The sun shone high, casting its agreeable warmth on the courtyard of the Elysian Heights.

Tyvan wore a cap, as he did not often do, along with his comfortable short-sleeve polo shirt and grilling apron. Such was his battle attire for his sacred duty, attending the circular grill and preparing sustenance for his companions.

The sweet scents of softwood chips, lump charcoal, and meat.

The flow of smoke and flame... every pop, crackle, and hiss--

Tyvan was pleased. He was thoroughly and profoundly pleased.

Shay and Briar Rose were playing a game, utilising two small racquets to keep a feathered ball in the air between them.

They looked to be enjoying themselves.

Tyvan liked games. But, as was often the case, his duty came first-- and his current, he held in great regard.

Briar Rose wore something arguably stylish-- black and with her belly exposed. Her dark jeans were cut into shorts, the frayed fabric somewhat distracting. If she cut those, herself, it was a waste of material.

Shay wore something simple and refreshing: a branded, maroon sport jacket, orthodox gym shorts, and tennis shoes. She also wore her new snake pin on the jacket despite it not being working hours. The handsome black and gold of it matched well with near any attire.

Briar Rose dove to her side, trying in vain to keep the feather-ball airbound. She landed on the grass and dirt and cursed loudly, eliciting laughter from her brother and a light scolding from Shay.

Foul language was inappropriate, considering their location. It was best practice to mind their behaviour in case they were being observed by any impressionable persons-- children, especially.

Bishop and Shay continued the game while the defeated, lightly scuffed, and embarrassed Briar Rose approached him.

“Hey Boss,” she said reservedly. Then, she perked up to say, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Tyvan spent a moment trying to decipher the question before answering.

“Indeed. The cooking is looking... well.”

She raised her hand, playing with the smoke, forming faces and shapes, before sending a puff upward.

She pointed at the grill, “Metal skewers? Hm. This smells different from usual, too?”

Tyvan nodded, looking upon the thick-cut chicken with pride, “I asked Mister Plum for a recipe-- something authentically Chinese. He insisted that I use metal skewers just like he and his partner--”

“--are those stuffed tofu skin rolls!?” Briar Rose said before covering her mouth, “Oh, sorry, Boss-- I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I shall permit it,” Tyvan chuckled. “You’re allowed to be excited about food.”

He passed her a sealed wooden cup, full of spices. She opened it and brought it to her nose.

“Ohhhh... toasty,” she said-- “and a little burn-y too. Are you trying to make Gartner cry again?”

Tyvan glanced away. “Heidi always brings a salad to our gatherings. If she insists on trying the chicken or lamb, I claim no responsibility for her tears.”

“I guess,” Briar Rose shrugged, “Oh, also, Rookie called earlier to say he and his are on their way. His wife made-- and I quote: ‘tater salad.’”

Tyvan’s heart was once again filled with warmth. “I love Mirabel’s potato salad.”

Briar Rose stood, stunned for a moment...

Did she think he was lying?

“I enjoy potato-based dishes as much as any regular human,” he insisted. “Fried potato sticks come to mind.”

“You mean french fries, Boss?” Briar Rose said.

She began to laugh. Tyvan didn’t know why, but he allowed it. He doubted she meant anything untoward.

“It’s not that,” she said, “Boss... you’re smiling.”

“Am I?” Tyvan rubbed his cheeks with one hand. His facial muscles felt sore. Smiling was the culprit.

His wonderful secretary snickered as if they’d shared a private joke. “You should smile more often, Boss-- and I mean normally. Not... y’know.”

Tyvan returned his socially acceptable smile of politeness. He had no idea as to what she was referencing. Nonetheless, it was good advice; sharing positive emotions with his companions fostered camaraderie.

Of course, actually adhering to the notion was difficult for him.

A period of silence followed. Briar Rose noted Yeonha sleeping on the bench near the grill, so she brought over one of the garden chairs. She relaxed and watched the feather-ball game while Tyvan kept his focus on the orderly meat skewers and neatly rolled tofu-packages.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“She’s... different, somehow,” Briar Rose said. She was referring to Shay, most likely.

“She’s no longer afraid,” Tyvan replied.

Briar Rose placed her foot on the chair, resting her hands and chin on her knee.

“How about me?” she asked, “Is that still true for me?”

Tyvan took the tofu rolls off the grill, slicing two sections off for him and his loyal secretary.

“Don’t compare yourself to others, Hatchling,” he said, handing her a plate. “Your scars run far deeper than most.”

Tyvan glanced up and over. Ivalice had exited her apartment room. She leapt over the second floor railing, then calmly skipped over, gently sailing through the air and landing gracefully between him and Briar Rose.

She wore a white-and-blue sundress covered in vague flowers and swirling circles. Atop her head was a miniature hat, cleverly canted to the side. She was certainly making a statement-- confusing to his senses, but likely trend-setting in her fashion circle.

“G-good morning, Empress!” Briar Rose said, nearly jumping out of her chair.

She was anxious-- perhaps due to the delicacy of the topics recently discussed. But keeping reservations with Ivalice outside of their duties should have been unnecessary.

“I saw two other racquets just lying around,” Ivalice said.

“Y-yeah,” Briar Rose nodded hurriedly. She added, “Nice talkin’ to you, Boss,” before scampering off.

Ivalice turned to the maid lying with her face down on the bench. “Yeonha, go play.”

Yeonha obediently sat up, yawned in an exaggerated fashion, then waddled off to join the others.

That left Tyvan with Ivalice, the woman staring at him intently. But, as he was aware that he was an exceedingly handsome individual, he paid it no mind.

The chicken was nearly ready, sitting comfortably on the cooler side of the grill. He happily added the lamb skewers, closing his eyes and focusing on the intoxicating scents, the soft and sweet sizzles, and the provocative dance of the rising smoke.

Ah. He turned to Ivalice with eager curiosity. "Did you bring anything?”

“No,” she said flatly, “I didn’t bring aNythiNg to a potluck.”

Tyvan pursed his lips, “Surprising... but just as well. There’s plenty of--”

“Of course, I brought something,” she interrupted. “I have a bowl of honey cake batter in my fridge. We’ll use one of your cast iron pans on the grill after the meat’s finished.”

Tyvan nodded quietly. Ivalice had utilised sarcasm. In hindsight, he could see how her statement could have been viewed as absurd.

“That sounds lovely, Ivalice.”

She flipped a lock of her pink hair aside, looking particularly smug. She prided herself on her honey cake.

She took over Briar Rose’s seat, sitting sideways and draping her arm over the chair back.

“So you’ve accepted her even despite everything,” she said. “I see you gave her a pin~”

Tyvan glanced over to where Shay and the others were playing.

“She might be clumsy, uncoordinated, and a general mess... but she won’t always be.”

Ivalice rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about the fact that she’s human.”

Tyvan repositioned the lamb skewers to better spread out the heat. “The humans have their uses. It’s thanks to them that we have mass-produced charcoal, fresh groceries any time of the year... this reasonably priced grill...”

He smiled as he recalled another useful human-- particularly to ❴The Kingdom❵’s finances. “I mentioned that Song Wei has sought our services. As such, the Song Estate is now under the protection of our defensive formations.”

Ivalice didn’t respond.

Tyvan followed her gaze. Yeonha’s inclusion in the childrens’ game had turned it into a domineering one-against-three. She moved her upper body in unexpected ways to keep the feather-ball airborn, yet kept her feet planted. Did anyone else notice?

Ivalice lazily tilted her head back, her eyes drifting toward him.

“Like... you know this isn’t going to end well, right?”

Tyvan thought for a moment before turning his attention back to the grill. Ivalice stood up, taking a styrofoam cup to the plastic jug of fruit tea on the nearby table.

“We don’t know how it’s going to end,” Tyvan said. “We know how it’s going to-- oh, thank you.”

Ivalice had handed him her first cup. She filled a second for herself. That, she lifted toward him for a toast.

“Let’s hope it ends better than it starts.”

Tyvan took a moment to appreciate Ivalice’s smile-- filled with positive emotions and camaraderie. It suited her far more than her general frown.

He touched his styrofoam cup to hers. “Indeed.”

He sampled the concoction... “Herbal... with a hint of sweetness.”

Ivalice sipped her own drink, the gesture dainty and ladylike.

“There’s licorice in it.”

“Hm. Interesting,” Tyvan said, “I’m usually averse to licorice.”

“Our people have a purpose,” Ivalice said... “Heidi, for example-- she knows plants. She knows herbs. She knows fruit tea.”

“And your opinion of today’s fare?” Tyvan smirked.

“Excellent, as always,” Ivalice replied, frowning with righteous suspicion.

“Yan Xue made that.”

Ivalice rolled her eyes once more, “So she’s not useless, at least.”

“She has potential,” Tyvan said, rather amused.

Ivalice returned a sharp glare. “And like-- what about Merlin’s prophecy? --something about the winds of change or whatever.”

“Merlin said the weather should be fair for the rest of the morning and afternoon.”

“The other Merlin, you dunce.”

Tyvan sighed and shook his head.

“Everything changes, Empress.”

Ivalice let out a sigh as she swirled around her fruit tea.

“Yet certain things, Lord Protector, seem to never change.”