Legend says King Alfred burned the cakes. He was distracted, hiding from Danes in a peasant's cottage, watching the fire instead of the bread. The fungus bears his name not because it tastes like burnt toast, but because it looks like it. King Alfred's Cakes are hard, black, spherical masses attached to dead branches. They are glossy, like polished coal, and often cracked with age. Break one open, and the interior reveals concentric rings of grey and black, like the layers of an onion. These rings mark years of growth, each layer a season of spore production. It is a history book written in carbon. The fungus is found throughout New Zealand, from the northern forests to the southern beech lands. It fruits year-round, though it is most visible in autumn and winter when the wood is damp. It is not picky about its host, thriving on a variety of broadleaf trees and shrubs. Its presence is a sign of decay in progress. Where it grows, lignin is being broken down. Nutrients are being released. The cycle continues. This fungus is saprotrophic. It does not form mycorrhizal relationships with trees. Instead, it feeds on decaying organic matter, breaking down dead wood. In doing so, it releases nutrients back into the soil. It is a recycler, working in the shadows of the forest. Without it, the debris would pile up. The forest floor would stagnate. King Alfred's Cakes are efficient. They consume what is dead to feed what is living. Their hardness is a defence, ensuring that few creatures compete for this resource. The surface of the "cakes" is rough, covered in tiny pores that release spores into the air. These spores are carried by the wind to new hosts, starting the cycle anew. The interior is white and dense, turning black as it matures. It smells faintly of earth, nothing more. Unlike the Garlic Parachute, it has no distinct scent. Its defence is structure, not chemistry. Threats are minimal. The species is widespread and common. However, it is sensitive to changes in moisture and soil structure. Logging, fire, or heavy grazing can disrupt the delicate mycelial networks beneath the forest floor. Recovery is slow. The fungi wait for the conditions to return. They do not rush. It carries on.