You see Lamy was no ordinary baker. He came from a lineage of masters that stretched back to the time of Kindission III. He was a magician with pastries who baked pithy crème sholz that hypnotised dragons. He was also the grandson of Amazlon the “King of Kings”, who defeated armies with the aromas from his great industrial baking ovens. However like many family trees not every son was destined for greatness. Some did better at drinking the Juniper froth or chasing local farm girls. Others gambled on the illegal dragon races or sort out darkness for their entertainment. Then there were the workers like Lamynos. Those that were not terrible in either distinction of the word. They were just good bakers. Lamynos knew this and yet he still believed there was more to come in his uneventful life. He looked into the sky wistfully as he opened the bakery doors to his waiting customers. The smells of his hot loaves, crisp pastries and glazed shrugls burst forth into the air, their aromas drifted upward and were carried on a wind to the dark mountains beyond.