This choice: Word of the Festival reaches an Adinahn Princess, making everyone anxious! • Go Back...Chapter #6What to Expect when Expecting Royalty by: Bobo the Hobo   Olga's wish would be granted, in an odd sort of way, by way of the Racovanian Festival.
It happened every year, so it seemed somewhat strange that this particular festival would be the answer to her prayers. From sunrise to sunset, to celebrate the Harvest Season coming in, townsfolk took the day off from their jobs and enjoyed themselves by way of drinking, dancing, and gorging themselves into a stupor.
Olga had always looked forward to the festival, ever since she was a little girl. Tora too—and it was one of the very few things she allowed herself to look forward to even now. The forge was ringing til after sundown so that Tora could get her order finished in time so that she didn't have to work through the festival and miss out on the festivities.
Oh and the festivities to be had! Neighbors would bake special treats like ceremonial cakes or pies made from whatever they could spare from their larders. Racks of ribs were thrown over the fire and marinated with special sauces (there was a contest every year for the best entry!) and the Bobbings would sell their fish at a discount. Beer and mead were sloshed around, practically given away while bards and minstrels were hired to serenade the whole town.
Which was why Olga was so eager to offer a helping hand to her new employer. Helga no doubt had a lot on her plate, considering she was always in charge of providing the drinks for the whole village. Not only was it a way for her to spice up her life, but the extra coin was much appreciated around the Forgedotter home. Olga had offered to stay for a few extra hours in the back after her shift at the Tavern to help Somaria, an offer that was eagerly taken upon...
And promptly regretted.
"Olga!" Helga bellowed as she stormed into the kitchen, "I'm still waiting on those meat pies!"
"S-Sorry Ms. Helga..." Olga ran her hands through her long blonde hair as she waited for the pies to cool, "Th-They should be done any minute!"
"I've got hungry farmers out here waitin' for supper, you try tellin' them to wait a minute!" the taverner bit back, "The point of havin' you back here is so that Somaria can focus on the festival—for all that's good and holy in the world, pick up the pace!"
The heavy oaken door slammed shut, rattling the kitchenware and leaving Olga alone with her thoughts. The poor barmaid sighed, feeling about two inches tall. She had never been talked to like that by anyone other than her own parents—she'd never even guessed that Ms. Helga of all people would scold her so. Olga dropped plates all the time, and she was staying over to help out! What had she done this time that was so unique and scoldable?
"Don't take it too hard." Somaria's voice came from behind her as she fanned the cooling pies, "Helga's just stressed."
Somaria was a plainsman from the central region, who had moved up north to find work when she was younger than Olga. Now she was about Helga's age, perhaps a little younger, with dark skin and black hair. Her voice was smooth and calming, not at all like any of the hardy accents in Racovania. No one saw much of Somaria—Olga had thought Helga did all the cooking herself until she started working at the tavern, honestly!—but she and the other tavern wenches were on a good report. They talked frequently about goings-on in the town, family situations and, just recently, how at odds Helga seemed to be with everyone.
"I would know. She's had me make her enough sweet rolls to fill a field this week—that poor woman's so transparent sometimes." Somaria said with a little chuckle, "I'll talk to her about it tonight. Tell her to ease off you a bit, huh blue-eyes?
"I just wish she wouldn't take it out on me..." Olga said with a little huff, "I'm just trying to help her out. I know she's stressing herself out over the festival but..."
"Ohh... Somaria said with a little cock of her eyebrow, slouching onto the prep table, "So Helga hasn't told you? I'm not surprised."
"Told me what?"
"Well..." Somaria looked to the side coyly, "I mean, far be it from me to spread any rumors..."
"No! Please do!" Olga's misery was all but forgotten as she leaned in close
What could the reason for Helga's stress possibly have been? Was she going to lose the tavern? Was there a new man in her life? Were things not going well with the new man in her life? As brow-beaten as Olga had been lately, she deserved a reason as to why her kindly taverner had turned into such a slave driver!
"Well... don't tell anyone (especially not Helga) that I told you, but..." Somaria looked back to Olga, her lips cut sharply into a mischievous smile, "...we're going to have a very special guest at this year's Racovanian Festival. We're expecting a princess—one of King Roland's daughters—to grace us with her presence."
"Really?" Olga gasped
Royalty? In her little home town? That was even better than whatever piddly drama that Helga's love life could have offered! Olga had never met any royalty before! For that matter, Somaria and that Orc woman were about as exotic as things got around Racovania. Sure a stray Harpy would come fluttering in every now and again, but that was so rare it barely required mentioning. Few adventurers wandered through these parts. Royalty coming into town... now that was exciting!
"Apparently the girl's vacationing in one of their homes nearby. Her highness heard about our piddly little festival and one of her servants helpfully stopped by to give poor Helga a running start." Somaria plucked the pies from their place on the table, "She's pulling out all the stops to ensure that the first Racovanian Festival that royalty attends will be the finest one—at least on her end. Whether or not everyone else lives up to her expectations, well... more gold for us I suppose."
Olga was starry-eyed. This had to have been a dream. Royalty coming through? How exciting!
"I-I didn't even know that there was a royal vacation home this far out into the country?" Olga leaned in excitedly, forgetting the cooled pies in her hands, "W-Which of his daughters do you think will attend Somaria?"
Somaria made a small amused sound. Clearly Olga was more impressed with the possibility than she was.
"Frankly, I couldn't care less. The sooner they're gone and this festival's over, the sooner Helga stops eating herself into a stupor." she chuckled, "But I want to say that it's..."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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