K?spar walks through the streets of Styd?n, making his way to the guilds' ward. The guards had let him in with little hassle after he showed them the ring. The city is not as clean as the Crown Isles, but the inns are cheaper, as they tend to be the farther one gets from the Crown Isles; he dropped W?n off at the stable of the aptly named ‘Old Styd?n Inn’ and took to exploring.

  The merchants yell along the main road, both to attract patrons and to heckle the price and quality of the goods of others, each occasionally drowned out by the sounds of horse and carriage against the cobbled road. The cleanliness of Styd?n starkly contrasts with that of the Crown Isles; if Styd?n had the same level of horse traffic, the smell would be unbearable. K?spar peeks down alleys, now curious about the sewage system, wondering whether the Koeh-Styers had updated the city to match the Crown Isles—they had not; all he sees are sleeping beggars and the occasional feral cat.

  He arrives at The Morning Muffin after only a short walk from the inn, about 5 minutes. Entering the cafe, he is quickly overpowered with the scent of fresh baked goods and tea. He gets in line, beginning to wait; he looks at the display shelf next to the counter, struggling to decide.

  He’s called to the counter by a short brunette; she’s dressed in a traditional serving-maid outfit, apron tied tightly around the middle of her chest, and a small name tag reads ‘Ede’ in white chalk. She does not seem to be a chef, but just a barista.

  “Do you have any seasonal recommendations—just a drink, something warm, and a muffin? there’s such a selection; I’m struggling to choose.” Says K?spar.

  “We have a lot of pumpkin in, which I’m quite fond of. So I would recommend the pumpkin muffin, and—” She looks K?spar up and down; he does not seem like the type of person who would be a fan of her choice of drinks, very much a black coffee, black tea, or a dark ale—she knows how to tell just by the way he carries himself—but he asked for her recommendation, so he will be getting it. “Personally, I like the pumpkin spice tea; think gingerbread with a base of pumpkin. We also have a milk steamer—” She points to the contraption behind her; the corners of sigils sit dormant beneath its metal and dark wood exterior. “mer’Tenitz is using it to make a drink he’s calling the ‘Autumn Fog’; it’s just pumpkin spice tea and steamed milk—but it’s really, really good.”

  K?spar nods, feigning interest in the talk of beverages, but the steaming in the back fascinates him. “You seem quite excited to give the recommendation, so you have me convinced; I will take those.”

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  She nods and informs him of the price—one silver; he pays her and takes a seat. She brings his food shortly, and he takes his time eating, sitting, and listening—to little avail.

  He returns to the counter. “Would mer’Tenitz happen to be in at the moment? I’ve got some questions about the steamer.” He asks Loanne.

  “Yes, he is.” She walks to the door to the back room and pokes her head through it. “Dad, someone’s interested in your contraption.”

  Her father is out before she has the chance to return to the counter. “Hello! I’m Tyes Tenitz—whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” He reaches out and shakes K?spar’s hand over the display cabinet; his little finger is missing from his right hand.

  “Werner Rolan.”

  “Did you enjoy what you ordered, mer’Rolan?”

  “I did; it was excellent—a recommendation from your daughter.” K?spar places his hands, palms down, on the wooden top of the display. “I’m quite interested in this steamer.”

  “Oh, yes, yes.” He notices the ring on K?spar’s finger. ”I feel that you would have trouble selling something like this if that’s what you are looking to do.”

  “Not at all,

  Tyes leads K?spar behind the counter and begins explaining to him the workings of the steamer, pulling it apart and showing him that it is simply a modified sigil-based lamp, but instead of using the flame for light, he is using it to both heat the milk and create pressure in a sealed chamber, which creates steam, generating the automatic movement of a press, frothing the milk.

  K?spar walks back to the other side of the counter. “Fascinating. Has this exploded on you by chance?”

  “Yes, once.” Tyes holds up his hand.

  “And you can still bake?”

  “Of course! I made everything in the display.”

  “I’ve heard excellent things about the bakers and chefs from Styd?n—originally I was told to go straight to Teygwyr, but I like to shop around.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Tyes chuckles.

  “I’ve heard good things about you and a mer’Sor?c.”

  “Wann’s very nice; I’ve worked with him as an apprentice. I would recommend him over M?l.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We all were taught by ?ld’Beurwyr; we all have the same training. Most are quick to recommend M?l because of how quickly he rose up the guild ranks, but he’s not a nice man—frankly, he’s a cruel, jealous man.”

  K?spar stays silent, nodding, encouraging the man to continue. Unfortunately he does not and quickly changes the subject when the bell above the door chimes.

  “Are you looking for catering?”

  “Yes, I am.” K?spar watches the man walk from the door to the table closest to him and Tyes and sit down.

  “I’m surprised; Brachb?sc is a fair journey. What brings you to Styd?n for pastry catering?”

  “A family friend is getting married; I was in the area, so I figured I would see what’s here. I think it’s worth paying extra to find the right person for the job.”

  “Well, you know where to find me.” Tyes ends the conversation, shaking K?spar’s hand once more.

  K?spar returns to the inn.