Role

Chapter 5

The baker in South Dairein was a shrewd man, and a friendly man, but he was
also a selfish man. He had, from an early age, the perspicuity to realize that
the accumulation of wealth led to escape from all necessity, and would allow
him the hours he needed to be alone with his thoughts and mental turmoil. But
instead of using this free time to leave some beneficial watermark on the
lands, he spent it counting his gold and drinking at the Whistling Hammer,
where he would lapse into daytime fantasies such as buying the High Tower of
Sorcery outright. Drinking and enjoying life were not the selfish part, mind
you. The selfish part manifested in his outright disregard for others. He
focused only on accumulating gold and jewels, a myopic obsession which did not
make him happy, really.

Within this focus, the baker felt quite cowardly, but would never admit this to
himself. Instead, he channeled that empty pit many feel into baking, and made
some truly spectacular delicacies. Until the dark man came and aroused his
interest, preying on his greed.

The man came one afternoon when he was ready to close the shop for the evening.
His cloak was the color of fine ash, and a heavy hood completely hid his face.
The man would not respond to questions about which pastry he would like, or
which bread he would sample. Rather, the man stood silently and waited until
the baker had finished speaking.

"13," the man stated, simply.

The baker frowned. "Thirteen of which, the bread?" he asked.

"13," the man said again.

The baker was a perspicuous man, as has been told, but he was also an impatient
man, and this sort of nonsense did not occur in his bakery.

"If you cannot make sense, I will ask you to leave, sir," the baker said.

The man threw back his hood, in what was supposed to be a dramatic manner, and
succeeded in catching the side on his ear, leaving the hood partially
uncovering only one eye and the tip of his nose. He furiously tugged the rest
of the hood from his face.