Lord Enfield, Your attempts to recreate Ancient Human cheese have reached the ears of my benefactors, who have urged me to reach out on their behest to inquire on the possibility of a collaboration between our enterprises. You see, I represent a certain group of individuals from the nation of Akwinduu who consider themselves tastemakers in the world of cheese. They are very interested in acquiring exclusive rights to your recipe, and are willing to pay handsomely for it. Should this offer strike your fancy, please reply at your convenience and I will set up a meeting with my master. Yours, An Interested Party

The Cheese Cabal reached out again today. They're getting more desperate to steal the recipe for themselves. This is the first time they've showed their face since the Cheddar Wars in Umbraa came to a head. After their last leader was assassinated in the streets of Nocturne I expected them to give up the ghost as it were, but no such luck. If they think they can intimidate me with their hidden threats, they're bigger fools than I thought. Enfield Creamery will bring this cheese to market over their dead bodies if I must. This will be the greatest invention of my career. Finally, a cheese that will knock all others out of the market forever. We're close to finalizing the formula. It's only a matter of time, now, until we control the cheese, and thus, control the world.

They've done it. My scientists have created the first wheel of Enfield Ambrosium. This truly is the food of the gods. The Phoenix herself blessed Mudan at the height of his power with this blessed curd, and we've recreated it so perfectly that the first taste drove my Head of Dairy mad. Fine enough for me. Saves me the trouble of having him executed. No one else must know the secret of this cheese. Should the Cabal somehow manage to stumble into taking me out, the recipe dies with me. I've installed a dead man's switch on all stores of Enfield Ambrosium save for my private stash, which I bequeath to my heir, Amadeus Enfield. That should keep him from trying anything with me before I'm ready to pass it on. Should he succeed, all he'll have left is a slowly dwindling stash and no way to recreate it. A fitting punishment for potential greed.

To find the stash, he'll simply have to follow my notes and pay the toll. A small measure of power for a man like him... but I know it will sting far worse than any lock or key. Ah, and of course, he'll have to speak the passcode. "Thank you, Father." Likely the first time he'll ever say those words, and the last.