His words were accompanied by a wet and cold stream of liquid filling out his entire body. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring into the intense eyes of Orson. "Res, what happened?"
Images of the powerful monster that the prince was flooded his mind. "Fought the prince."
His jaw felt like lead and he managed to raise his arms to his face. The little muscle he had put on through the potion was gone.
"Once again the frail young scholar.", Res murmured.
Orson took the news in stride or he didn't believe Res. "Why would you attack the prince?"
"He and the royal guard killed 2000 children, of which I was kind of the leader."
Orson chuckled and put the waterskin to his mouth again. "My best friend once told me on recovery that he had met an actual dragon. Guess that fighting a prince isn't that special in comparison."
"I am serious."
Orson patted his head. "Yes, yes. You are right. How did you come by that much money, by the way? I gave one gold to the kid to leave and not talk. He is still waiting in front of the house, blubbering about becoming an elite palace guard."
When he turned his head, he saw his price money from the tournament lying next to him. Res realized that someone must have seen them. It would be only a matter of time until they would associate Orson with him.
"Bro, aren't you forgetting something? Our date with Xenia and Serafina this evening?"
Res greeted Jason with a burst of happiness and groaned in defeat. "Now it is even 'our' date. Can't you ask me first how I am doing? "
"Bro, I am in your fucking body. But you are right. That was kind of rude. It is only that I am so fucking nervous."
With all his mental effort, he sat up upright and felt the taut skin under his bellybutton. Orson grinned when he saw how Res felt at his stomach. "No worries, the ladies like scars. I have a few too. They like to trace them with their fingers and then you have to tell them how you got them.���
His wounds still ached, but he felt he could walk. He focused all his attention on Orson and tried to put his entire sincerity into his voice. "I am serious. I appreciate that you helped me, but you have put yourself in the crossfires. I fought with the crown prince and escaped with my life. They will be at your apartment within the day."
Orson put on a thoughtful look. "How does the prince look like when he fights?"
"He has hundreds of necklaces and rings embedded into his body and he can throw his sword like an axe. Additionally, he has white armor that diffuses magical attacks."
Orson's expression changed from that of mockery to that of total horror. Something in Orson seemed to snap, and he toppled over.
"Bro, please don't tell me he is having a stroke now."
When Res poked Orson's chin though, he stirred again and pulled himself up. Orson held his head like it was in danger of falling off and spoke: "I told you that the elite palace guard removed memories, right? Sorry for doubting you."
"What happened?"
"You speaking it out loud has unlocked a memory of the prince's training." Orson began to sweat, as he realized the gravity of the situation. "I have nowhere to go, nowhere."
"Do you have family?"
"I have my brother in town, but he struggles with a restaurant he opened. He wanted to start some fine-dining place, but it didn't go as planned."
Res watched the long shadows the sun was casting now. "I will buy the last three of the potions you have for one gold and we will visit your brother. I have wanted to invest in properties for a while now."
What Res didn't expect was the enormous bear hug from Orson. "You are a good boy."
His bones were on the verge of breaking again, so he pounded on Orson's enormous back and was finally let free. With a broad smile on his face, Orson gave him the three potions that Res stashed away in a pocket. "What time is it?"
"Approximately eighteenth bell."
Res blanched at that and asked: "Is the boy still in front of the house?"
Two minutes later, they were zipping down the long tunnels of the sewers once again. This time, he had to carry Orson and the boy in a princess carry. Luckily, he could reinforce his body. Orson's extra weight meant that the sewage under them now splattered all over the place. Which meant that he had to fly faster so they wouldn't get covered in shit.
Jason used the time to tell him about what he had prepared to charm the female ghost in Seraphina's sword. Res wondered how Jason passed his time and, as if summoned by his thought, had to find out the hard way. Jason began to recite the love poems he had created for the girl. After listening to them for half a minute, Res interjected:
"Jason, I don't mean to insult you, but those poems could describe any girl. What do you mean with 'gorgeous flowing hair' and 'white teeth'? Why don't you say: 'I love that you have arms' and 'I love your beautiful ten fingers���".
Jason continued composing love verses and asked him one question after another. A flash of inspiration struck Res: "Jason, what do you think of a poem restaurant. All the naive fools who think great of their poetry skills have no outlet for their creativity."
"No Bro, let's open a disco. Boy, why didn't I think of that in my lifetime? I could have made some serious cash."
"What is a disco?"
"People go there to dance and meet new people. Our target audience are young adults and you drink and dance."
Intrigued by the idea, Res had Jason tell everything about discos. Res didn't want to turn this whole endeavor into a brothel, but a plan was coming together in his mind. The boy was having the best time of his life while screaming out direction. Orson was dead silent and only watching in horror. Res supposed that it could have something to do with him admitting that it was only his second time of doing this. After they had been flitting down tunnels for over an hour, they finally arrived.
With a last push, he catapulted them out of the sewers and Res thought he could hear Orson screaming. His clothes got dirty from the landing, but he was content with his increase in aether control. Orson, who was vomiting, didn't agree with him. "You little devil. You should have warned me, I would rather be killed by the prince than go through that again."
Res gave him an inconspicuous wink and realized the boy was stuttering. "What is it?"
"I want to come with you … "
Res understood and motioned for the boy to stop. "Wait here. I will be back soon."
He didn't give the boy another chance for objections and turned to the streets. Indeed, they were full of merchant and rich nobles, like Res remembered. Orson motioned up the alley, away from the main street, and Res followed. The buildings turned simpler and Orson finally stopped in front of a sizeable three-story building. It seemed like an average high-class restaurant in a residential neighborhood. That the restaurant was this far off from the main road was a huge competitive disadvantage.
With surprising agility, Orson climbed up the restaurant's wall. Orson snickered when Res pushed himself over the wall and landed earlier than him on the soft grass. All the tables that were propped up outside were empty.
Through a broad window, Res could see that the enormous unoccupied dining room. "Is the kitchen so bad, or is there another reason why there is no one here?"
"The kitchen is amazing. The food is perfect, and the service is not great, but also not bad. The problem was that one of the restaurant owners has accused my brother of stealing one of his recipes. The poor reputation meant that no one is coming anymore."
"Was the claim false?"
Orson grinned and answered with a wink as an answer. The restaurant itself was as fine as any he had ever seen, and they even had an enormous pond with exotic fish in them. They entered through a back door and were greeted by a bizarre scene. The kitchen's surfaces were so clean that they reflected light back like mirrors. Even the pots and pans were shining like glass. The true irregularity was the form of a man slumped over a bottle of wine in the middle of the room. He wasn't as bulky as Orson, but he had the same light brown hair and blue eyes. Orson cursed, went to the figure and slapped him.
The man was pulled out of his stupor and revealed a smile like Orson's. "Hey, brother. If you join in on the drinking, I won't have enough to drink myself to death. Baahhh … What am I saying? A mental disability works fine too."
This time, Orson slapped his brother hard - Really hard. "You have some of that sobering up potion lying around for emergencies, right? Drink it."
The brother made as if to object, but Orson gave him a resolute stare.
"Bro, now we know who is the older brother."
Grumbling with discontent, the man opened a cabinet and downed a small vial. He shivered in disgust, but his eyes cleared and Res could see keen intelligence in the man's eyes. "What is that one doing here?"
Orson patted Res on the shoulder. "He is the one who will get you out of this shit."
Deep despair extinguished the flicker of hope that was shortly visible on the brother's face.
"Don't make me hope, Orson."
Res put on the best imitation of a confident noble and began to circle the young brother. "What is your name"
"Arthur."
"Do you have any debt?"
"I can't go into debt even if I wanted to."
"Your business is doomed to fail, but I see some potential in you."
Arthur seemed to get annoyed with him and shot out. "Who are you to ask those kinds of questions?"
"Let's say that I have money. Imagine that I am the bank and because I know Orson, I would invest in your establishment."
Arthur received a confirming nod from Orson and his entire demeanor changed. "My lord, what do you want?"
"I will buy your entire business for around twenty gold."
With that, he let the sizable pouch of coins drop on the counter. Arthur's flittered back and forth between Res and Orson, to finally settle on Res. He held out his hand. "Deal!"
Res laughed out loud at how naïve he thought he would be. "Can you read and write?"
"Yes."
"Do you have ink and paper?"
"Yes."
"Bring some."
Five minutes later, Res had created two copies of a writ of possession, he had learned by heart in the academy. Res finished the two papers with two signatures at the bottom of each paper. Arthur picked up the paper and blanched at the conditions that Res had set. "You want me to give up all my rights to change the restaurant?"
"You can still go to me and propose changes and I promise that I will be open to change."
"I will need to have forty gold for this much."
Res chuckled. "Look, Arthur. You are a good man and I understand your concern. This restaurant is your baby and you don't want to lose it. The problem is that this is the only deal that anyone will offer. Be honest. In your situation, it is a fair deal if you take all the risks into consideration."
"What do you want to do with the restaurant?"
Res took a nearby stool and sat in front of Arthur. "What is your biggest problem that is holding you back?"
"My reputation."
"Which age group has ludicrous amounts of money while not caring about reputation?"
Something in Arthur clicked in the wrong way. "You want to make this into a brothel."
Res held his hands up in reassurance. "I don't, but before I tell you my strategy, I will need for you to sign that paper."
Arthur thought for a moment, but then cried out in frustration and signed the paper. With a contented smile, Res pushed over the gold. "Do you have any staff?"
"I would have sold the house today at auction."
Res patted Arthur on the back as if they were long-time business compatriots. "We will structure your restaurant into several big events. Do you have musicians?"
"Usually, a friend of mine comes to play. He is good."
"Scrap that. I will get you Lee Barrett, who plays at the royal court, in your restaurant. The entire bottom floor will turn into a giant dancefloor. You will need to get eight of the enormous cook pots from the soup kitchen."
Arthur blanched at that. "You mean those giant ones where they can cook an entire bull?"
"Those exactly. You will place them into the garden and make them look pretty with some wood and ladders so people can take a bath."
Res drew his idea onto a piece of paper. "The nobles will get into the pots with special clothes that will be sold at the restaurant. The kettles themselves will contain water that is heated by a flame. Giant wooden walls will divide the pots and lamps will …"
Res trailed off as he saw that both Orson and Arthur were staring at him as if he were mad. He motioned to Arthur. "I will write all the instructions down and you will execute them to the word."
Res thought for a moment and added: "It would be great if you cook a candle light dinner for three people and put it in a basket. I am going on somewhat of a date."
Arthur laughed and whistled suggestively. Given something he was good at, he pulled out pots and pans and heated up the oven. Res wrote down his vision for the business: An enormous dancefloor on the ground floor. A new menu consisting out of drinks and small snacks. A lounge area on the second floor. Sleeping quarters on the third floor for nobles who were too drunk or too lazy to go home. Arthur could then cater those sixteen nobles at breakfast. That could generate another source of customers who would come for or lunch.
Res turned to Orson. "As the manager of the business, I offer you the position of manager of personnel."
Orson looked at him as if he was mad. "I am a fighter, a bouncer."
"You are good with people and the perfect one for the job. Do you accept?"
Orson looked uncomfortable from all the praise. "Seems I have no choice. All right, I will do it."
Res gave Orson an enormous smile and began to list off items on his mental to-do-list: "You will have to: hire several attractive waitresses from both genders. Go around taverns and offer them more money. I trust that you will get some of your men that kind of look like officials and put them into shiny uniforms. Male patrons with a female escort will have the chance to win one of four 'booster nuts'. "
Orson looked at the dirty four nuts in Res's hand. "Believe me, they are more expensive than you can imagine. If you touch the nut that is inside, you will stay stiff. Apart from that, you will need to buy the pots and all accessories I have detailed on the list. Most important: Lots of booze. Don't go cheap on it and buy things that are trendy today. Give the drinks extravagant names like 'Cobra's fang' and try some new variations. Last but not least, you will hire four bartenders, two down here and two up there and lots and lots of carpenters. We will need a bar, walls for the pools, and new beds.
Tell Arthur he needs to sell anti-hangover potions, too. Feel free to delegate any tasks to other people. Always keep in mind: we will have to open by tomorrow evening. We are now in direct competition with the prostitution district and Akila won't like that. We need to establish ourselves before we get snuffed out. This establishment has the potential to blow up big. We could combine the allure of the prostitute bars with the prestige of restaurants."
Orson stared at him, dumbstruck. Then he broke out into laughter. "Res, you are a handful. You know that all this will cost us. Like … A lot. To open the restaurant, we will need all your money."
"I am counting on it. When we open our doors tomorrow at the eighteenth bell, we will make it or break it."
They settled some minor issues, like entrance fees and the name of the restaurant. The fresh bread in the oven, the melted cheese, and the fine vegetables, smelled delicious. Res knew that he had done right in choosing Arthur as his chef. With a special technique that gave him a quick burst of energy, Orson crushed a gold coin flat. Res carved the words 'VIP' and 'il ristorante' into it. As the southerner tongue was trendy, they had settled on the word for restaurant. When they had finished, an enormous basket stuffed with delicious goodness stood ready at the kitchen counter.
Res looked at both the brothers with a solemn look in his eyes. "We will turn this place into something big. I can feel it. In the next twenty-four hours, I expect that you will have to work hard and at some point, you will question the entire plan. I will be back for the opening of the restaurant. Meanwhile, I will do some heavy advertising and get you the musician."
With a swing in his step, Res left the kitchen.