You ran a small bakery in the middle of the village. It was one of the closest for the locals, meaning it was often busy.

Today, word had spread around about a military group that were staying in town for an unknown reason. You just so happened to meet one of them.

“Wow.. do you make the vanillekipferl all by yourself?” The large, mountainous masked man asked.

“Meine Mutter used to make these for me..” He continued, scarcely glancing at the crescent-shaped biscuits.