All eyes in the alley were directed at the nice smelling smoke gushing out from the chicken palace. A few more people had shown up while the boys had been debating important matters.

Some of the new arrivals actually wanted food, but mostly there were more elderly ladies that still did not order anything, instead congregating around the tables to chitchat and gamble. There had to be a nest of them somewhere close by.

A strange silhouette appeared inside the smoke, slowly moving forward as more and more flavors assaulted everyone’s noses. Finally breaking through, the whole world bore witness to Dorothy’s newest creation.

On top a wobbly cart four beautifully roasted chickens were arranged in a square formation, which had them all facing the middle of the plate. Eight crispy wings somehow reached towards the very heavens themselves, as these loyal subjects, even in death, supported their glorious, and equally deceased emperor on their headless shoulders. Said emperor was a roasted chicken of such enormous proportions, it would make one question the purpose of life itself.

Amidst the varied exclamations of wonder and praise ringing throughout the alley, Roland found his right eye twitching, not quite as enthused as the rest about this magnificent spectacle. Are we supposed to eat that? By the Princess, you really outdid yourself, Grandma.

Only a look at his trusty lieutenant, looking equally stumped, could soothe Roland’s trembling heart, because it showed he was not the only one who considered this to be a tad much.

Though seeing his other friend literally froth at the mouth, seemingly seconds away from throwing himself into the questionable work of art, made Roland ultimately succumbed to despair. And inside his despair he found the power to smile politely, waiting for everything to be over.

Dorothy brought the card to a stop next to the boy’s table, happily posing next to it for a bit, before giving Roland an expectant look. Without much of a choice the latter stood up to join her next to the chicken quadruplets and their emperor.

Arthur meanwhile tried to make himself less noticeable. Fairly unsuccessfully for obvious reasons. Little Thomas on the other hand barely held himself back, eyes the size of plates as sweat poured down his face. The only thing saving Dorothy’s newest masterpiece from his grabby hands was the fact that he had experienced similar situations multiple times before. Few things were as scary as Grandma Dorothy lecturing him on manners in front of three dozen other grannies.

“Everyone, lend me your ears!” Dorothy’s voice echoed through the alley, calling the gamblers to attention. Which wasn’t necessary, as they all had been staring at her since the moment she burst out of the fragrant smoke. Most of those present knew what was about to unfold, sporting amused expressions, whereas the few in the unknown looked intrigued.

With a theatrical flourish Dorothy presented Roland to the audience, proclaiming loudly, “This stately young man here is my personal savior, and the hero of our town, Roland Crescent.” She paused to give time for applause. As well as some whistling, seeming very out of place if one considered the advanced age of their audience.

Roland took a deep breath, using his manifold experience to suppress the rising embarrassment. To mild success. I should be happy to have someone who cares enough about me to embarrass me in front of dozens of people.

Trying to justify his suffering helped slightly. The other children from the Crescent Moon Orphanage after all hardly ever experienced something like this, and many would be happy to take his place.

Once the applause stopped Dorothy put on a heavy expression and began her tale.

“Five years ago, during a much darker time, our city held no joy, compassion, hope, and the worst of it all,” pausing briefly for effect, she continued dramatically. “No Chicken Palace!” Exclamations of horror came from the gambling ladies, many almost fainting at the mere idea of how horrible the world would be if they did not have this blessed alley.

“Back then I was just a lonely old chicken farmer with a small coop at the outskirts of Town,” Dorothy revealed that she in fact had not always been the glorious chef she was now. “Husband long dead, and my only son having left for the Capital decades ago, barely visiting his poor mother.”

A plethora of booing rang out from the older crowd, enraged by the unfilial child. She really knew how to rile up her audience.

With tears building in her eyes Dorothy continued, “Truly a sad state of affairs. But as things often do, it was about to get a lot worse. Minding my own business, I went to the market to sell some eggs. When out of nowhere a speeding carriage comes barreling towards me.” She lifted her arms, showing a horrified face.

“Frozen in fear, life flashing before my eyes, I watched my doom approach,” Dorothy conveyed the despair she had felt back then, making numerous listeners gulp involuntarily. However, as if a dark veil was lifted, her wrinkly face started beaming as a grateful smile appeared on it.

“And then, in my moment of absolute despair, like a sword of light cutting away the darkness, a little figure barreled into my side pushing me to safety.” Turning away from the audience, Dorothy smiled at Roland. The latter who was trying his best to keep a straight face.

“That little figure was Roland here, barely nine years old at back then, and already as heroic as the greatest of Knights.” Exclamations of surprise and awe sounded out. Saving somebodies life was a great feat, doubly so for a small child.

Satisfied with the crowd's reaction Dorothy continued, “Lying there on the street, seeing the bruised little boy looking at me with big eyes, somehow the only thought in my mind was that he should eat more.”

Showing the most serious expression yet, she clapped her savior on the back, “He was so skinny you wouldn’t believe it!”

Roland felt the stares of the crowd, most of them thinking about how much skinnier he could have been, seeing that he looked all skin and bone now. Old ladies had pretty scary standards when it came to things along those lines as most grandsons could attest to.

Well, I was pretty scrawny back then, always skulking around in some corner doing my best to not be noticed. Unexpectedly Roland did not feel anger or sadness upon remembering his unfortunate past. To him everything before he awakened his ability felt faint. Like a picture covered in fog. He remembered the broader strokes and many random details, but felt no need to step further in and see the blurry scenes he had forgotten.

“All those useless bystanders started making a ruckus about the carriage,” Dorothy started the uplifting part of her tale. “But I simply grabbed my little savior and brought him home to cook a nice meal for him.”

Those hearing the story for the first time had to hold back their laughter at the eccentric reaction. The rest smiled wryly, thinking about how that certainly was something Grandma Dorothy would do.

Roland himself had a nostalgic look on his face, remembering the incident. Still one of my dumbest moments. Not knowing anything I stumbled my way to a good result. A second later and it would have been a disaster instead.

A small frown sneaked into his face, past mistakes on mind.

If the same thing happened today Grandma Dorothy wouldn't even notice any danger. Though I also wouldn't get any credit.

And despite complaining mentally, he would never consider taking a riskier approach to receive more recognition. Roland long ago decided what kind of person he had to be, quite possibly during a less fancy meal of chicken.

Me saving her like that ended up being the best outcome. Grandma Dorothy may have gotten lucky, but I was just as lucky she became the first person I ever saved. Who knows what would have happened to me without her advice.

Roland had known from a young age how cruel the world could be, suddenly awakening an unimaginable ability could however cloud the mind of even the most levelheaded of children.

Dorothy fortunately believed the little boy's' insane ramblings, realizing their seriousness. And thanks to her careful advice Roland ended up becoming the strange little helper for everyone sick and hurt in Soren, instead of ending up in some noble's basement. Or worse.

“Watching that frail boy happily gobble down my mediocre at best chicken, an epiphany struck me,” Dorothy proclaimed, somehow looking incredibly smug. “If such a young child, which is over the moon from simply eating some bland chicken can be heroic, why couldn't I too?”

“I resolved myself on that day,” she elaborated further. “To make no more excuses, and stop living the dreary misbegotten farce my live had become. I would follow along my little savior’s footsteps, and not allow my circumstances to dictate what kind of person I have to be!”

Roland’s smile trembled slightly at that last part as an uncomfortable feeling rose from inside of him. But he had heard this speech or variations of it numerous times before, so he managed to quickly suppress it.

“If we are going by looks you have long overtaken me Grandma,” Roland joked. “Your hat alone seems more heroic than ten of me.”

His quip drew some laughs and snorts from the audience, though a surprising amount of them quickly tried to play it off, scared of what Dorothy would do if they made fun of her favorite headgear. Luckily Roland did not need to worry himself, the only real way he could ever offend her would be if he did not finish the food she served him.

"Look at this modest rascal,” Dorothy beamed. “You’re definitely the most handsome and heroic boy all around, I’ll have a stern word with anyone who dares object.”

So, while she wouldn’t get angry, there was nothing stopping this energetic old lady from dishing out some jokes of her own. Or at least Roland hoped she was joking, as the image of Dorothy defending his looks with a rolling pin seemed somehow not too far-fetched.

“There was one thing I couldn’t have known back then, even though I should have foreseen it,” Dorothy elaborated further on the newfound determination she had found in the past. “And that was just how much this young boy I set as an example could achieve in five short years. Let me tell you, it’s a tall order to keep up with someone who managed to make his name and deeds resound through all of Seasons. No, the entire world!”

All right, Grandma. About time to calm down a bit, we entering dangerous territory here. For my sanity that is.

Whenever they neared the conclusion of Dorothy's little story, numerous exploits and achievements of Roland’s, and the Crescent Moon Helpers, would resound through the alley. And even though nobody would fault her for choosing the ones she liked, Roland couldn’t help but marvel at how the vast majority of them had been a less than stellar experience for himself. As well as how disconnected the results were from what actually transpired.

“Together with his valiant companion,” Dorothy bellowed out like a town crier, motioning towards the excited Thomas and stoic Arthur. “Roland has righted many wrong and selflessly helped those in need, making Soren a better place for everyone.”

“They unveiled the horrid conditions in that dastardly general store, holding its evil owner accountable, and giving justice to the exploited staff!”

I just needed one shopkeeper to leave the stupid store for an afternoon... Things simply escalated because the workers saw mine and Stephan’s attempts of persuading the owner with some inane bullshit. Not my fault we ended up sounding is so convincing.

“When our lovely Persimmon Road was slowly being overwhelmed with dirt and horse manure, just because those bastards didn’t want to pay the main road’s toll, these heroic boys started a protest, getting hundreds of people involved, ultimately restoring the street to its natural beauty.”

The five hours we wasted trying to find the right, ‘probably middle-aged man with short black hair’ paint a less heroic picture. What else was I supposed to do under those circumstances, other than block the whole freaking road? The surprising thing is how many people joined in. Like what the hell, if you love the road so much do something about it on your own. Why do they need some kids to start?

“When volunteers helped restore our historic assembly hall, Roland and his companions were obviously at the very front, toiling ceaselessly to preserve a beloved landmark.”

Thomas almost ended up crushed under a rock of said historic building. Also, I’m still not quite sure how we managed to pull that one off to be honest. Definitely something like ‘make enough of a ruckus and everything goes awry’. Fortunately, this included deadly accident.

“I’m sure you all remember Frozen Rock Village and the horrible mining disaster which struck them. Who but these paragons of virtue would, despite the difficulties, rush all the way over there to help in people’s darkest of hours.”

Without a doubt the most conceited I have ever been. The leader of these supposed paragons scowled slightly at her story, that particular escapade being the one he disliked the most.

Despite Frozen Rock Village being so far away he would never receive a vision from it, Roland had volunteered himself and his followers when he heard people were planning to provide disaster relief.

And when they had predictably been denied, because what kind of use would some random kids have for such a serious task, he stubbornly decided to head there anyway. Which caused a vast majority of his followers to bail on on their leader. Some immediately but most during the harsh trek towards the village.

What followed were a cold night spend outside, and one with so many visions Roland almost went crazy. Worst of all, in the end all they could do was carry around water and supplies while adults who possessed actual skills tried to save the buried and wounded.

The only good things about those horrible days is that I learned who the people I could truly rely on were. And getting to meet the City Lord for the first time.

Eyes colder than usual, Roland took absolutely no pride in what they did for the Frozen Rock Village, though he also did not regret anything. He furthermore couldn’t deny that a bunch of ragtag orphans setting out on their own to help those in need remained quite good publicity to this day.

“For the smaller things too, you can always count on the Crescent Moon Helpers. Like when they found poor little Dietrich who got lost in the ruins, returning him safely to his family!”

I’ll take credit for that. It was a royal pain in the butt, but we managed somehow.

“And their heroics continue unabated to this day. Just two weeks ago, they once again saved the day by catching a notorious pickpocket who had been making the rounds around here.”

Wasn’t even a vision, just pure coincidence. And Arthur did basically all the work on his own. I don’t really consider catching thieves a part of our duties anyway.

“Seeing these and countless more feats from these young boys allowed me to keep my motivation, preserve against all odds, and finally create my glorious Chicken Palace!” Dorothy bellowed out, sounding much too spry for her age. “So how about some applause for these future righteous Knights, who will spread happiness and safety throughout the lands!”

And applause there was. With eighty percent of the audience consisting of old ladies, who furthermore revered Dorothy as the creator of their little slice of heaven, there could only be one reaction.

Everyone cheered and hooted like they were suddenly a few decades younger, and the atmosphere ended up resembling a somewhat sketchy play. Or more fittingly, a racetrack during the last few seconds of a high-stake competition.

Grandma Dorothy seemed happy with the result. Then again, when had she not been? Giving her little savior one final smile, she curtsied towards the audience, before beckoning Roland back towards his seat. Wouldn’t do to have the food cool down too much after all.

As their leader returned to the table, Arthur displayed enough decency to hide his grin, whereas Thomas got swept along with the atmosphere, clapping his hands erratically. The only reason he had not screamed for an encore yet was that food should always be prioritized above all else, even the chance to further embarrass his friend.

Without a valiant Thomas to lead them the crowd quickly calmed down, before continuing their wealth distribution endeavors, some of them now discussing various of Roland's past exploits.

That went mostly fine. Now to the problem at hand. Looking at the novel feast next to their table, Roland couldn’t help but praise Dorothy’s skills while at the same time wishing for a slightly more normal meal.

The mouth-watering chickens had heavenly brown skin, were dotted with brilliant spices and full of intricate carvings in the form of roaring flames. Seeing them would involuntarily make one the imagine blazing birds soaring towards the heavens.

Everyone who witnessed the beautiful sight would, from the bottom of their heart, believe that these birds had wanted to become this. To ascend into higher life forms. Something better, more supreme. It was however still way too much meat for the three of them.

“The food looks absolutely amazing, Grandma,” Roland carefully commented. “But I don’t think we can finish this on our own.”

“No need for you guys to eat those four at the bottom, I’ll feed them to some other guests later,” Dorothy alleviated Roland’s worries, at the same time shattering some of Thomas’s highly unrealistic dreams. “You should focus on this beautiful chicken king here. He ruled over all birds in the western forest for the last few decades. It took five hunters a whole week to finally bring him down.”

Thomas eyes shined at Dorothy’s words. His two companions on the other hand were not quite as easily convinced. Despite not being particularly well versed in the woodlands’ fowl hierarchy, Roland could with about ninety-nine percent certainty say that such a thing as a chicken king did not exist. Of course, that hardly mattered now.

Bringing her carving knife down like an executioner’s blade, Grandma Dorothy eviscerated the supposed royal chicken, heaping mountains of tasty meat on the trio’s plates in the process.

Some people would say eating this much greasy food so early in the morning wasn’t good for you. To those people Thomas would reply that they should really learn to keep their opinions to themselves and mind their own business.

“Thank you for the meal, Grandma Dorothy,” Roland said politely after the bird had been cleaned to the bones. Arthur and Thomas echoed the courtesy.

“Enjoy the meal boys. I’m sure you have a hard day ahead of you so get lots of energy here,” Dorothy replied happily, before leaving the boys to their food.

Not needing any more invitations, Thomas started devouring the chicken on his plate with absurd efficiency, basically to the point of straight up inhaling it. And while Arthur chose to eat as usual, each bite of his ended up making enormous portions disappear in his mouth simply due to his size.

Their leader steeled himself briefly, before starting on his own pile, which for some reason seemed to be bigger than the other two’s. Such blatant favoritism would bring a tear to the eyes of younger siblings everywhere.

Taking his first bite, a rainbow of flavors exploded in Roland’s mouth, drowning out his senses with greasy goodness. A rooster’s faint cry resounded in his ears, as everything but his plate seemed to disappear.

Now that’s some good chicken.

About a quarter of an hour later Roland finished his last piece and let out a satisfied burp. Arthur leaned back on his chair, eyes closed, basking in the afterglow while Thomas lay face down on the table, breathing heavily with both arms around his belly. He hurt quite a bit, but his face held not an ounce of regret. Instead, he showed an expression of pride and accomplishment.

“Well, that was tasty as usual, should we get going now?” Roland asked, making Arthur’s eyes shot open in surprise.

A quick glance at his leader told him the latter wasn’t actually serious. Relieved he chuckled at Thomas, who had taken Roland’s jest at face value, and strained himself to stand upright.

After getting a somewhat stable stance, Thomas saw his friends still sitting on their chairs, fully relaxed. Wondering whether he misheard Roland or was possibly being haunted, he slumped back down and decided to wait until the others stood up.

“We’ll leave in ten minutes,” Roland decided.

Fifteen minutes later Roland reluctantly stood up. He walked over to Dorothy who seemed to currently be in the process of pawning of the triplets, their fourth sibling having already been devoured by other guests. Arthur followed with a big sigh, lending an arm to Thomas.

“Grandma Dorothy,” Roland called out to get her attention.

Excusing herself from her current group, Dorothy walked up with an amused smile. Thomas’ round figure barely holding onto an increasingly annoyed Arthur was quite the sight.

“Already done eating? You boys should learn to eat slower. No point in racing when it comes to food, only thing you’ll win is a stomach ache,” Dorothy chided the boys after seeing them be done so fast.

What you get by eating fast is extra time. Though I’m pretty sure nobody who cooks food would like to hear that.

“The food was simply too tasty, Grandma. We couldn’t hold back,” Roland responded, giving a much better, and not exactly untrue excuse for their ravenous eating.

Dorothy chuckled at the compliment.

“Fair enough. I would love for you to stay some more, but there is much planned I’m sure,” she assumed, looking somewhat resigned. Which did not last long as a kind smile quickly found its way to her face again. “Come by again soon. And my offer still stands obviously. You shouldn’t have to spend all your nights in that stuffy junkyard.”

Roland bowed, choosing to not comment on her offer. His hands were tied for that matter. This place is too far away from the slums, my ability only reaches a third of them from here.

Many months ago, Dorothy had asked Roland if he wanted to come live here in the brand-new Chicken Palace. She even went as far as to invite his little group as well. At the time he considered her proposal briefly, but quickly realized there would be problems with his duty.

Although he could cover other areas of the city from Dorothy’s place, the slums had a lot more people he needed to save. From starving or freezing homeless, to sick people who were slowly dying in some hidden corner.

Furthermore, the number of deadly accidents occurring in the slums greatly surpassed the rest of Soren, despite there being drastically fewer people living in them.

Roland could not in good conscience abandon them for a better bed and room. Which was why he planned to remain in the Crescent Moon Orphanage for now.

And truthfully, while he and his friends often complained about the orphanage, for mostly good reasons, it still remained the place where Roland had grown up. It was the only home he ever had, and a part of him felt like staying there until he left for the Academy was the way things were meant to be.

Taking a step back, Dorothy looked her little savior up and down, before sighing nostalgically. Kids grew up so fast, even if they remained of small stature.

“Thanks again for the food,” Roland gave his simple goodbye with a small bow, knowing that while Dorothy liked her theatrics, she didn’t want anything but a heartfelt thanks from him.

Arthur joined in when he saw his leader’s bow, making the overfilled boy currently using him as support stumble quite dangerously. Luckily Arthur had quite a lot of area to grab on. No major tumble happened, and Thomas successfully managed to give a strained thanks, trying to keep his beloved food where it belonged.

Dorothy bid the group farewell; glad she could send them off towards their adventures fully fed. Possibly even overfed.

“And off to work it is,” Roland declared as they exited the alley, feeling like he stepped out of a greasy fairy tale. “Let’s see how the bridge is holding up.”

“Aye aye, Boss,” came Arthur’s languid reply, followed by a guttural grunt from the struggling creature next to him.

When Roland started walking away from the Chicken Palace the other two fell into their usual positions on his left and right, though one lagged behind a bit, quickly shuffling forward awkwardly every couple steps to keep up.

Looking at his struggling friend, Roland was somehow filled to the brim with confidence. Because if Tommy could drag his bursting belly forward and not complain, was there anything they couldn’t achieve?