18 Getting That Bread
If it wasn’t for Fethar’s innate skill as a GPS, the tired travelers probably would not have made it to The Capital in time to find a place for the night. After a few minutes of walking, Polly realized she had forgotten to ask Croix for directions, The Capital turned out to be a bit further than “right around the corner,” so she had to turn to her handy dandy hair accessory for assistance.
Fethar, who had been silent for pretty much all of the grilled cheese business, sprung into action immediately when summoned, much to the party’s great relief. Polly cringed at the thought of having to go back to the run down restaurant for directions after having left so speedily.
Polly only had to look around The Capital for a second to understand that it was something special. The area near the port had already proven itself to be very dedicated to the bread aesthetic, but The Capital took it a step or two or three or a twenty further.
Lining the streets were butter yellow bricks shaped like bread loaves and lamplights with poles crafted in the likeness of baguettes. The smell of bread that had caught her attention earlier, that was so strong it overpowered even the salty scent of the sea, was about a hundred times stronger here. Polly had the oddest feeling if she stayed in The Capital for too long she’d turn into a slice of bread herself.
“Right, where do you think a currency exchange place would be located?” All Polly could see around her were bakeries or supply stores. “Wait, actually, are there even hotels here?”
“I do believe there is a currency exchange station near the palace. Sea-Island 6 is unique in the fact that similar businesses are stationed in similar locations, except in The Capital. In The Capital, anything goes. Though I suppose this does not need mentioning, this is all by the design of King Rightbread,” commented Fethar. “Oh yes, if we do not hurry, we run the risk of it closing.”
“Near the palace? Well this lass right here, who has definitely been here before, definitely knows where that is.”
“I suppose just follow the butter brick road, though I would suggest picking up your pace a tad bit.”
Not wanting to risk being so close yet so far from getting the dough she needed, Polly decided to be on the safe side and run.
Like an asteroid blasting through space on its way to crash into a planet hard enough to kick up enough soot to create a global cooldown for two years, Polly blazed in the direction Fethar had instructed her to. The kiwis who were unable to keep up with Polly by means of running had no choice but to switch to rolling. It did help that they were on a downhill slope at the moment.
“Left turn, left turn,” said Fethar in a monotone unbefitting of the dramatic direction change it had just instructed its crewmates to make.
And so Polly and the kiwis had to skid to a stop, and this came at the price of Polly nearly burning off the soles of her boots thanks to the magical might of friction. This brought them to the entrance of an alley that could not have looked any more shady.
It was a narrow slit of a passage that only needed red eyes staring out of it to make it the perfect setup for a horror movie. Just standing in front of it was enough to give Polly the heebie-jeebies. Polly looked up and around her in hopes of spotting a palace in the distance that would confirm she was at least at the right location however dubious it seemed. She saw none.
“You sure about this one?” she asked Fethar.
“Donut worry, you can crust me. Since when have I ever led you down the wrong path?”
“Hmm.”
“Doubt can only be removed by action. ”
“Alright, but if anything happens to us, it’s on you.”
“You gotta risk it for the biscuit,” Wiki quipped.
“Bready or not I guess,” sighed Polly.
The alley was dark, which was to be expected since it was basically night time, but that didn’t mean Polly was okay with it. Not being able to see during the day because of bad vision turning everything blurry was one thing, but not being able to see during the night because everything was concealed by shadows was something else. Polly was a fan of neither, but the latter in particular grinded her gears.
“This is a shortcut, by the way,” said Fethar. “It ought to save us about fifteen seconds of travel time as long as we don’t run into any obstacles.”
“Obstacles? Feel like sharing what kind of obstacles we should be worried about?”
“Oh nothing but the usual thieves and murderers. But they usually don’t work on weekends, which is why I figured we’d be safe taking this path today.”
“Today’s a weekend?” asked Polly who was more concerned about the fact she had totally lost track of time than the fact she was risking her life for a measly fifteen seconds.
“Indeed it is.”
“If thieves and murderers don’t work on weekends, then are you sure the currency exchange people are working right now?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t be working. Unlike the other two aforementioned professions, theirs is perfectly legal, so I’d expect them to adhere to at least some guidelines.”
Polly wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I guess yeah.”
Through the dark alley they walked, with not even the sound of a blowing breeze to accompany them. The clacking of the kiwis’ talons, which had never before been a problem for Polly, were starting to cause her hairs to rise as if she had just rubbed herself vigorously against a balloon. There was a paltry amount of light offered by the moon that was barely enough to illuminate their path. The lass was thankful that she couldn’t see her own shadow because that would simply be too much for her frail heart to take.
Fortunately they were able to make it out without any issues.
“To the left we have the palace and to the left of the palace we have the currency exchange.”
Polly didn’t know if she should’ve been surprised. On one hand, a bakery looking building with a sign posted in front of it reading The Palace was certainly not what she had expected the home of royalty to look like, but on the other hand, this was Sea-Island 6.
The building that housed the currency exchange was the color of banana bread and smelled like it too. It was a friendly, brick establishment with as many windows as holes in a loaf of sourdough. The lights were on, and from what Polly could tell, inside was empty save for a counter and the man manning it. He was a pale and stout sir with a mop of white hair and a matching white suit. She walked in.
“Welcome to Dough Pro! What do you knead?” Clipped to the man’s shirt was a name badge reading Manager Mantou.
“Greetings good gent. I have some coin from Sea Island 7. Is this the place to be if I want to get some Sea-Island 6 cash?”
“You butter believe it! Now, show me the money.”
“Right, uh, here it is.”
From a pocket in her shirt that was a lot deeper than it looked, Polly withdrew a sack brimming with hard cash.
“Say, what’s this made of?” Polly asked, pointing to the counter.
The object in question was brown, like the rest of the building, but of a material that was in no way whatsoever wood. It was porous, but despite that it was surprisingly solid and sturdy. Polly poked it and noted a peculiar crunching feeling.
“Stale bread of course! It’s what most of the hard furniture here is made of. You’ll be exchanging all of this?”
Polly no longer felt that there was anything Sea-Island 6 and bread related that could surprise her, and nodded in response to the question. She wasn’t sure how much she’d be needing to survive her stay, and she wasn’t planning on coming back to pay the ten percent exchange fee a second time.
With all the speed of a fast moving body of water and all the strength of a great tropical storm, the man in charge popped open the bag, took a glance at its contents, threw the bag beneath the counter while somehow not spilling any of it, and then whipped out a bag that looked remarkably similar, except instead of Sea Island 7’s square coin currency, inside was Sea-Island 6’s bagel shaped currency.
“Do you know where we’d be able to find a hotel that won’t cost an arm and a leg to room in?” asked the born and raised cheapskate nervously.
“Roti around the corner! If you keep heading down Rye Road, you should find Melonpan Motel in no time at all. They’re a 24/7 check in kinda place, so no need to rush.”
“Thank you verily, Manager,” beamed Polly. “Have a good one!”
“Same to you miss!”
