Nardi Stefan M - Its a Living: Volume One

Stefan M. Nardi

Jacob S. Nardi

M J Christopher

A.M. Steiner

William Tyler Davis

A.Z. Anthony

Michael McCoy

Harry Chilcott

Brandon Draga

A.M. Juctice

Damien Wilder

Maark Abbot

Steven F. Carter

Dominic Adler

Jeff Pryor

Justin Starling

The wooden bench shuddered as Derrad's meaty fist slammed into it. The dwarf's face split into a wide grin as he cocked his arm back once more. Derrad's fist pummelled the dough, and he whistled cheerily as he watched it deflate, before gathering it into a ball once more and beginning to knead it. He set it aside to rise again, then dusted the bench with flour and carefully turned the resting pastry dough out of its bowl. He worked quickly, flattening out the dough with a rolling pin, before delicately cutting it into little circles with a blade, all the while whistling as he went. Once the dough had been cut, Derrad gently lifted the little circles with thick fingers, before placing them into the tart moulds and deftly filling each with a generous serving of preserved fruits. He looked down at his handiwork, beaming at his delicious creations. A wave of heat washed over him as he opened the blazing oven and placed the trays gently inside. His work done, he let out a contented sigh.

As he stood watching the oven, the tinkling of a small bell rang out through the room. Derrad started and quickly ran out to the front of his little shop. Small puffs of flour rose up from his apron as he wiped his hands on it.

"Good morning, Derrad."

Derrad smiled as he caught sight of the person who had entered his little shop.

"Ah, good morning, Gantar. Just the usual today?"

The tall elf nodded as he ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. "Yes, please. I have a big meeting this morning."

Derrad quickly began his work. He reached into a large hessian bag and picked up a small silver scoop, digging it into the contents of the bag. A soft rattling sound came from the sack as he lifted the scoop out, the tiny brown beans falling back inside as they overflowed from the vessel. The melodious sound of Derrad's whistling filled the small caf once more as he poured the beans into a crushing bowl. He reached for the pestle and began to crush them into a fine powder, before upending the contents into a tall glass cylinder. A large pot of water sat on the stove behind him, bubbling away. He grabbed a ladle and scooped water into the cylinder and then left it to rest for a few minutes.

"Finally up for that big promotion, then?"

Gantar snorted. "Yep, and it's about time. The gods know I've busted my hump at that place long enough."

Derrad grunted in agreement as he pulled a small metal contraption from beneath the counter, a short rod with a handle on one end and a disc of metal and fine mesh on the other. Derrad inserted the contraption into the glass cylinder, disc end first, and began to slowly push the ground beans to the bottom, leaving a dark liquid behind. He held his large nose over the top of the cylinder and inhaled deeply.

"Ahhhhh. I love the smell of fresh coffee."

He looked up to find Gantar's face only inches from his own, a look of longing on his face.

"Err, sorry, Gantar. Almost done."

He quickly pulled the jug away from the elf, lest he drool into it. Derrad grabbed a mug from behind him and filled it with the rich brown liquid. He hurriedly added a dash of honey and a splash of milk before sliding the mug across the counter to Gantar. The mug was followed by a plate containing a warm strawberry tart from an earlier batch he had made.

Gantar ignored the tart and grasped the mug in both hands before raising it to his lips. He took a deep drink of the steaming beverage. As he lowered the mug, a contented look settled across his face.

"Derrad, you are a miracle worker."

Derrad smiled as he turned to head back into the kitchen.

"You enjoy that now, Gantar. I'll be back in a minute."

As he walked into the kitchen, he headed for the oven and after cracking it open to peek inside, he pulled the trays of tarts from their racks and sat them on the bench to cool.

The bell to the caf tinkled once more and he headed back out to the front of the shop. Today was going to be a busy daybut then, when you were one of only a few coffee houses in a city the size of Ofallin, every day was a busy day.

* * *

Derrad stood leaning against the counter, his brow creased and mouth set into a thin line. It was mid-morning and Gantar sat across from him, sipping on his second cup of coffee for the day.

"You don't look too happy today, Derrad."

Derrad's eyes flicked toward the elf, before returning to stare at the wall.

"It's quiet. I've not had a day this quiet in... well, ever."

"Oh? Maybe it's that new place that opened up across the street?"

Derrad's eyes snapped back to the elf as they narrowed.

"New place?"

"Yeah, some new swanky-looking coffee shop opened up right across from yours. They've got all these fancy-looking types of coffee going on. The place was packed when I came in here."

Derrad's jaw dropped.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he growled.

Gantar shrugged. "I thought you knew?"

Derrad growled as he leapt over the counter with a grace and dexterity not commonly seen amongst his race. He landed with a grunt and darted for the door. He heard Gantar following behind as the elf slurped at his coffee.

Derrad's eyes widened as he emerged onto the street. Directly across from his store sat a new coffee house, and customers were lining up out the door to get in. Inside, Druidic-looking servers stood behind fancy contraptions, handing out cups of the steaming dark liquid. But it was more than that. Some of the cups had cream and fairy dust piled high on top of them, and others bobbed with chunks of ice. Derrad growled. Whatever the hell that was, it wasn't coffee. It was an insult to coffee.

"See?" Gantar said. "Swanky."

This means war. Derrad whirled on his heel and headed back inside. Gantar let out a small squeal as he darted back inside, just managing to squeeze through before Derrad slammed the door.

* * *

Derrad wobbled slightly as he climbed up the small stepladder. Dwarfs werent made to do heights; even if that meant just a few centimetres off the ground, doing it just by the light of the moon didnt make it any easier. He steadied himself and raised the corner of the banner that he was holding. Once he had it in the right spot, he pulled the hammer and a nail from his belt. He gave the nail two good whacks and then, satisfied, quickly scurried back down to the ground.

Stepping up your game there, dwarf? said a musical voice from behind him.

Derrad turned to look at the newcomer. She was a young elf, and he looked her up and down, studying her. The first thing that caught his eye were her clothes. She didnt dress like elves normally did; in fact, he had never seen