It was one of the rare occasions when more than one of her non-mechanical employees were present with her today on a routine visit to survey the economic situation of the world's major settlements. By a stroke of luck, she had Walter, Auron, and Sylvain all together on the Clepsydra. Shiloh was making a brief stopover in Komiteia for refueling and restocking of the airship's pantry while giving the others a chance to stretch their legs and get some fresh non-filter cycled air. There was a place she knew back from her days as a parcel carrier, a cozy bed and breakfast with decent indoor seating called Brandywine's. Apparently things had changed a lot since then, as the sign was totally different and the building was painted a new color. The beds of geraniums were now a cobblestone decorative wall low enough to act as improvised seating and oil burning torches were set up to give it a more coastal feel. There was no point stopping now, as she said they were going to have lunch and she was the only one who had been here before. Going in, the interior had undergone an extreme makeover.

The counter where people got their potato hash and scrambled eggs was now a sleek polished bar and barrels with lanterns gave it a pubhouse atmosphere. There was an assortment of nautical knickknacks nailed to the walls with paintings of fishermen beside their deep sea catch. An automatic grinder organ was playing in the backroom giving it the impression that there was somebody playing the accordion, adding to the already bizarre experience. The place was empty and there were four very confused people standing around not knowing what they had just walked into. A goblin came out from the storeroom and saw them, quickly hurrying over with a gleam in his eye. "Oh great, customers! I was worried when they'd start showin' up…" This was not a good sign. If an establishment that serves food openly mentions they have a shortage of patrons, this is a surefire signal for you to leave while you still can before the hospitality workers grab a hold of you. "Welcome t' Captain Morrigan's Seafood Steakhouse. What'll it be for you blokes?" 

"Uh, wait so what happened to Brandywine's Bed and Breakfast? We were coming in for the brunch special but I didn't realize the place had a change in…management." To that the goblin covered his face with a hand and groaned. "Ugh, I knew this would happen. Well y'see, the owners of t' place set themselves up for retirement last year and were lookin' for somebody to help keep things running. So here I come in from Baltil, and old man Brandywine takes me in as the manager. Not a lotta places don't discriminate against goblins so I take what I can get. Anyway lots of the staff here were filin' up for pensions so we had to let some of 'em go. Then the boss' relatives suggest us take his nephew as our primary cook."

The manager who introduced himself as Ollie gave them complimentary drinks since they were the first people to come in all day. "So this is where things go south. I think ta myself, I got no problem teaching 'em on the job. What's the worst that could happen?" Ollie leaned in, looking up over his long angular nose. "Biggest mistake I ever made." Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Brandywine's nephew had very limited culinary experience. So limited that even Ollie's low expectations were blown out of the water. "Joe's a nice kid. He's a good worker, listens to directions, doesn't ask too many questions, gets things done. But he can't cook if his life depended on it. His magnum opus of the culinary arts is scrambled eggs and bacon. He doesn't know the difference between a pancake and a blintz. I can't let this guy be our head chef. But I gotta find a way to break it to the boss gently so things don't go pear-shaped, y'know? Brandywine's a real nice guy."

"This is where you come in," Ollie pointed at them. "I'd like you fine folks ta help me with a little test run of some of the stuff Joe's thought up. No need ta think about it, just tell me how it is–no frills or sugar on top." In the span of thirty minutes they were now assigned the role of an impromptu food critic.

He didn't have a particularly good opinion of pubs, but it was approaching noon and they were all hungry. Shiloh said she knew of a place where the food was acceptable, and he didn't have the strength to argue or make witty remarks. The moment he saw the building he was sure this wasn't going to end well. The establishment was quite literally deserted, and then the only employee present confirmed that. His head was feeling a little less light with the complimentary drinks, which had softened up his poor mood. The ale wasn't bad, much better than the awful filth that taverns made themselves known for. They even had decent quality Cabernet, which was what the goblin poured for Sylvain. When the goblin manager asked if they wanted to critique a set of sample dishes planned to be put on the menu, his stomach overrode any misgivings and made him say yes. They were getting free food and free drinks, what more could you ask for?

When the answer was unanimous, the first entree that came instantly was a disappointment. "And this is…?" The goblin pulled out a sheet and read aloud, "Lessee here, 'green chili sauce with peppercorn skirt steak'." So that was supposed to be the piece of hydrated jerky drowned in a spinach-colored gravy? Scraping the 'chili sauce' off revealed meat that was uniformly blackened all over with scorched crumbs falling into the greenish puddle. There was a long silence as everyone stared at the food. "This steak is burnt." He stated bluntly. Shiloh took a knife and managed to carve off a piece, inspecting the slice. "That's just the pepper…I think. That's a very thick coating." Reluctantly he tried a bite. The look on his face said everything. Shiloh was right, but even the pepper tasted like it went through a trial by fire. The sauce had an uncomfortably gooey consistency, and he felt himself gag every time he accidentally swallowed some down. Walter's face was furrowed into a frown. His eyebrows were knitted creasing marks in his forehead. If it wasn't for the fact that Sylvain was a vampire, his face would likely have paled. Shiloh was making the most progress out of all three of them, shoving the food into her mouth with a dull look in her eyes.

"So?" The manager asked. "It's terrible." Auron said. "The meat is overdone, the exterior was dry, the pepper was charred, and I have no idea what on earth that sauce is." The goblin nodded, writing notes while throwing a grimace at the mostly untouched plates. Shiloh was still eating it, heaven knows why. When she was finished, she pushed her plate back and washed it down with half a cup of water. "…Yup. It's bad. What's next?" The next plate was even worse. The manager said it was some sort of seafood melange, with a side of savory mousse. What they had was a pile of rubbery calamari rings, overfried shrimp, and strips of some unidentifiable creature beside a dollop of cream and cheese studded with onion bits. Walter picked at it, then settled on eating what he could recognize. Sylvain took his chances at cutting through the squid with a fork and knife while Shiloh picked up a piece of the off-white strips and brought it to her nose. Trying to determine what it was, she started chewing on it in deep contemplation.

"…Burrower clams." The seafood assortment was even more difficult to swallow than the ruined steak. "They're all severely overcooked–especially the squid and clams." Sylvain said having given up on making the squid manageable. "Gotcha. Didn't look like you were gettin' through with your teeth there. And that was a fresh catch too." The goblin grumbled. Auron wasn't sure who should he pity more: the manager or the ingredients. By now their initial enthusiasm was gone and they were wary of what else was in store. Reading the atmosphere, Ollie promised: "And now one of Joe's 'creative' recipes. This'll be the last one, I swear."

The food so far wasn't very good, but Walter had tried his best to at least taste some of it. The steak was the best out of what they had, but he left most of his seafood plate untouched. This was the first time seeing shrimp and he felt his stomach crawl looking at the creatures' beady stalks and spindly legs. The squid felt like he was trying to eat a chunk of cured leather with less flavor. The onion and cream dip was all he ate. The tracker was doing his best to be polite since they were being given food for free, but he wasn't looking forward to the last thing the manager was preparing to bring out. Before he could see it, his nose told him. Being a lycanthorpe meant his senses were sharper than most and in some situations it was less of a blessing.

"Last but not least, Joe's 'salmon cake'." The goblin set down four plates of the mystery dish before them. It looked…deceptively simple. And by simple, it meant as in it resembled something very normal in comparison to the strange food they had earlier. It was a very pink slice of cake, thick cut with two layers. The color was consistent throughout and just as he feared, it reeked of salmon. This was the last thing they would have before they could go. Swallowing, he picked up his fork. Walter scraped off a small chunk from the end and saw the 'cake' pull away like ground fish. This thing was more fish than batter, as he was sure any sort of cake should not have this texture. He tried to swallow. Squeezing his eyes shut, the edges of his mouth tightened as his body refused to make the piece go down. It was so salty, like someone had poured it in instead of sugar. The fish was still moist. It tasted like seawater and despair.

Meanwhile in Elysia…

She wasn't sure what it was, but suddenly she had a bad feeling come over her like a premonition. It had been a while since Shayla had seen Walter and she wondered what he was going through right now. 

Back in Komiteia the lycanthorpe was fighting a battle of wills. He thought after the first piece he would've gotten used to it, but he was so terribly wrong. Taking a bigger piece was a mistake. A huge awful mistake. The cream filling wasn't cream but some sort of fish paste mousse that was likely the same salmon that went into the rest of the cake. He didn't want to eat this anymore. The wolf in him was crying and wanted to run out the door and find something that didn't taste or smell like fish. Everyone else wasn't doing any better: Auron was the first to fall, as his refined palate couldn't handle it. Lying on the counter face down, the redhead was groaning like he was on death's doorstep after retching into an empty bucket. Sylvain was still standing but it was clear he was using the wine to wash it down hoping the alcohol would drown out the flavor. Shiloh was sitting in her seat, deadpan with listless eyes as she soldiered on, taking in bite after bite.

The aftermath was devastating. Ever since he ate his first piece of the salmon cake he felt this wave of nausea come over him and now it was accompanied by a bad case of indigestion. Sylvain was still emptying as many bottles of wine as he could and Auron was no longer responsive. Finally, Shiloh put down her fork on her cleared plate and threw up her arms in a way that could've been either for victory or surrender. "…I will never see salmon the same way ever again." She said, voice hollow of emotion. Then she flushed her mouth and throat with several glasses of water.

The casualties were beyond what they imagined. Those with weaker wills or constitutions weren't able to hold up in the face of such a terrible thing. They said that there was no such thing as free lunch, and they were half right. They were allowed to eat a three course meal free of charge…but at what cost? Somehow she had made it. Two were barely hanging on, one had fallen. At last they reached the end. Ollie got the gist of things watching them attempt to eat the literal cake of fish and they didn't need to tell him twice that this was a no-go. "Yeesh…well that wraps everything up. This'll be enough to convince Brandywine to let me hire a short-order cook from Baltil. Sorry to put you blokes through this and a big thanks for helpin' a goblin out." Shiloh shook hands stiffly, still feeling a few flecks of salmon in the back of her mouth. "Sure…no problem. At least you'll start getting real customers soon." Slinging Auron over a shoulder, she and Walter carried the redhead out while Sylvain went on ahead. They all looked like they had just walked through the first level of Inferos, battered and worse for wear. Everybody was all too happy to head home.

Once they were back in Antikythera, Walter went to lie down in the Greenhouse as a wolf while Shiloh dragged Auron's limp unconscious body into his own room. Sylvain was elsewhere, probably trying to forget the entire experience altogether. Never again would they be so naive, never again would they look down on food that was just average. They gained a new appreciation for decently cooked food and the people who made it…for they remembered the horror, the terror, and the culinary abomination that was salmon cake. After checking Auron still had a pulse, Shiloh skulked into Serenitas and laid down on the floor staring blankly into the distance as the contents of her stomach slowly detoxified. Silence would hang over the Machinarium for several days until the shock finally subsided and their digestive systems were no longer suffering.

If you ever stop by Capt. Morrigan's Seafood Steakhouse, you'll find that the food has improved by leaps and bounds. The food's not just perfectly cooked, it's actually edible. Ollie hired a dwarf who had many years in the food industry working in some of the best taverns and pubs in Parvpora. They made Joe the server, since cooking was the one thing he wasn't good at. The Brandywines retired peacefully and visited the establishment from time to time. With Komiteia's strong food culture, the once ghost town of a pub is now one of the first stops people step in on their tour of the halfling city. When interviewed, patrons summarized the best points of the restaurant into three phrases: superb food, excellent service, and an assortment of good quality wine. With their booming success, there's been talk of them opening an on-site brewery so the halflings can get a taste of real authentic Baltil ale right in their neighborhood. And of course, the manager gives credit to an anonymous group of food critics who made this all possible…