Sylvester surveyed the request board. Crocus, the “Blooming Capital” of Fiore, was always bustling with things to do and people to see. As a result, there was often an excess of jobs available for travelling wizards to take. He had left Magnolia town, the home of his guild, to explore some of Fiore’s other cities. Nothing was really happening in Magnolia at the time, and he had seen all there really was to see–so he figured he would leave for a bit, do some work in other towns, and return when more exciting things were going on. He was spending a lot of time in Crocus because there always seemed to be something interesting happening.

One request in particular stood out. An innkeeper named Batra was searching for someone to fill in for one of his cooks, who had quit. It seemed rather simple and paid quite well for what it was worth, so it appealed to Sylvester. He figured he could probably have some fun with this type of request, anyhow.

He made his way to the inn, which was simply named “Batra’s Inn.” As he entered, he noticed a dark-skinned, bald man standing behind the bar. He approached the man, and introduced himself.

“Hey. I’m Sylvester, from Fairy Tail. Do you know where Batra is?”

The man behind the bar smiled and moved his hand over his bald head, as if he were running it through a full head of hair.

“I do know where he is- because he is me. I’m Batra. You here to sub in for the cook who quit?”

Sylvester nodded. He looked at a clock on the wall; it was almost 6pm. The sun was beginning to set outside. He assumed that the dinner rush would be starting soon. Batra handed him an apron and a hairnet, before asking Sylvester a quick question.

“So, Sylvester–you know how to cook?”

Sylvester nodded in response. He cooked his own meals, but he had never worked in a restaurant-type setting.

“Good. Dinner rushes around here can get pretty intense; if you can cook for me until the counter closes at midnight you’ll get your pay.”

Until midnight? Sylvester felt a lump in his throat. This would be trial by fire, for he was not used to cooking for long periods of time. As he followed Batra to the kitchen area, doubts filled his mind. However, these were quickly washed away by feelings of self-confidence. He replaced the doubts with positive thoughts. There wasn’t really anything special to a job like this- if a cook who worked at the inn could do this daily for much longer than just six hours, so could a wizard from the esteemed Fairy Tail guild.

As he entered the kitchen area, he took note of where everything was- this was so he wouldn’t fumble around looking for things when the time came to cook. He memorized the location of the stoves, the grills, the deep-fryer, and the restroom, just in case nature called. He took note of the hot dogs cooking in the rotisserie. He slipped his hairnet and apron on, and squatted down to look at his reflection in the window of one of the ovens. He let out a triumphant breath. Facing his uncertainties head on, he made a decision. Tonight, he was going to make Batra proud and be the best substitute chef in all of the world!

Sylvester’s optimistic thoughts were interrupted abruptly as a waitress came in with an order; breaded chicken wings. He had prepared wings for himself many times, and became accustomed with making them. He grabbed a chicken, twisted the wings off, and rinsed them, placing them in a dish. Then, he cracked open a couple of eggs, mixed in some salt, pepper and spices, before whisking everything together. Following this, he set aside a bowl of flour. He took the wings, dredged them in the egg mixture and then the flour, and set them in the deep-fryer until they looked crispy and delicious. He set them on a platter and gave them to the waitress to take to a table. She left another order- a single order of fries. These would be even simpler than the wings. He grabbed some pre-cut fries from the freezer and tossed them into the deep-fryer; he watched carefully as they cooked, ensuring they reached that nice golden-brown color, before taking them out, setting them in a basket, and sending them to the waitress.

The next order was from a party of six. Three people wanted hamburgers; three wanted hot dogs. The dogs would be rather easy to produce; they had been cooking up on their rotisserie for a rather long time already. Sylvester decided to work on the burgers first, as those would likely be more challenging.

There was a hefty supply of frozen beef patties. Sylvester put them on the grill and cooked them well, flipping them occasionally. From time to time he would try out more complex flips- throwing them high in the air, and whatnot- but this led to him dropping one of the patties on the ground and having to use a new one, so he stopped.

When the patties were cooked he readied hamburger buns- he carefully placed the burgers in the buns, dressed them with ketchup, mustard, lettuce, pickles and tomatoes, and sent them out. Then, he grabbed three hot dog buns; he took the dogs from the rotisserie and placed them in the buns. Before sending them out he dressed them with mustard. He gave them to the waitress to send out.

There was a little bit of downtime. Sylvester went to the restroom, did his business, washed his hands three times (so as to maintain a clean working environment) and headed back into the kitchen. The waitress was there; she told him that one of the guys from the party of six complained about a lack of pickles in his burger. Sylvester felt doubts filling his head- what if he was a terrible chef? What if Batra didn’t appreciate his work? He thought long and hard (for about 20 seconds) and remembered that he dressed each burger the same way. There were definitely pickles. He told the waitress this; she returned with a followup comment and three more orders.

As it turned out, the guy was hiding the pickles under his tongue. Sylvester hadn’t screwed anything up.

The last three orders were two more hot dogs and a baked potato. The hot dogs were easy to prepare- he grabbed two more buns and two more dogs from the rotisserie, and gave them to the waitress. He then grabbed a potato, split it down the middle and put it in the oven. After waiting for it to cook he removed the potato, dressed it with sour cream and chives, and gave it to the waitress. He checked the clock; it was now 12:00 sharp.

Batra came into the kitchen. He held the reward in hand.

“Good work, Sylvester. I’ve been hearing nothing but compliments about the food tonight.”

“Well, I am a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself,” replied Sylvester with a grin.

He collected the reward, and returned to his own hotel, satisfied with the work he had done.

[1238 / 1000]