The sun shone through the tall bakery windows, it’s rays bouncing off the polished silver trays. Each glistened along the edges as though bejewelled, but their riches lay on top awaiting a hungry mouth. Invisible aromas smoked from each pasty, loaf and tart wafting their way upward, searching for release from the store.
A crowd had gathered outside awaiting that release of tantalising nostril stimulators. It had been a week since Lamynos the baker had opened his wooden doors to the village. His mother had been ill with Enders, so he had informed the village of it and travelled to be with her til its finality. He had expected to be gone a week as standard, but she had died three days in and so had returned to baking until her enrichment.
Outside several people huddled together warming their hands on a flogsop vent. It was a particularly cold day as records go. If anyone had bothered to look they’d have seen that the last time it dropped this low there were dragons in the sky. But a lot had changed since that time, most importantly Lamy the baking wizard had been born.