In her Crone form, Baba Yaga resembled a hunched old woman with grey hair and stone-cold black eyes. Her nose and ears were long, her face full of wrinkles. Age spots covered her skin, making her look weak. Her clothes were black, and she wore a long shawl around her hair to keep it from whipping her face on a windy day. That, and the walking cane, made her resemble Lady Nerea of Lutia, the old Healer and midwife that everyone had called "Nana" since they were babies. "No, you are not Nana." Vexal’s relaxed expression hardened, feeling as if the stranger was mocking the woman who had delivered him and his daughter safely. The stranger’s voice was strong and confident like the real Nana’s, but the Crone lacked the aura of bitterness and lingering rage that Nerea wore like an armor every day of her life. "Yes, I am." The Crone replied. "I had lots of children and even more grandchildren. I’ve been called Mama and Nana more times than I should remember, but I’ve forgotten none. I’ve earned my title, and if you disrespect my little ones, I’ll teach you a lesson with my cane!" "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you." Vexal couldn’t help but chuckle. The old woman wasn’t Nana, but the attitude and mannerism were on point. They stirred so many memories of the late Healer that Vexal felt like the Crone was an old friend. "And my granddaughter." Baba Yaga corrected him. "And your granddaughter." Vexal nodded. "To make this up to you, I’ll serve you personally. Here’s a cup of hot tea for the wait. It’s on the house." At a wave of his hand, one of the clerks brought an extra chair for the old woman. "Thanks." The Crone accepted the tea and seat. "We’ll wait. We don’t want to cut the line. We can use this time to chat a bit." "Excellent idea." Vexal handed Kelia a cup of tea and walked away. The old Lutians misunderstood Baba Yaga’s words and started to ask her a lot of questions about where she was from, if it was her first time in Lutia, and if she was a Healer. The Crone replied curtly and with as few words as she could, but it only made things worse. The crankier she acted, the more she reminded everyone of Nana, and the barrage of questions never ended. At least until the door opened with such strength that the chime signaling new clients was ripped off its cord. "I’ll take all the jam bread you have and a dozen of your best cakes." A finely dressed man who could only be a noble said. "I’m holding a party, and buying something that Supreme Magus Verhen likes is the best way to celebrate his first son." Before Vexal could say anything, a bunch of burly men in livery pushed the clients aside, making a beeline for the counter for their master. "Be warned, baker, if I find out what you’ve written on your insignia is a lie or you sell me garbage, I’ll have your license revoked and your shops closed. All of them." "Then take no risks and go somewhere else, my lord." Vexal grabbed the closest rolling pin and wielded it like a cudgel. "I don’t have enough bread for a party. Not after serving my regular clients." "Why the hostility?" The noble seemed genuinely surprised. "I’m doing you a favor by buying your whole production, and these… people can always return later. They can wait. I can’t." "No one cuts the line, my lord." Vexal knew one of the bodyguards was enough to kill him, but he also knew that even the most arrogant noble had to be careful in Lutia. "You’ll be served when your turn comes." The city was still called "the Graveyard," and its reputation was well earned. "Then I guess it’s my turn." The nobleman shrugged and tossed a handful of silver coins on the floor. "There. To compensate you commoners for your inconvenience. Now give me the bread, baker." There wasn’t a single person in the bakery who wouldn’t have loved getting even just one silver coin. Regular workers were paid in coppers, and a silver coin was worth 100 copper coins. Yet the spite in the noble’s voice and the idea of picking the money off the ground like beggars stung their pride. No one but the poorest among Vexal’s clients took a silver coin and left the shop. Pride wouldn’t fill the bellies of their children or fix a leaking roof before winter, but a piece of silver would. "By the gods, if you are a greedy bunch." The noble threw a second handful of coins, more annoyed by the remaining line than by spending more money than most Lutians would see in their whole life. "I had enough of your attitude, snotty brat." The Crone stood up to face the noble. "You come in here like you own the place, and then you dare to treat everyone like a beggar who needs your charity. "Guess what, I’m not going anywhere until I eat my jam bread with my granddaughter, and I’m not letting you walk in front of me, even if you throw your entire fortune on the ground." The noble looked down on her and scoffed. He was about to put his hand in his purse for the third time when Baba Yaga’s glare froze him on the spot. "Disrespect me one more time and I’ll put you on my knees, pull down your pants, and spank you so hard that your grandchildren will bear my handprint on their buttocks!" The traditional grandmother threat didn’t have much of an impact, but the blazing light from the Crone’s eyes and the sudden gust of wind did. Angering a mage was always a bad idea. Angering a powerful mage was no different from signing your own death warrant. The noble stuttered an apology and ran for his life. His retinue was more fit and better trained, yet they had a hard time keeping up with his pace. Yet no one inside the bakery cared about him anymore. All eyes were staring at the Crone as if Nana had walked out of her tomb and was taking a stroll among them. "I’ll consider this compensation for the damage." A wave of her hand collected the silver coins scattered on the floor and brought them into orderly piles on her palm. On the one hand, the greed of the old woman widened the smile of the Lutians. Nana considered her time as precious as money and, were she still alive, protecting people and then demanding her protection fee was exactly what she would have done. On the other hand, the Lutians were sad. A single silver coin was a small treasure that would allay most of their fears for the immediate future. They could have used it to fix their houses or saved it for bad days. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞 "Here you go." The Crone walked among the clients and gave one silver coin to each family. "It’s your compensation, and if someone asks you what happened to the silver, tell them the truth. I took it. If they want to know what I did with it, send them after me."