Hands of Fate - Survivors of Flight AA214

Chapter 51

Orion

Day 44, Day 4 on the Road

Kronfeldt

Our first customers gave our crew a few bumps along the way. Nax, our earnest catshier, initially struggled to handle the ticketing system. The two rats at the front of the line were particular. They insisted on a burger without lettuce or cheese, and Nax came to me to explain the order instead of using our card ticketing system.

With only three items on the menu, we kept it simple: fries drizzled with green ketchup, sweet firecracker berry tea, and our signature smashburger. We only offered three burger options: the Big Mac, the Quarter Pounder, and the Hamburger, served without lettuce or cheese.

The first order came in with a Jester-card and a 2-card on my bench, signaling two hamburger combos. I slapped two patties on the black iron flat top and smashed them down with my trowel, the meat browning against the hot griddle.

“Fries!” I called out, alerting Fleetpaw to start a fresh batch. The gray cat sprang into action, carelessly tossing as many par-fried fries as he could manage into the bubbling oil.

“Don’t crowd the pot, Fleetpaw!” I cautioned, noticing the pot of oil was already overwhelmed.

Once the buns were lightly toasted, I smeared burger sauce and ketchup on the bottom halves, adding two slices of pickled cucumber before crowning them with patties and another bun, completing the simple hamburger. I carefully placed the finished burgers onto a waiting wooden tray. Fleetpaw appeared, balancing two plates of fries as Nax poured tea into clay mugs, adding a dollop of green ketchup on the side.

The rat couple left two Thirds on the counter, nodding in approval as they departed. Next up was a group of four mole miners, their soot-streaked clothes telling tales of their day’s work in the mines. Nax set down a 4-card and a King-card, signifying four Big Mac combos. I wasted no time slapping eight ground meatballs onto the flat top.

“Nax, remember to say ‘Have a nice day!’,” I called out, placing ribbons of shredded onions on the uncooked sides before flipping them.

“Yes, Lord Clark!” Nax replied, already handling the next order with a determination that impressed me.

I took a cue from Fleetpaw, preparing extra patties in anticipation of the onslaught of orders to come. As I glanced around, I realized we might need one more set of hands to keep things moving smoothly. Fast food has to be just that—fast.

As I completed the miners' order, they left behind two Thirds each for their Big Mac combos, grabbing their wooden trays with their food and settling onto nearby stools.

Curious onlookers soon gathered, drawn by the sight of our satisfied customers relishing the foreign flavors with glee, like vultures circling carrion.

Yet, as our orders piled up, there was discontent from my neighboring vendors. They grumbled about our customers hogging the stools.

The dinner rush was in full swing. As the sun dipped lower, the food market teemed with miners, sailors, and townsfolk eager for a bite. Every stool and eating space on the road would be fought for, and my customers were taking most of it.

I caught sight of our dwindling supply and I ordered loudly, “Double the price of each item, now!”

Dynamic pricing—gotta love it.

A collective groan swept through the crowd upon hearing my announcement, with some patrons retreating in search of other stalls. Despite their grumbles, I knew we were on the verge of running out of food before we could serve everyone.

Only ten burger buns remained, and we were running out of par-cooked fries. We were already out of sweet tea, leaving us to offer only regular water to our customers.

As we reached the final burger, I shut down the lines, allowing only one customer to proceed. The crowd surged, their restlessness threatening to engulf our stall. Nax, visibly shaken, apologized. But a hush fell over the crowd when I brandished my chef’s knife, its gleam silencing the growing chaos.

“We’ll be open again tomorrow. Thank you for your business,” I stated coldly, watching as they reluctantly dispersed.

Maybe not the best approach by customer service standards, but I had them hooked.

I turned my attention to the last order—a simple hamburger with fries. Our last customer had been standing in line patiently as I smashed the burger onto the griddle. Once assembled, I stepped forward to deliver the meal. To my surprise, it was the rat vendor who had sold me this place.

“Let him have it for free, Nax,” I instructed my cashier, who promptly returned the coins to the customer. I approached him with a nod.

“Wow… you’ve done quite well for yourself,” the rat remarked, weariness evident in his voice. He took the meal and bit into the burger, his eyes lighting up before a wave of sadness washed over him. “I can see why.”

“Find yourself new work… uh…” I trailed off, struggling to recall his name.

“Slink… yeah. Mines always need hands,” he sighed. “Least I don’t have to worry about debt collectors there.”

“I’ve got a job if you want it,” I offered, watching as the old rat chewed slowly, contemplating his decision.

“I’ll think about it.” He finished his burger, nodded in thanks, and left.

After cleaning up, I counted the total amount of coins we’d collected. We had 4 Second coins and 67 Third coins—not bad for a day’s work. I hadn’t recouped my entire investment in one day, but it was a promising start. More importantly, I was leveling up.

I withdrew ten Thirds, the equivalent of a Second, and handed Nax and Fleetpaw each five coins.

“We can have this, Lord Clark? Really?” Nax exclaimed as if I had bestowed upon him a fortune.

It was a pittance, considering I was keeping the other 90 percent of today’s revenue.

“Of course. You both did great today. In fact…” I fished out two more Thirds and handed them each one, “Here’s a little extra for being such outstanding workers.”

Once again, it was merely chump change, but it lit up their faces with delight and gratitude.

“Ask him, Nax,” I overheard Fleetpaw whisper to his younger brother.

“Lord Clark, we know we aren’t much, but would you mind if we worked for you again tomorrow?” Nax asked, his eyes wide with hopeful pleading.

“Hmm…” I made a show of considering my options. “Be here tomorrow, two hours before midday. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.”

Nax’s eyes sparkled. “Of course, Lord Clark!” he replied, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Before they left, Fleetpaw shot me an almost apologetic glance, as if trying to atone for previously trying to steal my purse. I closed up shop, withdrawing all my coins from the lockbox, before storing the lockbox in the cellar, and locking that too. Night had come to Kronfeldt, and lamplighters began illuminating the streets.

My suspicions nagged at me, urging me to follow Fleetpaw and Nax. I didn’t know who they truly were; they had been thieves—or wannabe thieves—before crossing paths with me. I had to meet Sophie and James at our rendezvous point at sundown, but first, I needed to ensure my safety. Activating my Tracking skill, I followed the two cats as they headed toward the docks.

The boardwalks stretched over the water, lined with tiny wooden shacks nestled between the docked boats. From one shack emerged an overweight orange cat, shirtless and scolding the two brothers who approached his doorway.

Hiding in the shadows, I noticed the bruises decorating the older cat’s body and face. He walked with a limp, and some of his fingers were missing. His resemblance to both brothers was unmistakable—he had Fleetpaw’s tough demeanor and Nax’s bright orange fur. So, this must be their father. The father cat held out his hand, and the two brothers dutifully handed over five Thirds each. A moment of shame flickered across the father’s face as he accepted their money, quickly replaced by anger as he barked that it simply wasn’t enough.

The boys shrank beneath their father’s ire, their apologies tumbling over each other as they braced for the worst. Inside their disheveled shack, it looked like a mini tornado had passed through. Tables were overturned, bedcovers slashed, and pots shattered. Yet, the boys settled quietly in their cramped space while their father wandered off to the local tavern to spend the coins he had taken from them.

I sighed as I walked away. They weren’t thieves, just kids caught in a brutal cycle. I wanted to help, but I knew better than to get tangled up in someone else’s family mess.

I can’t solve every single problem in this town. Bigger problems were waiting for me back home. I had to focus.

Arriving back at the alley behind the jewelers, I found only Sophie rifling through her portable wagon.

“Where’s James?” I asked.

“Looking for an inn,” Sophie sighed. “I guessed right, didn’t I? You didn’t get us a room?”

Oh right, I had forgotten about that.

“Did you guys sell a lot of products?” I inquired.

“It takes some time, but the seeds have been planted.” Sophie emerged from the wagon, her nose twitching as she sniffed my clothes. “You smell like barbecue. Busy day, I presume?”

“Something like that.”

“Give me the boar mask,” she instructed. She removed her mask, and I reached into my satchel, handing her the boar’s mask. I wasn’t sure what she had planned, but she had swapped her leather jacket for a flight attendant outfit borrowed from Aaliyah for this trip.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. “I’ve found us accommodations. Not entirely ideal, given how late we’ve arrived, but we have two rooms.”

James joined us, disguised as a rat person.

“You should have secured a room earlier, Orion~” Sophie teased, sidling up to me and linking her arm through mine. “What exactly were you doing all day?”

I tried to slip free from her grasp, but Sophie held on tight.

“Oh my, you’re quite red under that mask, aren’t you? Is this outfit making you all hot and bothered? Should we do some roleplay later, Captain?” Sophie whispered in my ear, stifling a chuckle.

I knew how Sophie enjoyed provoking a reaction from me, and despite my best efforts to ignore her, I was still a young, warm-blooded male. The more I tried to suppress my discomfort, the more pleasure she derived from watching me squirm. It was frustrating, knowing she viewed me as just a useful tool for her ambitions, likely moving on to charm some lord or banker once our village developed beyond its hunter-gatherer roots and I wasn’t seen as useful in her eyes.

We followed James to the inn, who looked increasingly annoyed.

As we walked through the lamplit streets, I remained alert. A tingle ran down my spine, a sensation that someone, maybe several people, was tailing us as we made our way to the inn.

Through the now-quiet food stalls and past the hardware store, a figure dashed toward us. I instinctively tightened my grip on my knife, only to find it was a young man wearing a wool beret, his long black-furred ears flopping out from beneath it. He scrutinized our faces before locking eyes with Sophie in her boar’s mask.

“You’re the fella the missus was looking for, ain’t ya?” the hare panted, breathless.

Just then, another runner emerged from an alley—a lanky stout sprinting toward our group.

Sophie stepped forward, exaggerating her posture as she bowed dramatically.

“Do you have the word?” she asked, her voice dropping to imitate the gravitas of a male movie announcer.

“Gachapon!” the hare exclaimed, excitement bubbling in his tone.

In a clear spot on the road between two shops, Sophie set down her portable wagon and tossed the card labeled “Expand” onto it.

Suddenly, runners began closing in from all directions—at least three of them, all hired by different patrons. It seemed Sophie had been quite busy.

As the wagon expanded, curious onlookers still wandering the streets gathered around to witness the display of magic. I hesitated, uncertain about Sophie revealing her abilities right here, but it was too late to intervene.

“Come one, come all! Step right up to the Mystery Wagon!” Sophie called out, her voice ringing with enthusiasm as the crowd gathered for the night’s event.