The cakes have cooled into three golden layers beneath the afternoon light. Livia sets them on the counter just as the elderly farmer returns with the young farmhand and four south-gate guards.
The Elderly Farmer
There she is. Payment for the watch, and enough besides for my household. Cut them generously, girl, before the crowd carries everything away.
The guards file inside behind him, their belts and buckles crowding the narrow room. Heat gathers quickly around the oven, the customers, and Livia's steadily replenishing milk.
The Young Farmhand
The south gate sent silver this time. Six thick slices for us, and do not skimp on the frosting.
South-Gate Guards
Four portions each, if there is enough. We have been smelling those cakes since the morning shift.
Coins clatter onto the counter. Shoulders press close, voices overlap, and the last cakes seem suddenly too few for the eager faces surrounding them.
The Elderly Farmer
Quickly now. Serve the guards first, perhaps, unless you mean to make us wrestle over crumbs.
Behind the counter, the strained buttons of Livia's white top hold for the moment. The cowbell gives a soft chime as warmth and pressure make the bakery feel smaller by the breath.
Preserve the bakery’s reputation through the afternoon rush.
The Hu-Cow character's milk production continues constantly.