, cuts of meat, spices, and cookware, waiting for some spark of inspiration—something that might explain how I was supposed to gain experience.
But nothing came.
An hour passed, and my six coppers weighed heavy in my pocket. Spending it recklessly wasn’t an option, not when I might need it for lodging if the Temple decided I’d overstayed my welcome.
With a sigh, I decided to at least get lunch.
Of the two inns, one was clearly out of my price range. It was the kind of place that catered to rich merchants and successful adventurers—well-dressed staff, polished wood, and an atmosphere that told people like me to keep walking.
The other was The Roaring Inn.
The moment I stepped inside, I was met with the smell of mead, roasted meat, and the ever-present hum of conversation. Several individuals clearly hadn’t sobered up from the night before, slumped over mugs of ale. At other tables, adventurers sat in lively groups, laughing and arguing over what must have been plans for their next big expedition.
“Are you coming in?” A voice called sharply, “Or are you just going to stand there gawking?”
I turned to find a young woman with her hands on her hips, smirking at me from behind the counter.
“Ah—sorry,” I stammered. “I was hoping to get lunch.”
She laughed, the sound warm rather than mocking. “Then sit yourself down. One copper for the meal. You want a mead with that? That’s another copper.”
“No, just lunch, and water, please,” I replied quickly, handing over a coin before slipping into a chair by a small table next to the kitchen entrance. It gave me a good view of the entire inn; a perfect spot to watch without being in the way.
It didn’t take long before a bowl of hearty stew was placed in front of me, along with a piece of jerky, a small bread roll, and a jug of water. For a single copper, it felt like a feast.
As I ate, I let the atmosphere wash over me. Adventurers swapped stories of monsters and treasures. A group of drunks nursed their ales with single-minded focus. It was messy, loud, and chaotic—but it was alive. After two weeks of the Temple’s quiet solemnity, this place felt like the world I’d imagined.
I found myself thinking: if I was going to be stuck cooking, maybe this was where I belonged.
A loud sigh escaped me before I could stop it.
“What’s wrong, kid?”
I looked up to see the barmaid; she’d wandered over, leaning casually against a nearby table.
“Oh—sorry,” I blurted. “Just trying to figure out what to even do with myself right now.”
She tilted her head, then smiled knowingly. “Ah. Just got your class, huh? I thought you looked about that age.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Just… not what I expected.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “It never is. You think when I got my merchant class I saw myself working as a barmaid in an inn? Not a chance.”
She filled my water jug as she talked, her voice bright but grounded. “So what’d you get?”
“A cooking class,” I muttered, feeling my face warm.
Her eyes lit up. “A cook? Oh, I’m jealous. You must get to eat amazing food all the time!”
“Not really,” I mumbled, ducking my head. “Not yet.”
She only laughed again and left me to my meal, heading over to serve a group of four adventurers near the bar. They were clearly experienced; their gear looked better than anything I’d seen up close before. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. That was supposed to be me…
When the barmaid returned to her post, she glanced at me again. “So, are you looking for work?”
I blinked. “Maybe? I… don’t really know yet.”
“Well,” she said with a grin, “Larry—the owner—has been looking for another set of hands. Mostly kitchen work, but you’d help out around the inn too.”
I hesitated. “I don’t… have anywhere to live right now. I’ve been staying at the Temple, working in the kitchen there.”
She shrugged. “Hang on. I’ll ask him.”
Before I could stop her, she vanished into the back. I stared at the counter in stunned silence. Could I even move to the inn? Would they give me a room?
A moment later, she returned with a massive, broad-shouldered man in tow. His face was lined with scars, and he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who’d fought more battles than I could count.
“This is the kid,” she said, gesturing toward me.
The man looked me over. “Got a name, kid?”
I scrambled to my feet. “Trevor, sir.”
He studied me for a long moment, then grunted. “Micca says you’re a cook. You look more like a fighter. What happened? See death for the first time and lose your nerve?”
“No, sir,” I answered quickly. “I was at Borgons Military Academy until my day of choosing… but I got a cooking class instead of a combat one.”
“Ha!” Larry barked a laugh. “Fate’s a cruel one.”
“Not exactly,” I added quickly. “It’s a rare class. But I’ve spent two weeks at the Temple now and… I can’t seem to level it. No experience gain. Nothing.”
Larry raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away. “A rare cooking class that doesn’t level. Huh. Well, if I were looking for a cook, I’d tell you no right here. But I need someone who can carry kegs, wash dishes, and keep the rowdy drunks from breaking furniture.”
He leant closer. “Here’s the deal: two coppers a day. You’ll work until we’re done, and you’ll get one day off every two weeks. Room out back—small, just a converted storage space, but it’ll keep you dry. One copper every two days for rent. That leaves you with nineteen coppers every two weeks. Take it or leave it.”
Nineteen coppers. After the Temple’s two copper a week, it felt like riches.
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.
Larry grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good. Start tomorrow. Gives me time to clear the room. Welcome aboard, kid.”
“I’ll need to tell the Elder and Martin at the Temple,” I said.
“No problem,” Larry replied. “With you starting tomorrow, it gives me time to clean out that storage room.”
He pushed himself up from his chair, extending a broad hand toward me. I stood quickly, shaking it firmly, still half in disbelief. Without another word, Larry gave a curt nod and disappeared back through the kitchen, leaving me standing there in a daze.
I was… hired.
A little shocked, a little overwhelmed, but deep down I couldn’t help the growing excitement in my chest. This was a good thing. A real chance. I’d get to see adventurers up close—hear their stories—maybe even learn something useful for myself.
“You took the job?”
The voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see the barmaid grinning at me from behind the counter.
“That’s exciting!” she said. “I’m Micca, by the way. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh—yes,” I managed, still trying to process everything. “I start tomorrow. Oh, and I’m Trevor. It’s… it’s really good to meet you. Thank you so much for helping me get the job.”
“Not a problem,” Micca replied with a cheerful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Now run along, I need to get this table cleaned for the next customer.”
I nodded, still grinning like a fool, and stepped aside. For the first time in weeks, I felt like my life was finally moving forward.
With that, I was snapped out of my stupor. I finished the last of my water and left the inn, my mind still racing.
I needed to tell Elder Peter and Martin. Martin would probably be happy; he had encouraged this, after all—but I couldn’t help but worry that Elder Peter might be disappointed.
The walk back to the Temple of Guiding Light was a short one, though my thoughts made it feel longer. Before I knew it, I was stepping into the grand main hall once more.
One of the priests noticed me immediately. I approached him and asked if he could arrange an audience with Elder Peter. He simply bowed, wordlessly disappearing down one of the side halls, leaving me standing alone in the quiet expanse of the chamber.
I turned my gaze upward to the statue at the centre of the hall—the serene figure of the Goddess of Fate, hands outstretched in welcome. Just this morning, I had prayed for guidance… and now, a job had practically been dropped into my lap.
Maybe—just maybe—she really had a plan for me.
A short while later, Elder Peter entered the hall, his soft smile as calm and reassuring as ever. He gestured for me to follow and led me into a small side room furnished with a simple table and two chairs.
I sat down, trying not to fidget. He wouldn’t be angry… right?
“How may I assist you, young Trevor?” Elder Peter asked as he settled into the chair across from me.
“Sir,” I began carefully, “I spoke with Martin last night, and he suggested I should look at other options to gain experience.”
Elder Peter’s smile deepened ever so slightly, and he nodded.
“Yes, yes. I asked him to have that chat with you,” he replied, his voice warm and steady, as if he had expected this conversation all along.
Wait, the Elder asked Martin to talk to me?
Relief washed over me. Then this shouldn’t be so bad!
“Well, sir,” I began, straightening a little in my chair, “I went around town today and stopped by The Roaring Inn for lunch. While I was there, I was offered a job—kitchen work—with accommodation included. Starting tomorrow.”
Hesitating for a moment, then added quickly, “But if I manage to figure out how I gain experience, I’ll come straight back here. I want you to be able to document it. After everything you and the Temple have done for me… I owe you that much.”
Elder Peter’s smile never wavered. “Well, that is a fortuitous turn of events,” he said warmly. “And of course, we would be more than happy to document your progress when the time comes. Now, tell me—did they discuss payment with you? I ask because, as I understand it, the Academy seldom teaches anything about the value of money… at least, not outside of soldiering or adventuring.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be earning nineteen copper every two weeks after deducting accommodation costs,” I said, hesitating for a moment. Part of me worried Elder Peter might be upset—it was far more than the Temple had ever paid me.
But if he was bothered, he didn’t show it. Instead, his warm smile never faltered.
“That is good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “A fair starting wage for a boy of your age and skill. You may also keep the clothes we provided you as a gift. Now…” His eyes softened slightly. “Have you spoken with Martin yet? I imagine he’ll be sad to see you go. He’s taken quite a shine to you.”
“No, sir. I was heading to the kitchen next,” I replied, rising from my chair. “Thank you—for everything, and for letting me stay here these past two weeks.”
I gave him a respectful bow, hoping it conveyed what words couldn’t.
“Now, now, none of that,” Elder Peter said gently, waving off my bow. “If you wish to show honour to anyone, it should be to our Goddess of Fate. It seems she had a hand in guiding your path today, and may she continue to do so.”
He rose from his chair, his smile still warm and unwavering. “Now, go on. Speak with Martin. I suspect he’ll want to hear the news himself.”
With that, Elder Peter turned and left the room, disappearing down the quiet halls of the Temple. I stood there for a moment, steadying myself before heading toward the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen, I quickly caught Martin’s attention.
“Ah, boy, it’s too early for dinner service. I told you to get out into the town!” Martin called out with a laugh.
“Yes, sir, I know. I just got back—and I’ve got news,” I replied, unable to hide the smile on my face.
He raised an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a cloth before stepping closer. “Oh? Did you finally figure out your skill? Was it some kind of secret ingredient?”
I shook my head. “No, still at zero. But I found a job! At The Roaring Inn. Nineteen copper every two weeks, and they’re even giving me a room. I start tomorrow.”
Martin blinked at me for a moment, then smiled so wide I thought his face might split in two. “Well done, boy! I didn’t expect you to land a job on your first day. And that’s a fair wage for someone your age and skill, too.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, firm enough to nearly knock the wind out of me. “In that case, don’t you dare work here tonight. You’ll need to be well rested for your first day.”
He paused, his expression softening. “Oh, and one thing, boy.”
I tilted my head. “What is it?”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Martin said with a wide smile. “Just because you’ve got a fancy rare skill now doesn’t mean you forget the man who first put a ladle in your hand.”
Before I could even respond, he grabbed me by the shoulders, turned me toward the door, and gave me a playful shove.
“Now off with you! I want to hear great things about you, you hear?”
I laughed, half stumbling toward the door. “Thank you, Martin, for everything!”
“Bah,” he waved me off, already turning back to the kitchen, though I swore I heard a quiet chuckle follow me out.
