Amir walked absentmindedly down the streets. He noted that the watch-smith at Pendulum row forgot to put out his sign again and that the shop where an apothecary used to be remained empty, but his mind was still mostly on his failing project. Like that, he arrived at Penitent’s street, then began walking the rest of the way to his favorite lunch spot. There, he found something of an anomaly: A small goblin was slightly crouched behind the corner, staring at the bakery. Amir was an honest person and therefore very intently did not use the word ‘hide’, which implied not being visible from afar.

“Can I help you?” he could not stop himself from asking. They wore clothes so ragged and out of place Amir felt almost scalding curiosity.

“Yes,” the goblin looked up and gave him one of their characteristic chin-to-chest nods. Getting a closer look he pinned her as a girl. “Explain.”

“That is rather vague,” Amir decided to humor her. “What should I explain?”

“Not sure,” she shrugged, then returned to staring.

“So, what you are looking for is the question itself?” he asked after a moment of thought.

“Maybe, complicated,” she glanced at him. Amir was quickly realizing she had a much stronger accent than it had seemed in the first few sentences. “Lot of thinking, little sense.”

“Life is like that sometimes,” he smiled. “But if you want help you will need to be a little more specific.”

“Grandma there,” she pointed.

“Gramma,” he corrected instinctively.

“Hmm?” The little goblin raised both eyebrows.

“She insists everyone calls her that,” Amir said, feeling a bit embarrassed at having blurted it out.

“Is rule, understand,” nod.

“Why are you interested in her?” He asked.

“Why start talk?” She countered.

“I scarcely see many goblins around here, so you surprised me,” Amir said, then paused “I hope that isn’t offensive.”

“What ‘offensive’?” the goblin girl inclined her head, touching shoulder.

“It is… when someone says or does something because of what you are that you dislike. Like because you are a goblin.”

“How can be offensive then?” she blinked. “Spitting when see me offensive. Touching sword when walking close offensive. How can question be offensive?”

“You know what, maybe you have the right of it,” Amir could only give a startled chuckle.

“Amir!” then he was interrupted by a familiar voice. It was a short elven woman, seemingly young and in a rich - but not dazzlingly so - dress, calling out. “What has you standing around?”

“Lady Hawthorne,” Amir waved back. “I was just…” He glanced to the side and realized the goblin was gone. He had not noticed her leaving, nor did it seem like she was spotted by anyone else. “Nothing I suppose.”

“Come, come,” she motioned forward with a smile. “You have to eat, kid.”

“I am legally an adult,” Amir reminded.

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“Barely,” she snorted, then turned towards the bakery. But such were elves, ever ageless. He did not know how old Lady Hawthorne was but it was definitely at least twice of what she looked. She proceeded to enter ahead of him.

Gramma Rose’s bakery was spacious for that kind of store. Most of what the customers would see was the indoors sitting area larger than most bars with more tables than ever filled. By the end of it was the counter itself with shelves to pick from whatever might strike one's fancy. Amir’s was being smitten by a displayed meat pie.

“Amir, my boy, how have you been?” Rose noticed him as soon as she handed an order to the elven Lady preceding him. She smiled so radiantly it made him feel better about the continuous failures. “Feeling experimental today? I have broccoli bread.”

“What is that even supposed to be, Gramma?” he had to ask.

“Only one way to find out,” she laughed. Well, to that Amir could only smile back and let his curiosity win. He ordered it along the meat pie - that one was predestined for his stomach no matter what else was offered.

“Come, sit,” Lady Hawthorne waved him over as soon as he turned. She led the way to a two-person table near the edge of the room.

“Thank you,” Amir said when he took his seat. Pre-graduate arcanists like him were not at the bottom of the social ladder but neither did they often spend time with members of the peerage.

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off the politeness as always. Lady Hawthorne was not… known for her capacity as a courtier. Even people outside those circles had heard as much. “She got you too, huh?”

“Sure did,” Amir smiled. The elf opposite to him was pointing at the broccoli bread. Her lunch selection also happened to contain one. Amir quickly took a bite, sating his burning curiosity. It tasted… like broccoli and bread. In a positive sense. “Simple, but quite good,” he noted out loud.

“Yep, no repeat of the coconut bread,” the Lady shuddered, though it was obviously acted up.

“Coconut bread?” Amir frowned, first time hearing of such an event. It must have been before he became a regular. “How did Rose even get coconuts?”

“There was some magical hotentoten happening 20 years back, creating random portals all around the place if you believe it…”

“The planar shift?” Amir interrupted. He had been a newborn then but such events left records… and entire lectures in the Academium’s curriculum.

“Whatever you say,” the elven lady shrugged with a physically tangible disregard for proper terminology. “Anyway, a coconut farmer all the way from Samir got stranded here with an entire shipment! The whole cartful - and they make those carts bigger down South. Rose got it into her head she was going to make coconut bread. Did you know that coconut oil kills bread yeast?”

“No,” Amir admitted. “Was it that bad? I thought you could make bread without yeast just fine.”

“Oh, you can, but you have to make it a bit differently, I think,” Lady Hawthorne nodded. “Or maybe it was just that coconut is not that good for bread. Either way, the result was too hard, chewy, dry, and did not taste particularly… edible.”

“It does not sound like that much of a disaster, honestly,” Amir commented.

“The problem wasn’t the bread itself,” the Lady shook her head with a mischievous smile. “It was Rose being so furious about it that she ripped the stove off the wall and tossed it out into the alley! She almost hit someone with it too - it was a whole thing with the watch.”

“A whole stove?” Amir could not help but turn around - he was sitting with his back to most of the room - and give Gramma a scrutinizing stare. Arms thin like twigs, back hunched and fragile. Yes, it was unimaginable for an old lady like Rose… but 20 years ago? Well, it had to have still been impressive - she must have already been aging then.

“Slandering me before the youths, Thorn?” Gramma Rose approached, shaking her head in mock disapproval. She must have caught Amir staring.

“Just painting with coconuts,” the elf chuckled.

“Coconuts?” Gramma frowned instead.

“You know, that time you tried to make coconut bread?” Lady Hawthorne said, surprise turning the sentence into a half-question.

“Hmm, did I?”

“You threw the stove through the wall afterwards!” the elven lady almost shouted. “Spent the night behind bars? Holly almost set the guardhouse on fire? How do you not remember?”

“We did do that, huh,” the Gramma paused, then laughed. “My memory isn’t what it used to be, is it?” she glanced back and noticed another customer waving at her. “Oh, have to go. Tell me what you think of the special when you are done!”

Gramma hurried off smiling all the way. Amir looked back at Lady Hawthorne to realize she was distinctly not. The elven woman was still staring at Rose’s departing back. There was something intense about that glare - frightening even. For a few seconds, the always-smiling Lady frowned… Then she seemingly realized what she was doing and threw on a slightly crooked grin.

Either way, she did not start another conversation while they ate. Amir did not dare break the silence.