Isekai Hero Bartender

"Are you sure we have to sell this?" Shivai hugged her wooden pail to her chest jealously, guarding it against anyone nearby who might take it from her.

"There's plenty more where that came from," I assured her.

"Well, let them take that, then. I want this one for myself."

We'd put up a little sign out front. With Shivai's deft hand, the little sandwich board read plainly, "Icy confections for all ages inside. Beat the heat with ice cream." Then, below that, "One copper per cup."

I’d watched with fascination as she carried out her remarkable penmanship. Or perhaps I meant paintmanship? Even with a wide brush, she’d managed incredible detail. Curlicues and gentle serifs elevated her typography a cut above anything else I’d seen in town.

If the promise of confections didn’t bring people in, perhaps the sheer artistry of the sign would do it.

"What if we don't even sell any? What if everyone just wants to stay in where it's shady?” Shivai didn’t sound worried—she sounded desperate, like she was in the bargaining stage of grief. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to eat it all herself. “What if Wynnie isn't able to convince anyone to try your strange, foreign desserts?"

I patted Shivai on the back consolingly. "I'm sure at least a few people will be adventurous enough to try it. The people of Seaport have proven willing to step out of their comfort zones."

"Well, shit. You really wanna crush my dreams, don’t you?”

I didn’t, actually. Yet I had dreams of my own. It wasn’t that I’d always wanted to open an ice cream shop, but a growing part of me wanted to expand the influence of Earth-based cuisine. Not only that, but we could use the extra coin. I saw a kitchen remodel in our future. And nicer bathrooms.

Unfortunately for Shivai—and fortunately for me and the business—Wynnie returned from her street hawking adventure. In tow walked a few families, most of them with children. She stopped for a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen to scoop ice cream into cups. Meanwhile, Shivai held back her complaints and began tending to the customers.

Word traveled fast. Within the hour, a steady stream of townsfolk ambled to our door. A line formed up to the bar, which I'd cleared of all alcoholic equipment. Instead, I put a small till out where I could exchange money and take orders.

The line slowly grew, no matter how fast we served. By the second hour, it had wrapped around the main room twice, like the snake game I used to play on my calculator. A few people waited outside on the porch.

"We're almost out!" Wynnie called from the kitchen.

"No!" Shivai’s devastated cry made the crowd look at her, worried that someone might’ve just fallen dead at her feet. Nope. "Save me some! I to try it!"

"You've already had two!" Wynnie called back.

"I need to try it a third time!"

She flounced dramatically, making a beeline for the kitchen. I pulled Shivai to my side. She slumped next to me, already defeated. Her rounded shoulders, hanging head, and drooping tail entered a competition to see which body part could look the most disappointed.

Her mood was infectious. Seeing such a miserable employee, the guests shifted uneasily in their lines. They bumped against each other, murmuring under their breaths.

Nobody wanted to have waited an hour for nothing.

If I didn’t think fast, we could have a full-blown ice cream riot on our hands. I had to take charge quickly.

"Everyone! May I have your attention, please!" I held up my hands and addressed the room, silencing the whispers and grumbles. "We're running low! If you're not in the first, um, ten people in line, then I can't guarantee we'll have any left for you if you stay."

A shocked, treble gasp ran through the crowd. Angered groans brought up the bass. It felt like we were seconds from a nonsensical, screaming dubstep drop. It reminded me of when I first told a group of sailors how much I planned to charge for a cocktail, but somehow worse.

There were children present.

We were minutes from full-blown meltdowns.

Maybe the stakes were low, but there are few things a service industry professional hates more than disappointing guests. Especially if they showed up and waited for one specific item, and it wasn't there. I owed them.

"We'll have enough cream to make more tomorrow," I continued, belting out my best reassurances. "Same time, same place. We'll try to make more."

A few folks in line muttered curses that they probably shouldn't have, given all the young children present. A few more just let out heavy sighs of disappointment. Already, several people in line made their way toward the doors.

One small group stuck around, pushing their luck on whether they’d get ice cream. Yet as soon as I recognized one rangy elf in overalls and a flannel shirt, I called back to Wynnie to make sure we had some to spare.

Farmer Cal sauntered up to the bar. His wife stood next to him, looping her arm through his. On her other side, two young children stood eagerly on their tiptoes, trying to see up over the bar.

"Good afternoon, Farmer Cal," I greeted him. "I see you brought the family."

He smiled warmly and nodded for his wife to introduce herself. She curtsied.

"Yvonne," she said, giving me a short, pleasant nod. "And these little gremlins are Toby and Salma."

"I see they have their father's eyes," I said, smiling. "And their mother's ears."

"And her horns!" exclaimed Toby.

Yvonne appeared to be a beastkin, who were somewhat rare around Seaport. Bovine beastkin like her were even more uncommon. A brass ring pierced the septum of her slightly snouted broad nose. She towered a foot above Farmer Cal, and despite looking normally proportioned, her size would make Wynnie look like a pixie. Two floppy, cow-like ears accentuated either side of her shapely face.

She did indeed have two small horns. And here I thought female cows didn’t have them. More proof that I didn’t know much about agriculture.

Or beastkin.

"Thanks for inviting us to stop in. The kids have been asking about this confection of yours all day."

"I just hope it passes muster," I said. I caught Shivai's attention as she twisted her way through the crowd collecting dirty cups. "Four ice creams. Let's go heavy on the kids’ portion if we can swing it."

“What!?” Shivai agonized.

"Oh, I don't think they all need that much," Yvonne said.

"Of course they don't. But it's a parent's duty to help the kids finish their ice cream. You can thank me later."

I punctuated it with a wink, which sold it, I think. Then again, they were getting it for free anyway, so my salesmanship might not have had much to do with it.

After we’d gotten them their ice cream—the last of the day—they lingered for a few moments. At first, I thought they just wanted to be polite and chat. Cal and Yvonne loitered by the bar while the kids dug greedily into their cups. We chatted about allergies, herbs, and what kinds of proteins we preferred.

That’s when I put two and two together. It wasn’t polite conversation. They were sizing us up. They wanted to have us for dinner!

And not in a cannibalistic way, either.

Yvonne confirmed it. "So, maybe if it gets too hot one of these nights, you could close the bar down come by for dinner? We'd love to have you over."

"That sounds fun,” I said. “We’d love to drop in."

She shook her head, letting her ears flap gently. “Oh, and I’m so sorry; I almost forgot. My husband mentioned that you asked if Wynnie could join. Which, that’s fine. I just thought maybe you and your girlfriend here might want a date night.” She jerked a thumb toward Shivai, who bustled out of the kitchen to pick up some dirty dishes on a nearby table.

Shivai blushed. She clasped her hands together over her chest and mouthed, pleaaase?

I chuckled. "Uhhh. Well, I’m dating Wynnie, actually. But Shivai's making a pretty strong case to join us," I said, feeling like maybe I was revealing too much.

But Yvonne's face broke out in a warm smile. "Oh, that's wonderful! Love is grand, isn't it? The more of it you can get in your life, the better. My sister's married to a fella down south who has another wife. She loves it. Too bad Cal here's so old-fashioned." She nudged him playfully in the side.

He smiled bashfully and shook his head. "Don't reckon I could keep up. She's insatiable, this one. I think she'd do better with a second husband."

"You know I couldn't do that. I don't have eyes for anyone but you." Yvonne laughed softly and rubbed her husband's shoulder.

The two of them kissed sweetly, but chastely. From near the kitchen door, holding it open with one foot while balancing a stack of dirty cups in her arms, Shivai whined, "Awww!"

“We’ll bring something to drink,” I promised. “And Wynnie’s been pushing me to spend more time with Shivai, so…”

“It’s a date!”

An hour later, and the only evidence that we'd had any ice cream at all was dozens upon dozens of sticky, dirty serving cups and spoons. Shivai, Wynnie, and I hunkered in a cool corner of the kitchen, exhausted from the whirlwind of commerce. The cold floor would normally be uncomfortable to sit on, but exhaustion made for adequate cushioning.

Each of us had a single, small scoop in the last of our clean cups in front of us.

We’d earned the treat.

I dipped my spoon in. It cut through the confection like soft serve. Whatever we'd done to turn it so smooth, it had worked. The process was nothing like back on Earth—Wynnie's brilliant blue spark of ice magic chilled the custard at a steady rate as we whipped air into the mixture. We’d kept churning, even as frothy, stiff peaks formed.

Each of our custards did the trick. We’d tried them all before serving them. Quality control took precedence, after all.

Yet I had to admit, Wynnie's was the best. It was so rich and so creamy that it felt like a perfect, fluffy frozen cloud descending onto my tongue. Every semisweet bite spread rich vanilla across my palate.

"This has to be the recipe we stick with," I said.

"I like mine," Shivai snapped, immediately defensive. Then she dipped her spoon in and took a bite. Reluctantly, she mumbled, "But yeah. Let's go with Wynnie's. It's the best."

Wynnie smiled contentedly to herself. Her cute, chubby cheeks bunched into a quiet grin. She licked every trace of residue off her spoon, taking tiny little nibbles and savoring them.

"I don’t think I could ever get tired of this," she said.

I chuckled. "Well, don't worry if you do. You know, vanilla's not the only flavor that works with it."

"Really? What else is there?"

Oh, if only she knew. There wasn't a scroll in the kingdom long enough to list every flavor humans had come up with back on Earth.

I relaxed my legs, letting my thighs press up against hers. Shivai nudged up against me on the other side. Her tail curled around my waist, holding me dear. Both of them looked adoringly at me as I took a deep breath, ready to list the different ones I thought we could make easily.

"Chocolate. Strawberry. Pistachio. Coffee. Hazelnut."

Shivai tapped me excitedly on the shoulder. Her face brightened with pure excitement. "Do you think we could do anything where we mix it with alcohol?"

"Oh, definitely. There's a boozy affogato. A grasshopper. A mudslide. Sgroppino…"

The demonkin looked at me reverently. "I don't know what any of those words mean, but I want to try all of them."

Wynnie giggled. "What if he's just listing off weird sex positions?"

"Same deal. Although I'd be a little disappointed if there wasn't a little ice cream in at least one of them." Shivai looked meaningfully at Wynnie, saying the subtext out loud. "And I'd hope there's enough to go around for all of us."

I was starting to hope so, too.

“Only a few hours till we need to prep dinner,” Wynnie sighed. “We don’t have much in the larder. And ships are going to head into port soon. We’ll probably have a full house tonight.”

“Want me to head out and stock up?”

“Sure. Take the cart. See if you can fill the rooms, too. Let’s make some money.” Wynnie looked across me to Shivai. “You’re on bar prep.”

“What are you going to do while we work?” Shivai asked.

“I might need a nap after using so much energy to freeze those creams!”

That was fine by me. She’d more than earned it. Even putting the coin aside, she’d brought a taste of Earth here to the Silver Coast.

I stood, dusting kitchen floor off my pants. It was time to see what the sailors had brought in to Seaport… and what we could potentially bring back to the inn.

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