Why didn’t the system remove the unauthorized sign and drawing? It could just assign a couple goblins to the job and send them here with green sponges… But to be honest, I didn’t care. I was curious how everything worked here.
As we approached, things started to get interesting. A moaning, one-armed goblin was being kicked out of the hallway. The bouncer responsible dusted off his hands, eyed me up and down, then went back in. The goblin, sprawled on the floor, whimpered sorrowfully:
“I just want some meeeaaat…”
A few more steps and we were inside. There were at least a hundred goblins, orcs, and halflings hanging out in the wide hallway, stretching down at least two hundred yards. The crowd wasn’t particularly rowdy — they sat on the warm ledges, chatted, played cards and dice. It was a familiar scene, especially the dome rolling down the rail on the ceiling, confirming that the bright hallway was a safe place to be.
One thing was completely new to me, though: everyone sitting on the ledges had plates, cups, and silverware. The smell in the place was overwhelming — the rich aroma of meat, roasted and boiled, nearly floored me. It seemed to seep straight into my brain through my nostrils, kick open the door to my soul, and explode like a firework of temptation. I was stunned, and found myself wanting to whine just like the goblin who had been kicked out:
“I just want some meeeaaat…”
Bask swallowed loudly. Yorka took a deep, shuddering breath. I wasn’t the only one who was floored. It would have been fantastic to take a seat on one of those ledges, but we couldn’t do it without good reason. A cheerful girl in a long blue apron moved around the hallway, approaching the customers, asking questions and offering things. There were five others in similar uniforms with fiery yellow insignia. Sitting on the ledges meant you were ready to spend serious cash on food — I was sure it wasn’t cheap. It would have been stupid to sit down without planning to buy anything, just to get in a fight with the waitstaff, then with the bouncers.
The place was impressive. It had class and style. It was a real establishment, with waitstaff and security and everything. What was it they called these places in fantasy games? Taverns? Pubs? Inns? Whatever it was, they had a more mundane-sounding name for it here — an eatery. The kind of name only a goblin could come up with.
The Jolly Plux eatery.
I could see an ATM set back in the hallway. A guy with no arms and one leg sat next to it, drawing stares with his golden curly hair, bright blue eyes, and blinding white teeth. People who had already ordered would go up to the ATM, exchanged a few words with the guy, and make a transaction. That was how they took payment.
But the smell… It was driving me crazy.
My memory had been wiped, since I was a volitional nullbie goblin, but I had just learned a fact about myself: I was definitely not a vegetarian. My jaw started hurting from how badly I wanted to bite into a huge, juicy, medium-rare steak. Bite so enthusiastically that the fatty meat juice would splash all over my hands and face. Bite in, tear off a huge chunk, and chew on it, pressing the magnificent meat against my taste buds, squeezing out every last drop of savory juice… I felt faint.
“I just want some meeeaaat…” Bask sighed, then flushed red and turned towards the exit.
“Hey, where are you going?” I asked, surprised.
“We have no cash, goblin,” Yorka whispered, her eyes on the ground. “Let’s leave quietly, without drawing attention to ourselves.”
“So what if we don’t have sol?” I grunted. “Do we have to pay just to look around?”
“Shh... Not so loud...”
“There’s an empty spot over there. And I see an old friend calling us over.”
“What? Don’t — What old friend?”
“The screen!” I smiled. “A game challenge. That’s sacred!”
A screen right above the ledge flashed our numbers and asked us to accept the challenge.
“Game Challenge!”
One Round.
Battleship.
Select number:…
“Who’s up for a game of Battleship?” I looked at my team.
Yorka made a face and shook her head.
“I’d play…” Bask said shyly.
“You’re up, then.” I ordered. “Sink ‘em, zombie!”
“Yeah, sink ‘em!” Yorka backed me up, gently pushing Bask’s shoulder.
They took a seat in front of the screen. A good number of the customers shifted positions to watch us play. I took a seat closer to the walkway, stretched out my legs, and gauged how I was feeling. My wounds hurt, but it was a good pain. I had just overworked my legs.
“Hello there.”
The waitress who approached us was batting her eyes and twirling her curly blonde hair around her finger. Her incredible smile almost blinded me. And was that really makeup on her face, or was I just seeing things from the shock? She was really well-dressed — white sandals, jeans, a t-shirt, a bandanna on her head, and a blue apron with the fiery insignia. A real uniform!
“Can I take your order now, or should I come back in a few?”
