Role

Chapter 8

It was ambitious, but soon word began to spread like outlander fire. The
prices couldnt be beat and so much food began to send smells wafting
across all of Galadon. Was that one of the guards from the graveyard
sitting down? And look, the Mayor himself was at a table eating with the
Enforcer, the latter of which now tearing into a braised lamb shank!
Even the shapeshifter and transmuter guildmasters, who the whole town
knew NEVER got out, had shown up and were discussing biomancy over a
fillet of silverpike!

Vree grinned. Maybe she'd build an even bigger mansion than the one off
park road. No wait, maybe she would build her own private spire, made of
wood from the Refuge!

The menu and courses were perfect, the profit margins unbeatable, and the
speed of service brought unlimited scalability. She grinned. She would
be so rich even Corlx would be begging her for loans. Nothing could go
wrong. Which was good, since the whole population of Galadon was now
eating at her food stand!

Suddenly, a gnome let out an exclamation of terror. The pouches stopped
operating, and the gnomes threw up their arms in panic as the food
preparation came to a grinding halt while hundreds still waited in line!
Her only clue was one of the guildmaster patrons muttering something
about multiple veil shifts. And she hadnt even collected the money!

"Did I smell silverpike?" asked a soft felar voice.

She slowly turned around in the direction of the Copeham Inn to see three
Battleragers...Hexugar, Crraya, and Serra...stretch sleepily from a night
of too much drinking as they walked towards her.

She sighed. The idea had been perfect. Almost.