Smells like Breakfast Spirit

The first light of dawn crept slowly over the step-like skyline of Ssarradon, tinting the city walls with soft hues of rose and gold.

Inside the cramped cart, the group stirred slowly. Balthan rubbed at his eyes, grumbling about how taxes at the gate were always a pain. Kethra stretched one of her six legs out, the smooth scales catching the weak morning light. The lizard yawned lazily as she shifted her bulk to settle more comfortably.

Rika and Tia blinked more or less awake, the soft rocking of the cart easing them into the morning. Tia turned to Vesh, who was already sitting up by the cart’s edge, gazing out toward the city gates with a mixture of nostalgia and quiet excitement.

“We should hurry toward the gates, or else we might stand there all day. Traffic's always high,” he said.

“Naw,” Tia complained, voice still thick with sleep. “No breakfast before we go?”

“We can get breakfast in there,” Balthan replied gruffly, already mounted on the front seats.

Tia paused, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and took a moment to study the city from outside the gate. The towering walls bore the unmistakable marks of ssarradonian architecture – gentle angles, towers rising like ancient sentinels guarding secrets yet to be uncovered, decorative stone carved wyrms spiraled along the outside. Grand cloths spanned across, tinting the areas below in faint colours.
The presence of the empire was palpable, even before they stepped inside.

Now Corin too slowly opened their eyes. Her hair was messy from tumbling around through the night.

Corin’s voice light, “Can I just lay just here and you guys do the rest?”

Outside the cart, the air was crisp and cool, carrying scents of stone, something faintly herbal, and just a tang of smoke from distant hearths.

Balthan grumbled from the corner, “We don’t have the right coin.” He shuffled through a worn leather pouch, pulling out a handful of coins. “These are worthless here. We’ll try anyway.”

And as Kethra stood up, prompting one leg at a time, preparing to walk these last few meters, it was settled. They were going. Now. And that without the most important meal of the day.

Not too many others waited in front of them. The guards worked efficiently at the numerous gates, and soon, it was their turn.

A dogkind soldier leaned his halberd-like weapon against the grand stone walls and pulled out a small notebook. His armor was a blueish grey metal, iron probably. Solid chestplate, shoulder pieces and a helmet with cut out holes for his ears to flop out. Kinda cute. Underneath he wore cloth and chainmail, though it looked more like metal scales than plain interlocked rings.

Pointing with a pencil and counting aloud, as to not lose track, he said “Single Sska’veth, beloaded, five people, that’d be… two, eh, three, six – eight? Thaaat'll be one frill and two claws, please. Thank you.”

“We got no useful coin on us,” Balthan said quickly. “I’ve got a quest with payment. Enough to cover it.”

The guard nodded and called over a colleague. A less armored reptilian, his scales were more brownish than Vesh’s.

“Everyone’s identification marks please~,” he said in an almost sing-sang voice.

Everyone showed their IDs, except Tia, who fidgeted nervously with her phone in her pocket, trying to stay unnoticed.

The bureaucrat caught her hesitation and smiled kindly. “Ha, you lost your mark I bet? Funny story – I lost mine too when I just started working here. No worries, just go to the guild once you’re inside, they’ll replace it.”

Tia’s heartbeat settled again, as the friendly lizard turned to his partner. “Kay, these are good to go.”

This toll procedure sure is far more efficient than any Tia ever had to experience.

The gates already yawned wide open before Kethra continued plodding along.

The air shifted as they crossed the threshold – warm with the scent of sun-baked pavements and something sweet and spiced drifting from deeper within.

They stepped onto the lowest terraces, the city unfolded upward in deliberate, sun-catching layered steps. From here, the walls of the terraces rose like tiers of a vast, uneven amphitheater, each one carrying its own life and purpose.

Tia’s gaze wandered over everything – the wide, sloping streets paved in patterned pastel tiles, the narrow runnels of water glinting between some of them. The facades carved with intricate motifs that seemed to dance in the light. Even the shadows fell in lines that mirrored those etched into the walls.

Corin, now sitting upright rather than under his blanket, hid beneath the carts flattered linen top. Avoiding the piercing beams of light like he was a vampire.

Still sitting at the front, guiding Kethra, sat Balthan. Gaze fixed forward onto the road.

Rika walked alongside them, her amazed gaze drifting around from one attraction to the next. Tail wagging as usual

And beside her, Vesh inhaled deeply, eyes half-closed, as if tasting the very nature of this city. “Ah… it’s still the same,” he murmured. “The same as when I left.”

He lifted a hand, guiding their eyes. “That’s the lower working terrace – shops, forges, the kind of places where you get your hands dirty. But in the good way. Over there, the public gardens.Not much now but come spring, blooming vines will eat the trellises whole.”

They moved through the streets that bent and opened unexpectedly, the terraces guiding their path as much as the walls.
The houses near the gate had steep roofs tiled like the backs of dragons – overlapping scales of sandy beige and pale green.
On some buildings, sharp vertebra-like spines jutted along the ridge, doubling as flagpoles where cloth banners rippled in the morning air.
Tia caught sight of one proud roof that had gone further – its spines arched into the beginnings of a tail curling down toward the eaves.

Though the general buildings down here were more on the humble edge. No sleeping wyrms as their roofs, but rather practical and space-efficient.

Vesh’s claw tapped against the edge of the cart as he pointed higher. “There’s the major basking terrace – looks like it’s just for sunning, but if you know how to listen, you’ll hear the city deciding its future there. Past that, another working terrace, and then a scholarly district.”

Then his grin spread wide. “And – ah, my favorite place.”

He stepped onto a sprawling open terrace, layered like an asymmetrical pyramid. Some steps were soft with greenery, others bare, almost black basking stone that shimmered in the heat already.

Even though above the city were triangular sunshades made of cloth, the air above these sunbathing tiles boiled.

Through it all, streams of clear, slow-moving water laced the different levels – just enough to cool the feet, just enough to whisper under the hum of the city. Children chased each other along the edges, splashing in the shallows, while vendors perched in shaded alcoves, their wares laid out like a fan of wonders.

Vesh let out a long, slow breath, his body accepting it all. “Home,” he whispered.

By the time the sun had climbed high enough the dark tiles were so hot, they were unwalkable for unprotected human feet – in other words, perfect for some lizardfolk to go lay down.

They found themselves gathered in the shade of a sloping roof, watching the city move around them.

“So,” Tia began, leaning on the cart, “where do we actually… stay? I’m guessing ‘park Kethra in the middle of the road and sleep on her back’ isn’t the move here?”

Balthan made a thoughtful, gruff sound. “No camping inside the walls. We don’t want public disturbance fees, and those cost more than our breakfast.”

“Which we also didn’t have,” Tia reminded him, a soft growl of her own strengthening the argument.

Rika chuckled and folded her arms, eyes scanning the street like she could summon a solution just by glaring hard enough.

“Tavern’s the obvious choice, but those aren’t cheap either. Especially for five beds and space for Kethra.”

Vesh’s tail flicked, more restless than usual. “There’s an innkeeper I know, down near the third terrace. Keeps a stable for ones like her. He might cut us a deal, but…” He spread his claws in a helpless gesture. “Still. Coin.”

Corin finally spoke up from in between shelves of who-knows-what.

“What about that delivery you were talking about, Balthan? Your quest thing?”

Rika’s ears sank a bit, “Is it the ancient sap you’re gonna sell?”

Balthan just replied, “Definitely not for the money we travelled here. And you don’t just make a quick deal with a gift of the forests.
Rare mushrooms and special herb bundle for a cook. Y’don’t usually get these ones on this side of the Wyrmspine.”

Tia raised an eyebrow. “Then where’s the problem? We can just go to that cook guy and then pay off the fees, no?”

As if choreographed, Tia’s and Corin’s stomach growled in harmony.

Rika sighed, but her expression softened. “Then we split. Balthan delivers his goods, gets the pay, does the fee. Vesh, maybe we can sell something small here for some quick breakfast money? We’ll take Tia and Corin with us so we don’t have two starving people fainting in the street.”

Corin gave her a look. “You’re assuming I’m not already fainting.”

Vesh chuckled and flicked his tail toward the nearby market street. “Come on, then. Let’s see if Ssarradon still remembers my haggling.”

Balthan tightened the straps on the cart, giving Kethra a fond pat on the flank. “Right then. We’ll meet back here, this terrace, before the shadows hit the north wall.”

“Alright,” Vesh said, tail flicking as he pulled something small and unassuming from the cart’s storage – a bundle of dried bark, tied with thin copper wire. “We start low, then step our way up.”

Rika tilted her head, ears forward. “Not the mushrooms?”

Vesh shook his head. “Not ideal. They’re not too uncommon here.”

Balthan padded Kethra’s back and soon they were making their way toward said higher terrace.

The others too had to get on a higher terrace, but in the other direction.

A grand market wouldn’t thrive on the bottom, tucked away like dirty clothes under the bed.
Instead it sprawled out from the middle terraces’ edges like a living, breathing thing – rows of stalls fanning into side streets, their canopies swaying gently in the noon warmth. It wasn’t too busy yet, but there was a hum of movement. A soft din of conversation, the scrape of crates, the clink of metal and the occasional laugh carried on through air.

Corin trudged along behind, looking like he was still half-asleep. “Breakfast is a noble cause.”

“Breakfast is survival,” Tia corrected, her eyes darting between the stalls as they crested the first slope up.
Every table seemed to promise something new – deep green cloth folded in precise squares, iron hooks and hinges in neat rows, strings of carved wooden charms, and – oh, trays of glistening, honey-brushed pastries.

Just imagining that sweet dairy dough, fluffing apart on your tongue made Tia’s mouth water.

The first stop was a narrow stall, its counter worn smooth by years of passing hands. A thin-limbed lizardfolk lounged behind it, one elbow propped lazily on the wood.

Vesh set a bundle of rough-barked strips on the counter, his claws tapping lightly.

“Fresh from over the Wyrmspine’s left shoulder,” he said. “Keeps its scent for seasons and it drives away insects like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll take four claws for it.”

“Claws”? Tia squinted her eyes, Are they gonna chop off their fingers or what?

The vendor’s tongue flicked in thought. “One and a half.”

“Three,” Vesh countered, nodding toward a bowl of shriveled fruit crawling with black specks. “You’ve got a fly problem, yes? This is fresh Verdant Spire bark. Let it smolder and you won’t see them again until next year.”

The vendor’s eyes narrowed, tongue flicking twice as he glanced from Vesh to the bark. His tail twitched against the stall’s leg, the faint thump, thump betraying his calculation.
Finally, he let out a low hiss that might’ve been a laugh.

“Three Claws, then. But if I still see flies tomorrow, I’ll be finding you.”

“Deal’s a deal.”

A tiny stack of threaded silver coins changed hands.

Vesh pressed one into Tia’s palm. “Claws. The smallest of coins. Think of them like… small bites. Enough for a little skewer of fruit, or a breadling if you don’t mind the cheap stuff.”

That’s a cute name for a bread roll, she thought.

Tia turned it over in her hand. It was a soft teardrop shape, stamped with a curling dragon tail. A small circular hole in the lower bit, the edges a little uneven – like someone had tried taking a bite out of it already.

“So you’re saying… claws don’t get us breakfast for five?” she asked.

“Exactly why we’re not stopping here.” Vesh pocketed the rest.

The smell hit Tia before she saw the next food stall – rich, spiced meat sizzling on flat iron grids, smoke curling upward. She slowed, watching a female lizardkin press the meat onto it, juices hissing and popping.

“What is that?” she murmured.

“Spineback strips,” Corin replied. “I only ever saw similar ones in pricey taverns.”

Tia imagined the salt on her tongue, the bite of spice, the juice gushing through her teeth. Her stomach made a low impatient growl.

But Rika was already steering Vesh toward the next target – a plump avian merchant selling dyed leather scraps.
Rika snatched the stack of Claws from Vesh and Tia, slid them across the counter, exchanging quick words about some rarity and making the trade before Tia had even realized they’d finished haggling.

This time they returned not with coins, but with an expensive looking hide.

Vesh’s eyes lit up and quickly took the hide, away with just a fading “I know exactly where to sell this, wait a bit!”

Corin watched him hushing through a small crowd and gesticulating at a bigger canine vendor.

This time, the coin was bronze-toned, and considerably larger.

“Frills,” Vesh explained, catching Tia’s eye. “Six claws to a frill. Bigger bite. You could get a decent sit-down meal for one with this.”

“Or,” Corin said, “a really good breakfast.”

Tia nodded.

Rika handed her the new coin. A reddish brown disk with riffled edges, like a very small tortilla. A tortilla with a triangular hole in the middle.

As she looked at it, it did remind her of a lizard’s frills…

Tia raised the coin to her eye-level. Peeping through it like a child through a keyhole until she had Vesh’s head in focus.

She mumbled, “See no difference, hehe.”

Rika and Corin chuckled, but Vesh just looked at her. Judging.

Tia tucked the mini Vesh away, her gaze straying toward another table piled high with golden, seed-dusted twists of bread.
The seller was sprinkling more from a height, and the kernels caught the light like tiny matte crystals.

The bread was pierced by a metal rod and placed over an open fire.

She could almost taste the soft, warm dough inside of that crisp golden-brown outside.

A little chat here, a small trade there. Rika and Vesh split up, compounding new coin with every deal made.

But the next one was lengthy – Rika did most of the talking, leaning on the counter, ears angled forward, tail swishing in lazy rhythm. Vesh threw in a few lines as well.
Good cop bad cop style.
She had an easy smile, but her words were sharp, and the vendor, a heavy-scaled reptilian, kept glancing between her and Vesh like he was being boxed in.

Their helpless prey was still sceptical, or at least played it smoothly until Vesh dropped it. “One and a half Frills. Take it or leave it.”

In obvious distress the merchant gave in.

Victorious they walked away with a longer chain of coins.

The air in the market seemed thicker now, the scents blending – sweet fruits, hot oils, baking bread, the faint tang of raw fish from somewhere nearby.
Tia’s head kept turning, eyes catching on rows of bright spices piled in little pyramids, each one a different hue – burnt orange, deep crimson, even marine blue.

Corin lingered at a stall selling roasted nuts tossed with something dark and glossy, imagining the crunch, the warm burst of flavor.

But yet again the group kept walking – Rika had spotted another opportunity, this time a thin, wiry merchant selling small carved trinkets. The exchange was quick, almost casual, but when they walked away Rika’s thread had the heavier jingle of mixed coin.

Tia looked at both her and Vesh sidelong. “You’re… really good at this.”

Vesh’s grin was sharp. “The market’s a river. You don’t just take one drink – you follow it upstream until you find the source.”

Corin’s stomach growled, long and low. “We’re at the source yet?”

“Almost,” he replied, though his predatory hiss was still there.

The crowd was growing as noon drew later – more voices, more footsteps, more bright flashes of cloth as people moved between stalls. A child darted past Tia, clutching a stick of candied fruit, oh the jealousy.

By now their haggling experts traded half their coins away for something wrapped in pale paper.

Tia looked at Rika’s chain of coins at her belt again.

“Why do you not have a pouch or something? Isn’t it way safer that way?” she asked.

Vesh jumped in, “Actually this is the traditional way of carrying one's coin. The holes allow for a simple method to bind them. It’s a way to show one’s wealth and capability.”

“Soo~ you’re just flexing?” Tia said, with her usual mock in tone.

He raised his finger, but it sank again. “...You- Hmm. You could call it that I suppose.”

“It’s just the established way here, a tradition,” Rika added.

The last deal was the boldest – Rika trading on some half-remembered or made-up connection with a jeweler’s apprentice, sweet-talking her way into a favorable exchange for what they revealed from that wrapped up paper.
An amulet, even from afar it shined in the sunlight.

When they stepped away, Vesh counted the coins into his palm

“Four frills to a crest,” he held up a coin the size of a small cookie. It gleamed pale gold, stamped with a dragon’s eye. Nine holes. One eight-pointed star in the middle and eight little holes around it.
“And a crest… now we’re talking. Lodging, supplies, a round of drinks if you’re feeling generous.”

“That,” he said, “is breakfast.”

The food street was alive with heat and color – vendors calling out their specials, the hiss and crackle of grills, the rhythmic clack of knives against cutting boards. The four of them wove through it, following their noses.

Tia ended up at a low stall where a lizardfolk woman in a sun-bleached apron was ladling thick, fragrant stew into clay bowls. Behind the counter there was a giant cast iron pot, it looked like it had been cooking for hours.
Vesh slid a crest across the counter without haggling, and Tia received a steaming bowl of thick, spiced stew, rich with vegetables she couldn’t name and chunks of slow-cooked meat.
But the real treasure was a cone-like paper bag with fried bread – each piece deliberate in its shape.

Inner bread pieces had been cut into neat triangular prisms, their golden sides still glistening faintly. Edge pieces were sliced into thin stripes.
Everything bore a scatter of green flakes of herbs, clinging to where the oil had glued them.

The group walked along, but Tia was engrossed in her well-deserved breakfast or rather lunch by now. But that didn’t matter.

She held the bowl close, inhaling. The soup was rich and spiced, chunks of meat and vegetables bobbing beneath the surface

Popping one bread prism behind her lips, she felt the crisp outer layer yield with the barest resistance before giving way. The first bite released a soft, satisfying crunch – not a sharp shatter, but a quiet crumble that melted into warm, fragrant mush on her tongue.
She put a handful over her bowl, the stew didn’t soak the bread, but left them floating atop.

Spoon in hand she brought soup, a chunk of meat and bread to her mouth.

It was the sort of bite that made her eyes close for a second without meaning to. The warmth spread from her mouth outward, sinking into her stomach, her shoulders, her hands.

Looking around she saw Rika had opted for a plate of skewer which she shared with Corin. Maybe it was the heat, but his ears had turned slightly red.

The skewers were a shashlik-like arrangement, alternating between marinated meat, sweet roasted fruit, and something pale and nutty that cracked gently under their teeth.

Rika’s tail wagged delightfully and Tia could only imagine how funny it’d be to play fetch stick with her right now.

Tia looked back to where they got their food from. A tall canine man brushed each skewer with a sticky glaze that caught the light. His little trainee cut the ingredients and stacked them in those neat patterns.

Attention back to the group, Tia saw Rika pretend not to notice Corin filching, though her eyes' slow lash said she was keeping score.

Vesh, meanwhile, had acquired a small clay dish of something far more unusual – bite-sized morsels wrapped in thin, iridescent leaves that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The leaves were crisped at the edges, dusted with fine flakes of salt probably.
Inside, the filling was tangy and faintly sweet, almost floral, with a heat that bloomed only after a few seconds. He ate each in a single precise bite, the motion neat enough to be ritual. “Proper street fare,” he murmured with quiet satisfaction, as if that explained anything.

They went to one terrace above, the grand basking space.

Its edges were decorated by flower boxes and small statues of wyrms.

“Worth the effort?” Vesh asked, settling between Corin and Tia on a bench.

Tia nodded, mouth too full to answer properly.

Corin just groaned in satisfaction. “I’d follow you upstream anytime, Vesh.”

Rika smirked, tail curling lazily. “Told you we could do it,” popping another grilled fruit off the last skewer.

The market carried on below them, voices rising and falling, scents shifting with the breeze, sunlight glinting off tiled roofs in the distance.
And for the moment, with a full bowl in her hands and the hum of Ssarradon all around, Tia couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.