"… and that's all there is to it," Leif finished. His stomach groaned demandingly to have its gnawing hunger fulfilled, but he refused to move under his captain's steadfast. 

In lieu of anything more to say, a quip concerning the feast's cooling came to rest against the seams of his lips but dared to move no further. Even his tail was rendered immovable, as if her spell-binding gaze thickened it to stone. With naught else to do while awaiting her judgement, Leif schooled his expression into one of severity and drew even breaths in through his nose. Throughout his explanations, she took in his every word without interruption and scarcely seemed to even blink as though a single moment's distraction would rend the information lost. Such scrutiny didn't fill him with affability as it did when Brenna and Paityn lent him their ears, casting aside their fears out of faith in his years and kindness. Instead, there was a pull within him - a desire to ensure he'd recounted every detail in painstaking clarity without a single falsehood to be found.

Perhaps I haven't outgrown childhood after all, seeking her confidence above all else.

Her teacup clinked softly as she raised it to her lips. A thin trail of grayish-white steam arose from the cup's rim, curling between her eyes as it rose toward the rafters. When she parted her lips and blew gently to disperse the steam, her intense gaze disappeared behind shuttering eyelids.  She noiselessly sipped her tea, seeming to have forgotten that he was even there and Leif took the dismissal for what it was. His muscles relaxed as he sank against the chair's back and eyed the food piled up on his plate with anticipation. 

His fork sank into a particularly tantalizing slice of spicy, honey-glazed prickle boar and the juice beading around it as he lifted it for a hearty bite narrowly dribbled on his cloak. Leif set down his fork while he chewed, hastily undoing the clasps on his cloak before shrugging it off his shoulders. He paid little mind when it slid off the chair's backing and pooled on the floor around his boot heels, content to stuff another bread round in his mouth with gusto. 

The bread basket was empty, and the inner circles of several platters were visible before he raised his head at the trickling sound of something being poured. Across from him, the Captain lifted the still-steaming pot and poured another generous helping of tea into her cup. Leif scrunched his nose at the sweet yet musky scent and sat up in his seat, propping an elbow on the table's edge where his cheek could rest on his hand. 

"How does your tea taste, Captain?"

Zopha  stopped short of bringing the cup to her lips, glancing up at him over the vapors then down to where his elbow rested. Her gaze remained until Leif took the hint and lifted his elbow with a sheepish chuckle. She returned his mirth by easing her eyes shut as she muttered — sweet — before taking a sip. Leif stared at her in astonishment, blinking slowly until he realized she had no intention of explaining further. He huffed through his nose, lips pursed in a pout. Zopha had never been the chattiest sort, but Leif had grown accustomed to her nonchalance years ago. 

She lived in moderation with all things, preferring to use two words where others would use six and weighing her stamina against the task at hand. It was rare for her to give clues as to how she felt but she also never lied. To that end, Leif put his all into trying to understand her and when conditions were wanting - he would speak enough for the both of them. Even when his attempts were spurned as a child, Zopha was always listening. So at the least, his concerns never went unheard. 

Would she hear me out about this? 

The smell of thistklebell tea wasn't as important as the flavor of it. Leif remembered hating it when he was younger because he could never anticipate what aroma it would leave on his tongue.  However, he knew well enough what sweet thisktlebell tea meant. Scenarios played out in his mind of how to confront Zopha over the matter, but they all either ended with him being ushered back into finishing the last of his meal or the matter being disregarded altogether.  If Zopha didn't want something to occur, then it would never happen and the matter would be left at that. 

She told me this much, so that must be a good sign. 

Deciding it was his only chance to take advantage of the opportunity, Leif quickly polished off the rest of his dishes before cleaning his mouth with a handkerchief.  Once he was done, he laid the handkerchief over his emptied plate and clasped his hands together with a short bow. When he raised his head, Zopha watched him with a blasé expression to which he beamed in return. 

 "Anyway Captain, seeing as the Hinterlady is aware of us, there's no need to seclude yourself within this stuffy room anymore?" Leif waved his hand dismissively, tail swaying from side to side as he continued. "It may be a surprise to the humblefolk but I've built a modest reputation in the last moon."

Zopha sighed through her mouth, "I haven't," and took another sip. 

Curiously, Leif tilted his head while humming, "Hm? Well, of course you haven't. You'd hardly left the Twin Stein since we arrived."

Zopha sighed, setting her teacup on its saucer with a light clink. "No, I haven't secluded myself," she stated, then gestured to the dishes between them. "Who did you believe prepared this for you?"

Shock ricocheted down Leif's spine and hoisted him up in his seat as if he'd been struck by lightning. His eyes scoured the dishes picked clean of even the tiniest morsel with thoughtless abandon. The meal had been sumptuous to say the least, and he'd half a mind to fly down the steps with the intent to offer his hand to the cook if only so he could taste it again. But to think it was Zopha who prepared such a feast? 

Zopha, who taught him how to pluck feathers from a bird's carcass and roast it over a fire once she'd burned a hole through the only pot they owned?

The Wise Queen must have graced us without my knowledge.

"Why do you seem so surprised?"  

Leif choked back awe when he remembered Zopha was set across from him. He paused for a beat before lifting his gaze to find her sitting with her arms folded across her chest while her finger tapped slowly against her bicep. Her gaze was scouring, and while he'd seen it many times before, this time he wasn't sure what to say. 

She tilted her head, and the golden bar hanging from her earring swayed like a metronome. "You've eaten my cooking since you were a child, surely you know the taste of it by now."

Not quite, seeing as your cooking has improved since I was a child.

Leif swallowed his panic, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.  "I-I was just a little surprised. This definitely took careful time and preparation, but if I can ask, just when did you have the time?"

It was a poor attempt at an excuse and deflection even to his ears, but Zopha's austere expression abated. A mistiness overtaking her eyes for a brief second as if she were looking somewhere far past where they sat. Leif's nails dragged at the back of his neck as he waited anxiously for her to return not the present. This too was just like her, moments of distance where naught a thought played on her face but the vacancy in her eyes told him all he needed to know. 

"During the midday rest," she answered. "Once the kitchens were empty."

Leif's fingers slid down the side of his neck as he sighed oh, and blinked twice before shouting, "You used the Twin Steins' kitchens?!"

Zopha's eyes twitched as she said, "Once they were empty," and he immediately reeled back when she added tersely,  "Lower your voice."

"Sorry," Leif muttered, temporarily cowed into silence. Though, not enough that his imagination didn't take hold with the figment of Zopha peddling the midday's rest away by coaxing the wild ogién to keep the kiln warm for her.  Guilt tugged at his heart as he restlessly curled and uncurled the fist pressed to his thigh. "But you didn't have to do all of this. I'd earned enough to buy myself something if I truly had need of it."

"Then why didn't you?" Zopha answered. Though the question might have seemed rude to an outsider's ear, Leif could hear the curiosity underlaying her words. It matched the question in her eyes as she casually gestured toward him with her tapping finger.   "I could hear your stomach past the Mist. How fortunate it is that I'd prepared enough for such a voracious appetite."

Leif's ears burned as he looked at the empty dishes and noticed that while a plate had been set before him, there was none for Zopha.  It didn't strike him as odd, but a roiling wave of nostalgia returned unbidden when he looked across the table to find her there. Every meal they'd had together was much like this. 

He would talk, and she would listen. 

He would eat, and she would drink.

And even their worst meals - the ones that were burned, rationed, or bland - felt perfect.  

"All things are better when shared," Leif recited from memory as he chuckled lowly, embarrassment set aside as he settled under the sweet warmth of nostalgia.  "You taught me that, remember?" 

"So I did," Zopha huffed, the left corner of her lips pulled up slightly. It was a marked improvement from the attempts at smiling she'd done when he was younger, though he felt joy at her attempts nonetheless. She uncrossed her arms and gestured to the table as she said, "Which is why I did this as an apology." 

"Apology?"

"Keeping up with Ambriel's gallivanting and waylaying the villager's concerns of us outsiders fell onto your shoulders," Zopha explained, and her shoulders fell just a fraction from their usual rigidness. It felt wrong to bear witness to and the sense of something being amiss lingered when she said, "It must have been hard."

Leif cocked an eyebrow and snorted, slapping his hand against his thigh as he laughed. "Not at all, nothing short of death is too much for me," he braced his hand against his knee and leaned forward with a cheeky grin. "And nothing under the sun could stop me once I'm set on a path."

Zopha blinked at him, then sighed in a way that he knew was reserved solely for him. The odd sullenness in her posture melting off her as she shook her head, and mumbled blithely, "The Hero's Journey again, hm?"

Leif preened, and Zopha huffed amusedly before the mirth gradually vanished from her eyes. The air sapped of its warmth while she stated, "Nonetheless, the matter at hand is worse than what I believed. If this were a fight for survival, Arus would not have intervened."

Leif drew back in his seat, tapping his fingers against his knee as he weighed her words. Coltham's criticism of the Primarchs sitting on lofty highs whilst looking down on Creation came to mind and Leif bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. If it were up to Arus, in his opinion, then Yun-Fe would not be the peaceful village it appeared. Though, he supposed with what he'd seen and heard - it wasn't at all. The Hinterlady — or Arus, as Creation pronounced her name in the Common Tongue — was the sort who firmly believed in the hierarchy between the strongest and the weak. An array of tunes and litanies romped across Leif's mind in a procession, guided by the melodic voice of a bard. And to a tune no one else but him could hear, Leif absentmindedly recited  — 

"The wild are governed by strength and cunning. To heed the call is to know peace when the end is coming. For the price of breath can only be paid in another's death."

This time, Zopha raised a brow and gestured with a tilt of the head as if to ask what he was on about. 

Lei fought back a shiver, and smiled wryly. "A litany from the Cultivator's Edict," he told her. "Aershians believe in using every part of an animal out of respect for its life.  But these carcasses weren't, well… " 

As he trailed off, Zopha simply stated, "Show me."

Leif's brow furrowed as he repeated the demand dazedly, "Show you?"

While he cheered internally at his success in convincing Zopha to leave the inn with him, his tail curled around the chair's leg and fastened tight as if he were going to be thrown out of it. Her piercing gaze was not meant for him as he knew, but he shuddered to think of being trapped beneath its weight.

"You are right," Zopha said slowly. "Arus knows we are here, and if She is sagacious as She claims, then She knows it is unwise to stand in our way."