Commissaire Villette Berie stepped into the cafe and sat down at a small table in the middle of the wide room. She ordered her favourite coffee blend and looked around. The wooden tables and chairs were ornately hand-carved by the master woodworks of Ile-de-France and built with no mechanical help whatsoever. The atmosphere of the cafe was warm and pleasant; she felt safe in its gentle embrace.
Her drink arrived at her table, along with a small datapad that contained the day's latest news. She took a sip of the coffee. It was piping hot, and a pillar of visible steam rose out of the mug as she drank slowly. She set her drink back down on the table and began to read the recent events in Gallia.
