[color=teal][b]Characters[/b][/color]: Various Erikson household NPCs
[color=teal][i]Location[/i][/color]: The North--Erikson Mansion 

Tilda huffed, her face never lifting from the baker's bench as The Bastard joined the mix. "If ya came ta get beat with tha broom, dearie, then keep on talkin'. Ta-day just may put ol' Tilda in the grave..." She muttered, not her usually jolly self. Normally she would happy swap smart ass remarks with the boy, but this morning she was a woman on a mission. "Go ask yer da 'bout our special-"

"-it's the Princess Sifora!" Poppy blurted from the stove, having nearly wet herself with excitement when Viktor had entered the room. 

The fat cook stopped a moment to send a sharp look at the girl. Oh if only looks could kill! Pressing her lips into a thin line, Tilda's face fell back to the bench. "Hand me that sack, boy. If yer gunna be a distraction to the girls in here, yer gunna be of some help." She barked pointing to the cloth sack full of flour that was on the far end of the bench near where Viktor stood. Then, slowly, a grin crossed her face. "An' if ya go an' feed these sweets ta the 'ounds... I will walk ya up by the ear to yer father meself and let ya explain why it is the High Council no longer has a seat for any Erikson...." Her words were playful, but there was a tone of seriousness to them today. 

The short, freckled faced Poppy let out a fearful gasp. "OH, please, don' hurt 'im, Tilda... I will take 'is lashes fer 'im!" She began to babble, dropping the wooden spoon into the pot she had been stirring. 

"STUPID GIRL!" Tilda roared. "Get back ta yer work or else ya will be gettin' some lashin's of yer own."  

[@viktorseier]