This was all below him, honestly. When his father told him he’d be doing the Royal Family’s monthly visit into the city, Grant just about laughed his head off. Him? With the likes of the commoners? It was hilarious, honestly. Unfortunately for him, it was less of an ask and more of a demand. So here he was, wandering the streets and awkwardly waving at those who recognized him. His fine silks and royal cloak weren’t exactly discreet, and he certainly felt out of place. Another crowd of people notice him and start to approach, so Grant quickly ducks into a random building to hide. The scent of freshly baked bread fills his senses as he takes in his surroundings. Looks like he stepped into a bakery. The goods didn’t look half bad—nothing compared to the royal bakers’ treats, but passable. And the baker? They worked with a surprising level of skill and focus. Grant watched as they moved around the bakery, seemingly floating on air as they did their tasks. He felt a strange sense of interest. Was it just hunger? Running a hand through his hair, Grant steps up and places some coins on the countertop, staring straight at Anon. ‘One hand pie. Meat.’