Noon at the Golden Crust brought more tension than the battle that I been involved in.
There, obliterating queue-cutters was simple… just cut them all up in pieces. Here? Grin and hand them discount stamps because they are the shop loyal customers.
"Baguettes, sliced!" "Nut-free tarts?" "Ren! Butter's gone!"
Navigating all of these order and task is much more demanding even for someone like me… If I could cheat using magic, I can but leaking it out probably won't be a good idea. So for now, dividing loaves, boxing pastries, and counting coins all at once must be done normally.
Zania lingered by the window seat as always looking at me working.
She called it "securing" the shop. Really just sipping berry-flavored milk and scowling at the glass because she's hungry.
"Nothing ever happens," she grumbled, chin planted on wood. She then continue to say in the most in an unmotivated way, "How many beasts this week, Ren? None. Not a single slime. My blade's rotting."
"Tranquility's a gift," I remarked, arranging warm pretzels.
"Peace stinks. Recruited to defend folks but nothing is happening at all. Like I wish a dragon could appear or something…"
Careful with those words, I mused. My scaled guardian Ignia dozes beneath northern peaks. Rousing him would level this village in moments.
As I was just about to give a reply to Zania…
The bell above the entrance tinkled softly.
A rush of foreign scents flooded the space, spices mingling with something darker, something poisonous.
A figure drifted inside, draped in lavish silks that shimmered in violets and emeralds. The veil obscured her features, but those cold eyes were unmistakable.
Lady Vex. The Poison Queen. One of my four commanders.
She saw me, shoved past a bewildered elder, and slammed her palms onto the counter. "Shopkeep!" Her tone was shrill, artificial. "I must discuss your... sourdough starter. Immediately."
I rubbed flour from my fingers. "Naturally, Madam. Is it... something that required attention?"
"Yes of course!" she whispered, leaning in. Her gaze darted to Zania before shifting to the Code.
"Your sourdough recipe," Vex declared, gesturing wildly at a nearby map, "is not enough… The heat... inadequate to make it"
Meaning: The humans march faster than expected. Our defenses crumble.
Zania brightened. "Baking? I adore bread!"
Vex stiffened. Her fingers twitched toward her sleeve, where a blade laced with venom surely waited.
"Pay her no mind," I cut in, blocking Vex's path. "Just a regular patron. So, you're saying I need the heat, but it's not enough?"
"Yes, and also…" Vex muttered, beads of sweat forming. "We must... scorch the crust. Discard it. Begin anew."
So she meant to unleash the Plague Gas. Wipe them out. Leave nothing alive.
"Never!" My voice cracked. Patrons turned. I coughed, softened my tone. "Out of the question. Too much heat ruins the taste. Ingredients are precious and it's hard to come by…"
"But the dough is not good enough!" Vex insisted, pupils dilating. "If we don't turn up the heat… it wouldn't be cooked and all would be wasted anyway!"
"I understand what you getting," I said calmly. "If it needs more heat, then it's like that… But if there's burn… then the responsibilities would be on you as it's your idea."
I allow her to do what she pleases but if it somehow interferes with my plan, then she will definitely get a rough lesson from me afterwards.
Vex gasped, horrified. "Surely there be burnt! Because if I unleashed my full-"
"Who are you!?" My palm smacked the counter. "I'm the one who has been baking for years, my word is law! If there's burnt, then you are the one to blame for suggesting it!"
Vex trembled. The fearsome Demon General, infamous for poisoning rivers at whim, now teetered on the edge of tears.
"Understood," she murmured. "I try."
"Better." I yanked a sack of cinnamon sticks from the shelf, thrusting it at her.
"Toss this in. Might disorient them."
Hallucinogenic fog. Muddy their senses, trap them in confusion.
"You're a genius, baker lord," Vex whispered, bowing. Her robes whipped as she stormed out.
Why the heck is she calling me that? Does she not realize Zania was there? But thankfully, Zania is dense as always about this kinda stuff.
I exhaled. Disaster dodged. The Eastern Army would lumber through the fog, puzzling over and stopping their advances.
"Wow," Zania breathed.
My spine stiffened. "Wow what?"
"You go full warlord over baking, Ren," she said, eyes starry. "Like a lord barking orders.' So fierce." She giggled afterwards as she continued, "Explains why your bread's had divine taste. Pure devotion."
I blinked.
She witnessed a strategic withdrawal fueled by atmospheric sabotage and mind-altering tactics, and summarized it as "love for sourdough."
"Sure," I muttered. "Devotion. That's the secret."
"Man," Zania hummed, arching her back. "Wish I had something that I wanna do that I could go all out. But I'm sure Captain Orik would say cleaning supply closet duty again."
The door creaked open.
No disguised General this time.
Three figures entered, clad in patchwork armor, reeking of sour ale, gripping weapons meant for more than decoration. Not soldiers. Hired blades. Or the worst kind: so-called "Adventurers."
The largest, marked by a ragged scar slicing through his brow, shoved a woman and child aside. His armored fist crashed onto the counter.
"Listen here, runt," he snarled at me. "Word is this place bakes the finest loaf around. We'll take every crumb. And whatever coin you've got stashed."
Silence swallowed the bakery. I guess they are not these so-called 'Adventurers' as I thought they would be. Just a plain old robber…
Zania set down her glass of milk.
I glanced at the intruders, then back at her. Her eyes shimmered with dangerous delight.
"Ren," she murmured, grinning. "Are they… actually trying to rob us?"
"Seems so," I muttered.
She erupted from her seat, chair clattering behind her. Fingers curled around her sword's grip. "At last! Something interesting!"
I rubbed my forehead. "Leave," I warned the thugs. "She's restless. You won't enjoy being her amusement."
The leader barked a laugh. "Quiet, baker. Or I'll slice your—"
Thud.
His threat died as Zania launched herself over the table.