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The sudden storm drenched the city, to the surprise of none of the City of Rain locals. The streets quickly became a sea of umbrellas, as the sky turned a dreary and dull shade. The predictable storm quickly cleared the streets, leaving just one lone traveler without shelter. He tipped his hat down to try to keep the raindrops out of his face as he searched for a location to wait out the storm.
His black wool cloak took on the water quickly and weighed down his shoulders, raindrops dripping off the ends and threatening to soak his leather boots straight through. He spotted a chalkboard sign outside a small restaurant, the letters quickly being washed away by the rain. He ran over and hurriedly opened the door to the shop undergoing it’s ‘grand opening.’ The bells on the door rang merrily and cut through the silence in the restaurant as he stepped inside.
A man with pale blue hair froze behind the counter for a moment before putting on a casual smile and calling over, “Welcome! Have a seat! There’s tables at the back, or if ya want you can pull up a stool.” He looked the customer up and down before adding, “There’s a coat rack near the door, if ya like.”
The patron stood for a second, sensing the power from the other man as that of a fellow wizard but tactfully ignored it. “Thank you,” he said as he carefully hung his hat and cloak on the rack, trying not to make too much of a mess as water began to pool on the floor. He considered casting a quiet spell but wasn’t sure if it was safe. Freed of the heavy weight of his cloak he stood up straight and gracefully walked to the counter where he took a seat.
“Raining again?” The owner asked as he carefully placed a menu in front of his customer. “I ain’t been here long, but this place really lives up to its name,” he chuckled as he struck up a friendly conversation in a manner completely foreign to the Eastern way.
“I guess it does. I don’t come into the city very often,” the customer offered. He turned his eyes to the simple menu with letters carefully written out by hand, as if they may change at any moment based on the whims of the cook who wrote them.
“Just lemme know when yer ready to order,” the owner casually said as he went back to his work. He was carefully stacking clean glasses one by one on the shelving behind the counter. They occasionally caught the light and sparkled fresh and new, awaiting customers, their numbers an unspoken hope of busy days yet to come.
The man worked on in silence, the heavy rain pounding against the window drowning out the soft clinking of silverware and glass. As time trudged along and his tasks began to grow thin, he started to nervously eye his sole customer. He finally tried again, “Well, how about I just get ya some coffee then so ya got somethin’ while you wait out the storm?” He awkwardly rubbed his neck, disappointed as the customer's only true purpose became ever apparent.
The customer shifted in his seat slightly as he apologized, “I’m sorry. Yes, please. I will order food as well….” he trailed off as he continued to look at the options on the menu.
The owner looked at him for a moment, as if ready to say more, but then he just turned and began preparing the coffee. He gave off an air of wanting to say a lot, like he was afraid of the silence, but didn’t want to upset the Eastern sensibilities of his customer.
By the time the cook gently slid the coffee across the counter towards him, the patron still hadn’t made up his mind. He shook his head with a slight laugh as he apologized again, “I’m sorry. I don’t eat out often, so I really just don’t know what to pick. They all sound good.” As if sensing the cook’s desire for conversation, he kindly asked, “Do you have a recommendation?”
The cook brightened at the opportunity to talk about his skills and without hesitation started explaining, “Well, if ya like chicken this is good. I have some really fresh herbs today so I could make a great sauce for it. Or if you want something a little lighter there’s this sandwich, but it’s a bit cold out isn’t it? And yer still a little soaked from the rain so I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t feed ya somethin’ hot today, but…oh….” he stopped himself as he realized he may have gone too far, forgetting his place. This was a casual meeting where things like the ongoing welfare of the customer weren’t supposed to be something he really talked about. This was East Country, and this man was a stranger.
The customer’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses perched on his nose, but he didn’t seem upset at the unexpected care in the cook's words. “I’ll leave the choice to you then, if you don’t mind,” he gently stated. After looking out the window at the ongoing storm he quietly added, “I may be here for a while so take your time.” He pushed the menu towards the cook with his fingertips before carefully taking a sip of his coffee.
“Ah! O...k!” the cook agreed, a little taken aback by the opportunity. He muttered to himself, “Food for a guy who doesn’t eat out often….” he pondered for a while as he began pulling out cookware and washing and cutting vegetables before a plan had even formed in his mind.
The patron watched him with silent interest, with his hands folded neatly on the counter in front of him. His gaze made the cook slightly nervous, as he expertly slid his knife through the small potatoes on his cutting board. He asked over his shoulder, “What kinda stuff do ya normally eat?”
Looking around the room quickly, the patron relaxed a bit before answering honestly, seeing as they were truly alone. “Mostly things I can kill or grow myself. Fish, pigeons sometimes, and I keep a small garden.”
The cook nodded in thought, “So ya don’t get a lot of meat then? What kinda vegetables ya grow?” He slid the potatoes out of his way and moved on to peeling and slicing a few carrots.
“Just the usual, nothing fancy. I do grow a lot of herbs. I don’t use them in cooking all that often though....” the customer took a careful sip of his coffee as he left the details of his herb usage unexplained.
As the cook moved on to cutting up an onion into thick pieces he cheerfully responded, “Oh! An herb garden! That sure is the kinda thing I need. Maybe someday if business is good I can afford some land. There’s nothin’ to really deepen the flavor of a dish like fresh herbs. You should try cooking with ‘em sometime!”
This man seemed to have a need to engage in friendly conversation that might cause him problems in a place like the East capital. The patron pondered his response for a long moment before gazing out the window and quietly offering, “I think this is a nice city. It’s quiet and peaceful, but it’s also very strict if you don’t fall in line properly.”
The cook’s knife slowed as he cut his vegetables and his shoulders tensed as he felt a loneliness threaten to overtake his heart. He carefully set down his knife and turned to look at his customer. He couldn’t stop his nerves from seeping into his voice as he chuckled awkwardly and said, “Ah, I see. I’m sorry I offended you, sir. I’m new in town so I’m not quite used to….”
“You haven’t offended me. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thoughtful enough with my words. I simply wanted to offer you some advice,” the patron said. His violet eyes were soft behind his glasses and there was no malice in his words. “The people in this city are pretty sensitive, especially to anything strange, if you understand what I’m trying to say. They expect people to fit in. Once you get used to all their laws and regulations, it’s not really a big deal, but if you have trouble with it, you might find you’re better off living alone somewhere outside of the city.”
The cook let the words seep into his heart. This fellow wizard wanted him to do well in this city. It was an awkward welcome that sounded cruel on the surface but once you thought about it, was actually the kindest thing in the world. He looked at his patron before saying, “I understand. Thanks. Uhhh...so you don’t mind talking to me then?”
A gentle smile formed on the face of his customer and he said, “No, not at all. I don’t get out often so I don’t really speak to people either. I’m sorry if my responses aren’t sufficient. But I don’t mind.” He turned his eyes back to the storm outside the large window and again added, “I think we’ve got a long time to sort it out, at any rate.”
All the tension released from the owner's shoulders as he felt a faint hope that maybe he’d found his first friend in his new home. Eager to impress he turned back to his work and casually continued his chatting, “Well, I hope ya don’t mind but I’m going all out then. Considerin’ you don’t get this kinda experience often.”
“I look forward to it. Thank you,” the patron succinctly responded.
The cook rushed around behind the counter preparing food and finally put the dish in the oven. He brought out a steamy bowl of herbed tomato soup and carefully placed it in front of his patron. “To get ya started. The rest’ll be out in a bit. Would ya like some wine to have with it? I know it’s a bit early in the day an’ all that, but like ya said, we’ve got a lot of time on our hands. I’ve gotta real good white wine that’ll go well with what I made.”
The patron gingerly lifted a spoonful of the soup to his lips and blew a few times to cool it before letting it into his mouth and over his tongue. The cook looked on anxiously as his customer seemed to savor every flavor of the simple dish, made more complex by the specific herbs used in it. Finally he spoke, “This is delicious. The basil and parsley add a lot of flavor but I feel like there’s something else too….” his thought trailed off as he gently smiled and said, “I think your restaurant will do well here. And yes, If you recommend wine with the meal, then that would be nice. Thank you.” He silently went back to enjoying his soup that warmed his body and drove some of the chill out of his bones.
“Right! Ok. Will do!” the cook seemed to be flustered as a faint pink hue tinged his cheeks and he wiped his hands on his apron for something to do. His smile was warm and fond as he stole a glance at his customer who was eating his food with such thought and care. Finally he said, “Don’t tell anybody, trade secret an’ all that, but it’s thyme. Anyway, I’m glad ya like it. I’d hate to fail for a guy who rarely gets to eat out. I’d probably die from shame if I disappointed ya.”
The customer smiled and let out a soft laugh as he reassured the cook, “I don’t think you need to worry about that. This is truly delicious. It might be...a long time...before I’m back in the city, but I’d happily eat here again.” He finished his soup and carefully set his spoon down.
Quickly clearing away the empty bowl, the cook turned his back to hide his ever darkening cheeks and said, “Thanks, glad to hear it!” He stopped briefly to check on the main course before casually leaning back against his work counter and glancing outside again, where the storm still raged. “I know it’s not very professional but would ya mind if I had some coffee while we wait on the oven?”
Shaking his head the customer replied, “Not at all. Go right ahead.”
“Thanks. Ya know it’s just this weather an’ all. Pretty bad chill in the air, you sure you’re ok? Yer clothes still look damp,” the cook chatted away kindly as he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a drink of the dark, bitter brew. Suddenly he realized his mistake again in trying to get too close to a stranger. “Ah, sorry. I’m not tryin’ to pry or anything. It’s just an old habit. I tend to try too hard to take care of people. I can just go in the back and leave ya alone if you want me too. I’m just nervous, I guess. First day open and all.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly.
“I’m fine. I have been through worse things in life than a little damp clothing, I assure you. If you want to talk, I don’t mind. But...some customers in this country might not like that. I think it’s wonderful that you like to care for people. You must have a good heart, but sometimes caring too much for others can leave you with nothing in the end….” the patron shook his head quickly, as if he’d said too much. “Never mind. I don’t know where I was going with that. I’m not used to small-talk.”
The cook slowly lowered his mug from his lips and considered his customer. The man seemed younger than him, but not too young. By his words, he’d wager a guess this man was hiding from something here in East just like he was. He took another hasty sip of his coffee before saying, “It’s fine. Yer not wrong. I guess the thing about bein’ left with nothin’ though is that it makes it easier to start over as whoever you wanna be. Ya know? I ain’t sayin’ it’s great to feel that way or anythin’, but you know, I guess it could be worse.”
The patron smiled bitterly, “You mean it’s easier to reinvent yourself when you have nothing left to lose? Yeah, I guess that’s the truth of it.” He raised his own cup to his lips to let the warm coffee soothe him, as a sudden clap of thunder shook the building and the outside lit up as lightning pierced the sky.
Shuddering, the cook muttered, half to himself, “Someone musta sure pissed Oz off today….”
The patron followed the cook’s gaze out the window and watched the sky as well. It was almost purple and green, as the fierce lightning streaked by and the thunder grew louder. “Oz…maybe that terrible wizard Figaro upset him. Horrid creature.”
The cook raised his eyebrow at this man who spoke of Oz’s old world conquering partner with an air of familiarity. Just who in the world was this man? But he guessed he probably shouldn’t make too many assumptions. He himself had circulated within the realm of notoriety, and he knew how little it meant, since he was a nobody, just some fool who clung onto the coat-tails of someone stronger.
Faint ringing suddenly called out from the kitchen and the cook was quick to put down his coffee and pull himself off the counter. “Ah! Foods ready! I’ll be right back. Hope yer hungry!”
Still gazing out the window the patron silently watched the storm and wondered if he’d need to use magic to transport himself home tonight, instead of flying. He was capable, but it wasn’t his strongest magic and it exhausted him to travel over such a great distance that way.
“Watch yourself, it’s hot,” the cook said as he carefully set the plate in front of the customer and then casually tossed the towel he’d been using to protect his hand over his shoulder. He lingered somewhat awkwardly, waiting for a reaction.
The patron looked down at the plate and his eyes grew as he took in all of the delicious looking food that had been prepared. “This looks delicious….you didn’t need to do so much work. I don’t think this was even on the menu….”
“Well, yeah, I changed it up a bit from the menu version, but you know I didn’t wanna disappoint the guy who doesn’t get out much. Sorry, I just wanted to show off a bit, I guess. If you like it, you’ll just be a repeat customer, right? I’d love it if you’d stop by again some time so….” he suddenly realized the things he was saying and stopped himself before he said too much again. He carefully poured a glass of freshly uncorked wine and set it by the plate. “Anyway, hope ya enjoy it. Just lemme know if ya need anything else,” he said as he rubbed his neck.
Carefully picking up his knife and fork the customer cut into the chicken that was covered in a delicate herb sauce. He savored the bite, letting all of the flavors sink into his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy. He quickly picked up a roasted potato, also covered in herbs and ate it. The skin was dark and crispy and delicious while the insides melted in his mouth. His eyes were shining as he looked up for the cook to thank him, but he found the man had snuck away to leave him to eat in peace.
He didn’t know how to describe the faint pain in his chest as he realized he couldn’t properly thank the chef without calling out to him, which 300 years of living in East Country told him not to do. He swallowed his words, hoping and praying he’d have a chance to praise the talented restaurant owner later, and continued savoring his meal and wine.
Finally, completely full and leaving just an empty plate, he gently set down his silverware and finished off his wine. As if he'd been waiting and watching, the cook promptly appeared to clear away the plate.
“Ah!” The customer couldn’t help himself as he reached out and touched the cooks wrist to keep him from rushing away. He quickly pulled his hand away, though, and flustered tried to explain, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you how delicious the meal was. Everything was wonderful. I haven't eaten like that in…a very long time. I especially liked the crispy skins on the potatoes. I…thank you for your hard work….”
The cook’s face was a furious shade of pink and he was thankful the patron wasn’t looking at him as his languid voice laughed it off, “Well, thanks! I’m glad ya liked it. You got room for dessert or did I feed ya too much?”
Looking outside and finding the storm somewhat less furious than earlier, but still raging, the customer said, “Well, maybe I’d like another glass of that wine. And if it’s not too improprietous perhaps you could join me? I don’t see any customers on the street….”
The owner quickly turned away to try to hide his face as he smiled and said, “Yeah, that’d be nice. It’s probably time to call it a day anyway. Nobody in their right mind’d come here in this. I’ll be back in a bit.” He rushed into the back to clean up before he closed for the day.
A deep sigh escaped the patron’s lips as he closed his eyes for a moment and waited, wondering what in the world made him extend such a silly and improper invitation to the owner of this shop. He turned again to watch the sky outside as it went even darker, the sun finally having slipped under the horizon, leaving just the faint light of the moon to fight through the clouds. The street lights sprang to life one-by-one to cast a warm orange glow on the puddles that covered the street.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the owner said as he returned from his closing duties. He had removed his apron and pulled on a sweater. He avoided eye contact with his customer as he walked over to the door and without ceremony tossed a knit cardigan on the counter. “The chill in here is awful,” he offered without explanation. He quickly locked the door and then turned the sign around to read ‘closed.’
The patron eyed the cardigan and wondered if it was too much to accept this kindness from a stranger, but the room was drafty and now that it was night it was getting colder. He sighed softly and closed his eyes to ponder what in the world he was doing as he grabbed the knit piece and pulled it on. He tried not to think about how it smelled clean and fresh like lemons and flowers. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d borrowed anything at all from a person, let alone a piece of clothing.
“Ya still wanna finish this bottle of wine, or would something harder be more to your taste?” the owner was back behind the counter and grinned as he gently swayed the wine bottle back and forth as it dangled from his fingers.
“I have to make it home at some point tonight, so just the wine, please,” the customer said as he pulled the cardigan closed around him, dreading his inevitable journey home.
“Right….” the cook swallowed dryly before saying, “If ya can’t I mean…look, it’s fine. If ya don’t mind the floor for the night. I got a few extra blankets and stuff upstairs I can bring down for ya. Ah, but it’s pretty cold down here. I live upstairs, it’s nothin’ much but there’s a fireplace at least….” He hurriedly busied himself with pouring the glasses of wine to try to avoid dealing with whatever the reply might hold for his future.
He was met with a long silence that pierced him to his core with loneliness as he wondered if he’d finally pushed this stranger too far. He’d been on his own for a while now, trying to find a good place to settle and open his shop, but now that he finally found a place he wanted to call home, he couldn’t help that part of his heart that longed for late night conversations, and someone to rely on. A person to call a friend.
Finally the customer spoke quietly, “Thank you. I don’t want to intrude on your kindness any more than I already have, though. I’ve traveled in far worse than this. I’ll make it home tonight, one way or another. Please don’t worry about me…but thank you. That’s a very kind offer, to open your home to a stranger like that.”
The cook set one of the wine glasses down on the counter as he turned the other carefully in his fingertips. “I didn’t say but…my name….”
“I should go,” the customer cut him off, as he nodded out the window at the weather that had suddenly let up a bit.
The cook’s face was a mix of shock and pain before he finally closed his eyes and hung his head back before laughing bitterly. “Yeah, you might not get another good opening.” He downed his glass of wine quickly before he walked over to the coat rack and pulled the man’s hat and cloak off.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve forgotten my bill, how much do I owe for…everything?” the customer asked as he drained his wine glass to warm him before his long journey home.
“Oh…don’t worry about it. It’s, fine. Uh, opening day special!” the cook grinned as he held out the cloak and shook it out to make sure it was completely dry, as he muttered some words over it.
The customer could sense the presence of magic in use, and his guard went up, but he quickly realized it was kind magic, so he relaxed before pulling his coin purse out and saying, “I can’t accept that. You’ll never be able to run a business like that. Please. If you don’t tell me how much I’ll just leave everything I have on me….”
“Stubborn…fine. Just leave what it says on the menu there and we’ll call it even,” the owner offered. “I’m not sure how long this weather will let up for, it looks like there’s another storm rollin' in right behind it….”
“Then I’ll travel fast,” the customer spoke quickly as he ignored the cost on the menu and dumped his whole purse on the counter before taking off the cardigan and leaving it. He joined the cook near the door and taking his cloak realized it had a warming spell cast over it. “Thank you….” he whispered as he pulled it around his shoulders while the cook set his hat on his head, in a gesture more befitting of a friend than a stranger.
“Ah! Here, take this too,” the owner pulled a pale blue umbrella out of the stand near the door and shoved it into the man’s hands before unlocking the door for him.
“But, I don’t need this. I’m a wizar….” he began to protest.
“You know, this person once told me this city really hates anything that’s weird or sticks out, better to have an umbrella with ya in the rain, don’t ya think?” He held the door open with one arm and the customer quietly stepped outside, opening the umbrella as he did to shield himself from the rain at least until he got out of the city and could fly home.
They both hovered for a moment in silence, unsure of what to say, or do. They were simply strangers, meeting for a time, and then parting ways. It felt wrong to just leave it at that, but this was East Country, and the perils of finding comfort outside of your own loneliness were too high a risk, especially for a wizard.
Finally the cook smiled and gave the customer a quick pat on the back and said, “Travel safe. I hope you’ll be a returning customer someday!”
“Right,” the black clad man nodded under his borrowed umbrella. Without another word he turned on his heel and took off at a quick pace down the cobblestone street, stepping around the puddles as he went.
The restaurant owner watched his back until he was so far away he couldn’t see him anymore and then sighed, “My name’s Nero. Nice to meet ya.”
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The morning after the storm was bright and sunny, the kind of day that felt perfect for business. Nero unlocked the door to his store and stepped outside with a broom to sweep the steps, cleaning up the debris from yesterday’s storm.
He squatted down in front of his chalkboard sign he’d forgotten to pull inside last night and casually erased what was left of the rain ruined letters with his apron. Pushing himself up with his hands on his thighs he turned to go back inside to grab the chalk to make a new sign, but as he did he spotted a pale blue umbrella propped next to his door.
His heart constricted and he wasn’t sure if it was warm or painful or both. The man had come back to return the umbrella, but he hadn’t come at a time when he’d be seen, or when the shop was open. Nero sighed and picked up the umbrella to take it in before realizing there was also a small basket on the ground with it.
The basket was full of fresh herb cuttings, of a very high quality. Nero’s heart lightened as he smelled their aroma and carried the basket into his shop, stashing the umbrella in the rack near the door. He set the basket on the counter and began pulling out the herbs to examine his haul. At the bottom of the basket he found a small jar of exquisitely crafted wizard’s sugar, and a simple note.
“Welcome to East Country. Thank you for your kindness.”
There was no signature. Nero smiled to himself and found himself wishing that maybe they’d meet again someday when they could finish a bottle of wine.