Roland and Arthur stood at the entrance of a small alley, right next to the main market. Half of it was occupied by a collection of wooden tables, each one looking different than the others, their chairs just as varied.

Behind the tables stood an abomination. Cobbled together from several different stands and carts, a gigantic half house half food stall combination took over almost one entire side of the alley.

Flying atop sat a banner sewn from dozens of cloths, sporting more colors than should be legal, announcing to everyone brave enough to venture forth what this mystical place was.

‘Grandma Dorothy’s Chicken Palace’

The one thing giving its pompous name some slight legitimacy was an exquisitely carved stone chicken, easily six feet tall, standing proudly next to the enormous stall. It was without a doubt the only non-second-hand thing in this entire alley, to the point that one would wonder how it ended up here in the first place.

Despite the early hour quite a few customers could be seen, though the majority of them weren’t actually eating anything. Instead, surrounding the largest and most solid looking table, there was a flock of about fifteen elderly women. The worn cards and colorful wooden chips before each of them left little doubt as to what these retired ladies were up to. Some good old fashioned early morning gambling.

Though at the moment something arguably less dubious occupied their attention. A wildly gesticulating Thomas had captured the hearts of these ladies, instantly rising to the popularity he rightfully deserved.

Despite his obvious head start, he appeared to have just arrived. His blindingly red face attesting to an arduous journey full of peril and missed turns.

Most noticeable, beside the wholly out of place boy, was a woman with a comically large chef’s hat and fitting uniform. Somewhere around sixty years old, sporting almost completely gray hair and wrinkles for days.

The eye-catching rainbow chicken embroidered on her uniform glowed in a dozen different hues, giving her a dignified aura. Which ended up being somewhat diminished due to her shoving a steaming chicken skewer into the receptive Thomas’ mouth.

She’ll really make it to a hundred at this rate. No sign of the frail old woman from before. Roland fondly remembered the first day he met Grandma Dorothy, and how much she had changed since then.

“It’s always surprising how popular our little Tommy is with the ladies,” Arthur mocked, entering the rowdy alley.

“It could be that his behavior easily awakens maternal instincts,” Roland proposed, before following his friend.

“Wonder how they would act if they had to endure his antics all the time,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Involuntarily the image of a despairing mother came to mind. Ripping at her hair as a tiny version of Thomas literally crawled along the floors and ceiling, devouring anything edible in the house. Some things were definitely better in moderation.

The noise inside the alley rose another notch when everyone noticed them entering. Thomas somehow being the most excited about their arrival. Though Dorothy came a close second. Seeing the way her eyes lit up when she spotted them, Roland couldn’t help but sigh.

“My savior!” Dorothy enthusiastically welcomed him, somehow managing to overpower everyone else with her raspy voice.

While I’m happy that she is well, I wouldn’t protest her turning the fanfare down slightly.

“Good to see you, Grandma Dorothy. It looks like our Tommy has already made himself at home,” Roland replied, bowing his head slightly and bracing himself for the coming storm. “Hopefully he hasn’t been too much of a distraction.”

“Ah you rascal, did I not tell you to stop being so polite,” Dorothy beamed at Roland. “You and your little friends are always welcome here.”

“Though I guess I shouldn't call you little anymore,” she added, turning towards Arthur. “It feels like you start growing the moment one looks away from you, my dear. Mighty impressive.”

“Well, you know what they say, Grandma,” Arthur replied, an amused glint in his eyes. “If you do something you better go all the way. No point being tall if you aren't the tallest.”

Truthfully Arthur cared little for his height, though the corresponding weight was quite nice for brawling. But after spending years with two people as professional as Roland and Thomas, he had learned how to appeal towards the elderly like the youngin he was supposed to be.

Grandma Dorothy and the surrounding ladies chuckled at his cheeky reply, chattering excitedly about the three boys. Though some of the more resourceful ones took the chance to discretely peek at their distracted opponents' cards, ultimately leading to the boys’ welcoming being cut short, as a bunch of retired old women were about to rain down justice.

Seeing their pudgy little friend enthusiastically chanting ‘Fight, fight, fight’, Roland quickly bonked him on the head using the flat of his palm. Which led to Thomas giving him a tragic look, reminiscent of a puppy that had no idea what it had done wrong, mouth plastered with cake as everything atop the dinner table seemingly shifted through dimensions on its own.

Taking Thomas with them, the three boys and Dorothy left behind a newly created battlefield and went over to one particularly nicely set table, right beside the giant stone chicken. The four chairs surrounding it miraculously all looked the same, appearing be of a higher quality than the rest.

This special table was in fact eternally reserved under orders of the owner, who also happened to be the head chef and only worker of this glorious palace.

Dorothy pulled up one of the chairs and unceremoniously plopped Roland down into it, being much happier than any proprietor should be when she welcomed non -paying customers. Though the lack of payment stemmed entirely from the fact that the mere suggestion of her little savior paying for the food would lead to this sweet old lady turning into fury incarnate.

Arthur sat down on his designated chair to Roland’s right, smirking at the rare sight of their leader being ‘manhandled’. Roland’s knack for dealing with adults did not work on someone unfettered like Dorothy, which is why this was one of the few situations where he could see his leader be treated like the child he technically still was.

Thomas too flopped down on his seat to Roland’s left, displaying about as much grace as a raccoon jumping into a trash heap.

“Is Stephan coming too?” Grandma Dorothy inquired as she arranged plates and cups around the table. “Been a long since we had the whole Crescent Moon Helpers together here.”

A light tremble went through Roland and Arthur, but they managed to keep the shame from showing on their faces. Thomas on the other hand happily swung his legs around, not caring the least about their less than stellar nickname.

I should have known better than to leave it up to fate, seeing that the City Lord is still upset about how these people dubbed the new library ‘Flying Fish Library’. Though choosing a name on your own creates a whole other set of problems.

“He is busy at the moment, though with how much these gluttons here can eat you won’t even notice him missing,” Roland answered, looking perfectly fine externally while lamenting the cruelty of society on the inside.

“Ho ho ho, looks like you boys are long overdue a real meal. Curse the trash they feed you over there,” Dorothy asserted, not holding back her disdain for the orphanage’s cooks. “Let me whip you up something tasty, and eat as much as you want. I’ll butcher every chicken in town if I have to.”

Leaving these ominous words behind, Dorothy rolled up her sleeves and left for the stall.

“Always an experience eating here,” Roland sighed.

“We’re only getting started,” Arthur mentioned, reminding Roland of the things still in store for them. “Can’t eat here without hearing about your heroics after all.”

“Our Heroics,” Roland snorted, declining to comment any further. By now most customers already heard the old story, so it almost feels like a formality. Still quite embarrassing nonetheless.

“Do you think she really would kill all the chickens?” Thomas asked with a concerned tone, glancing at the departing Dorothy, for once trying to be quit.

Roland and Arthur turned to look at one another. Intentions flew at the speed of light. Two minds became one.

“She’d do it in a heartbeat,” Roland started, face extremely serious.

“Yeah, no way those birds can outrun Grandma’s knife.” Arthur continued; stone cold.

“There probably is no person alive that has slain as many chickens as Grandma Dorothy.” Roland claimed, sounding so convincing he almost believed it himself.

Arthur leaned closer to Thomas, rested his elbows on the table, and whispered in a low voice, “I heard one day Grandma roasted so many chickens, all remaining ones in the whole city started hiding.”

“Wouldn’t be of much use though. She could have sliced their throats from a hundred miles away if she felt like it,” Roland finished their tale with a quick throat cutting gesture.

“Eek.” Thomas squealed, shrinking into his chair. He pulled both knees up to his chest and peered over them wide eyed, stealing quick glances towards the suddenly wrathful looking chicken palace.

An amused chuckle from Arthur made Roland’s serious face turn into a grin. He leaned back into his chair casually, raising its front two legs slightly.

“Don’t worry Thomas. No matter how ravenous you are there is little chance of things turning that dire,” Roland reassured his distraught friend, trying to pacify him. “Unless you feel up to the task of eating a couple thousand chickens.”

Eyes turning cold as ice, Thomas quietly muttered to himself, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Apparently, he was very much up to the task. “If the world needs me to be a demon, then a demon I shall become.”

What?

“Bring in the birds!” Yelling at the top of his lungs, Thomas banged his hands on the table repeatedly, showing his friends why messing with him could be just as dangerous as it was amusing. “Today we feast!”

His antics managed to catch Roland and Arthur by surprise, the latter’s elbow sliding forward in surprise, causing his head to hit the table with a dull thud.

Roland meanwhile nearly lost all balance, his chair reaching a critical angle. Luckily, he managed to grab the edge of the table after minimal arm flailing, saving himself from an unsightly tumble.

“What are you going guys?” Thomas asked incredulously, using one hand to shield his face from the curious glances directed at their table. “You’re embarrassing me.” The cold stares he received from his two companions did not seem to faze him the slightest.

This little fucker!

“Sounds like someone’s real hungry,” Dorothy called out as she arrived, quite possibly saving Thomas from a little physical education. “Have some appetizers for now, the main course will be a while longer.”

After placing an enormous plate filled with a good dozen chicken skewers on the table, she filled their cups to the brim, before quickly leaving again, still having much to prepare.

Looking at the giant pile of meat and vegetables would make one think how this could ever be considered an appetizer, easily being enough to feed someone for a whole day. Though you certainly wouldn’t find any of the three complaining.

Not caring the least about table manners, Thomas nonchalantly grabbed two skewers in each hand, alternatively biting into each with gusto.

Deciding tasty food took precedence over getting back at their cheeky friend, Roland and Arthur too grabbed some skewers. They however weren’t yet advanced enough in gluttony to quadruple wield.

A silence fell over the table, not for any special reason but simply because they always ate that way. Years of strict meals at the Orphanage had ingrained themselves inside them. And even if they were differently inclined, their stuffed mouths would have stopped them from communicating anyway, or at the very least made it slightly harder. Though Thomas was hardly one to shy away from a challenge along those lines.

Barely two minutes later the previously impressive looking plate was holding a bunch of discarded wooden skewers, no sign of anything edible remaining.

“I wonder how much longer until the food gets here,” Thomas mused the second he swallowed his last piece, licking the grease of his fingers impatiently.

“The wait increases by five minutes every time we talk about it,” Roland told his friend, hoping to shut him up for a bit.

“Nice try, Boss. I’m not stupid,” Thomas declared haughtily. “That curse only works if whoever is cooking hears it.”

“Right, how could I forget about that,” Roland replied, expression deadpan, before turning towards his other companion. “Would you be so kind to go and ask her, Arthur?”

“As you command, Boss,” Arthur saluted, rising from his seat full of purpose, like a soldier about to march towards the nearest brothel.

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry,” Thomas exclaimed fearfully, lunging from his seat to grab Arthur’s leg. “Don’t go, please.”

Turning towards his leader, Arthur waited for further instructions on how to handle the obstacle.

“Take him with you,” Roland commanded, tone cold as ice. That’ll teach him. If we’re lucky it’ll even stick until the end of the meal.

Easily lifting him using one hand, Arthur slung their wailing friend over his shoulder, before heading towards the chicken palace. Flailing around helplessly like a shockingly large carp out of the water, Thomas seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Taking a sip out of his cup, Roland burped lightly as he watched the soothing scene, delighting in his friend’s deserved misery.

A short time later the duo returned, Arthur flopping down the now limp Thomas on his seat. The gluttonous boy’s eyes were empty, devoid of any life, his very soul having left his body after he had heard the ghastly news.

“Going to be half an hour, Boss,” Arthur reported their missions’ result. “Been a while since we came, so it seems like Grandma Dorothy is going all out.”

Ought to be a spectacle. Anticipation and worry tumbled around in Roland’s mind. As the years had passed, Dorothy’s idea of what constituted a fabulous meal expanded, just like this patchwork restaurant of hers. It was only a matter of time before she brought out something that had long passed the delicious threshold and looped all the way back to inedible, or possibly sacrilegious.

A small shudder went through Roland when he remembered the time she served little pieces of meat you picked up using feathers which were pierced through them. It was tasty, but I can do without fancy decorations like those.

“We’ll find out today, won’t we?” Arthur suddenly asked, starting a slightly more serious topic of conversation now that they had finished getting back at Thomas. “Doesn’t feel overly exciting for how long it has been in the works.”

“You can say that again,” Roland replied, looking tired simply from remembering the ordeals they went through. “Even if it falls through, I’ll be happy we’ll never have to make the trek again.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed wholeheartedly. “Wouldn’t mind never seeing that eyesore of a fortress again. Wasting half a day for something so vain always felt horrible.”

“I didn’t mind those days,” Thomas interjected quietly, a spark of life having returned to him. After all, despite half an hour being almost the same as half a lifetime when it came to food, there would be a time when it finally arrived before him. That single though was enough to breathe new energy into his empty soul.

“They were really tasty days.” Past reminders of partaken snacks also seemed to help, judging by the goofy grin he displayed.

“Of course,” Arthur scoffed. “You never came with us after all. Choosing to stroll around town, getting fattened up by that noble brat instead.”

“Hey hey hey,” Roland stopped his friend from going further. “No need to call our little Claire by any names. There is nothing wrong with her and Tommy patrolling together when we are away.” Giving him fewer sweets would probably be for the best however. He tends to get weirder than usual if he gets too many.

“Don’t forget, depending on how today goes she’ll maybe even join us officially,” Roland added offhandedly. Though I’d personally prefer the alternative. We need to keep all options in mind.

“That’d be great,” Thomas cheered excitedly, almost fully revitalized and absolutely not realizing he was basically wishing bad luck on his leader. Roland didn’t particularly mind, as he knew Thomas never offended people on purpose. It was simply a kind of ingrained ability that couldn’t be turned off.

So instead of explaining his wrongdoings to the dense boy, which took entirely too long while furthermore having little guarantee to succeed in the first place, it was best to simply mess with him as punishment.

“What’s with the defeatist attitude, Boss?” Arthur commented, sour-faced at the mere idea of their plans falling through. “You’ll get the recommendation and we’ll politely tell her to take a hike. Win-win if you ask me.”

“Not nice, Arthur,” Thomas chided his large friend, looking like the latter had just kicked a puppy. Or possibly two at once, his feet were large enough after all. “Claire is great, we should let her join for sure. She got me chocolate pancakes at the market last time, they tasted real nice.” A vacant expression appeared on his face as he reminisced about the food.

Snapping out of his reverie, Thomas turned serious all of a sudden, giving out further information of vital importance, “Though not as good as the oyster pancakes Ernie sells next to the docks.”

“What nice girl? You stupid glutton,” Arthur barked at his easily swayed friend. “We have been at this for years and she showed no sign of interest, but suddenly we can’t walk two feet without her pestering us about joining? If that doesn’t smell of ulterior motives then I don’t know.”

Getting more wound up the longer he talked, Arthur seemed a lot more outspoken all of a sudden, contrasting his usual stoic appearance. Something which always happened when he got angry or annoyed.

Here we go again. Roland sighed quietly to himself, this usually hidden side of Arthur’s being nothing new to him. From the way he was talking you’d think it was about some dangerous criminal, instead of a thirteen-year-old girl half his size. Though I guess in a way Claire is a lot more dangerous than some random criminal, her being the City Lord’s daughter and all that.

Roland clapped loudly to interrupt his two companion’s argument, just as Thomas looked about ready to jump into a hopeless battle, all to defend his right to be bribed with sweets. He’d make a good politician someday.

“Enough,” Roland declared sternly, giving Thomas an exaggerated look to drive his point into the latter’s frighteningly dense brain. “We agreed from the start how things would be handled. If I get accepted for early admission we’ll decline her application, as making big changes for two measly months isn’t worth it.”

Hearing his leader’s words, Thomas started sulking. But his opponent wasn’t looking triumphant himself, because Arthur knew their leader was not finished yet, having a good idea about what he would say next.

“But,” Roland continued, this time towards his other sour looking friend. “We also said that should I not get in, you’ll go ahead on your own, and I’ll join you next year. If that happens, getting Claire to fill your position would be for the best. Wouldn’t it, Arthur?”

Having intimidating muscle like Arthur around helped tremendously with many of their plans, and even though Claire could obviously not fill the exact role, her status would practically fulfill the same purpose.

“I agreed to leave on my own, if necessary,” Arthur replied, looking extremely unwilling however. “I nonetheless stand by my other opinion. We have done fine on our own, getting nobles involved in our business will end up biting us in the ass. If not because of Claire then certainly due to those shits courting her.”

While Arthur’s complaints might seem overly exaggerated, he had his companion’s best interest at heart.

Yeah, those two snakes are pretty hard to deal with alright, but it’s not like they can just do whatever they feel like. Need to keep up appearances after all.

“Your concerns are noted,” Roland reassured Arthur. “Worst case I’ll throw Stephan out to take the fall or something. Don’t worry, we can handle ourselves, and from the times I have been around Claire I feel that she is genuine.” A bit too much for my taste. Real eagerness overload.

“I just hope it works out,” Arthur complained quietly. “Stephan should have dragged his sorry ass back home last night. We’d already know by now instead of arguing about what ifs.”

Harsh as always. Roland smirked at his spartan friend’s complaints. Skipping a night’s sleep would be easy beyond belief for Arthur, but their fourth member would most definitely end up a wreck, considering the kind of lifestyle he had.

“Shouldn’t have gotten so heated,” Arthur reflected on his earlier outburst. “Thomas just gets swayed so easily it’s worrying. He’s going to end up in some weirdo’s cellar at this rate.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure most people would be ecstatic about having help from everyone’s favorite bright young miss,” Roland argued, having the slightest bit more trust in Thomas’ judgment than his large friend. “He wouldn’t follow some random stranger, right Thomas?”

The easily swayed boy himself was taken aback, having lost track of the conversation and instead opted to sword fight against himself using two skewers.

“Yes, she is really pretty,” he replied, somehow unperturbed with answering a question he hadn't heard clearly.

Arthur facepalmed at their friend’s random but surprisingly decent answer. Whereas Roland laughed heartily, Thomas having exceeded his expectations once again.

“Valid point Tommy. I somehow didn’t consider this before,” Roland remarked. The last spark of seriousness having been killed; he was suddenly in a mischievous mood. “Could that be the real reason for your dislike, Arthur?”

Eyes widening in understanding, Arthur was about to stop Roland’s next attack. Unfortunately, it seemed he was outnumbered.

“What!” Thomas exclaimed, much too loud for his poor friend’s sanity. “You actually like her, Arthur?”

Usually unable to understand nuanced statements even if they were explained to him word for word, Thomas had somehow instantly gotten the point. His brain apparently gained unlimited processing power when a situation to embarrass his friends arose.

The loud exclamation made several of the neighboring old ladies look over in interest once again, resulting in Arthur’s words being stuck in his throat as he was momentarily taken aback, leaving him wide open for Roland’s next attack.

“Saying she ’smells of ulterior motives’. And calling her a ‘noble brat’,” Roland remarked with a shit-eating grin, air quoting his unfortunate friend. “Meanwhile on the inside you’re swooning, thinking of ways to approach her on your own.”

“Cut it out,” Arthur growled quietly, his attempt at having nobody else hear making his tone quite a lot less intimidating than intended. “I have no interest in girls, much less her. Training and our work come first.”

“Alright, alright,” Roland pacified the enraged boy. “We were just joking.”

He gave Thomas a hard to phrase look, brows jumping up and down weirdly. He did not intend to communicate anything specific to his little friend, simply hoping that the latter would interpret his meaningless gesture in a way which would lead to more amusement down the line. Pretty much a guarantee, the only question being when this erratic bomb would go off.

Arthur did not miss the determined look Thomas showed afterwards, sighing resignedly, unable to do anything to stop a future disaster from befalling him. This stupid exchange had annoyed him greatly, which funnily enough proved he did not like the City Lord’s daughter.

After all, if Arthur was actually interested, he’d have shown a stone-cold reaction towards their teasing, for that was the way he hid things. Hard to expose a secret if you have to chisel through a couple layers of granite first. Even if said granite was a lot more brittle than it looked.

Declaring proudly that he has no interest in romance, while quite sad in a way, makes perfect sense if you take our usual workload in to account. Though I personally wouldn’t mind experiencing something along those lines as long as it doesn’t interfere with important matters.

Contemplating the sorry state of their romantic experience, Roland felt it couldn’t be blamed solely on them.

There simply ain't a lot of girls our age back home. Most of them join the Lunar Order once they are eligible, so the only remaining ones are way too young or truants. And even if we have a good reputation in town, we’re hardly going to meet any girls fixing bridges or patrolling the streets.

To be perfectly honest, for them any relationship in Soren would be incredibly awkward to start, considering all the exaggerated stories surrounding the Crescent Moon Helpers. Sighing at their self-inflicted misfortune Roland could only look forward to brighter possibilities in the future.

“What about the Academy?” Roland asked his friend, himself interested in brighter pastures. “You won’t try your romantic luck in the Capital, swarming with every kind of girl imaginable?” I think, not like I have ever been there.

A single look at Arthur would show one that he had not even considered the possibility so far.

“Probably not,” he answered, slightly less determined than the previous time. “It honestly feels like a lot of extra work. I don’t have time for unnecessary stuff.”

On the inside he must have known that those kinds of statements coming out of a full-blooded boy his age would have made his parents weep blood. They were however not around for obvious reasons. So a slight awkwardness was all he felt.

Roland grimaced at his friend’s answer, hoping for a better response as he inquisitively turned toward their third member, who had been surprisingly silent.

“Eh,” Thomas stammered, face red. “I’m still too young. I’ll just wait until you and Arthur have girlfriends before thinking about it again.”

The boy’s imagination seemed to be quite active, judging by the tomato like qualities he currently displayed. But it ultimately couldn’t trump his embarrassment.

Roland clicked his tongue, greatly disappointed in his friends.

Is this my fault? Did I lead these two on the path of the hermit without noticing it? Though Stephan is basically the opposite, so it’s probably not on me that these two turned out like this. Though there are quite a few problems with his attitude as well.

Or are there?

“Maybe I should have you guys tag along Stephan sometime,” Roland contemplated, deep in thought about the possible repercussions.

Arthur stiffened momentarily upon hearing his leader’s insane idea, no doubt imagining some less than appropriate scenes.

“For food?” Thomas asked, tilting his head confusedly, previous spark nowhere to be seen.

“In a way I guess,” Roland answered, showing a lecherous grin while being much too proud of himself.

Very much done with the conversation, Arthur decided to take out his notebook and read through it again, ignoring their leader’s antics. Thomas instead seemed to be deep in thought, imagining what kind of food they were talking about.

Truth be told we’ll probably have even more chores to do when we make it to the Academy. Eh, guess romance has to wait for now.

Any further daydreams about highly unlikely adventures of the other kind were put to a stop when a loud commotion sounded from inside the chicken palace.

Absurd amounts of smoke rushed out of the wonky construction, as everything in their surrounding was drowned out in a gigantic explosion. One of pure flavor.