220 Y.L. Month of Work
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Castor slowly rolled in her bed, stirring and rolling about like a bear coming out of hibernation.
“Get up Castor, Jeric needs your help downstairs.” Her brother Miles said from outside the door.
Mumbling and staggering about, Castor slowly pushed herself to the edge of her bed and rested her head in her hands. She sat there for several seconds, trying to fight off the enjoyable wave of sleepiness that was coming over her again. With a mix between a shout and a grumble she jumped up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Why does staying up late make you feel like you got walloped over the head?
Her feet thumped loudly on the cold wood floor as she walked around to the other side of her bed and grabbed her clothes off of a chair. She quickly pulled on the dark brown leather pants, a white blouse, and a green vest, and then she looked in the mirror.
Her hair looked as if a tornado had come through it. How’d people come up with something called beauty sleep? Morons obviously never slept. Castor stopped thinking and started brushing quickly realizing what she had said.
She washed her face and in a few minutes she had her mane of red hair brushed and set it back in a ponytail. I've got enough there to make it three ponytails and have leftovers! She moved the chair aside and opened up the oaken chest right under the window. It held several clothing materials and she grabbed a pair of stockings. She pulled them on, grabbed the boots by her door, and yanked them on as she hopped down the staircase.
A wave of laughter, chatter, and silverware clanking together greeted Castor, as well as the overly enticing smell of eggs, bacon, apple cider, fresh fruit, and hot rolls. Jeric’s special recipe ones! Castor had to duck under the overhang at the bottom of the stairs and the sight that greeted her made her stomach gurgle with joy.
The big room was scattered with round tables covered with red-and-white checkered tablecloths and most were at the moment occupied, and therefore mounted with food of some kind. The wall on the right held the door which was open and let the aromas of the food waft out into the street, grabbing and dragging people in. Two big windows were also mounted on that wall and allowed large rays of golden sunlight to spill in and warm the inside.
To the left sat the kitchen, the front of it set up like a bar where customers could come ask for drink refills. Three rotund barrels of apple cider took up a good portion of the far side of the bar, while pitchers of cold cow’s milk, goat milk, buttermilk, and water took up the rest. Wooden cups were stacked ready to be filled with the delicious drinks.
Behind the bar was where all the real work went on Castor headed there thinking, I could get used to this . . . oh wait, I already have. She pushed open the wooden door and was hit by a blast of warm air. Four workers scurried about, flipping eggs with spatulas, mixing dough together and pulling out hot, crispy, golden rolls. Jeric stood at the back, cracking eggs into a bowl.
The big furnace was in the middle of the back wall and it belched forth a very hot wave of air. Castor skipped by it, waved at the workers who smiled back, and stepped over to Jeric.
He turned back and smiled. “Hello Castor, been sleeping inn?” He laughed before he could stop himself.
Castor just stared, barely finding humour in the joke.
“Or maybe,” Jeric said, once he had stopped laughing, “you haven’t been sleeping at all. In all seriousness Castor, you are staying up too late and as a result getting down here to work late. I need you to be more responsible.”
Castor nodded. “Yeah I know.” She didn't sound too whole-heartedly about it, but this was not the place or time to speak of it, so Jeric went back to cracking eggs. “So, I guess I’ll get to work then. Where’s Miles?”
Jeric pointed to the back door beside him. “He’s out getting more milk. Seems like we really have a lot of visitors today.”
Castor frowned, but Jeric smiled. “Hey, it isn't a bad thing. As long as we can please our customers they’ll come back. It’s a good way to be kind to the community.”
I know where this is going. “I don’t really care to reach out to the community. Will you be paying more for more work?”
“Of course. You get paid for what you do. If you work longer you get rewarded for that work. Now you better hurry up, we have customers.
Castor grabbed an apron off the wall next to dozens of pots and pans, grabbed a wet cloth near the pump in the right back corner, and made her way back out into the dining room. She quickly began to clear and wipe down tables as customers came and left. Usually the inn wouldn’t be nearly this full, but with the Founders Day, coming up, there was much celebration going on.
Castor sighed as she wiped off a table that had been used by some overly messy folks. Cider was soaked into the tablecloth, eggs, butter, and jam has been tossed about like a salad, and to top it off, there were two apples with just one bite taken out of them.
Why must people waste food like this? What are they, pigs? No I guess not because at least pigs eat ALL of their food. Maybe these people know that pigs get the leftovers so they don’t finish their meals. Maybe they’re relatives!
Frustrated, Castor spun around with the two apples, and tossed them for the waste bin near the bar, not realizing that someone had been walking straight in her range of fire. The apples smacked the person’s neck hard and thumped to the ground.
Castor dropped her rag on the table. Now I’ve done it. “Sir I am so sorry, I should have been more careful.”
The man turned around and Castor growled. “Never mind, I’m not sorry.”
Shame on you, mess. 
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