Taxes, Taxes, Taxes

Ah yes~...

Give us our Daily Bread. 

Back in Baymard, a young man sat on his seat, in an enormous Bakery, called the Royal Delight, with a ticket number in his hand. 

From his little corner, he could see bits of the action going on whenever the double-sided doors at the bar back, behind the counters would open with bakers rowing out more bread to stock. 

The mouth-watering scent intoxicating the place made Brandon's stomach gurgle. 

Dammit, just being here was like a punishment to his now hungry belly. 

Nevertheless, the punishment was worth it if it meant he would get a taste of his favorite plaited loaves. 

The dough is plaited and then baked. 

For the life of him, no matter how he tried replicating its unique lightly salted and honey-like taste, he could never do what they did. 

It was because of this particular specialty that he took the time to bake on Saturdays.