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There's a long line of Baphomets ahead of you. The goatmen are all very patient as the line up inches ahead.
When you turn the corner of the house to see what is going on, you are greeted with the sight of an ice shaving machine. A real manual hand crank ice shaving machine with sharp blades with all the adjustable parts. A team standing outside the building has set up a counter to serve eager patrons their confection. The familiar squeak of metal on ice hits you with a flood of nostalgia for summer with your friends. You always got mango-flavored shaved ice.
"Remember my fellow goats! Vote for one who still works their trade with their own hands! The Candymaker!" A Baphomet wearing a leather apron says this as he serves up a bowl of shaved ice with strawberries to an eager client who bows with thanks and dashes off to eat his treat.
You don't know why you're surprised. Camelot is not a democracy with rules and regulations; vote-buying is a valid tactic!
"Ah, Your Majesty! Please try a taste of 'kakigoori'. I heard it's a confection from your Japan." The Candymaker shoos away the client at the head of the line. "Out of the way, one of your betters is here."
You almost protest at the unfairness, but virtually everything about Camelot and denizens reminds you how utterly hierarchical their society is. The way they choose their leaders, their constant deference, even the way they are seated at feasts, and more is a constant struggle against your modern sensibility. You approach the head of the line and watch the Candymaker go about his craft.
The ice created is the most perfect snow you have ever seen; the ideal form of kakigoori shaved ice piles up in the bowl before your eyes. Then the Candymaker grabs a mysterious container and pours sticky purple syrup on it, then adds a pinch of some sort of brownish powder on it.
"Sloe gin shaved ice with cinnamon sugar." He announces and presents the sweet with both hands obsequiously.
You have absolutely no idea what sloe gin is, and the addition of cinnamon sugar to shaved ice is bizarre, but you're pretty sure it will be tasty. After all, there are dozens of happy Baphomets shoveling the dessert into their mouths in a small outdoor seating area.
The first bite of the confection is indeed excellent. The sloe gin is sweet with a hint of sour that mixes well with the ice that melts in your mouth. The woody, sweet taste of cinnamon matches the other tastes too.
"An excellent sweet!" You proclaim and savor the shaved ice. The pure pleasure and truth of the statement cause the shaved ice-making crew and their leader to beam with pride.
"Tis all thanks to your ice blessing. Barrels and barrels, blocks and blocks, all pristine ice! So much, we can let much of it go to waste. Aye, the icehouses are full once more, and it's not even winter yet. Come, Your Majesty, let me show you some of my other select wares. Fit for Kings and warriors!"
