by Taki Drake
The man began, saying, “We didn’t know what type of Clothier you were. We were both hoping that you might be the kind that does uniforms. I understand from Madrik that you have designed the outfits that will be seen tomorrow at the Grand Opening. Would you also be willing to do distinctive uniforms for our mercenary group? It is essential for mercenaries to be recognizable whether they are working on the day-to-day activities or for dress matters.”
Lenora added, “Most clothiers can’t do uniforms because a regular tailor has no idea how practical the garment has to be. It is equally important that the company makes a good impression on potential clients and other groups. This means an artist in fabric, as well as an architect in functional usage. For that, you need someone who understands fashion. In other words, a true Clothier.”
Somewhat stunned, Genevieve agreed with both of them that fashion and function were equally essential but added, “That is not just in uniforms. Clothing needs to match the functionality of the wearer.”
Nodding their agreement, the twins took turns explaining the type of mercenary group they had and the types of uniforms that they needed. Genevieve was thrilled. It sounded like she might get a chance to create an exciting group of practical garments and would have a small but ready-made market.
Jarvis was expounding on the need for specialized materials and configurable garment storage when Lenora said, “Jarvis, hold it. Why don’t we go back to her shop and we can lay all of this out for her? Then she can get some idea of what we need, and we can figure out how much it is going to cost.”
Turning back to Genevieve, the female mercenary asked, “Is that okay?”
In answer, Genevieve swept the last of her samples into her bag and stood up. Gesturing with her hand in front of her, the woman asked, “Shall we go?”
Both mercenaries chugged the rest of their drinks and stood up. As they followed Genevieve out of the middle door of the BHB, those still in the barroom heard Genevieve asked how large their team was. The Clothier stutter-stepped at Jarvis’s answer but quickly continued moving forward.
“We will start probably with outfitting just 25,000. The rest can come in phase two.”
Chapter 22 – Spectacular or Spectacle
The sound of squabbling voices announced the incoming presence of two of the other residents of the Badger Hole. Madrik had felt them coming but knew that they would wander in when they manage to find their way to the door. In the few days that they had been living in the Badger Hole, he had ceased to expect anything but the unexpected from these two. After all, they had entered in a big storm of surprise and hadn’t slowed down yet.
“I don’t care what they did in ancient Sumeria! This is not ancient Sumeria and if we are going to base the plans for the party on something truly memorable we should be looking to Greece!”
“I have not heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life. The parties at Olympus were boring! I mean boring!”
“That’s because you get bored with everything. Owls don’t party like humans do.”
“Not everybody here is human and stop being racist!”
“I am not racist! I am the least racist person you will ever find!” replied a skinny man wrapped in what looked suspiciously like a Roman toga.
He was dramatically waving his arms and looked thoroughly incensed. He might have appeared more forceful and dignified if he hadn’t been arguing with an owl. The owl, on the other hand, was quite impressive. More substantial than any Earth owl, it had immense glowing eyes and wicked-looking talons. It also hovered in midair like a hummingbird held suspended by an invisible hand.
Both the older man and the large flying predator stumbled into the bar and sat at the first table they encountered. The man had been carrying a large number of scrolls and books under one arm, and he dumped those all over the tabletop. The owl had landed on the back of a chair, clenching his talons around the top brace, and settling his wings for stability.
Continuing their argument, the man and the owl tossed comments back and forth so quickly that someone watching them at this point would have found their heads bobbing back and forth between the two as the speaker switched.
“Well, I looked at the Sumerians and the Egyptians. They at least knew how to party.”
“If you really wanted to understand partying, that’s where the Romans came in.”
“You just say that because that’s when you lived, the golden age of the Roman Empire.”
“At least I wasn’t a semi-intelligent bird in a pantheon that people weren’t sure was real.”
“We need to make sure we are having the party under good omens. That’s part of the research that we need to do! What omens do we need to watch for and how can we prevent anything from cursing the Grand Opening?”
“Curses don’t work that way here. ”
“We don’t know how they work here. Nobody’s ever tried to hex us. If you were cursed, how would you know it?”
“I would just know it. You can tell when you are being dogged by bad luck or visited by evil.”
“Darn! I’m obviously cursed. I am stuck with a smart ass owl in my life!”
“Apparently, you can’t tell the difference between cursing and blessing!”
Wynn came up to the two and plunked a big tankard in front of the old man and a bowl in front of the arguing owl. With Wynn smiling at both of them, a good portion of the tension in the argument seemed to dissipate. Madrik had been watching and nodded his head, internally acknowledging that once again the “Wynn effect” had kicked in.
“Callimachus, sit down and have something to eat and drink. You’ll feel much better, and you will be able to think better if you make sure to take care your body!” Wynn said. Turning to the owl, she continued, “Glaux, you know how cranky and irrational he gets when he doesn’t eat. I know that you don’t need to eat all the time, but the least you could do is remind him. After all, the two of you are supposed to be working together. Together!”
The older man had the grace to look embarrassed, and he obediently began to eat and drink, as the waitress quickly followed the drinks with a laden tray.
Glaux, the owl, spun his head almost upside down and peered up the underside of his beak at Wynn. She laughed, something that he was capable of making her do anytime he assumed one of those bizarre owl positions. It was such a variance from the owl’s intelligent but sarcastic persona that it never failed to amuse.
“Sorry, Wynn. We just got carried away.”
“I know. You get carried away a lot.”
“Of course! Why else would we be Anchoring the library.?”
What were the two of you researching? It sounded pretty intense.”
“Parties, of course. We were trying to make sure that this party was going to be perfect and doing research is what we do.”
Cal hastily swallowed the last of his food and washed it down with a large drink from his tankard. Clearing his throat, he added, “We know that Madrik wants this to be impressive and we thought that we could help by providing him with some guidance. Or at least some information on how to make the party good.”
Madrik felt a headache coming on. He knew that he was going be sorry for asking this, but he knew it was inevitable. At least this way he could get it out of the way.
Walking over to the Librarian's table, he greeted them and asked, “Okay, guys what did you find? I have to figure out exactly what we are going to do and I’m out of time. We need to have all of the information that we are going to use in planning this out now so that it can be set. Once we have a plan selected, I’m not going to change it.”
“Remember that we haven’t done any auguries yet,” started Glaux.
Cal added, “Mostly because he couldn’t find any goats.”
“We can go look for some now if you’d like.”
Madrik immediately responded, “No auguries. We don’t need auguries to decide if we are going to have a party or what will make the party successful.”
Cal wa
s looking wistful, and Madrik didn’t understand what he had said that would bring that expression onto the older man’s face. Glaux must’ve sensed something also because the big bird silently hopped across the table to lean comforting against his co-Anchor. Absentmindedly preening the other Librarian's beard, Glaux asked, “Why the sad face? Madrik didn’t mean to upset you.”
Cal responded with the echoes of regret in his voice, “It’s just that I’ve never been invited to a party. I thought if I did research on what made a good party it would be my way of contributing. I don’t know how else that I can help because I don’t know what a party is.”
The poignant sadness in the other man’s voice stabbed Madrik to his core. He couldn’t begin to fathom the life experiences that Cal had any more than Cal could imagine Madrik’s former life. All they could do was build joint experiences together going forward.
Shaking off the clouds that he felt, Madrik responded, “You will not be able to claim that any longer. Because you have been invited to a party. Our party. So let’s come up with the plan on what we are going to do. Then we can find tasks that everybody can do.”
Smiling their agreement, Cal and Glaux settled back on their respective chairs. Wynn seated herself at the table. Looking around at the men there, the small woman added, “Just no goats and no auguries! Agreed?”
Laughingly, everybody agreed. Waving to the rest of his staff to join them, Madrik sat down at the table, and the Badger Hole Bar team began to lay out the final plans that would define their upcoming Grand Opening.
Chapter 23 - Taste of Things to Come
The planning session had gone well, and Madrik felt like they had a pretty good handle on what was going to go on. He had made no plans for tight scheduling during the party. Instead, there would be simple competitions that would let people pass the time in something other than just drinking. Identifying who was going to be in charge of what, took them a little bit of time but he thought that everyone was clear on their responsibilities. Most of them were doing fine, but Madrik knew that Najeer was flipping out.
The cook was stressed about the food. He was unclear on what he wanted to serve and what people would like. They had such an array of tastes in their clientele, and the quiet panicking that was going on in the kitchen worried Madrik. He tried to reassure Najeer multiple times, but it didn’t seem to be working.
“Najeer, everything you cook is good. Stop worrying about it so badly. There are never any unplanned leftovers, so I don’t know what the problem is.”
“Everyone will be drinking and eating. The alcohol is wonderful, but I don’t want the food to let you down.”
“Nothing you make is going to let me down. You are an amazing cook, and you know it.”
The cook continued to fret, and Madrik was at his wit's end. The man’s tension was starting to affect the rest of the team and even some of the helpers from the mercenary groups that generally came to drink. It got so bad that Vincent finally stood up and walked over to Najeer, saying, “I have an idea. How about if you cook small servings of the dishes that you’re thinking of serving and we can taste them. That way we can let you know which ones appeal to which people and that might let you better arrange what you want to serve.”
Najeer’s face lit up, and he clutched Vincent’s hands in gratitude before taking off at a dead run for his kitchen. Calling back over his shoulder, the excited man said, “Thank you! I will start immediately!”
Vincent stood stunned in the middle room. It was the first time that he could ever remember somebody grabbing both his hand and his prosthesis without even noticing that one was cold metal.
Madrik smiled to himself, pleased with the interaction. The BHB sent images of knitting a sock into his mind, adding a dimension of both teambuilding and a bad pun for Madrik’s amusement.
<<<>>>
The smells coming out of the kitchen were awesome. In fact, they were so awesome that they were whispering out through the doorway on fragrant little feet, seducing the people outside into coming into the BHB earlier than usual. Madrik had expected to see the usual drinkers starting in about an hour. However, the intensity and variety of smells that were coming out of the kitchen were awe-inspiring. Brechal found himself repeatedly swallowing, trying to control the saliva that wanted to fill his mouth. Wynn couldn’t concentrate, getting hungrier by the minute.
Vincent and Alastair kept busy moving. They frequently disappeared down into the storeroom or out into the street or garden. Neither of them was spending any extended amount of time inside the bar itself because the food smells were so inviting.
The seductive smells slipped outward, drawing attention from everywhere in the Badger Hole. Madrik had closed the center door in an attempt to control the interruptions that were starting to happen. The strategy just didn’t work. For a while, they had repeated knocks on the door, regular customers that wanted to know when the bar would be open. After a while, the interruptions stopped but Madrik had the sense of someone waiting at the door, and he knew that he would have a few people had lined up when the door opened.
He just wasn’t prepared for the actuality of what he saw when he finally opened it. Instead of the four to ten people that he expected to see loitering around the outside of the BHB, waiting to come in, half the square was full. There was at least ten times the number of people that would fill the bar, waiting already.
Oh my God! If it’s like this tomorrow, what on earth are we going to do? he thought to himself.
His appearance in the doorway prompted a rash of questions.
“When can we get in?!”
“What is that smell, it is amazing!”
“Are you open yet? We will be happy to review your place for the food magazines!” said two people in business dress.”
“Madrik! It’s good to see you. We thought we would stop by and check to see how everything was going and if there was anything you needed from the bank before your Grand Opening tomorrow. If you have a moment, perhaps we could talk over lunch,” said one of the bankers that had met with Madrik just a few days ago.
The bar manager wanted nothing more than to run and hide under his desk. Perhaps if he went back into his office and barred the door, he wouldn’t be hit with all these questions. It would be bad enough tomorrow when he had to handle the party. Then, it would be all high energy and issues, something he wasn’t looking forward to.
However, Madrik knew that the Grand Opening was crucial to the bar. The event would expose people to the food and drink that the bar offered. It was also a way of getting the word out that the BHB was a place for solving problems.
Looking around at the mass of people waiting outside the BHB, Madrik was amazed to see at least four or five races that he had never seen before. How do they hear about this? he thought to himself. How did they know we had food?
Just then Wynn came bustling through the front door, holding two trays and somehow not spilling anything. Directly behind her came Vincent and Alastair, one carrying a set of stacked trays, and the other casually carrying a large keg under one arm. A tapper and a few glasses were in the other big hand.
Wynn’s voice cut clearly through the background noise, “Now you just clear off enough so that we can find a place to put this down. Najeer is doing test cooking for the Grand Opening tomorrow. If you guys promise to let us know which ones you liked so that he can help plan his menu, that would be awesome. He would really appreciate your help. If you’re not going to tell us which ones you like, you don’t get to try any of this cool food.”
A muted roar of many voices responded to Wynn. Different tones, different cadences, different pitches, all blended together into one hungry sound that promised cooperation and a fervent agreement to act as guinea pigs.
Miraculously, the crowd cleared, and three long tables appeared in the middle of what had been a road. Knowing that the BHB had taken control, Madrik did not act surprised. Instead, he moved over to help his staff lay out the food and drink, controlling
with a simple glance those people that would’ve pushed in to grab their share before everything was ready.
Out of the corner of his mouth, he asked Alastair, “Do we have someplace to write down what they think?”
“Yes, but they’re all going to tell you they love the food. It’s not going to be a matter of picking one or another, these people are gonna want everything. How is that going to help Najeer?”
Madrik responded, “The cook doesn’t need to know what to serve. He just needs reassurance. The fact that they love everything will provide that.”
Alastair thought about that for a moment before he asked, “So, what we are going to do is bribe them with food to stay out of our way while we finish getting ready?”
Smiling Madrik answered, “No. But it provides us with priceless marketing.”
Laughing together, the two men bent their attention to the reassurance technique that would help their jittery chef to calm down. It was a small price to pay for the cook’s peace of mind, and they needed to eat lunch anyway.
<<<>>>
Madrik and the BHB staff were frantically busy for the next hour and a half. Between the revolving food samples and the growing crowd, Madrik realized that this taste testing was bigger than any other Grand Opening that he had attended. He could feel the intense satisfaction that the BHB was experiencing. His companion seemed highly energized, almost humming with excitement and a force that felt bubbly and growing.
When Rowan and Cairn came over from the brewery, pulling their delivery cart, there were more than enough willing hands two help them get the beer into the bar. What would’ve taken his staff an hour or two was accomplished in just a few minutes.
Of course, it meant that some of the beer was diverted. After all, it needed a sampling also. Rowan and Cairn were soon both laughing and tasting the food. Although the supply of samples in the kitchen was slowing down, there was still enough to let Rowan hold a short class on beer pairing.
