THE NEXT MORNING
VESTA
The bell above the Primrose Tavern door jingled steadily, and I felt that familiar tug, the one that meant trouble, but also… satisfaction. Not the chaos of Hestia's fanfare, but the quieter kind: patrons coming in because they knew the food was worth it.
Michael moved beside me behind the counter, Falna mark faintly glowing as he carefully arranged bowls and ladled out portions. I had him under strict orders: no collapsing, no burning anything, and no trying to flirt with customers. The first few adventurers trickled in, recognizing the faint aura of a goddess imbued meal. Eyes widened as they glimpsed Michael standing confidently, serving food like he'd belonged here for ages.
"Is… that the stew from the rumors?" A young swordsman asked, voice hushed.
"It is." I said dryly, stirring a fresh pot of goblin meat and glowing mushrooms. "It's also hot. Don't burn your tongues, please."
Michael handed him a bowl with a careful smile.
"Here, try it. You'll feel… better. Trust me."Michael said.
The swordsman hesitated, then tasted. His eyes widened, cheeks flushing as he swallowed. "By the gods… this… this is incredible!"
"Of course it is." I muttered. "I put effort into my work."
More adventurers arrived, each drawn in by word of mouth, the faint whisper of divine influence on my cooking, or Michael's proud display of Falna marked service. A small crowd gathered, murmuring.
"She's… a goddess, isn't she?" Someone whispered.
"I think the new guy is her first official Familia member." Another replied.
I rolled my eyes, ladling a portion for a mage who had just waltzed in, her staff tucked under one arm as she eyed the stew suspiciously.
"Eat. Now." I said. "And I don't care if you've been fasting for three days. That stew has healing in it."
The mage hesitated, then cautiously took a spoonful. A faint glow rolled through her, easing bruises and tension she hadn't realized she carried. She blinked, amazed.
"It… it actually works."She whispered.
"Yes." I said flatly, wiping a stray drop of broth from the counter. "This is why you don't try to fight goblins on an empty stomach."
Michael grinned beside me, serving a pair of dwarves who had elbowed their way past the front.
"She's amazing." He said softly. "I don't know how she does it."
I glanced at him, a hint of a smirk tugging at my lips. "She does it because she has to."I said.
The tavern filled steadily, the soft murmur of patrons blending with the clink of bowls and the warm hiss of cooking. Every once in a while, someone would peek around the counter, eyes wide as they caught the faint shimmer of divine energy lingering over a dish or flickering across Michael's Falna marked back. By mid afternoon, Primrose Tavern was bustling, tables full, chairs scraping, laughter mingling with the smell of simmering herbs and roasted goblin meat. A particularly bold adventurer leaned over, whispering to Michael.
"You… you get to eat this every day?"He asked.
Michael nodded proudly.
"Yep. Best part of joining the Vesta Familia."Michael grinned.
I shot him a glare.
"Don't make it sound like a spa. You're here to work too."I said.
He laughed, holding up a tray of bowls.
"Yes, Chef Goddess!"Michael said
I groaned, smacking the counter lightly.
"Stop calling me that!"I said pretending to be annoyed.
The customers only laughed, delighting in the show as much as they did in the meal. Word of Vesta's culinary skill spread like wildfire, and I realized, with faint exasperation and a touch of pride, that Primrose Tavern would never be quiet again. Not with Michael by my side, not with adventurers discovering the best stew in Orario, and certainly not with me keeping the heat and the divine seasoning just right. And honestly? I didn't mind.
The lunch rush had tapered off, leaving the tavern buzzing with contented murmurs and the faint clink of empty bowls. Michael set the last dish on the counter and gave me a small salute.
"I'm heading out for a… simple task." He said casually.
I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my suspicion.
"Simple, huh? That's how they always describe dungeon runs before half the town ends up in my tavern begging for healing."I frowned.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry."He grinned.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath.
"Famous last words."I sighed.
Hours later, the bell above the tavern door jingled again. I glanced up from reorganizing the herbs on the shelf, expecting a tired, dust covered Michael. Instead, he strode in, chest out, armor gleaming faintly in the afternoon sun, and a loot laden satchel bouncing on his hip. Not a single major wound in sight, just a few faint scratches that didn't even break the skin. I blinked.
"Level Two. Second floor." I murmured, more to myself than him.
Michael set the satchel down with a flourish and grinned proudly.
"Told you it would be simple."He said.
The tavern went silent for a moment. A pair of adventurers lingering near the counter leaned in. Their eyes widened.
"Is that… him? He went into the second floor… and came back practically unscathed?"He asked.
Michael nodded, brushing the faint dust from his armor.
"Yeah. Few scratches, but nothing major. Thanks to… a little guidance." He gave me a quick, conspiratorial wink.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"By 'guidance,' you mean my stew and divine seasoning, right?"I asked.
He chuckled, handing me a small, glowing mushroom.
"You could say that."He said.
The adventurers murmured amongst themselves, glancing at each other, at Michael, and then at me.
"She… she really is a goddess of cooking? That's insane! No wonder he came back so easily!"One adventuerer asked.
I exhaled slowly, smoothing the apron around my waist.
"Yes. Yes, I'm a goddess, I heal through food, and yes, your heroics are probably overrated." I glanced at Michael. "Good job bringing the loot back. Don't get cocky, though, you're still under my supervision."
Michael set the loot on the counter, a collection of glowing mushrooms, enchanted roots, and a few trinkets from the second floor.
"All accounted for. And all mostly intact."He said.
I bent down to pat his head lightly, earning a small, amused grunt from him.
"Proud of you, kid. Now, help me clean up, or the stew will get cold and nobody's getting bonuses today."I said.
He saluted, still grinning, and started stacking bowls. I watched him for a moment, my usual exasperation mixing with a quiet pride. The tavern was alive again, adventurers murmuring about Level Two floor exploits, and Michael, the first official member of my little Vesta Familia, was holding his own like he belonged here.
For once, I let myself relax. The Primrose Tavern was chaos, warmth, and food but it was ours. And if Michael could survive the second floor with only a few scratches, then maybe, just maybe, we could survive this chaos together.