Itzemus cared little for mornings.

  Or cold.

  Or any number of things that insisted on existing around him.

  “At least it is trying to be a beautiful day,” he grunted, slowly strolling through the frozen snowscape that had transformed the Foreign Quarter.

  Strange as it felt to admit, Beeg continued to surprise him.

  Which was saying a lot, because he didn’t usually care enough about anything to be surprised.

  He had been impressed when the Book had chosen him.

  No.

  He had been jealous.

  He could admit that, now.

  Such a ridiculous form of magic.

  Such… potential.

  If he ever mastered the form, not just the magic.

  Order-from-chaos was as rare as it was powerful.

  He would give much to wield it himself.

  And yet, that is not what has me most surprised, It mused, skirting an ice patch and adjusting his coat.

  He snorted at the subconscious straightening of his coat.

  Maybe it was ridiculous.

  To care about his appearance after so long.

  And yet he still smoothed his sleeve and folded his hands, walking straight for the first time in… a lifetime.

  Truthfully, it had been too long since he had something that gave him reason to care.

  Which led him back to what had him surprised.

  I am going to fetch a cake, he exhaled.

  For Beeg.

  It paused, contemplating.

  No… that isn’t it.

  Beeg had asked him, not as a question, but as a statement.

  In a moment of panic, he had turned to It.

  Told him they needed a cake.

  Trusted him to handle it.

  Without need for discussion, without need to beg.

  Beeg had told him they needed a cake.

  And he had responded without a second thought.

  It peered into the dimly glowing brazier he stood before, as if he might find answers within. Snow swirled and fell around him, blanketing the Quarter and muffling whatever it touched.

  Everything except the ground beneath the braziers, where the fire brooked no competition.

  He breathed as the warmth brushed his nose.

  It had been a long time since anyone had joined them. Since any of them had chosen to trust someone.

  He hadn’t realized it, nor could he pinpoint the exact moment, but at some point… Beeg had become one of them.

  And that surprised him.

  ____

  In hindsight, he should have taken one of Stupid’s portals. She probably had one that lead directly to a cake shop.

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  It was proud to be a goblin, to belong to the superior race.

  But he wasn’t about to trust a goblin baker with a birthday cake.

  And it just got worse as he went down the list.

  Centaurs.

  Kobolds.

  Trolls.

  Actually, trolls probably made good meat pies, but he doubted Beeg would appreciate him returning with a troll made meat pie.

  It would be an amusing option to remember for Beeg’s next birthday, though.

  Which meant he needed to head to the human quarter.

  Which would take almost a day to get through the Foreign Quarter and then through the Human Slums.

  And then he would have to carry it back.

  But going back to the store to use a portal meant dealing with drama and Stupid tears.

  And try as he might to avoid it, seeing Stupid cry was one of the few things that caused him to feel again.

  Itzemus sighed and pivoted towards one of Vaarg’s dummy warehouses.

  A teleporter it was then.

  This counted as an emergency, right?

  ____

  Itzemus stared around the cake shop and the various human nobles scurrying to and fro.

  “Look at that disgusting rat,” one of the women whispered to another.

  It agreed with the statement. They all looked like over-powdered rats.

  “Shut your mouth you foolish girl,” a woman who looked like she might be her mother? Aunt? Scolded.

  “Do you not see his name badge? Do you have any idea who that is?”

  One of the clerks hurried from behind to counter to assist It.

  “Greetings, M’Lord,” she curtsied with a flourish, “how may I assist you today?”

  “Your clientele is distasteful,” It monotoned, “I hope your pastries are not the same.”

  Silence settled over the shop as the clerk grimaced, looking like she had swallowed a newt.

  Which was pathetic. Newts were delicious.

  It sniffed and waited. The rest of the shop had made it perfectly clear how they felt about him.

  He had every right to let them know the same. Especially considering they were his social inferiors.

  “I am in need of a cake. A Birthday Cake,” he announced.

  “A Birthday Cake for someone I care about.

  Very

  Very

  Much.”

  The clerk gulped.

  It nodded.

  Good.

  She understood the importance.

  ____

  The cake was ready within the hour, decorated with pink frosting, sprinkles and flowers.

  The clerk had asked twice if he really wanted “Happy Birthday, Stupid” written on it.

  After the second assurance she had just shrugged and did what he asked.

  Itzemus was well aware such speed was impossible. They had to have given him someone else’s cake.

  Judging by the red-tinted skin; which was not flattering on a human, of the girl who had originally insulted him — it was hers.

  Which put It in a much better mood. He had originally been quite offended the Bakery Keeper had allowed her customers to treat him so disrespectfully, especially considering he had been a long time patron.

  But nothing had been allowed. She just handled it tactfully.

  It grinned and stepped forward to express his pleasure at the speed and how impressed he was they could fulfill his order so quickly.

  Just loud enough to turn the woman a deeper shade of red, bordering on burgundy.

  It smiled wider. At least she knew better than to open those loose lips again.

  “We will have it delivered before the morning, Sir,” the clerk grimaced. “Is there a reason you are still here — not that we mind you being here,” she amended quickly.

  It snorted. Of course they minded. Business had ground to a stop since a goblin showed up, but the nobles knew better than offend by leaving.

  So everyone had stood there for nearly an hour, himself included.

  “Oh, I have just been enjoying the… ambiance of the shop,” he monotoned.

  The general feeling of disbelief radiating from every person in the room made him feel even better.

  “But I need the cake today, hence why I am still here,” he sighed.

  The clerk sighed in relief too, before catching herself and blushing.

  Itzemus graciously condescended to ignore it.

  “Do give my greetings to little Tiffy for me, would you?”

  “Little Tiffy?” the clerk parroted in confusion. “Wait…you mean Lady Tiffany, the Owner?” she all but shrieked.

  At that precise moment, a voice drifted down the stairs, followed shortly by the Lady in question.

  “Lord Puro, it has been too long,” Lady Tiffany called sweetly, the very picture of elegance.

  Which made It snorted again. What was she presiding over? A bakery?

  “Hello Tiffy, it has been some time,” he responded with a slight bow.

  They both knew what they were doing. This would be the main source of gossip at the next handful of balls.

  Ancients above, I must be more bored than I thought, It mused.

  Lady Tiffany brushed forward, her yellow dress brightening the room.

  Yellow.

  In Winter.

  It sighed again.