K?spar groans; the line up to M?l’s Bakery is out the door and half-way down the road. He begins to wait. Customers come and go, pushing past each other beneath the red and white striped cloth of the patio; the occasional chef or barista mixed in. The line moves quickly; the store is clearly well staffed.

  10 minutes later, it is K?spar’s turn to order. The barista behind the counter is professionally dressed in a fitted black vest and white blouse beneath it; her hair is tucked beneath a cotton bonnet—strands stick out just above her right ear; a black wooden nametag is pinned to her vest, reading ‘Gwyn’; she fits well with the general aesthetic of the store, clearly seeking to be perceived as a high-end establishment, as opposed to the more homey ‘Morning Muffin’.

  “What do you recommend?” Asks K?spar.

  Illaya’s mouth curls slightly in annoyance. “Personally, I recommend our new seasonal treat and drink: a pumpkin muffin and the new ‘Autumn Fog’, which is made of pumpkin spice tea and steamed milk from our new steamer.” She sounds as though she is reading from a script, lacking the enthusiasm had by Loanne yesterday.

  K?spar looks behind the counter to the steamer; it’s cobbled together, as if based purely on a verbal description of the one at the Morning Muffin; frankly, it's and eyesore, strikingly out of place when compared to the rest of M?l’s Bakery.

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  He agrees, paying one full-silver and one full-copper for the same thing he had yesterday. Going to the only available table, furthest from the fireplace, he sits and waits.

  His food arrives shortly; the muffin is significantly sweeter in taste than the one from yesterday, and the milk in the Autumn Fog tastes slightly burnt.

  Finishing his meal, he brings the empty dishes to the counter, and thanks Illaya.

  Someone tapped K?spar on the shoulder. He turns. The man before him is slightly below average height and dressed in the outfit of a chef; his greying hair is pulled into a top-knot; his name tag—similar in design to Illaya’s—reads M?l.

  “How was it? did you enjoy the best Styd?n has to offer?”

  “Yes of course, it was excellent. You happen to be just who I’ve been looking for, mer’Teygwyr. I’ve heard great things about you and was wondering if you did catering for weddings?” Says K?spar.

  “I do on weekends, why do you ask? do you have a daughter getting married? I can assure you I make the finest cakes and whatever else you might need.”

  “Just a family friend. Would you be able to come to Brachb?sc?”

  “Certainly, may I ask when?”

  “They haven’t quite decided on the date of when they’re going to be burning the candles yet, I think sometime in early spring—mid Floryana [1].”

  “Just write me with the date, address it to the castle.”

  “Well, we are still looking around; we think it’s best to find the right person.”

  “I can assure you, you have found the right person.” M?l says curtly.

  “We will let you know if we decide to hire you for the job; I’m quite impressed with the baker’s in Styd?n so far.” K?spar takes M?l’s hand, shaking it firmly. He leaves.

  Footnotes

  [1] The fourth maiden.