Whispers in the Ruins of a Feast

The castle corridors were chaotic. Knights shouted orders, servants scurried past with armfuls of ruined tablecloths, and somewhere in the distance, someone was crying over the seven-tier cake like it was their firstborn child. The sharp scent of burnt food mingled with the usual castle odors, and the clatter of hurried footsteps echoed off the stone walls.

And me? I was limping through it all with one arm slung over a panicked attendant, my clothes smelling like smoke, gravy, and maybe apple pie if you squinted.

“Keep moving, Hero!” the attendant said, hauling me along like I wasn’t the one who almost got kidnapped. “You need to be cared for!”

“But, I’m fine…” I muttered, glancing back toward the banquet hall. Through the shattered doors, I could see knights corralling the remaining nobles. The king sat on his throne still, calm as if explosions were just part of the dinner show. But when his eyes met mine—

For a split second, there was something in that look. Not relief, not anger… something sharper. Calculating. And for some reason, it made the hairs on my neck stand up. It was like he saw through me, or past me, like he was weighing something invisible on a scale only he could read.

Before I could process it, a hissed whisper reached my ears as two nobles hurried past:

“…a bold move, if they know the truth—”

“Quiet!” The other cut them off, shooting a glance in my direction before dragging his companion away.

The truth? What truth?

I didn’t have time to ask, because the attendant shoved open a door and practically dumped me into a room that smelled faintly of mint and antiseptic.

***

The castle infirmary wasn’t huge—just a few beds and shelves of herbs. Some healer-woman immediately started muttering incantations over my shoulder wound. I tried to sit still, but adrenaline still buzzed in my veins.

The door creaked open. I didn’t need to look to know who it was—the temperature in the room dropped by at least five degrees.

Elara.

She dismissed the healer with a nod, and suddenly it was just the two of us. Well, two and a half if you count the tension choking the air.

“You’re reckless,” she said, walking closer. Her voice was soft but carried enough weight to crush me flat.

“Hey, I didn’t invite those guys to dinner,” I said, holding up my hands. “I was just trying to enjoy free food and not die in the process.”

Her gaze swept over me like she was scanning for weaknesses—or maybe secrets. Then, without warning, she leaned in, so close I could feel her breath near my ear.

“…Did you sense anything?”

I blinked. “Sense what?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Magic. A distortion. Anything unusual when they attacked.”

“I mean, yeah,” I said. “They were unusually good at ruining my evening.”

No smile. No laugh. Just that piercing stare, as if she could peel open my skull and read the thoughts inside. She sighed and stepped back, cloak swishing dramatically.

“They were quite organized for common brigands,” she murmured.

Then she turned to leave. Just before the door closed, she said one last thing:

“…If I were you, I would not trust anyone too easily at this point. Not even those who helped you.”

Which is exactly the kind of line that makes a guy sleep great at night.

***

I didn’t get long to brood because the door opened again. And this time, instead of an ice queen, in walked… her.

Kaela. The “chair girl.” The human embodiment of panic with a basket in her arms.

My brain screamed Oh no. My body flinched automatically because the last time I saw her holding a basket, things exploded.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, cheeks pink. “I-I just… wanted to… um, check if you were okay.”

She held out the basket like an offering. Inside were shiny red apples.

“…Please tell me these aren’t armed,” I said slowly.

“They’re normal apples!” she blurted, horrified. “I promise!”

“No thanks.” I eyed them suspiciously. “That’s what you said before the other ones turned into live grenades.”

Her ears went scarlet. “Th-that was…! I didn’t—I mean, they were normal apples! At first.”

She twisted her fingers nervously, inhaled, then blurted everything in a single breath:

“I used alchemical structural flux fields to manipulate the molecular bonds until they were more volatile, okay? I’m sorry!”

I stared. “…Translate?”

Kaela inhaled shakily. “Alchemy can… alter the fundamental composition of matter. If you destabilize the lattice structure in organic compounds and infuse a catalyst rune, the energy has to go somewhere, so… boom.”

“…So you made apples explode.”

She nodded miserably.

I blinked at the basket again. “…You terrify me.”

“I—I only did it because I didn’t have real weapons!” she said, panicking. “And, um… the apples were for the feast originally. I was actually supposed to deliver them to the kitchens before everything started.”

That… actually made sense. Sort of. Still horrifying, but logical.

I tried to process that while she fidgeted like her soul depended on it. Then a thought hit me, and I frowned.

“…Wait. You told me yesterday I’d need good luck today. How did you know about the attack?”

Her entire body went rigid. For a long, awkward second, she just stared at me.

“I… I didn’t! I just… had a feeling!” she stammered, forcing a laugh that sounded about as natural as a wooden toaster.

I gave her a look. She wilted like a dying flower.

“Okay,” I said finally, because honestly, I didn’t have the energy to interrogate anyone right now. “But if the next thing you ‘have a feeling’ about involves more explosions, maybe give me a heads-up before I walk into it?”

She nodded furiously. “Y-yes! Absolutely! No more surprise explosions!”

…Which didn’t make me feel better at all.

***

Kaela left soon after, clutching her basket. On her way out, she almost collided with Elara in the corridor. For a moment, the two women froze.

Elara’s gaze slid to the alchemist’s belt—to the intricate runed clasp hanging there. Her eyes narrowed, something sharp flashing in their depths. Recognition? Memory?

“…Interesting,” Elara murmured softly as Kaela scurried away.

I barely caught it before the door shut.

And for some reason, that single word made me feel like things were about to get a lot more complicated.