Jogid paced in front of the open grassy area that he had scouted for Master Kaito’s bakery stand, visualizing the ideal flow of foot traffic past the display of sweet confections.
The scene played out vividly in his mind. Children would dart laughing between the stands asking for treats, while adults paused to chat, their arms laden with boxes of hell herbs and bread, timeless ischemia cake, and faceless fennel strudels from his Master’s stand.
Good proximity to other attractions.
Good visibility.
This is it!
A rushing sound brought him out of his head. He glanced up to see a magnacus alatus diving through the crisp morning air, wings extended. With precision, the messenger pulled up, backwinging to land neatly on the grass before Jogid.
He gave a short bow, extending a scroll. “Master Jogid, another missive has arrived for you.”
“Thank you, Pronotum,” Jogid said, turning the letter over. “Have you coordinated with—” Jogid sighed. Not Rosto again.
“Have I offended you, Master Jogid?” Pronotum asked, concerned.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll call upon you once I’m ready to respond to this matter.”
The megnacus courier bowed again, stepped back, and took to the air.
Rosto’s new message was simple: a map indicating his booth’s location and, of course, that location was where Jogid stood at that very moment.
No. He will not have it. But how…to deal with him? Rosto’s Cuppotil Cake booth was meant to be Eastscar’s prize attraction.
Jogid dragged a hand over his snout, the image of Master Kaito returning home to subpar stand placement haunted him. Definitely a challenge, but not one I will fail.
His legs carried him towards lunch while his brain cycled through prospective resolutions.
The knots in Jogid’s shoulders had drawn tighter than a winch by the time he pushed open the door to the Soft Waffle Tavern.
“But what’s the right choice?”
“You mean…for lunch?” Finn queried.
“My apologies,” Jogid said, not remembering when he’d settled onto a stool at the counter.
“Rough day already, eh lad?” Finn asked, sliding a steaming plate of pudding and bread rolls over without needing to ask the order. Jogid nodded gratefully and dug in.
Finn polished the glasses, glancing sidelong at Jogid while the dragonborn ate. “I couldn’t help overhearing something earlier about desired booth spots for the Winter Solstice Festival...”
Jogid lowered his spoon. “We must ensure Master Kaito has the finest venue for his stand upon his return,” he explained. “But Rosto is adamant about claiming the optimal location.”
“You’re right. Kaito deserves only the finest spot for his stand after all he’s done for Calmo,” Finn declared, thumping a fist on the table. “Ya know what? I’ve got my traditional place near the contests... I’ve been hoggin’ that spot for ages. Let’s shake things up! I’ll swing it Rosto’s way, and we’ll see some new faces lightin’ up, eh?
Jogid’s throat tightened. Shame heated his face at the tavern owner’s simple, nonchalant act. I struggle with this minor logistical issue while Finn solves it without a second thought...
“You humble me with such selflessness, good Finn. To relinquish your coveted location…but haven’t you used that same spot for years?...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Truly, the Great Master would be most pleased with your goodwill and wisdom. But we must not tell him, or he won’t allow your sacrifice—”
Finn waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. Can’t have any bad blood spoiling the festivities!”
Jogid stood and bowed deeply to Finn. “You have my deepest gratitude. Allow me to assist you in relocating your booth.”
Just then, the tavern’s door suddenly banged open.
“Good morning, Finn. Always a pleasure to see a man who knows his way around the kitchen,” Brena said with a half-smile, before turning her attention to Jogid.
“Master Jogid! A word about these festival plans,” she demanded, stomping inside without waiting for a response. Jogid blinked in surprise at the normally mild magister as she jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest.
“I won’t have you sullying our fair Solstice traditions by allowing that...that...candied vermin from the Eastscar posse this year!” Brena spluttered. “The introduction of such...unconventional fare is most disconcerting.”
Jogid turned his draconic gaze to Finn, who immediately resembled a startled basilisk caught in a lantern’s glow. “That’s all you, lad,” he stammered, hastily retreating a step as if the ground beneath him had turned to hot coals.
Jogid carefully extracted himself from her prod without giving ground. “Good Brena, what seems to be the issue with our allies sharing food from their culture?” he asked diplomatically.
“The issue?” Brena pressed a palm to her forehead, iron-gray hair escaping her severe bun. “Need I remind you that candied hoptoad legs have no place at a blessed Calmo Solstice feast? Aren’t you the one in charge? Or should I talk to the mayor?”
She drew herself upright, glaring at Jogid as though daring him to argue. Jogid cleared his throat, weighing his words and her likely reactions judiciously. Diplomacy above all else…
“Dearest Brena, I’ll address this issue. I only ask for some time…and some flexibility,” Jogid said, as humbly as possible.
“Sure, sure. I’ll come back here this evening to discuss this matter with you.”
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
“Hi, Jogid, come in. We were just discussing the festival,” Zenith greeted him with a warm smile.
“Mayor Zenith, Great Master Kaito,” Jogid began with a deep breath. “I’ve come to present a matter that has arisen regarding the festival’s menu.”
Zenith looked up. “Oh? The menu? Do tell, I’m always excited to hear about that.”
“There’s been some concern among the villagers. Specifically about the inclusion of candied hoptoad legs from Eastscar. Some feel it doesn’t align with our traditional Solstice feast.”
Zenith’s interest peaked. “Candied hoptoad legs? That sounds intriguingly exotic! Isn’t exploring new flavors part of what makes a festival special?”
“Absolutely, Mayor.” Jogid’s claw grasped the side of his robe tightly. “However, I’m also mindful of the sentiments of those who cherish our traditions.”
Kaito raised his palm gracefully and added, “Balance is key. We should celebrate our heritage while being open to new experiences.”
“You’re both right,” Zenith said thoughtfully. “What to do then? Jogid, what do you suggest?”
“I suppose…what if we introduce a few select dishes from Eastscar, including the hoptoad legs, while keeping our traditional favorites. It would show our openness and respect for diversity.”
Zenith’s face lit up. “I like that approach. A little bit of old, a little bit of new—it’s a great way to bring the community together. And see, easy—”
The dragonborn gulped audibly.
She pressed with sparkly eyes. “Figured it wouldn’t be that easy. Come on, what’s the real problem?”
“Well, you see, mayor…but I fear the solution might stretch our finances.”
Kaito’s eyes danced through the ledger. “Jogid, your concerns are valid. Our funds are already allocated tightly. Adding a diverse array of exotic foods from Eastscar, as much as it aligns with Zenith’s vision, will strain our resources significantly.”
“But the diversity of food is essential to the festival’s spirit! Isn’t there a way to make it work?” her voice quivered slightly.
“To incorporate these additional expenses, we must consider cutting costs elsewhere. And honestly, we’re already running on a minimal budget for almost everything,” Kaito said.
Zenith brought both hands to her temple and slid them down the sides of her face. “Okay, I know budgets are tight, but this festival is important. We can’t compromise on what makes it special.”
Kaito folded the ledger closed, meeting his disciple’s gaze. “Jogid, a festival’s heart isn’t measured by the gold it spends, but by the creativity it sparks.”
The Great Master is counting on me. “I’ll revisit our plans and try to find a middle ground. Perhaps there are areas where we can be more efficient.”
“I trust you, Jogid. Just... try to keep the festival’s heart alive, despite these constraints,” Zenith concluded, closing the discussion.
“It shall be done.”
But how? Jogid asked himself as he stepped out of the village hall. How could I possibly meet all these contradictory expectations for the festival?
Jogid paced in front of the open grassy area that he had scouted for Master Kaito’s bakery stand, visualizing the ideal flow of foot traffic past the display of sweet confections.
The scene played out vividly in his mind. Children would dart laughing between the stands asking for treats, while adults paused to chat, their arms laden with boxes of hell herbs and bread, timeless ischemia cake, and faceless fennel strudels from his Master’s stand.
Good proximity to other attractions.
Good visibility.
This is it!
A rushing sound brought him out of his head. He glanced up to see a magnacus alatus diving through the crisp morning air, wings extended. With precision, the messenger pulled up, backwinging to land neatly on the grass before Jogid.
He gave a short bow, extending a scroll. “Master Jogid, another missive has arrived for you.”
“Thank you, Pronotum,” Jogid said, turning the letter over. “Have you coordinated with—” Jogid sighed. Not Rosto again.
“Have I offended you, Master Jogid?” Pronotum asked, concerned.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll call upon you once I’m ready to respond to this matter.”
The megnacus courier bowed again, stepped back, and took to the air.
Rosto’s new message was simple: a map indicating his booth’s location and, of course, that location was where Jogid stood at that very moment.
No. He will not have it. But how…to deal with him? Rosto’s Cuppotil Cake booth was meant to be Eastscar’s prize attraction.
Jogid dragged a hand over his snout, the image of Master Kaito returning home to subpar stand placement haunted him. Definitely a challenge, but not one I will fail.
His legs carried him towards lunch while his brain cycled through prospective resolutions.
The knots in Jogid’s shoulders had drawn tighter than a winch by the time he pushed open the door to the Soft Waffle Tavern.
“But what’s the right choice?”
“You mean…for lunch?” Finn queried.
“My apologies,” Jogid said, not remembering when he’d settled onto a stool at the counter.
“Rough day already, eh lad?” Finn asked, sliding a steaming plate of pudding and bread rolls over without needing to ask the order. Jogid nodded gratefully and dug in.
Finn polished the glasses, glancing sidelong at Jogid while the dragonborn ate. “I couldn’t help overhearing something earlier about desired booth spots for the Winter Solstice Festival...”
Jogid lowered his spoon. “We must ensure Master Kaito has the finest venue for his stand upon his return,” he explained. “But Rosto is adamant about claiming the optimal location.”
“You’re right. Kaito deserves only the finest spot for his stand after all he’s done for Calmo,” Finn declared, thumping a fist on the table. “Ya know what? I’ve got my traditional place near the contests... I’ve been hoggin’ that spot for ages. Let’s shake things up! I’ll swing it Rosto’s way, and we’ll see some new faces lightin’ up, eh?
Jogid’s throat tightened. Shame heated his face at the tavern owner’s simple, nonchalant act. I struggle with this minor logistical issue while Finn solves it without a second thought...
“You humble me with such selflessness, good Finn. To relinquish your coveted location…but haven’t you used that same spot for years?...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Truly, the Great Master would be most pleased with your goodwill and wisdom. But we must not tell him, or he won’t allow your sacrifice—”
Finn waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. Can’t have any bad blood spoiling the festivities!”
Jogid stood and bowed deeply to Finn. “You have my deepest gratitude. Allow me to assist you in relocating your booth.”
Just then, the tavern’s door suddenly banged open.
“Good morning, Finn. Always a pleasure to see a man who knows his way around the kitchen,” Brena said with a half-smile, before turning her attention to Jogid.
“Master Jogid! A word about these festival plans,” she demanded, stomping inside without waiting for a response. Jogid blinked in surprise at the normally mild magister as she jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest.
“I won’t have you sullying our fair Solstice traditions by allowing that...that...candied vermin from the Eastscar posse this year!” Brena spluttered. “The introduction of such...unconventional fare is most disconcerting.”
Jogid turned his draconic gaze to Finn, who immediately resembled a startled basilisk caught in a lantern’s glow. “That’s all you, lad,” he stammered, hastily retreating a step as if the ground beneath him had turned to hot coals.
Jogid carefully extracted himself from her prod without giving ground. “Good Brena, what seems to be the issue with our allies sharing food from their culture?” he asked diplomatically.
“The issue?” Brena pressed a palm to her forehead, iron-gray hair escaping her severe bun. “Need I remind you that candied hoptoad legs have no place at a blessed Calmo Solstice feast? Aren’t you the one in charge? Or should I talk to the mayor?”
She drew herself upright, glaring at Jogid as though daring him to argue. Jogid cleared his throat, weighing his words and her likely reactions judiciously. Diplomacy above all else…
“Dearest Brena, I’ll address this issue. I only ask for some time…and some flexibility,” Jogid said, as humbly as possible.
“Sure, sure. I’ll come back here this evening to discuss this matter with you.”
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
“Hi, Jogid, come in. We were just discussing the festival,” Zenith greeted him with a warm smile.
“Mayor Zenith, Great Master Kaito,” Jogid began with a deep breath. “I’ve come to present a matter that has arisen regarding the festival’s menu.”
Zenith looked up. “Oh? The menu? Do tell, I’m always excited to hear about that.”
“There’s been some concern among the villagers. Specifically about the inclusion of candied hoptoad legs from Eastscar. Some feel it doesn’t align with our traditional Solstice feast.”
Zenith’s interest peaked. “Candied hoptoad legs? That sounds intriguingly exotic! Isn’t exploring new flavors part of what makes a festival special?”
“Absolutely, Mayor.” Jogid’s claw grasped the side of his robe tightly. “However, I’m also mindful of the sentiments of those who cherish our traditions.”
Kaito raised his palm gracefully and added, “Balance is key. We should celebrate our heritage while being open to new experiences.”
“You’re both right,” Zenith said thoughtfully. “What to do then? Jogid, what do you suggest?”
“I suppose…what if we introduce a few select dishes from Eastscar, including the hoptoad legs, while keeping our traditional favorites. It would show our openness and respect for diversity.”
Zenith’s face lit up. “I like that approach. A little bit of old, a little bit of new—it’s a great way to bring the community together. And see, easy—”
The dragonborn gulped audibly.
She pressed with sparkly eyes. “Figured it wouldn’t be that easy. Come on, what’s the real problem?”
“Well, you see, mayor…but I fear the solution might stretch our finances.”
Kaito’s eyes danced through the ledger. “Jogid, your concerns are valid. Our funds are already allocated tightly. Adding a diverse array of exotic foods from Eastscar, as much as it aligns with Zenith’s vision, will strain our resources significantly.”
“But the diversity of food is essential to the festival’s spirit! Isn’t there a way to make it work?” her voice quivered slightly.
“To incorporate these additional expenses, we must consider cutting costs elsewhere. And honestly, we’re already running on a minimal budget for almost everything,” Kaito said.
Zenith brought both hands to her temple and slid them down the sides of her face. “Okay, I know budgets are tight, but this festival is important. We can’t compromise on what makes it special.”
Kaito folded the ledger closed, meeting his disciple’s gaze. “Jogid, a festival’s heart isn’t measured by the gold it spends, but by the creativity it sparks.”
The Great Master is counting on me. “I’ll revisit our plans and try to find a middle ground. Perhaps there are areas where we can be more efficient.”
“I trust you, Jogid. Just... try to keep the festival’s heart alive, despite these constraints,” Zenith concluded, closing the discussion.
“It shall be done.”
But how? Jogid asked himself as he stepped out of the village hall. How could I possibly meet all these contradictory expectations for the festival?
