Chapter Text
“Why thank you, my good cleric! I’ll see you again tomorrow for my morning elixir!”
Millard sighed, taking the leaves the customer left and putting them in the cash register. Comments like that were still happening far more often than he liked these days. Still, business was business, and the Coffee Corner was in no position to be turning custom away.
Ever since the best-selling author Auguste Schwarz had released his new fantasy novel, Orsterra Chronicles: The Clash of the Rings last year, people had been coming to the coffee shop to see where the creative process had begun. Auguste had been doing interviews in magazines and on television, extolling the virtues of the beautifully quaint little cafe in Valore and citing the residents as the creative inspiration for the main cast of characters.
He didn’t exactly fault Auguste for some of the customer’s reactions, but he certainly wouldn’t have encouraged it.
As it was a typical Monday morning in winter, it was fairly quiet in the Coffee Corner. The initial morning rush had gone, and there were only a few regulars sipping their drinks in the coffee shop. Thankfully, the initial rush of Auguste’s fans had trailed off, and things were back to normal but that did mean that the takings were down a bit.
Rent was going up, too. Valore was changing, that much was certain. Then again, prices were going up everywhere.
Millard looked around the coffee shop’s interior. It was still the same as it had been last year: pristine white walls and dark brown polished furniture, with little vases of flowers on the tables and ceramic caits sitting on the shelves. The part-timer, Fiore, had suggested they redecorate to something a bit more modern, a bit more cheery, but ultimately they’d kept the same look.
“Auguste’s fans just want to see what inspired their hero!” he’d been told by countless visitors. Changing the shop’s look at that point would have been counterproductive, so things had stayed the same.
Which left them searching for other options.
Millard picked up a cloth and started wiping down the countertop, even though it was already spotlessly clean. Since there were no more immediate customers, he took out his book entitled Latte Art for Beginners and began to read.
“It’s just a frothy coffee,” he murmured after a while, turning a page. “How difficult can it be?”
“Ah, I think you’ll find it’s an entire art form by itself, my dear boy!”
Millard looked up. Had he been so engrossed in the book that he hadn’t heard the bell over the door ring? Thankfully it was Auguste, and although the novelist liked to tease Millard to no end, he certainly wouldn’t hold a grudge for not being attentive.
“Good morning, Auguste,” he said, regaining his composure and closing the book. “What can I get for you today? Can I get you your usual?”
The tall man smiled. “That would be marvellous, thank you,” he replied, taking a seat at the counter. “Although, seeing how diligently you were studying that tome, I might order a latte with a little picture in it. Something cute, perhaps?”
“I’m just an amateur, but I’ll try,” Millard said, with a humble little smile. He went over to the percolator and filled Auguste’s specific mug with coffee, and then took a jug of foamy milk to attempt a pattern on the surface. It took a little more effort than he liked, but when he stood back and regarded his work he was quite pleased with the little cait’s face peering back at him from the surface of the coffee.
Ever since he had become a regular, Auguste had wanted the same mug, all the time. It was lucky, he said. Inspirational. He thought caits were lucky, too, so it seemed like the perfect combination.
He set the mug down just as Auguste was taking out his ever-present notepad and pen. “Why, thank you, my dear cleric,” the writer teased, then turned serious when he saw the coffee. “My dear boy, you sell yourself short. This is excellent work for an amateur.”
“Ah, thank you,” Millard blushed.
The bell tinkled again, and Millard moved over to greet the latest arrival. It was a man he’d never seen before: a man with sandy hair tucked under an oddly angular hat, and a jacket with what he hoped was a fake fur trim. He looked like he might be a traveller on his day off, or someone doing a bit of sightseeing.
“Good morning, sir!” Millard said brightly. “How are you this fine winter’s morning?”
The man looked startled at the pleasant greetings, but recovered with a broad smile on his face. “I’m well, thank you!” he said. “What’s on your menu? I’m dying for a strong coffee, none of that fancy stuff you get in the city.”
Millard smiled back. “We can certainly do that. What size would you like?”
The man looked at Auguste, and if he recognised him, he didn’t say anything. He did, however, point to Auguste’s mug and said, “Could I have a mug, please? It either comes in tiny cups or paper things that get a bit soggy.”
“One mug of strong coffee, coming right up.” Millard went back to the coffee machine and started filling another mug for the newcomer.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Auguste was saying. “Coffee in the city can be so pretentious.”
“Oh, so true!” the man replied. Millard watched as the stranger extended his hand to Auguste, who took it. “I’m Barrad. Barrad Bowen, recruitment consultant! At your service!”
“You can call me Auguste. I’m a writer,” he added, buffing his nails against his shirt. He was wearing his favourite purple silk one again today, Millard noted. “Pleased to meet you, my dear man.”
“Your coffee,” Millard said, setting the mug down in front of the newcomer… no, in front of Barrad. The man took it and slid a few leaves towards Millard, then took a grateful sip.
“That hits the spot! Ah, do you mind if I do a bit of work?” Barrad asked. Millard shook his head. “I might be on holiday, but work always seems to find me.”
“So true, so true,” Auguste said. “We’ll try and keep our voices down.”
“Oh, no need on my account. I can focus pretty well,” Barrad grinned.
As the new arrival took out his laptop and got to work, Millard turned back to Auguste. “So how’s Gilderoy doing?” he asked quietly. “ I haven’t seen you two together here for a while.”
Auguste’s face lit up at the mention of the jeweller. “Ah, my muse has locked himself in his workshop for now,” the writer lamented. “He’s been visited by inspiration himself, and is working hard on his new jewellery line. The theme is fantasy.” Auguste sounded proud beyond measure.
Gilderoy was good for Auguste. Millard had thought that when the two had met, it was the best thing that could have happened to Auguste. The writer certainly looked miles better than he had when he’d visited last year. “It sounds like you two inspire each other,” Millard said.
“Oh, we do, we do,” Auguste said. Millard could see the writer was doodling rings and pendants in the margin of his notepad, something the Auguste of last year would never have done.
“Have you been travelling much?” Millard wondered. Since it was so quiet, he felt it was acceptable to just indulge in a little more conversation than usual.
Auguste sat up straighter on the stool. “Have we been travelling? Oh, we’ve been everywhere! The book tour has kept us very busy, but it’s given us plenty of time to see the world. Through fresh eyes, I might add,” he said softly.
Yes, meeting Gilderoy had been very good for Auguste.
“That’s good,” Millard said. “One of these days, I’d love to travel. Just to see things for myself, you know? I’ve only seen them from the news, or from the internet. The furthest I’ve travelled lately was to the next town to pick up some new supplies for the shop.”
“You should come and visit my place,” Auguste said grandly. “I’d love to have you.”
Millard paused, thinking it over. “I couldn’t,” he said eventually. “I couldn’t leave the coffee shop. Not when business is starting to get a bit tight again.”
“Honestly, I hadn’t expected my fans to come and visit this place, although the boost it gave your business must have been rather nice. I wish I could do a bit more for you, though.” Auguste reached out and took Millard’s hand. “I owe you a lot.”
Millard smiled and shook his head. “The boost in income your fans brought with them was most welcome, it’s true, but things have been changing for a while now. Everything’s getting more expensive in Valore these days.” He sighed, not meaning to look unhappy, but it slipped through anyway. “The rent is going up, too. The landlord has put the rates up for everyone, so it’s not just me, but… it’s kind of hard.”
“I’m so sorry,” Auguste said genuinely. Then his face lit up, and he snapped his fingers. “I know!” he exclaimed. He beckoned Millard closer, and then put on a stage whisper to speak directly into his ear. “No-one knows about this, but I’m actually on my way to my publishers here this morning,” he said, looking about dramatically. Thankfully, the other customer, Barrad, was engrossed in his work.
“A new manuscript?” Millard murmured.
“Indeed! And may I say it’s a good one? Inspired by events in Valore - and a few of my own experiences, too. It’s called Lady Herminia’s Lover.” Auguste leaned in even closer, and Millard wondered why. “It’s about the Lady of the region and a gamekeeper on her estate. It’s a tale of love, betrayal, lust, more betrayal, more lust, and finally, true love.” Auguste sighed.
At least Millard knew why Auguste had leaned in closer, but now he also wondered if he was blushing.
He must have been, as Auguste laughed. “Oh, my dear boy, I was only going to suggest holding the book-signing here, not using you for inspiration again.”
Millard turned, and caught a glimpse of his reflection on the shiny part of the coffee machine. He was definitely blushing.
“I don’t think that would fit in with the image of this coffee shop, but I’d do it as a favour for you,” he replied sincerely, a smile appearing on his face.
The bell rang over the door again, and Millard was grateful for the reprieve. Fiore’s shift was just starting, and she bounded in through the door with her usual energy. “Good morning!” she called, shrugging out of her winter coat and disappearing into the break room for a moment. She reappeared a moment later and was tying her apron around her waist.
“Morning, Auguste! How’s tricks?”
“Fiore, my dear girl! How nice to see you again.” Millard watched as Auguste waved cheerfully to her. “How is life treating you?”
“Not bad, not bad,” Fiore replied. She came over to the counter and stood behind it, next to Millard, who handed her a list of things that needed restocking in the storeroom. “Ugh. again? How do we get through that so fast?” she said.
“That might be my fault,” Millard said. “If I wasn’t trying out new things…”
“Oh, no, I understand!” Fiore said, waving her hand as she dismissed any implied criticism on her part. “I just meant that the packs seem to have shrunk. Guess everything’s getting more expensive, and they’re cutting sizes, too.”
“Shrinkflation,” Auguste supplied helpfully, not looking up from his notepad.
“That’s the word,” Fiore said, snapping her fingers. “Anyway, I’ll go and get this sorted, and then I’ll be back out to help with the lunchtime rush. Give me a call if you need me!”
Millard watched as she disappeared into the back of the shop. “I wish I had her energy in winter,” he said ruefully.
“Are things really that bad?” Auguste said, looking up. “Is it a kind of depression or something?”
“Seasonal, possibly, but mostly it’s worry about the shop,” Millard admitted. He closed the book of latte art and put it back on the shelf. “Trying to figure out how to improve sales has been keeping me up at night. That’s why I truly appreciate your offer, even if it’s not what I’d usually consider.”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Auguste said, patting Millard’s hand. When had it started to feel like Auguste had adopted him as a nephew or something? Either way, Millard was grateful for the support.
He sighed. The regulars of Valore were struggling as much as he was; even Bargello had reported tougher times at his award-winning restaurant. Traditional little shops like the Coffee Corner would be hit even harder if he didn’t think of something. He loved the little shop and its regular customers, and really didn't want to give it up.
He glanced out of the window, looking at the world going by. It was starting to snow.