Kaerthlyn shrugged, her sheepish expression shifting to something more apologetic. “He won’t leave your side to the point of getting annoying,” she said with a faint laugh, motioning toward Sybil, who was glaring daggers at Elysian. “So, I sent him here to work and pay for his food. Otherwise, I wouldn’t just throw him out—I’d throw you out too.”

  Elysian exhaled sharply. “Great, absolutely great,” he muttered, casting a sideways glance at Sybil, who now had a smirk tugging at the edges of his glare.

  “I’m starving,” Elysian said, rubbing at his temples. “Why don’t you get us something to eat?”

  Sybil snorted, folding his arms. “I’m not your servant. Why are you ordering me around? Where is Bran by the way? And Osric?” But then Kaerthlyn turned her stern gaze on him—a look sharp enough to cow a mountain bear. Sybil sighed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before stalking over to the food table where an old thralgar was busy preparing a hearty stew.

  Elysian followed Kaerthlyn to a quieter corner of the bustling kitchen. The thralgars barely spared him a glance, their eyes instead dipping respectfully to Kaerthlyn. They found an empty table, oversized and clearly designed for beings at least twice Elysian’s height. He tried to sit down, but his legs dangled helplessly above the floor. The chair seemed to swallow him whole, making him look like a petulant child in a too-big throne.

  Kaerthlyn’s lips twitched, and she crossed her arms, biting back a laugh. “Comfortable?” she asked dryly.

  “Perfectly,” Elysian lied, his jaw tightening. He adjusted himself awkwardly, determined to ignore the situation.

  Sybil returned, balancing a bowl of steaming soup brimming with chunks of meat and vibrant vegetables. He set it down in front of Elysian with exaggerated care, his smirk deepening. “Your royal feast, my lord,” he said, bowing with an exaggerated flourish before dropping another bowl in front of Kaerthlyn.

  Elysian’s stomach growled loudly, but as he reached for his spoon, he realized the table was so high he could barely touch the edge, let alone reach his food.

  Kaerthlyn glanced at him, her brow quivering in amused confusion. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he stretched and strained like a cat batting at a dangling toy. Sybil noticed too, freezing mid-sip of his own soup. The realization hit both of them at once, and they burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained.

  “Oh, gods, you look like a toddler trying to steal a biscuit,” Kaerthlyn wheezed, clutching her sides.

  Sybil’s laugh was more subdued but no less cutting. “Do you need a booster seat?” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

  Heat flushed up Elysian’s neck. “Damn it all,” he muttered under his breath, standing up abruptly. His irritation boiled over, and with a decisive, defiant motion, he hopped onto the tabletop, plopping himself down cross-legged beside his bowl.

  The laughter doubled. Sybil nearly choked on his soup, sputtering on the table. Kaerthlyn’s laughter turned silent, her shoulders shaking as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

  “Laugh it up,” Elysian grumbled, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Etiquette be damned. At least I can eat now.”

  “You’re right,” Kaerthlyn said between gasps for breath. “We’ll just call it…” She gestured vaguely, her grin sharp. “‘Troll diplomacy.’”

  Sybil wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. “You’re going to fit in great here, young master.”

  Elysian stabbed his spoon into the soup with unnecessary force, pointedly ignoring the pair of them.

  ‘This is fine. Totally fine. I won’t let them affect me. I won’t…’

  “Hey, you f*cking b*stards! Can you shut up?” Elysian growled, his glare sharp enough to cut stone. “I’m eating here.”

  Instead of quieting down, Kaerthlyn and Sybil only laughed harder, their amusement reaching new heights. Elysian’s irritation simmered, but he sighed in resignation, picking up his spoon with deliberate focus.

  ‘They’re impossible.’

  “Okay, okay, relax,” Sybil managed between chuckles, holding up a hand as if to stop himself. “I won’t laugh anymore.” And then, of course, he burst out laughing again, Kaerthlyn’s laughter joining in.

  Elysian shook his head, muttering under his breath. “This is my life now. Surrounded by fools.” He focused on his stew, ignoring them. Reacting would only fan the flames. “At least the food’s good.” His spoon paused mid-air as he took another bite. “Better than good…”

  ‘I’m impressed. It looks simple, but it’s packed with flavor. What kind of meat is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it. And the vegetables… Damn, these trolls know their way around a kitchen. Even in all my travels, I’ve never encountered this kind of flavor before.’

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  “You like it?” Kaerthlyn asked, her tone light but genuinely curious as she noticed his reaction.

  “Yeah, it’s delicious,” Elysian admitted, glancing at her with a faint smile. The compliment seemed to brighten her mood, her grin widening as she started on her own bowl. “I’ll have to thank whoever cooks this.”

  Elysian turned his attention to his companion, raising a brow. “Are you done laughing now, you b*stard?”

  Sybil grinned, clearly unrepentant, but wisely focused on his own food without another word. For a few blessed moments, the kitchen settled into a quiet rhythm, the three of them eating in relative peace.

  Of course, Elysian wasn’t above making use of Sybil’s presence. When his bowl ran dry, he tapped the edge of it, fixing Sybil with an expectant look. “Another one,” he said simply.

  Sybil groaned but stood up, grumbling under his breath as he retrieved another bowl of stew. Kaerthlyn’s soft laughter followed him as Elysian leaned back, finally beginning to relax.

  Elysian watched as Sybil returned with his second serving, placing the bowl in front of him before slumping into his chair. “By the way,” Elysian began, his tone casual but laced with curiosity, “why are you here? You never answered my question earlier.”

  Sybil gave him a pointed look, spoon hovering over his own bowl. “Well, it’s your fault I’m here.”

  “Me?” Elysian blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about? How is this my fault?”

  “You b*stard!” Sybil scowled, brandishing his spoon like a weapon. “Don’t play dumb. You’re still pretending like you’ve done nothing wrong. Honestly, you’re a great actor—duped the commander completely with that forged approval letter from your uncle.”

  ‘Sh*t. How did he find out about that so fast? My uncle never notices what I’m doing unless it’s convenient for him. He’s been too busy with the mess in Ironspire to care.’

  Elysian composed his emotions into calm nonchalance. “Well…” he started, his tone measured.

  “Well?” Sybil cut him off sharply, his glare as sharp as the edge of his spoon. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Let me finish,” Elysian snapped, annoyance flashing in his eyes. Sybil waved a hand dismissively, his other hand scooping up another bite of stew. Elysian ignored the gesture, leaning forward slightly. “If I’d asked for permission, my uncle wouldn’t have given it. That’s why I had to do it that way.”

  “Of course, he wouldn’t give you permission!” Sybil retorted, his voice rising as he jabbed his spoon in Elysian’s direction. “You’re just a boy. The son of a baron, no less. Why would he let you anywhere near the frontier?”

  Elysian’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained steady. “If I hadn’t come, more lives would’ve been lost before they even reached Grimwatch. Or worse, they might all have died.”

  Sybil froze mid-bite, his expression darkening. He swallowed hard before growling, “It’s our duty—our duty—to protect our land, our lord, and his family. Even if it means dying in the process. That’s what we signed up for as soldiers. The moment we took our oaths, we accepted that fate.”

  Their gazes locked, tension crackling like a drawn bowstring. Elysian met Sybil’s glare with equal intensity, his voice low but firm. “And it’s my duty as the baron’s son to make sure you don’t die for nothing. That’s why I’m here.”

  Seeing the tension boiling between the two, Kaerthlyn cleared her throat with deliberate sharpness. Both Elysian and Sybil snapped their eyes toward her, the interruption effective in cooling their tempers. Without a word, they turned back to their meals, the quiet settling like a truce.

  “You do know you’ll be in trouble the moment you return to Ironspire, right?” Sybil asked after a moment, his tone lighter but probing as he glanced at Elysian.

  ‘I don’t really care. What’s the worst my uncle will do? Scold me? Cut my allowance? All solvable problems. The real issue is the Captain. Things were finally getting better between us, and now I’ve thrown that trust into the fire.’

  “I know,” Elysian replied loudly, his voice resigned as he nodded. “But that’s the last thing on my mind right now. If we survive this mess, I’ll gladly accept whatever punishment they give me.”

  Sybil’s expression softened, his own nod slow and somber. Though Elysian hadn’t spelled out the full scope of their situation, Sybil could feel it.

  “I’m surprised you managed to catch up to us so quickly,” Elysian said, genuine admiration threading through his voice.

  Sybil snorted, shaking his head. “I was furious with you and the others left me behind,” he admitted, recounting his relentless pursuit with a mixture of pride and frustration.

  Elysian’s lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded after listening to his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

  ‘Impressive, sure… but now he’s a hostage alongside me.’

  “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it,” Sybil said suddenly, his tone dropping into something heavier, more serious. “When I found you, it was almost too late. There were so many of those things. I tried but—” he hesitated, his gaze dropping.“If something had happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

  Elysian exhaled sharply, leaning back as his brows furrowed. “Idiot,” he muttered, though his words lacked heat. “You should worry about yourself first. I can defend myself, you know. If you’d gotten there earlier, instead of helping me, you’d probably have gotten yourself killed.”

  “I know,” Sybil said quietly, meeting Elysian’s gaze with a solemn nod. His eyes flicked to Elysian’s arm and leg, his expression tightening. “But it’s my duty. And honestly, when I saw you… when I saw you like that, I really thought you were dead. The amount of blood… it was—” He faltered, swallowing hard. “I thought you really died.”

  “But I survived, right?” Elysian grinned, chuckling with forced bravado as he gestured to himself. “See? It’s really hard to kill me. Look, I even got my arm and leg back.”

  Kaerthlyn snorted, unimpressed, her gaze sharp with knowing skepticism.

  “I was there, remember?” Sybil interjected, raising a brow as he leaned forward. “I saw how close you were to dying. And if it wasn’t for the girl here…” he jabbed a finger toward Kaerthlyn, “you’d be worm food.”

  “Isn’t luck an ability…” Elysian began, trailing off as a sigh escaped him. His shoulders sagged slightly.

  ‘Do I really need to boast about luck? Let’s be honest, my life’s been one unlucky disaster after another.’

  He exhaled heavily, meeting Sybil’s gaze. “Alright. I admit it. I was ridiculously close to dying. But I’ll be extra careful next time, I promise.”

  Sybil’s eyes narrowed skeptically, but he offered a reluctant nod. “By the way,” he pressed, his tone shifting with worry, “where are Bran and Osric? And Captain Hugo? Why were you alone out there?”

  Elysian hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to Kaerthlyn. She remained indifferent, her focus seemingly on her meal, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable.

  “It’s… complicated,” Elysian said finally, his voice subdued as he turned back to Sybil.

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