A small shop in the middle of the Avenue Phoenix is Humbolt’s Fine Toys. It is a location of interest for 8 year old Senta, who would love a doll more than just about anything.

Stopping to press her face against the glass, right below the printed sign that said “Humboldt’s Fine Toys”, Senta stared at the wonders in the store. She had never been inside, but had stopped to look in the window many times. The centerpiece of the store display was a mechanical bird. It worked with gears and sprockets and springs and was made of metal, but it was covered in real bird feathers in a rainbow of hues, and would sit and peck and chirp and sing as though it were alive, until it finally wound down, and the toy maker would walk to the window and say the word to reactivate the bird’s magic spell. Senta knew that the bird would remain in the window for a long, long time, until some young prince or princess needed a new birthday gift, because that bird would have cost as much as the entire Café Carlo. Arranged around it were various mechanical toy vehicles—ships, trains, and steam carriages. Some were magical and some worked with a wind-up key, but they all imitated the real life conveyances from which they were patterned.

None of these wonderful toys held as much fascination for Senta though, as the doll which sat in the corner of the window. It wasn’t magical. It wasn’t even animated by a wind-up mechanism. It was a simple doll with a rag body and porcelain hands, feet, and face. It was wearing a simple black dress. Its blond hair had been cut in a short little bob, and looked like real human hair. It had a painted face with bright blue eyes and pink lips. It may well have been one of the lesser priced toys in the shop. It was definitely the least expensive item in the window, but Senta would never be able to purchase it. Had she been able to save every pfennig she earned, it still would have taken her more than thirty weeks before she had enough to purchase the doll. And she could not save every pfennig she earned. Most weeks, she could not even save one.

Pushing herself regretfully away from the glass, and leaving two hand smudges, a forehead smudge, and a nose smudge, Senta ran across Prince Tybalt Boulevard, which crossed perpendicularly, making a “T” at the end of Avenue Phoenix.

I don’t remember where Humbolt came from. It’s just one of those names that popped into my head.

Though he was quite as busy the next day as he had been the previous, Zeah had little thought for anything he was doing and much for that night’s supper. He took a fine haddock from the first load of fish brought in on the new fishing boat. Though Mrs. Colbshallow was not available, he found a Mrs. Finkler among the Freedonian immigrants, who by all accounts was a wonderful cook. He paid her two marks to prepare roasted fish. She proved to be as good as her reputation, and at the appointed time delivered not only two beautifully roasted fish fillets, but a large plate of potatoes, seasoned in a way that was completely new to former butler but was delicious, and roasted leeks covered in sweet butter.

Borrowing a small round table, Zeah covered it with a make-due tablecloth that was actually a short scrap of baby blue dress cloth lost from someone’s luggage. He pulled out a decorative bud vase, one of the few pieces of household glass that had survived since his wife’s death, filled it with water, and stuffed a handful of white wildflowers inside. He made this the centerpiece. Though it was far from the fancy porcelain that graced the Dechantagne table, it made his chipped plates and old silverware look very sad indeed. He was happy that at least he owned two nice chairs. They too were purchased long ago by his wife.

A knock at the door announced Egeria’s presence and he hurried her in to sit down. Though she seemed completely recovered, he still treated her as though she was as fragile as the bud vase. He had yet to spend an entire night without his mind flashing to her lying on the floor of Miss Dechantagne’s tent covered in blood. On several occasions he had awakened from a nightmare version of those events.

“Well, you’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Korlann,” said Egeria, looking at the food. “You must have been cooking all day.”

“I… didn’t cook it.”

“I know, silly,” she laughed. “Even if cooking was one of your many talents, I doubt you would have prepared Potatoes Kasselburg.”

“Is that what they are?”

“Yes. I had them last time I was in Freedonia.”

“Last time?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve had to travel Kasselburg and Bangdorf several times.”

“I’ve never been to Freedonia,” mused Zeah. “I guess I’m not very well traveled.”

“Are you kidding? Look where we are. We’re in Birmisia, for heaven’s sake.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The fish was excellent. All in all, Zeah thought the meal could have rivaled Mrs. Colbshallow’s cooking, maybe not Mrs. Colbshallow at her best, because at her best she was unrivaled, but Mrs. Colbshallow on an average day. He thought that he could become used to the Potatoes Kasselburg, sliced and baked and layered with cheese and pepper and some spices that he wasn’t familiar with. It was a more than satisfactory meal. They drank water with dinner, but near its end, Zeah uncorked a bottle of fine red wine.

“I was thinking,” said Egeria as she brought the red wine to her red lips. “The day after tomorrow would be the appropriate day to become engaged.”

“Why is that?” asked Zeah, not really realizing what she had said.

“You know. It’s the twentieth. It’s the traditional day of starting new tasks. It would be a fine time to become engaged.”

“Engaged in what?”

“Engaged to be married.”

“Muh… muh… married?”

“It was good enough for the Bratihns.”

“I wonder… I wonder if Corporal Bratihn went off to fight alongside Master Terrence?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said.

“I’m not trying to…”

“We don’t have to get married right away.”

“We don’t?”

“No. We can be engaged just as long as you like. We need to announce our engagement though so that all of the other men will know I’m taken.”

“Uh… Other men?”

“Many other men. They’re hovering around everywhere. They’re like bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes. They’re like bees, and I’m the honey. I can see them just waiting to get their stingers into me.”

“We have to announce our engagement,” he said.

“You have to ask me to marry you first.”

“Will you…”

“Not now.”

“No?”

“No. You have to think up some very romantic way to propose marriage to me. You have two days.”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can enjoy our wine.”

Zeah ran over this conversation in his head again and again the next day, and was never quite sure how exactly Egeria had maneuvered him into agreeing to ask her to marry him. He knew that jealousy had been the key, but who could blame him for being jealous. She was young and beautiful, and he was… well, him. He also knew that she was way too smart for him to outsmart her. She had said it herself. She was the most intelligent person in the colony. So after twenty four hours he was forced to go from wondering how it had happened and how to fix it, to trying to think of a romantic way to propose.