Copyright J.B. Norman
The six members of the Lyte Brigade are having lunch at their table in the country of the Lyte Public House.
“You eat a sausage in a bun,” Nolan muses innocently, gazing down at his lunch. “Does that make it a sandwich?”
He looks up at the other members of the Lyte Brigade, blissfully unaware of the storm he has unleashed.
Tancred breaks the silence. “Of course —”
“Of course not,” Matilda declares, surging to her feet in righteous indignation.
“It’s meat with bread, how is it not a sandwich?”
“It’s not two pieces of bread,” Matilda notes. “A sausage bun is one piece of bread with a hinge!”
“But what’s to stop you from just putting a sausage between two pieces of bread?” Tancred continues. “Doesn’t that make it a sandwich?”
“Oh, so if I put two slices of bread on you, that’d make you a sandwich?” Matilda asks. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean that’s how you’re supposed to do it. You can eat hemlock, that doesn’t make it a vegetable!”
“But it’s meat and bread,” Tancred protests.
“So is a steak and kidney pie! So is a meatloaf!” Matilda counters. “So is a ham sitting on the counter next to a loaf of pumpernickel!”
Sally comes skipping by the Lyte Brigade’s table.
“Annie told me they’re called sandwiches because they were invented by a guy named Sandovech,” she notes.
“Not invented by Sandovech,” Amara weighs in. “Ergo, not a sandwich.”
Matilda and Amara high-five, not removing their steely gazes from Tancred.
“You can eat a sausage without a bun,” Falcata muses.
“Exactly! If you take apart a sandwich, you’re just eating meat and bread,” Matilda continues. “A sausage is still a sausage.”
“You could put a sausage between two pieces of bread,” Falcata offers. “But you could not put a sandwich between two pieces of bread.”
“But why would you?” Nolan asks. “It’s already got two pieces of bread.”
“It’s a thought experiment, Nolan,” Amara says.
Tancred clears his throat. “But—”
“Not. A. Sandwich,” Matilda growls.
“Sir Tancred,” Amara says. “Imagine, if you will, that you ask me for a sandwich. And I bring you a sausage in a bun. You wouldn’t thank me for a sandwich, you’d ask me why I brought you a sausage.”
“I don’t believe you,” Tancred mutters.
“Is that another thought experiment?” Nolan asks.
“Yes, Nolan,” Amara says wearily.
“So, Nolan,” Matilda says, leaning expectantly over the table towards her brother. “Sausage on a bun: sandwich, or not a sandwich.
“Well,” he stammers. “Are you already kicking me under the table? I didn’t even say anything yet!”
“That’s hardly fair, Miss Matilda,” Tancred says, “you’re making him answer under duress! Furthermore — are you kicking me now?”
Matilda shrugs. Though Tancred can’t help but notice that he’s still being kicked.
“Where’s Pela?” Nolan asks, looking around the table. “Her dad’s a chef, she should know.”
Her chair is pointedly empty.
“P-Pela?” Nolan murmurs.
“Oh no,” Pela says, making the most of her natural smallness to hide from the controversy in the safe security of Falcata’s shadow. “I’m not getting involved in this.”
Incidentally, it’s been established that in Realmgard, the sandwich was invented by this guy.
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