Brewing Ambitions: The Barista Quest
Before posting the job ad for Coffee Rosens Branch No. 1 (2), Bertrand asked Francois about coffee.
"You know about it, right? You learned it at the Cuisine Academy."
"It's difficult."
Francois gave a curt reply, as if there was nothing more to say.
"Isn't it just about roasting it well, grinding it into powder, and brewing it?"
"No, it's not, Balder. For starters, there are dozens of types of coffee beans, each with their own unique recipes."
"I'm not planning to do all of them—just one or two popular flavors to start."
"Wise choice. But you'll need more equipment for that."
Coffee roasting pots, grinding machines...? And something about laying filter paper and dripping it drop by drop...??????
"What the hell is all that...? Why do you need stuff like that?"
"Because it seems like you're serious about doing this right. Think about it, Balder. Coffee is a luxury item—a taste that's divisive, right?"
"Yeah?"
"So you have two options. Either bring out the true flavor of the coffee and captivate those willing to pay for it, or slash the price so low that even ordinary citizens can try it."
"Hmm. But slashing prices means cutting costs, which would drop the quality."
If he wasn't going to do it properly, he might as well not do it at all. Half-assing it would alienate both coffee aficionados from the upper class and first-time civilian drinkers. Coffee took time to get used to, and if their first taste was cheap swill, they'd never come back.
"Guess I'll have to go all-in and do it right."
"Exactly. But I'm not sure how many people around here actually know how to handle coffee."
Francois could make it, but she couldn't leave the kitchen. She was better suited to the kitchen than the cafe upstairs. And he couldn't just hire a waitress now and send her off to the Cuisine Academy on the spot.
Either way, he'd have to post that job ad.
On his way to City Hall to post the job ad, Bertrand stopped by Hildeva's office. Lambert was there, reporting on something. It was a budget operations report for the city guard, which had received a chunk of the funding bombshell that Elua had dropped before leaving.
After waiting briefly in the side room, the secretary opened the door once the report wrapped up.
"Hello, Mayor. Captain."
"Welcome, Bertrand."
Hildeva greeted him with her signature alluring smile. Lambert met his eyes and gave a curt nod by way of greeting.
"You stopped by City Hall and came up?"
"Yeah. Here to post a job ad."
"Hiring more staff?"
"Planning to open a cafe on the bathhouse rooftop. Need someone who knows coffee."
"Coffee...?"
From her expression, Hildeva had clearly never tried it.
"You're selling something that pricey? There probably aren't many in the city who can afford to pay for coffee..."
"I'll figure out cost-cutting later. Worth a shot for now."
"Now that's music to my ears."
Lambert, who had been standing with arms crossed, suddenly spoke up.
"Haven't had proper coffee since leaving home."
Ah, right. Lambert was the young master of the Tremouille Marquisate. A family with that kind of wealth would have easy access to coffee.
"You know coffee, Captain?"
"Of course. My family home always had top baristas on standby."
"Bari... what?"
"Baristas. Professionals who brew coffee."
"Brew coffee...? What does that even mean?"
"Ah, looks like you know nothing about it. Explaining it all would take forever."
Lambert looked troubled.
"Hmm... I first tried it visiting desert kingdoms years ago, and haven't had it since."
"I've never had mainland coffee either. They say the beans from desert regions taste different from those from tropical rainforests."
"Who knows..."
So none of the city's top officials here—or Bertrand himself—really knew coffee? Lambert claimed some knowledge, but probably just tasting it. Hmm... Was he stirring up unnecessary work?
But Kekers Marquis had said it: Where there's a will, there's a way. So Bertrand stubbornly went ahead and applied for the job ad.
As they left City Hall together, Lambert said,
"By the way, Balder. About that blue dragon incident—when can I hear the full story? We've both been swamped lately, always missing each other."
Right, he'd forgotten. He'd promised to tell Lambert about Lurtjog and the Holy Sword someday.
His head was spinning with everything on his plate right now.
"Can it wait? The inn's keeping me buried. Feels like my head's gonna explode."
"Mm, fine. My assignment could change anytime anyway—no rush."
"Change? Weren't you leaving in a year?"
"No. All transfers are on hold due to tensions with the nobility council."
He'd heard promotions were frozen too. Things were shifting to a pre-war footing. Before war, units stayed put and on standby.
Rosens felt it less since it was a direct territory top to bottom, but the situation sounded dire. How was Elua handling it? She needed to stay rational and not escalate...
If pride sparked a civil war, the inn would take a massive hit. Worst case, facilities requisitioned. If they suspended pensions to fund the war, it'd be a nightmare...
Bertrand parted with Lambert and returned to the inn. The inn and bathhouse buzzed with out-of-town guests, a long line snaked toward the Monster Zoo's dimensional gate. Employees and red-haired half-elves dashed about frantically, every noise ringing like clinking gold coins in his ears.
Wagons loaded with materials for the staff dorm construction shuttled nonstop along the road fronting the inn. Dwarves bustled on short legs, hammers ringing. The weather grew colder, but the inn's heat was rising.
If war broke out now, with the inn soaring...
He'd be fucking pissed.
A few days later, Mollo arrived with the items Bertrand had requested: tools for making coffee and small sacks of various beans.
"How'd you manage this?"
"A request from you, Bertrand? I'd move heaven and earth."
"Thanks. Hang on—I'll get the head chef."
With Francois, they meticulously inspected Mollo's haul. She tested the oddly shaped tools, opened sacks to sift beans, sniff, and chew them.
"Perfect, Mollo. Excellent."
"Credit is our lifeblood, Chef. Shoddy goods mean our heads roll too."
Mollo beamed at Francois's praise.
"Still, you're really diving into coffee? That's no small feat..."
"If it was easy, the inn wouldn't be here. If we were just slinging ordinary beer, we wouldn't bother with a cafe."
"Fair point. It wouldn't be Crossroads Troll without the special touch."
They hauled Mollo's delivery up to the bathhouse rooftop cafe. Once sorted, it looked surprisingly legit. Now he just needed that barista...
No applicants yet. If push came to shove, he'd head to the capital and scout personally...
One day, Idi scratched her head as she crossed the dining hall.
"Bertrand... outside... some weird person's here..."
"Weird person?"
"Looking for Ergaduk and Liana... Told her I didn't know, just in case..."
What the...? Another black dragon thing?
He hurried out to find a short-haired redhead standing in the courtyard. She wore season-appropriate warm clothes, but they were filthy with road dust—clearly long on the trail.
A red dragon...? But Kali circled her calmly, not growling, so probably not.
"Who are you?"
"Looking for someone..."
Her voice was hoarse and weary, like her strength was fading.
"Tall black-haired guy and a short blonde with ridiculously huge tits like a cow... They come here...?"
Ergaduk and Liana. But who was she...?
"Nah? No idea. Who are you, anyway?"
"Not here...? Then maybe they veered east from Bue... Heard they went north for sure..."
She muttered, turning away.
"Gotta head back to Bue..."
She trudged out of the courtyard and mounted her horse parked on the road. Without another word, she galloped south.
What the hell...???
Ergaduk, that dragon... What the fuck had he done on the way here to have women hunting him down like this...?
No coffee expert applicants yet. As Bertrand watched the dwarves at the construction site, wondering if he really had to go to the capital, Marim came running, yelling.
"Boss! Boss! They came!"
"What came?"
"That barista or whatever! Someone who knows it!"
"No shit?"
He rushed back to the inn. At the bar sat what looked like the applicant.
"Hello. You know how to... handle coffee..."
The moment Bertrand saw his face, he trailed off without thinking.