Taxes, Taxes, Taxes
Ah yes~...
Give us our Daily Bread.
Back in Baymard, a young man sat on his seat, in an enormous Bakery, called the Royal Delight, with a ticket number in his hand.
From his little corner, he could see bits of the action going on whenever the double-sided doors at the bar back, behind the counters would open with bakers rowing out more bread to stock.
The mouth-watering scent intoxicating the place made Brandon's stomach gurgle.
Dammit, just being here was like a punishment to his now hungry belly.
Nevertheless, the punishment was worth it if it meant he would get a taste of his favorite plaited loaves.
The dough is plaited and then baked.
For the life of him, no matter how he tried replicating its unique lightly salted and honey-like taste, he could never do what they did.
It was because of this particular specialty that he took the time to bake on Saturdays.