The kettle whistled loudly as Sael lifted his hand without looking, and the container rose from where it had been heating on a conjured flame near the garden, drifting through the air in a smooth arc. It settled onto the table he'd made thirty minutes ago now—still smelling faintly of fresh wood—and tipped itself at precise angles over four cups he'd set out earlier.

  Steam curled up from each cup as the tea filled them.

  He guided the first cup across the table to Koleen, who caught it with both hands and nodded. "Thank you, Archmage. Sincerely."

  "Hmm."

  The second cup floated to Margaret, who smiled as she wrapped her weathered fingers around it. "Thank you, Grandpa Sael."

  "Of course, little Margaret."

  The third cup drifted to Robin, who blinked and reached for it quickly, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. His fox ears twitched slightly as the cup settled in front of him. "Oh—thank you, sir."

  Sael studied him for a moment as the man took a cautious sip.

  Robin had been out of a job until recently. Margaret had hired him. More than that, she'd made it clear she was keeping him around specifically so he could accompany Sael whenever he had to travel out of Orlys. Her reasoning was that Robin's personality had enough affinity with Sael's own that they could become friends. That Sael needed friends.

  The thing was, Sael did like Robin.

  It wasn't the first time he'd thought it. The feytouched fox was honest in a way that felt deliberate rather than incidental—he didn't soften truths to make them palatable, didn't waste words on pleasantries that served no function. When Robin said something, it was because it needed saying. When he stayed quiet, it was because nothing needed saying. Sael appreciated that. The world had too many people who filled silence because they were uncomfortable with it.

  Margaret's intuition about their personalities being conducive to friendship wasn't far-fetched.

  But paying someone to be friends with another person seemed... unlikely to work. Friendship, as Sael understood it—which admittedly might be limited—required some degree of organic development. Mutual interest. Shared experience that wasn't predicated on a financial transaction. If Robin was being compensated to spend time with him, then the relationship had a structure that felt inherently unequal. One person was performing a service. The other was receiving it.

  Maybe he'd ask Robin later. The man would be honest about it.

  Sael's gaze drifted past the table, down the hill to where Ilsa and Orion were working near the house. The girl had rolled up her sleeves and was demonstrating something with a knife—how to separate muscle from bone, it looked like—while Orion watched with intense focus and seemed to desperately want to avoid looking incompetent. The deer leg lay between them on a flat stone Sael had shaped earlier, and Ilsa's hands moved fast at it.

  Orion tried to mimic her technique. The knife slipped. He caught himself before doing any damage and glanced up to see if anyone had noticed.

  Ilsa had noticed. She said something Sael could hear from this distance, and Orion's face flushed, but he nodded and tried again.

  "I brought candied peanuts," Margaret said suddenly.

  Sael turned back to the table.

  She was pulling a small cloth bag from her coat pocket, setting it down like something fragile. "According to the townsfolk, the merchant you bought it from last time started making them again. And others in the market have too." She opened the bag and the smell hit him immediately: sugar and salt and roasted peanuts. "It's the return of candied peanuts."

  Sael stared at the bag.

  "The greatest candies to have ever existed," Margaret added, completely serious. She then set the bag in the center of the table and gestured to it, smiling warmly. "Please, indulge."

  Koleen glanced at the bag and smiled slightly. "The whole city's selling them now, as the official favorite candies of Sael the Great, who has now returned." He picked one up and examined it. "The merchant who initially sold them to you has become quite popular, apparently. People keep asking which stall served Sael."

  "Oh." Sael said.

  He wasn't sure what to say about that... so he said nothing.

  Koleen took one immediately, popping it into his mouth. Robin hesitated, his fox ears twitching slightly, and Margaret looked between him and Sael with a small smile. "Go on, you two. Dig in."

  Robin took one first, examining it briefly before eating it. Sael reached for one as well, and Margaret watched him as he bit into it.

  The crunch was still exactly as he remembered. The sweetness balanced against the salt, the faint bitterness of the peanut itself cutting through both. He chewed slowly and was about to start thinking about why the headmaster was here when he noticed Margaret's expression shifted slightly as she watched him. Something thoughtful. ...Maybe a little disappointed?

  "You don't seem to enjoy them the same way you used to," she said. "When I was a little girl, I mean. They still taste the same, don't they?"

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Sael paused, then nodded. "They do."

  "Has your palate changed?"

  He chuckled. It was a short sound, quiet. "In a sense. I stopped needing to eat a while ago. Or drink. Or sleep, for that matter."

  Margaret's face fell slightly.

  Sael almost mentioned the other private needs—the ones even less pleasant to consider—but even he knew that wasn't socially normal to discuss out loud. Only Eirlys knew about that. Well, he hoped so at least.

  "Hah! As expected from Sael the great! That's quite efficient," Koleen said, taking another peanut and turning it over in his fingers like he was studying it. "Removes a lot of variables."

  Robin nodded. "As an adventurer, not needing all that would make you exceptional even without being a mage." His tail flicked once behind him. "When you're hunting for weeks on end with your party, fatigue and resource management is probably the hardest thing. You could stay out longer. Push further. Wouldn't need to carry half the supplies."

  "I suppose," Sael said.

  Margaret was still looking at him, and her expression hadn't improved. If anything, she looked sadder now. "You used to like food a lot."

  "I did."

  "And now you don't?"

  Sael considered that. "I can still taste it. It's just not... necessary. The enjoyment is different when there's no need attached to it."

  Margaret picked up one of the candied peanuts and ate it slowly, like she was trying to savor it on his behalf. "That sounds lonely," she said quietly.

  Sael was at a loss for words.

  Margaret's observation had hit something he hadn't expected to be vulnerable to criticism. Robin and Koleen said nothing, and the silence stretched longer than it should have.

  She looked sad. Sael did not like to see her sad.

  He smiled, even though he agreed with her, but he felt he needed to clarify something. He reached over and patted her head the way he used to when she was small. She looked up at him.

  "You're here," he said. "With me. I don't feel lonely at all because of that."

  Margaret's expression shifted—a smile trying to emerge through the sadness. "I suppose so..."

  Sael wasn't sure what else to tell her. The statement had been true, but it hadn't fixed whatever concern had taken root in her mind. He was considering whether to elaborate when Robin cleared his throat.

  "Is that a..." Robin gestured vaguely toward the tree further up the hill. "Swing?"

  Sael blinked. Well, of course it was a swing. What else could it be if it looked and functioned like one and—

  Oh.

  Robin was trying to change the subject. Friend potential indeed.

  Sael grabbed the opportunity. "Margaret, you haven't seen the swing yet. I made it for you."

  She turned in her seat, following his gesture, and when she spotted it hanging from the tree branch further up the slope, she laughed. "How sweet." She stood, brushing peanut crumbs from her lap, and walked toward it.

  The swing hung at the same height it had years ago.

  Margaret reached it and ran her hand along one of the ropes, testing the texture between her fingers. Her smile widened. "It's exactly like the one I was on that day with—" She paused, glancing back at him. "Do you remember?"

  "The troll," Sael finished, having followed her up the slope without thinking about it. He did remember. "He came wandering through while you were swinging and looked confused while you screamed loud enough to wake the dead."

  Margaret laughed, the sadness from before fading as the memory solidified between them. "I thought he was going to eat me! He was enormous, Grandpa Sael, and he just... appeared out of nowhere."

  "You were six. Everything looked like it was going to eat you." Sael crossed his arms, the ghost of that day playing out in his mind. "And he didn't appear out of nowhere. He walked out from behind the bushes. You just weren't paying attention."

  "I was swinging! I was supposed to be paying attention to not falling off." She sat down on the swing now, testing its stability with a gentle push. "And then this massive troll with tusks just, there he was. Of course I screamed."

  "He was more frightened than you were," Sael said. "Once you stopped screaming long enough to let him speak, anyway. Poor thing was lost. Completely turned around. He kept asking where the western woods were, and whether he'd crossed into human territory by accident."

  "Which he had."

  "Which he had," Sael agreed. "But he was polite about it and apologized three times for startling you."

  Margaret's eyes brightened as more of the memory returned. "Oh! And you gave him directions. You told him to follow the river north until he hit the old stone bridge, then head west and avoid the villages."

  "I gave him food, too," Sael added.

  Margaret pointed at him. "I was furious about that. That was my lunch."

  "You'd already eaten your lunch."

  "I was going to eat it again." She laughed, shaking her head. "I pouted the whole way home. You had to buy me candied peanut to get me to stop complaining."

  They both laughed at that; a full, hearty sound that carried back to where Robin and Koleen still sat at the table, watching them.

  Sael heard Koleen's chair scrape against the ground as the headmaster stood. "Speaking of human territories, Archmage..."

  Sael glanced back to see Koleen walking toward them, his hands clasped behind his back. Robin remained at the table, watching but not following.

  "My presence here today," Koleen continued as he approached, "was to perhaps seek guidance and a bit of help regarding a growing matter."

  Sael felt a small measure of relief at that. He had nothing against the headmaster—the man was competent, direct, and refreshingly free of the political maneuvering that plagued most institutional leaders—but he hadn't been expecting them to be close enough that Koleen would visit casually along with Ilsa and Margaret. The thought had nagged at him since they'd arrived. Was this a social call? Were they friends now? Had he missed some signal that suggested they should be?

  Apparently not. This was business. That made more sense.

  Sael cleared his throat, stopping the thoughts before they spiraled further. "What matter?"

  Koleen stopped a few paces away, his expression growing more serious. "You are surely aware that there are people who are considered so powerful they rule over their own parts of this world, yes?"

  "Of course." Sael nodded. "I believe some of them were even coming to the tournament? I was planning to talk to them and perhaps rally them to the Corruption case to prevent its spread."

  "Well," Koleen said slowly. "About that..."

  Sael's attention sharpened. The headmaster's tone had shifted: it was carefully neutral, but with something underneath it.

  "Two of them have been killed recently."

  "Oh. Sad to hear that." Sael straightened slightly. That was odd. Two figures said to be that powerful dying so close together couldn't be a good sign, and Koleen's expression suggested it wasn't a natural death. Sael frowned slightly. "What did they die from?"

  Koleen met his gaze directly. "They were devoured by an orc."

  "Devoured?"

  "Yes." Koleen's expression remained grave. "People from the continent of Atlas have been coming here by the swarms, displaced by this same orc and his army. He's been calling himself the Orc Lord, and... we have reason to believe he'll soon come for Albyon as well."

  Margaret, who had been listening from the swing, spoke up quietly. "You should tell him that the Orc Lord might be Corrupted."

  "Ah," Sael said. "That's unfortunate."

  He couldn't really find a better word for it on the spot.

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