Jogid watched from within the boundaries of Kaito’s baked goods booth. Two men—no, three men moved nefariously between the festival games.
No blade drawn, no blood sworn…for now at least. But he will keep watching like a straneahawk guarding its territory from high above.
All three of them had the stench of corrupt IDM clinging to their skin. They communicated with each other with brief, almost imperceptible nods, and the occasional muttered word.
They were clearly here with a purpose, and their interest in the festivities seemed feigned at best.
It didn’t matter. He would deal with them soon. No one would forsake his festival.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
It had been another fun festival day down at Kaito's booth. His bakery stand selling piping hot macaroons and coffee was way more popular than expected. Who didn’t enjoy the colorful ‘McAroons’ on a chilly day? Kaito nodded in satisfaction as yet another tray emerged fresh from the oven.
“Jogid, we need three more trays of snickerdoodles, posthaste,” he instructed his faithful sous-baker. “And do take additional prepayment for the next batch of McAroons—we are nearly out of almond flour.”
“At once, Master Kaito!” Jogid bowed, blinking a bit of errant flour from the bony ridges above his eyes. The dragonfolk had been hustling and handling his baking and serving tasks well, but signs of stress were starting to show.
No wonder, with their current scene. The little stall had turned into a packed bakery barn. Sweet and savory smells filled the chilly air, making people sniff hungrily as they walked by. Happy shoppers left munching cookies or warming hands on hot cakes and coffee.
Yet more folks kept pouring in to replace them, forming a line halfway across the square. At least Zenith had been able to grab her macaroons early because his treats were spreading holiday cheer, albeit manageably intense cheer.
“No more cinnamon cocoa!” Jogid reappeared. “And we're super low on…” A gasp erupted from within. Jogid’s face paled, meeting Kaito's with alarm. “Master Kaito, catastrophic news! We are completely out of almond flour for the macaroons!”
“Well well,” Kaito sighed. He calmly held up a hand to halt Jogid's building panic. Then stood in front of the restless queue. Silent.
The crowd also quieted down. Murmurs of confusion arose here and there, but eventually, they too died away.
He plopped the last bits of macaroon dough onto the counter and pulled out some tiny carving tools.
Kaito snapped off a lump of the dough, molded it with his hands, and then used a toothpick to add tiny whiskers and fur details before setting it on the counter.
“...That’s the most beautiful sculpture of a sleeping fox I’ve ever seen…” said someone.
More shapes emerged under his flowing hands—a rosebud, petals opening, a crouching frog, wings on a graceful fairy. Each sculpture was perfected with small precise pokes, then displayed on the counter for all to admire.
Kaito put tiny rolled ears on a petite rodent and a tiny girl clapped. “Look Papa, a mouse!”
He glanced up and winked, earning a delighted laugh from the child. Nearby, he spotted Jogid ushering more wonderstruck kids closer to observe.
Word of the impromptu edible art show spread, drawing an even larger crowd than before.
Kaito selected his last large lump of dough.
[Special Technique: Pièce de Résistance]
Fingers gliding gracefully, he sculpted Mayor Zenith's kind eyes and serene smile. Each pass of his carving tool revealed her wisdom and compassion. Beside her took form Mayor Redirik, squat arms folded, powerful beard bristling with hearty vigor.
"Incredible..." murmured an onlooker. "You can see the very life in them!"
Cheers broke out as Kaito set the finished sculptures on the counter, now elevated to icons. The mini mayors stood side by side, called to service not by mortal dreams but immortal potential. The frosting robes and gumdrop shoes were mere trappings—what shone through was the indomitable heart of both villages united.
"Dibs on Zenith!" a sharp voice rang out, breaking silence. Chuckles arose as others jumped to claim their favorite pieces. Kaito and Jogid exchanged a twinkling glance at this abrupt turn.
Jogid glanced at Kaito, who smiled and nodded.
Then Jogid cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, given the overwhelming interest in Master Kaito's edible creations, we would be open to holding an impromptu auction, if anyone is interested...?"
The crowd roared approval, with heated bidding quickly commencing.
First to go was the wise Mayor Zenith, snapped up by herself for one gold…the sleepy fox sold to a tailor for five silver.
While the bidding continued, Jogid slipped away and made the rounds of nearby vendors, he quickly haggled for extra supplies of almond flour, cinnamon, and chocolate.
Kaito's entire edible menagerie was gone in minutes.
“Fully resupplied while you had them distracted, Master! We’re ready to bake some more…what did you call them…Mac–Arrons?”
“Well done. Fire up the ovens!” Kaito said, gesturing for his sous chef to don an apron.
New achievement! Chain Bakery Tycoon Wannabe. You've discovered vendor supply and demand the hard way by running out of fucking ingredients for your suddenly popular baked goods. Maybe start a lemonade stand next time.
Kaito laughed. That one was actually not bad.
Glad you find my existential crisis entertaining.
No, sorry. What I meant was that’s actually a good lesson. Supply and demand, right? I’ll have to discuss this with Jogid.
All I’m saying is…don’t quit your day job.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
With a smirk, the man continued walking towards a secluded area behind the less popular tents. Great, the dragonfolk pursued him as planned. He and his two companions adjusted their hoods to completely conceal their faces.
Jogid drew their attention with authority, and the men spun around showing worried expressions.
“You there! I can’t have you disgracing the festival. Either state your business, or be off and enjoy the festivities proper!”
“Ah, beg pardon good sir, we were just...lost and took a wrong turn,” said the man in the middle.
“I can smell your lies. Off with you, before I summon the guards,” the dragonfolk declared.
Sly grins broke out on all three faces. Before Jogid could react, a huge gray orc emerged from obscured shrubs behind. In his meaty fist shone a small black cube peppered with anti-magic sigils.
The dragon’s tattoos lost all light. He should be cut off from IDM.
Jogid took a step back, defensively, and the orc's burly arm locked around his neck in an unbreakable hold.
They cracked their knuckles and moved in, “Let's teach this lizard some respect!” one growled. He slammed his fist viciously into the lizard's smug snout.
‘Crunch.’
What a sweet sound. The others rained blows on the dragonfolk now dangling in the orc’s chokehold, before allowing him to slump to the ground.
“Well, well…this won’t rise,” a mild voice interrupted.
The man jerked his head up, his fist frozen mid-punch. Right there stood a calm festival worker holding a whisk.
“Might I recommend more courtesy on this festive day?" the man suggested. With a flick of his wrist, the whisk spun rapidly.
A strange pulling sensation tugged the man’s dagger-hilt. To his shock, all his gang's weapons began vibrating, then zoomed through the air, sticking to the whisk like a magnet. Amulets and artifacts—including the black cube—swiftly followed, swirling wildly around the vortex.
“Hey Shat! What happened to the devorin’ cube?” he bellowed, his voice tinged with real fear. But the items spun faster, melding into a floating clump of sparkly, dough-like material.
The worker nodded. “Perfect consistency!” My sous-baker can take over now.” He then tossed the whisk to the lizard they’d pummeled.
The battered fool caught it neatly with an ominous glint in his eye. “Ah, I know! I'll heat up...the oven," he rumbled. Sparks flew from his fingertip, rapidly expanding into a raging fireball.
"Oh shi—" he managed before the explosion blasted them all off their feet. Darkness descended to the meaty thud of unconscious bodies hitting dirt.
He's saying something…
“That’s why you always carry anti-magic nullification,” he sighed. “I learned that the hard way during my second tour...”
…after a few seconds, the man awoke groggily. The worker? He looked about desperately, but spotted only the whisk-guy jogging away and bug-like monsters surrounding them.
He then saw his companions' reddened, blistered, and swollen appearance, and that’s when he felt his own skin pulsing and throbbing with every heartbeat, sending sharp, stabbing sensations that made even the slightest movement unbearable.
“Gratitude—” the lizard called after the whisk-guy.
“Try to finish quickly, the line’s longer than before!” the baker said, never breaking his stride.
Jogid watched from within the boundaries of Kaito’s baked goods booth. Two men—no, three men moved nefariously between the festival games.
No blade drawn, no blood sworn…for now at least. But he will keep watching like a straneahawk guarding its territory from high above.
All three of them had the stench of corrupt IDM clinging to their skin. They communicated with each other with brief, almost imperceptible nods, and the occasional muttered word.
They were clearly here with a purpose, and their interest in the festivities seemed feigned at best.
It didn’t matter. He would deal with them soon. No one would forsake his festival.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
It had been another fun festival day down at Kaito's booth. His bakery stand selling piping hot macaroons and coffee was way more popular than expected. Who didn’t enjoy the colorful ‘McAroons’ on a chilly day? Kaito nodded in satisfaction as yet another tray emerged fresh from the oven.
“Jogid, we need three more trays of snickerdoodles, posthaste,” he instructed his faithful sous-baker. “And do take additional prepayment for the next batch of McAroons—we are nearly out of almond flour.”
“At once, Master Kaito!” Jogid bowed, blinking a bit of errant flour from the bony ridges above his eyes. The dragonfolk had been hustling and handling his baking and serving tasks well, but signs of stress were starting to show.
No wonder, with their current scene. The little stall had turned into a packed bakery barn. Sweet and savory smells filled the chilly air, making people sniff hungrily as they walked by. Happy shoppers left munching cookies or warming hands on hot cakes and coffee.
Yet more folks kept pouring in to replace them, forming a line halfway across the square. At least Zenith had been able to grab her macaroons early because his treats were spreading holiday cheer, albeit manageably intense cheer.
“No more cinnamon cocoa!” Jogid reappeared. “And we're super low on…” A gasp erupted from within. Jogid’s face paled, meeting Kaito's with alarm. “Master Kaito, catastrophic news! We are completely out of almond flour for the macaroons!”
“Well well,” Kaito sighed. He calmly held up a hand to halt Jogid's building panic. Then stood in front of the restless queue. Silent.
The crowd also quieted down. Murmurs of confusion arose here and there, but eventually, they too died away.
He plopped the last bits of macaroon dough onto the counter and pulled out some tiny carving tools.
Kaito snapped off a lump of the dough, molded it with his hands, and then used a toothpick to add tiny whiskers and fur details before setting it on the counter.
“...That’s the most beautiful sculpture of a sleeping fox I’ve ever seen…” said someone.
More shapes emerged under his flowing hands—a rosebud, petals opening, a crouching frog, wings on a graceful fairy. Each sculpture was perfected with small precise pokes, then displayed on the counter for all to admire.
Kaito put tiny rolled ears on a petite rodent and a tiny girl clapped. “Look Papa, a mouse!”
He glanced up and winked, earning a delighted laugh from the child. Nearby, he spotted Jogid ushering more wonderstruck kids closer to observe.
Word of the impromptu edible art show spread, drawing an even larger crowd than before.
Kaito selected his last large lump of dough.
[Special Technique: Pièce de Résistance]
Fingers gliding gracefully, he sculpted Mayor Zenith's kind eyes and serene smile. Each pass of his carving tool revealed her wisdom and compassion. Beside her took form Mayor Redirik, squat arms folded, powerful beard bristling with hearty vigor.
"Incredible..." murmured an onlooker. "You can see the very life in them!"
Cheers broke out as Kaito set the finished sculptures on the counter, now elevated to icons. The mini mayors stood side by side, called to service not by mortal dreams but immortal potential. The frosting robes and gumdrop shoes were mere trappings—what shone through was the indomitable heart of both villages united.
"Dibs on Zenith!" a sharp voice rang out, breaking silence. Chuckles arose as others jumped to claim their favorite pieces. Kaito and Jogid exchanged a twinkling glance at this abrupt turn.
Jogid glanced at Kaito, who smiled and nodded.
Then Jogid cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, given the overwhelming interest in Master Kaito's edible creations, we would be open to holding an impromptu auction, if anyone is interested...?"
The crowd roared approval, with heated bidding quickly commencing.
First to go was the wise Mayor Zenith, snapped up by herself for one gold…the sleepy fox sold to a tailor for five silver.
While the bidding continued, Jogid slipped away and made the rounds of nearby vendors, he quickly haggled for extra supplies of almond flour, cinnamon, and chocolate.
Kaito's entire edible menagerie was gone in minutes.
“Fully resupplied while you had them distracted, Master! We’re ready to bake some more…what did you call them…Mac–Arrons?”
“Well done. Fire up the ovens!” Kaito said, gesturing for his sous chef to don an apron.
New achievement! Chain Bakery Tycoon Wannabe. You've discovered vendor supply and demand the hard way by running out of fucking ingredients for your suddenly popular baked goods. Maybe start a lemonade stand next time.
Kaito laughed. That one was actually not bad.
Glad you find my existential crisis entertaining.
No, sorry. What I meant was that’s actually a good lesson. Supply and demand, right? I’ll have to discuss this with Jogid.
All I’m saying is…don’t quit your day job.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
With a smirk, the man continued walking towards a secluded area behind the less popular tents. Great, the dragonfolk pursued him as planned. He and his two companions adjusted their hoods to completely conceal their faces.
Jogid drew their attention with authority, and the men spun around showing worried expressions.
“You there! I can’t have you disgracing the festival. Either state your business, or be off and enjoy the festivities proper!”
“Ah, beg pardon good sir, we were just...lost and took a wrong turn,” said the man in the middle.
“I can smell your lies. Off with you, before I summon the guards,” the dragonfolk declared.
Sly grins broke out on all three faces. Before Jogid could react, a huge gray orc emerged from obscured shrubs behind. In his meaty fist shone a small black cube peppered with anti-magic sigils.
The dragon’s tattoos lost all light. He should be cut off from IDM.
Jogid took a step back, defensively, and the orc's burly arm locked around his neck in an unbreakable hold.
They cracked their knuckles and moved in, “Let's teach this lizard some respect!” one growled. He slammed his fist viciously into the lizard's smug snout.
‘Crunch.’
What a sweet sound. The others rained blows on the dragonfolk now dangling in the orc’s chokehold, before allowing him to slump to the ground.
“Well, well…this won’t rise,” a mild voice interrupted.
The man jerked his head up, his fist frozen mid-punch. Right there stood a calm festival worker holding a whisk.
“Might I recommend more courtesy on this festive day?" the man suggested. With a flick of his wrist, the whisk spun rapidly.
A strange pulling sensation tugged the man’s dagger-hilt. To his shock, all his gang's weapons began vibrating, then zoomed through the air, sticking to the whisk like a magnet. Amulets and artifacts—including the black cube—swiftly followed, swirling wildly around the vortex.
“Hey Shat! What happened to the devorin’ cube?” he bellowed, his voice tinged with real fear. But the items spun faster, melding into a floating clump of sparkly, dough-like material.
The worker nodded. “Perfect consistency!” My sous-baker can take over now.” He then tossed the whisk to the lizard they’d pummeled.
The battered fool caught it neatly with an ominous glint in his eye. “Ah, I know! I'll heat up...the oven," he rumbled. Sparks flew from his fingertip, rapidly expanding into a raging fireball.
"Oh shi—" he managed before the explosion blasted them all off their feet. Darkness descended to the meaty thud of unconscious bodies hitting dirt.
He's saying something…
“That’s why you always carry anti-magic nullification,” he sighed. “I learned that the hard way during my second tour...”
…after a few seconds, the man awoke groggily. The worker? He looked about desperately, but spotted only the whisk-guy jogging away and bug-like monsters surrounding them.
He then saw his companions' reddened, blistered, and swollen appearance, and that’s when he felt his own skin pulsing and throbbing with every heartbeat, sending sharp, stabbing sensations that made even the slightest movement unbearable.
“Gratitude—” the lizard called after the whisk-guy.
“Try to finish quickly, the line’s longer than before!” the baker said, never breaking his stride.
