2412 Tull 27, Daleth

The heat in the kitchen was oppressive due to the fact that Furloth just finished lighting the furnace up. Nyxis wiped the sweat off his brow, blowing a heavy breath as he moved to divide up the dough in their prescribed batches.

Flour dusted the square counter in the middle of the kitchen—a typical sight for the early morning baking routine Nyxis had endured for a few years. Furloth was kind enough to split his earnings between maintaining the shop and feeding him. Nyxis could at least help with half the work.

"You should have had shaped the dough in ten minutes," Furloth called over his shoulder as he kneaded a bigger and tougher dough in a separate table near the furnace. Like Nyxis, his face was dotted with sweat and streaked with bits of dough and flour.

Nyxis bobbed his head and set off to work. His fingers attacked the small blotches of dough in movements he had memorized and perfected over the years. The snipping sounds of a bread scissor were the only compliment of the flames crackling in the furnace. Pastelberds did need to be shaped and cut a particular way to induce the maximum crisp and to avoid the filling from overflowing.

Bits of ash and embers flew in the air as a stray breeze from the open windows fluttered into the room. Nyxis did his best to wave them away before they land on the pastries. A bell dinged in the kitchen, the programmed timeteller situated near the backdoor telling them the pre-heat was over and the furnace has been primed.

Nyxis pushed the flat tray filled with raw shaped pastries towards Furloth who came to retrieve them. The baker gave him an approving nod. "I swear you keep getting better and better at this," he yanked the door to the oven and deposited the first tray in. He turned to the counter to get the other batch. "Soon, you might become better than me."

Nyxis chuckled. "I only learned from the best," he wiped another bout of sweat on his forehead on his sleeve. "Besides, I have the advantage of youth."

Furloth hummed. The oven's door shut with a click. It's going to be a bit of time before those come out. Good thing he and Furloth had worked the previous night until dawn to get to the batch of deliveries to the Nobility region. They only have to refill the shop display and they were done baking for the day.

The need for sleep echoed at the back of Nyxis's mind. Now wasn't the best time to catch a quick doze. He doubted he'd even be able to shut his eyes in the middle of this heat. He sighed as he retreated to a spare stool close to the wall and farthest from the blazing furnace.

His eyes scanned the bustle happening in the street outside the kitchen with a passive interest. Like always, dagrine-drawn carts sped along the cobbled road, stirring up dust as they went. Commons went about in their usual business, weaving through interlocking alleys like they know it like the back of their hands. Kephras, with their slick bodies and doppled fur, hissed at random people passing by in an attempt to protect the nobles sitting inside the comfort of their carriages behind it. Lemper bleated, the sound carrying across the whole compound.

Nyxis pursed his lips, having been reminded of what went on the other week. It had taken him all these months before he finally had the courage to visit Tobin in their farm and tell him what he found out. The shepherd had stared at him for a good while. For once, he didn't laugh.

The ring of cheese made from lemper milk sat in one of the cupboards lining the upper part of the walls. Considering how happy Furloth was with it, the circumstances Nyxis had to go through to get it made it worth it. It's the least he could do for troubling the man with a lot in the past few years.

The front door's bell rang. Nyxis shot up and wiped his hands against his scratchy apron. "I will deal with it," he nodded to Furloth who returned the gesture from the dough he was kneading. "What should I tell them?"

"We would have a freshly-baked bunch in five minutes," Furloth answered.

Nyxis committed it to memory and strode to the doorway separating the shop and the kitchen. "The buns are going to be ready in five minutes," he called as he sped into the shop with his best customer-service voice. No one responded. He paused when his gaze landed on the strange flood of customers so early in the morning.

A varichria, with her orange wings folded behind her and hidden under an unconspicuous cloak, stood near one of the diplay cases where they keep their versallis reserves. A boy with stark white hair ran a finger along the front windows' sill. He didn't look like a fairy so it could either be human or half-blood. Finally, Nyxis's eyes landed on a girl sticking her nose into the display case to his left. She looked at the pastries behind the glass like they're made of versallis.

Nyxis approached her, making a note of her light brown hair—too light even among the common hair colors in Cardina—and her pointed ears sticking past the strands. If she was aiming to hide them, she wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"Good choice on the pastelberds," Nyxis prompted.

The girl flinched and yelped, turning to him with wide, brown eyes. "Wh—"

Nyxis ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it out and getting rid of the spells of flour dusting it. "I mean, I still think pastelberds deserve a chance to be popular amongst customers," he braced his hips with his hands. "That thing is delicious."

"Yeah, sure," the girl said. "Do you usually hang out here?"

Nyxis shook his head. "I work here," he said. Then, following the script Furloth adviced him to say in times like this, he continued, "My dad runs this place."

Understanding dawned on the girl's face. "Ah."

Now that Nyxis was paying attention, he noticed the girl wearing a crimson dress similar to the ones working in the Sandiega estate. He had seen a lot of those come and go in the bakery in the past two years. She wasn't here to buy pastries, it seemed. Nyxis still didn't know what Furloth was going into with his dealings with the textile businesswoman but from the looks of it, it might be serious.

And how did it all connect to finding Xalim?

"It is not normal for people from textile to visit us twice a day," Nyxis prompted again. The girl merely stuck her bottom lip out, some sort of realization beaming in her eyes. "Your clothes tell me that you are indeed from textile but that could not be since the textile people came a while ago."

If he remembered it correctly, it was a young girl and an even younger boy bearing an enveloped letter. Furloth was the one who answered the door in between kneading dough.

The girl didn't say anything. She didn't appear to know more than he did about all this.

"I am Nyxis, by the way," he said, extending his hand to her. She took it.

"Xanthiene," she said after a while of bantering with him.

Then, from the windows, something bright blue and familiar flashed in his periphery. Nyxis's gut sank. Civil Guards. What were they doing here? Hadn't they looted this place enough?

Fear blossomed anew in his gut. Were they here to get him? Had the Palace realized he was hiding out here? He forced himself to swallow the bile climbing his throat. He turned to the girl and her strange companions. Maybe...

Maybe they're here for these people.

"Hey, you should try lindenmeres," Nyxis blurted, looking away from the developing chaos in the streets. "They are the perfect combination of nutty and sweet."

He didn't hear himself talk about the pastry as his mind whirred. What had these people done to piss off the Queen? Why was she going all out with surrounding the bakery? Had they figured out Furloth's connection to whatever resistance was brewing underneath Cardina?

"Sorry for keeping you all waiting," Furloth emerged from the kitchen, dusting his hands free from flour. "What can I do for you during this lovely day?"

Nyxis kept his ears strained as he wordlessly moved to the cooling racks where Furloth had placed the latest batch of pastries. The varichria peeled off the center display. "We wish to gather our lot," she said.

It's a familiar phrase used over and over in this shop. Recognition flashed in Furloth's face. "Ah, let me just duck out and get it," he said. He passed Nyxis a warning look as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Nyxis narrowed his eyes. Furloth must have seen the Civil Guards pouring in the alley as well.

Furloth emerged not a full minute after and passed the varichria a rolled parchment. Nyxis didn't know what that was but it was enough to tell him it must probably be important.

"You have a minute to surrender before we open fire!" a booming voice called outside. Nyxis cursed, hearing General Pell's authoritative voice. So the Palace has finally sent that devil?

"How did they find us?" Xanthiene exclaimed. She wasn't new to this and it showed.

The varichria got into Furloth's face. "Do you have a backdoor?" she hissed.

Nyxis reached the baker and Furloth's heavy arm circled around his shoulders. "Lead these people out the back and stay with them," he said. "I will deal with those in the front. Let us meet in the Sandiega estate. I trust you know the way?"

Nyxis pushed away from Furloth. "You know I cannot do that," he said. "I cannot leave you."

Furloth smiled and repeated the same order in a much louder voice, drawing the others' attention. Nyxis bit back a curse. So this was how Furloth would play it? Very well.

"Come on," he turned to Xanthiene. She seemed to be the only one capable of noticing him. She nodded at him and, together, they headed to the kitchen's backdoor. Knowing the Civil Guards' operation, there was nowhere they could go that wouldn't involve busting a few doors and throwing some spells.

True enough, the bakery shook as spells peppered it. Nyxis cursed, audibly, this time. The newcomers hissed spells, shining barriers appearing around them in a flash. These people looked like they could fight.

Nyxis glanced out of the window, estimating the number of Civil Guards in this front while the varichria and Xanthiene argued about fighting or not. How was Furloth going to deal with this on his own?

Oh, well.

"Disable the shield," the varichria hissed at the white-haired boy. "See you back at the estate."

Xanthiene's eyes widened. "Wait—"

The shield flickered off and they surged out of the door. A new type of chaos ensued. Nyxis wove his way around the mess of whizzing spells and exploding magic, searching for the familiar traces of the girl with light brown hair. There.

Earlier, the varichria had blamed Xanthiene about bringing the Civil Guards here. It wasn't a far leap to say the Queen was after her, whoever she was. The bend leading to the connecting street came up. That's where Furloth would be. The front.

Xanthiene dashed by him, her eyes focused on somewhere. Nyxis clicked his tongue. If the Queen was after this girl, it couldn't be good. She didn't know how it would be under the Queen's claws. The past two years told Nyxis enough of how much she had changed. He didn't want anyone suffering from being involved with him or his family. Not anymore.

Well, damn it all.

Nyxis turned away from the corner and went forward, running after the girl with khaki hair.