[Doctor Gabriel]

“Monsieur!”

The booming voice snaps Saber’s attention from the delicious looking confectionary the young woman is praising with such enthusiasm.

The militia of men in blue with their funny hats had surrendered the bakery and set up some kind of chest high barricade. One of them seemed to be speaking into a metallic horn of plenty that enlarged his voice to that of a giant.

“S'il vous plaît sortir avec vos mains au-dessus de votre tête!”

Don Quixote’s eyes narrowed.

“My word…” he snapped to action looking around wildly and finally grabbing one of the tables nearby, scaring the daylights out of the couple who’d been using it and tossing their deserts to the floor. His lance would not enough for this task.

“The fiends mean to storm this humble shop!” the Mad Knight declared, blissfully unaware of what a policeman or barricade was, “Worry not, humble gentry! I, the great Don Quixote de La Mancha, shall defend this establishment till my dying breathe!”

Oathe sworn, once again, our noble hero bashed through the door to the bakery holding the table like a battering ram and screamed his battle cry at the top of his withered old lungs.

“DESPAIR AND REPENT, PICAROS! IN THE NAME OF MY LORD ERIK, I SHALL LAY WASTE TO YOUR VILLAINOUS BAND OF VILE VIPERS!”