actually going to eat that?"
Zorflax took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then froze. "It's… surprisingly good!"
Garret, skeptical but starving, took a small spoonful. To his shock, it was good—rich and flavorful, with tender chunks of meat.
"What's in this?" he asked.
The bartender winked. "Trade secret."
Before Garret could press further, the inn's front door burst open, and a gang of goblins stormed in, waving rusty weapons.
"Alright, everyone, hands up!" the lead goblin snarled. "This is a robbery!"
Garret sighed, setting down his bowl. "Can't we just have one peaceful meal?"
Zorflax stood, puffing out his chest. "Fear not, patrons! I, Zorflax the Magnificent, shall handle this!"
The lead goblin sneered. "What're you gonna do? Hit us with a rubber duck?"
Zorflax frowned. "I'll have you know my magic is highly unpredictable and—"
A goblin interrupted by throwing a mug at Zorflax's head, knocking him over.
Garret groaned. "Great. Guess it's up to me."
He grabbed his rusted sword and faced the goblins. "Listen, fellas. I've had a rough couple of days. I've fought killer llamas, a homicidal bed, and I haven't had a proper nap since this stupid quest started. So, unless you want to end up as the next mystery meat, I suggest you leave."
The goblins exchanged uneasy glances.
"Wait," one whispered to another. "You think he's serious?"
"Look at him," another replied. "He's got that crazy, sleep-deprived look. Those are the dangerous ones."
The lead goblin hesitated, then muttered, "Fine, we're leaving. But this isn't over!"
As the goblins retreated, Zorflax sat up, rubbing his head. "What did I miss?"
"Just me saving your bacon," Garret said, sitting back down.
Zorflax sniffed. "I softened them up for you."
Garret rolled his eyes. "Sure you did. Now shut up and eat your stew before it turns back into whatever it was before."