Augustine: Song weaver, self-proclaimed Life Skiller. A brainwashing imp.
After the breakfast, I go back home. The pie was a big success. The crust was the right among of crunchy, and just golden enough to be on the verge of being well-done.
The meat was juicy and tender, and had that lovely wild game taste, that fresh elk meat has. The potatoes melted on the tongue. Did I mention that the butter was something I made myself, from milk I milked myself, from my own cow, that I keep in the community farm? Yes, I pulled no stops with that breakfast.
That didn't get me out of meeting with this Vincent. You know, the archer who is afraid of slimes. I have three images of him in my head.