“Hey!”

I snorted as I felt a sharp sting on my cheek. I hear Allan call my name three times before I could respond.

“You were sweating and murmuring. You got a nightmare?”

He said.

I was back. I could feel my heart drum in a rapid beat as I looked around.

“I-I-I thought... I was back... A dream, damn it!”

I suddenly then found myself being calmed by Allan and giving me a drink from a small wooden bowl.

“It's just a dream nothing too serious. Just a dream.”

He then wiped the sweat of my brow.

Which, after a few minuets of calming myself down at that vivid and almost real experience.

“My clothes...”

These fabric felt more... Familiar... It wasn't thin like the clothes I used earlier and felt more familiar then what I was wearing earlier. Then, my sights trailed on the window where I saw my shirt and my pants were hanging.

“Did you dressed me up?”

I threw the blanket and found I have some new black slacks on me.

“Yes I did. What about it?”

Replied Allan as he collected the wooden bowl and cloth he used to wipe my sweat.

“Come on!”

Even the underwear is new.

“You were wet and sweating when I found you. Mind you, I once changed my 21 year old son's clothes when he come home piss drunk. Twice. So get over it.”

"Does that make you a good parent for changing your drunk son? Or bad one for tolerating your son to come home drunk and pissing the bed twice?"

With a small chuckle he then told me stand up and get over it. Neil and Roland is done cooking.

“Wait they cook?”

I said rubbing my eyes as we went down.

“I haven't even washed the wishes yet, what time is it anyway?”

I have my guesses. The sun was shinning down and the amount of noise outside was going me a 10 am vibe.

“Around nine. I think.”

Said Roland with a garment akin to a white shirt and black slack, while holding a mop in hand.

"Morning,"

Greeted Roland as we went down. He then told Allan that Neil needs some help with bringing out the food.

“It's still cold as hell, but the sun is warming the place up."

He added.

I then asked for the mop which, upon inspection, is just a stick with fabric as a brush. He said I can keep it, he only made this last night since he had an issue on his bed.

“T-thanks. Not for just the mop but this.”

The tables were sparkling, the stools were neatly arranged under table, the old candles on the lamp were gone and replaced by new ones. When I inspected the bar the leaking barrel was out and replaced with new one -- they found the stash of barrels at the pantry -- while the collected ale were put back in a new barrel.

“Wait, what!? Where?”

That's unsanitary! I saw roaches swim on that basin of collected ale.

“Talk to Neil, it was his idea.”

Explained Roland walking off to the back.

“Neil! Dude why?"

I was going at the back but Neil came out.

“Don't worry about the cleanliness. People at this age die regardless, you'll lose profit if you throw away such quantity.”

Said Neil as he came out with two plates while Allan followed behind him with two more.

“You're joking... Right?”

I gave him a look which he replied with laugh.

They then placed on a table plates of pancakes where its rising white wisps of smoke swirled up. It's smell permeated throughout the room. That seducing smell of something familiar, something sweet and soft, something that is done by mother every morning.

“Come on, let's eat.”

Said Allan as he rubbed his hand. Neil pulled a stool, called my name as he tapped the stool.

“Stop treating me like I'm you're grandson or something.”

I grumbled when sitting down.

“Habit, I suppose.”

Giggled Allan as he took a bite.

“Roland is just preparing the sheep milk.”

Disregarding the hair ruffling Neil gave. I was greeted by two stacked pancakes with honey on top of it. It was soft and was bit burnt, but not that burnt like the rye. It was the delicious kind of burnt that when I used a wooden fork, my longing for something modern was some what quenched as these soft memory became a reality and were now being savored in my mouth. Still, even if the pancake itself wasn't sweet the honey took care of it.

Roland soon joined, just in time, as milk, sheep's milk, on mug was placed before us. It was ok for me, it may not be as sweet but it still satisfied the combination of fluffy goodness with the cold milk. Distilled, as Neil said, that's why it's cold. Whatever that means, but I asked how did they manage this and did they carved these fork by themselves?

“Of course we did. Perks of having cheat powers.”

Said Neil as he, and Roland sponged their bowl of its contents, and then a knock on the door followed.

“Looks like we attracted some customers.”

Commented Allan on that knock as he got up and lifted up his sleeves.

“Customers? Were serving without the innkeeper's permission?”

I said picking up the mess we created.

“Follow us in the back.”

Neil said with great stride as he told Roland to wait the tables.

As we went to the back, where the pantry or storage room and a back door was. I noticed the backdoor's keyhole is a bit... Umm... Destroyed. Which they told me it was Roland's big hand who was at fault.

Either way, they set a long counter where at the end, near the back door, were two stands of sorts.

The stands were metallic in nature and reaches until my chest where on a top end was a circle metal.

I asked them about this but they were busy hauling in more stuff inside. There was a sack of flour, a small pouch of salt and sugar, a create of a dozen brown eggs in it, and a large wineskin of sheep's milk.

Then they brought in a large wooden basin where five feather plucked chicken were swimming.

After helping them with arranging everything they brought in. They began to bring out a shield. It oval in shape and sparkling in grandeur of aesthetics. But, something was off. I saw another shield like that in a corner with it's face burnt as if they fought a dragon recently. I haven't got a time to ask what happened to it, since they asked me to hold the shield.

Allan then karate chopped the handle of said shield clean. Taking the shield and using the handle, Neil welded it together using only his pointing finger and fire magic.

“Wow!"

I said when the shield now somewhat resembles a frying pan. *Shield-pan* as they dubbed it.

“You think it will hold this time?”

Said Allan.

“Umm. Maybe?”

Neil scratched his head.

“Three pancake and three sheep's milk.”

Alerted Roland as he popped his head in, took three mugs and used the wineskin.

“Who knows, we'll make do.”

He then told me to help him with the ingredients. Allan placed the shield-pan on the circular metal. Allan used his left as a source of fire to heat up the shield. Once heated, he told me to pour the oil, which Neil gave me a green vial. Popping open the small green vial's cork a creamy thick golden liquid came out. Dancing its way down on the shield as it sizzle.

Butter

The rich smell, the texture, and the sound of it is very recognizable to me. Then, Allan sheathed out his fantasy sword. Which surprised me but when I saw the tip of the sword was flatten into a spatula where Allan proceeded to spread the butter around. I can't help but awe and laugh a bit on what the hell did they do with their god given equipment.

“Well, they gave it to us for usage.”

Spoke Neil as he poured the pancake mix on the shield-pan.

“And now we're using it.”

“One scrambled egg and ale.”

Alerted Roland again.

“Multiple orders already?”

Replied Allan as he just flipped the pancake.

“Welp time to use the other shield-pan then.”

Taking the burnt shield with, it's handle missing, he put it on the other support while opening the back door.

“Let's get some more customers,” He smiled as flick his fingers and roaring fire came about.

Responding to that I took eggs, cracked them open, and battered them with a fork and poured it down to the shield-pan, which Neil pulled out his own sword-patula. All the while I prepared the bowl and mugs as they were finished.

“There's a renter out there."

Roland called for me about the rates. He said he was just staying for one night. He wore a violet hoodie robe and was offering a whole silver and three *coppex*,

“As long as my horse be fed and groomed you can keep the coins.”

He said.

“I'll have to check the room first.”

I replied.

“Very well then, I'll have my horse at your stable then.”

He gave me an odd smile as he gave me the money.

“He's a pedophile.”

Commented Roland when he said he'll accompany the man in the shed.

The inn was filled with men and woman eating heartily and commenting about the food as they laugh and drink.

"May's Inn finally making odd food again!"

Is one of the comment that I remember. We have a maximum of Nine round tables each good for five people. Yet some managed to chuck in six to seven people in one table. They all called to me, wanting to order more, and asking how did we made these. I all told them that I will talk to them later,

“I will just call the innkeeper. ”

Which everyone suddenly stopped asking. Which was strange, I thought she was loved.

Either way, I headed upstairs unimpeded by any more questions. Pushing the door ajar and peeking inside, her dress was very open, her right leg straddles on the bed, and her blanket was on the floor. All the while having soft snores. I began by shaking her gently, which with a coarse voice, she said good morning in a low voice. I told her everything; a violet robed man was asking for a room, and we're cooking and selling.

“Oh... Just give... him a room dear... I'll cook you some breakfast later.”

She said as her hand reached for my cheeks. Her eyes may not opened fully, but I could tell the red taint on her pupil and cracking soft voice.

I didn't wake her up anymore as she slowly faded back to sleep and her hands fell.

I picked the keys besides a melted candle. I began to inspect the room next to me, it was practically identical to my room. Yet, the bed had a much more fluffier texture, it was made with straight strong planks unlike my uneven rugged bed. The pillows well sewn and fatted well with feathers or wool, and the blanket... smooth and well made. Wool or not, it didn't itch nor punished skin they were all folded well and presentable. I left this room thinking it maybe worth more than silver or something. There were five other vacant room left, and each two had same degree of luxury and care as the first room I inspected.

Biting my confusion, and frustration I had a customer to attend.

Still why, is my room like that? Or why is Elfien's room like that? I thought the innkeeper valued this kid.

Either way, arriving down I met with this violet robed man and led him to the room next to mine.

“Ah, bed...”

He sighed as he flopped on the bed. Disregarding the neatness of the bed.

“Well, sir. We are cooking, so would you consid--”

"*Snore...* *Snore*"

“Ok then...”

I closed door gently and went back down where I could see that a long line was brewing outside. With a lot of people more still ordering and Roland at the double with a face getting stoic by the second.

Rushing to the pantry, I told them that we have to close.

“There's a long line outside. I don't think we have enough stocks.”

“Mhmm... What about the innkeeper?”

Asked Allan.

“Hungover, I don't expect her to get up another hour or two.”

“More time for us then.”

Time we have, but eggs and pancake mixing were dwindling fast. Soon enough the counter was filled with dirtied wooden bowls, cracked eggshells, cut onion leeks, an empty green vial, dwindling supplies and a blackened shield. We were at a point where we resort sizzling some chicken skin to use as oil and serve fried chicken on the menu.

“Um.. Neil.”

Popped Roland, which I dropped the knife, popped my eyes open wide with fear.

“Tell them were out of eggs and pancakes and sheep's milk -- Ale is good enough for them, right? -- don't care if they complain, pay us double, or threaten us with swords or –”

"*Cough* *Cough* Or what???*Cough* *Cough*"

She boomed out raspy like a sandpaper in her vocals. I quickly stood in front of her. Wrinkled her hair, red sharp eyes, and a sober frown that made my heart tremble.