A royal looking cultivator stood in a battle stance, lightning gathered in his hands. Rich silk robes and a crown on his head indicated his status. A smaller, younger cultivator stood with arms crossed to his other side. The words 'Lighting Lord and Lightning Lad' were written in dramatic yellow font on the poster.

Joe poked the poster, and noted it was some sort of paper, not quite modern quality but well beyond papyrus. The inked poster didn't appear to be a copied one, meaning mass production would have required intensive labour.

Another poster was plastered next to the first. It showed the proverbial heroes, each with a steaming mug of chicsum. The words 'Lightning Lord and Lad start their day with chicsum. Get a cup into you!'.

A final poster next to it showed a regular looking farmer surrounded by good looking men and women. They were all clinking mugs of chicsum and laughing like they were having the time of their lives. The words 'Chicsum, the lord's drink' were scrawled on this one.

Joe frowned. He knew marketing when he saw it. And why have marketing if there was no market pressure?

Charlotte pulled on his arm. 'Come on Joe, breakfast pastries!' Charlotte said, giving him a thumbs up.

They had wandered into town from Charlotte's farm, Charlotte kicking up a dust cloud behind him to catch up initially. They took a different route than yesterday, though Joe still headed for Bee's Bakery. He'd taken his time checking out the local stores. He noted a timber mill, and a large general store, both already busy with customers, that he'd need to visit later.

As they'd strolled by the edge of the wealthier section of town, and a shop caught his eye. It was a neat stone building with gold filigree on wide windows. Rich ornamental metalwork climbed the front of the building and posters were plastered on the rest of it.

The sign above read. 'Britt's Bakehouse - for the distinguished pastry enthusiast'.

Joe nodded and walked inside. Charlotte hesitated, then darted after him. She tugged on his arm again, 'Joe...this place is pricey...like serving too small food on too large a plate pricey.' She patted down her work-stained overalls and glanced around.

Joe winked and walked along the counter. The glass case was stocked with a number of decadent looking sweet rolls, raisin toasts, and sugary meringues. There were no fresh fruit tarts or anything that could be considered low glycaemic index.

'Ahem.' Came a curt voice.

A waspish looking woman in her late twenties crossed her arms and glared at him. 'Can I help you? Are you lost.'

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Joe leaned over the counter. 'Just having a squizz.'

'a...squizz...' The woman raised an eyebrow.

Charlotte tugged on his arm. 'Come on Joe, its only another few minutes to Bee's bakery.'

The woman, Britt herself Joe presumed, gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'Yes, Bee's would certainly be a good...fit for you.'

Behind the counter two cauldron sized brews of chicsum percolated, faint red glowing runes pulsing every few seconds. The smell was, well not enticing but at least offered the thought of something warm in your belly.

Joe tapped his chin. 'You got any pies?'

Britt nodded. 'Yes, our rhubarb and apple is the pie of the week. Good sweet tart taste. Though the plain apple and custard might be more your price range.'

'Nah mate, meat pies.' Joe said.

Britt vomited a little bit in her mouth. 'Meat,,,pies?'

Joe nodded. 'Yeah, various parts of an animal, stewed and cobbled together in pastry. Fair whack of gravy to cover up any undesirable visuals or unminced parts.'

'You want to put meat...in pies?' Britt frowned. Her withering gaze shot to Charlotte. 'Is this your doing Charlotte?'

Charlotte flushed bright red and her hair fell over her eyes. She looked wistfully towards the exit.

'Yeah, don't worry, I know what you're thinking. The snouts and entrails are barely discernible once they've been minced.' Joe smiled wide.

Britt vomited a little bit in her mouth. '...snouts...'

Joe shot her finger guns. 'Yeah, nice hearty meat pie. Old mate Flanno knows what I'm talking about.' Joe pointed at the rotund mayor who had been peeking over his newspaper. The mayor darted back behind it in a tactical retreat.

'I want to hear more about these meat pies.' Started the man sitting with him. Flanno kicked him under the table and hand the man a newspaper to hide behind. Before his face disappeared, Joe witnessed a sturdy black haircut and a wicked handlebar moustache. The man had the broad shoulders of a working man, though he'd gone somewhat to fat.

Britt pointed out the door. 'The café is only for paying customers I'm afraid.'

Joe nodded. 'Yeah, fair cop Britts. See ya round! I'll be back for a meat pie tomorrow.'

'We don't make meat pies you....' The door shutting behind Joe cut off what he was sure would have been a curse worth putting in the old memory banks.

Charlotte followed behind him out the door. She burst into a raucous laughter, slapping her thigh. 'What was all that? Are you mad?'

Joe just nodded knowingly. 'Market research Chaz, market research.'

Charlotte wiped a tear from her eye. 'Truth be told, I haven't had that much fun in months. Britt was always the worst growing up. Her dad owns one of the bigger chicsum plantations.'

Joe eyed her. Charlotte had been just a bit too nervous, even with his behaviour. He knew that look, he'd had it himself a few times when he'd been a struggling entrepreneur.

Charlotte sighed and dusted dirt off her overalls. 'She'll marry into one of the rich families and that's just how it is.' She stared off into the town and set her jaw. 'Anyway, enough chattering like old nans, lets go get a reasonably priced pastry from someone who appreciates us.'

Charlotte strode forward like a soldier to battle.

'Pastries.' She said under her breath. 'Affordable, salt of the earth pastries that respect a hard day's labour. The sort of pastries that respect what's on the inside.'

'You mean like jelly donuts?' Joe asked.

Charlotte kept muttering to herself. 'Honest pastries that tell you what's inside instead of hiding behind fancy words.'

Joe patted her on the arm. Yep, he knew that look.