“Lord Yas̆peh! Lord Yas̆peh! They’re at it again.”

“Aargh.” Tossing his plate of food on the ground, Jasper didn’t even bother to contain his groan of frustration. The seared boar meat rolled off the plate into the dirt. He quickly scooped it back up on the plate. Won’t make much of a difference in taste anyways, he grumbled. Tsia had been the designated cook that night and, well…she tried her best. Unfortunately, her best was closer to charcoal than meat. I suppose princesses don't take cooking lessons.

After freeing the scouts and the guards with relatively little trouble, he’d been riding pretty high - but it had been a long two weeks. He had drastically underestimated the animosity between the Djinn and their S̆addu’â cousins. Sure, the scouts had done their best to honor his commands and not start any unnecessary fights, but their disdain was evident in every interaction.

To be fair, the guards were not easy to get along with. They'd quickly discovered that most of the Ilabun’s progeny were only a few years old. The eldest in the group was merely eleven. Their bodies were, for the most part, adult-sized though, because the Ilabun had been stealing their levels for himself, they lacked the stats that they should have possessed. But whatever strange aging process had caused them to grow unnaturally fast had not equally affected their minds. They weren’t stupid - far from it - but they were stunted. As long as Jasper provided them regular orders, they faithfully obeyed, but the moment they were left to their own devices they acted like, well, children. Children who unfortunately thought it very funny to pester the scouts who hated them.

Brushing the crumbs of his lap, Jasper turned to face the messenger. “What’s the problem this time?”

The woman doubled over, gasping for air, and he waited patiently until she caught her breath - the weeks spent starving in prison had not been good for the scouts’ conditioning. He cocked his head to the side as he noted a subtle swelling in her belly that he definitely didn’t remember. Surely they didn’t send a pregnant soldier on a mission? Almost immediately, he dismissed the notion as absurd, but his mind flashed back to the brothel at the S̆addu’â city. Perhaps she had a little too much fun there. Either that or she’s just been eating well.

His musings were cut off as the scout finally caught her breath. She bowed deeply before straightening up. He waited impatiently for her to speak, but she was in no rush. Carefully brushing her long, raven hair out of her eyes, she arched her back in a way that accentuated both her chest and horns - though Jasper really didn’t have a thing for horns, to the Djinn it seemed to be one of the most important attractive features, and the scout was clearly proud of her pair which were slightly larger than most her age.

Jasper groaned internally. This had been yet another trial of the trip. The few noble women he’d met in the capital had ignored him - he suspected his own lack of horns was the problem - but the handful of female scouts they had rescued, on the other hand, had all but thrown themselves at him from the moment they left Zēl Qabūri in the dust.

He wasn’t sure if it was from some misguided sense of gratitude for their rescue, or if the Djinn women simply saw him as their meal ticket to a life of luxury, but their attempts to gain his attention had been a continual frustration. He had no intention of taking them up on their unstated offer, but he was also a man with needs that had definitely not been met since his arrival in Corsythia - save for his brief fling with Laylah.

His patience reached a breaking point. “What is the problem, scout?” he snapped, perhaps a bit more testily than was really necessary.

She bowed low again, her carefully arranged hair falling forward, and hastily apologized. “Sorry, my lord, but I fear a fight is about to break out between the scouts and the guards. Certain members of the guard thought it funny to sneak some ēslu berries into our stew. Some of the scouts are very unhappy about it, but the S̆addu’â have refused to apologize.”

Jasper hid his grin as the mystery of the scout’s swollen belly was suddenly solved. Ēslu berries were plentiful in the mountains they were passing through, and they tasted quite good, reminding him of a raspberry that had a subtle undercurrent of a flavor very close to chocolate. He had no doubt the berries would have been considered a delicacy if it was not for just one little problem - ēslu berries, while delicious, caused you to bloat like an over-inflated balloon. If you made the mistake of indulging in them, you could count on a long and noisy night.

As if on cue, the scout squirmed as a faint but noticeable noise broke the silence. Her cheeks flared a brilliant crimson, but she held his gaze steadily.

Jasper bit back his laughter, not wanting to trample on her wounded dignity any further. “Ēslu berries, huh? That doesn’t really seem like a good reason for a fight,” he replied mildly.

The scout’s ears were still burning, but she held her ground. “We would like an apology. Please, my lord - surely you do not want to see the people of your house humiliated by these, these savages,” she sputtered.

Stupid freaking honor. Thankfully, the Djinn weren’t quite as obsessed with honor as your average Xianxia antagonist, but they still cared about it a good deal more than Jasper did. Frankly, he thought the whole idea was a load of crap, but as much as he wanted to ignore the scout's plea, he knew he couldn't. If he let the S̆addu’â humiliate the soldiers under his banner without reproof, the scouts would see it as a mark against his honor. Given the whole point of this little rescue mission was to win the respect of the troops, he had to defend them. Damn it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Lead the way,” he commanded reluctantly. The scout’s visage brightened, and she darted ahead of him, leading the way back through the camp. As she walked, her hips sashayed with a swagger that Jasper was a hundred percent confident was not her usual walking stride, and he looked away. Well, mostly.

It took only a few minutes to reach the campsite, and he could tell immediately that the scout had been right to come and get him.

Twelve very angry scouts, decked out in their leather armor, were shooting nasty glances across the fire at a similar-sized group of the S̆addu’â. Their fists were clenched tight at their sides, lingering a little too close to their weapons for Jasper's comfort.

The former guards, on the other hand, stared back with wide grins and muffled laughter, which only added to the scouts’ frustration.

The refugees looked a little different than they had in Zēl Qabūri. Over the last two weeks, the purple streaks had continued to morph into a deep, almost sickly-colored yellow, and now only a thin thread of purple remained. Their bodies were bulkier too; each night, Jasper and his party had led small groups of them out on hunting parties, killing whatever small monsters they could find. Their levels were too low to be of any benefit to him, but to the guards - whose levels had been stolen by the Ilābun - they represented a massive and immediate improvement.

Unfortunately, Jasper had also quickly realized that the S̆addu’â guards might be adults in body but were closer to kids in mind. Though the extra levels made them tougher, unfortunately, the system couldn’t cure someone of immaturity.

The large cauldron squatting over the fire was the center of the disturbance. It was filled with a thick brown soup whose top roiled with big, lazy bubbles. Perhaps in the light of day, it would have looked more appetizing, but as it was, barely lit by the light of the fire, the brown slurry looked more like a boiling bowl of crap than anything edible. Stepping closer, Jasper sniffed the soup and promptly understood. Scratch that, this smells amazing.

His gaze turned to the S̆addu’â guards. “There’s been some complaints about ēslu berries being put in the soup. Did you have anything to do with that?”

He thought it was about fifty-fifty if they would cop to the deed, and they immediately began to shake their heads.

One of the scouts immediately stepped forward and, practically shaking with rage, pointed their finger at one of the S̆addu'â. “Liars. I saw you picking berries on our march today, Ḫēspah.”

A guilty look flashed across the accused guard’s face, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “I ate those berries myself,” she boldly lied.

Several of the S̆addu’â began to snicker as the scout rubbed his visibly swollen belly and a noise rumbled across the campsite, but he just shook his head. “Don’t hear any noises coming from you,” the scout grunted, "and there ain't no curve to your stomach either." The guards' laughter abruptly stopped.

“I, uh-” Hēspah hesitated a moment, searching for a better lie, but the Djinn wasn’t quick on her feet. “Uh, perhaps I may have added a few berries to the soup tonight,” she admitted, drawing the words out as slowly as possible. Inspiration struck. “But it was purely to add a touch of flavor, ḫetteru, I promise.” She added hastily, turning to Jasper with eyes as wide and hopeful as the moon.

He was not deceived, but neither did he know what to do. He really didn't want to be forced to take sides. Spinning on his heels, he walked over to the cauldron. Jasper could feel their eyes burning a hole in his back, awaiting his judgment, but he needed time to think of a way to satisfy the scouts without coming down too hard on the guards.

The shockingly tantalizing aroma of the soup hit him again. Dipping his finger into it, he sampled a little taste of the brown slurry. It was as good as it smelled, heavy laden with meat from a boar they’d slain that evening and a medley of roots and herbs the scouts had foraged. Damn, this is loads better than what I was eating, he realized in surprise.

What it didn’t have, however, was any noticeable flavor from the ēslu berries. Poor guys had no idea what they were in for. An idea came to him, and he spun on his heels.

“I agree, Hēspah. The soup really is quite delicious.” Her eyes lit up with hope, and she nodded her head eagerly.

“Yes, yes, ḫetteru, I was only trying to help.”

Jasper shook his head sadly. “Indeed, the soup is so good, that I can only imagine whatever supper you had must have paled in comparison. Hell,” he chuckled, “this soup tastes better than my own meal did.” He cast an appreciative look at the scout closest to him, which by chance the woman who had run to fetch him. “Perhaps I should have one of you come cook for me.”

The scout's cheeks flushed, and Jasper promptly cursed himself. Crap. I didn’t mean it like that. But the show had to go on.

Turning back to the guards, he waved them closer. “Come, I think you should all partake in this wonderful soup Hēspah helped prepare.”

Their faces suddenly paled, but they shuffled forward reluctantly. “Hold out your bowls,” he commanded, and he dipped the ladle into the cauldron, waiting expectantly. The scouts watched with amusement as the crestfallen S̆addu'â moved through the line, each receiving a heaping bowl of the tainted soup until the last one, Hēspah, received an extra large serving.

But then Jasper did something neither group expected. He gestured to the scout standing beside him. “Can I borrow your bowl?” A look of confusion crossed her face, but she handed it over to him. Dipping the ladle in one last time, he filled it to the brim and walked over to the guards. "Got any room?"

They quickly scooched aside, and he plopped down and dug his spoon into the soup. It was honestly delicious, and despite the night of tossing and turning he knew was coming, Jasper enjoyed it far more than the burnt boar Tsia had prepared, and bolstered by his presence, the guards downed their own bowls with gusto.

There were many times Jasper felt completely over his head in this world. It had only gotten harder since his uncle had found him and forcibly thrust him into the role of a noble, but tonight was not one of those nights. He’d actually managed to make both groups happy. Take that, Kirk.