Pipe bomb at Breakfast

The trio finally headed downstairs. The scent of cooked eggs, warm bread, honey cakes, and sizzling meat drifted up from below, sharp enough to make Oreon's stomach growl. He pressed a hand to it and grimaced.

"Shut up," Sylvanie muttered at him without even looking in his direction.

"I didn't say anything!" Oreon protested.

"I was talking to your stomach." She shot back, descending the stairs with her arms still crossed. "It's loud and annoying; silence it."

"What?!" Oreon jerked his head towards her. "Silence my stomach? What kind of princess decree is that?

"The kind that prevents me from losing what little patience I have left this morning," Sylvanie replied coolly, her eyes flicking toward him briefly. "Between your stomach growling and the fact that later, some old man is going to grope me—"

"He's not going to grope you!" Oreon cut her off. "He's going to measure you! There's a difference!"

"Is there?" Sylvanie shot back, her tone dripping with skepticism as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Because from where I'm standing. It sounds like the same thing to me."

Celestia, who had followed quietly behind them, drew a deep breath before speaking. "Sylvanie...Please. You're being difficult on purpose now."

"Celestia, I'm being realistic." Sylvanie turned her head towards her sister.

"No, you're being stubborn," Celestia corrected gently, but was firm with her response. "And you know it. We need clothing, supplies, and a plan, and you're making this harder than it needs to be."

Sylvanie opened her mouth to fire back but stopped as they stepped into the dining area. The rich smell of food rushed over them, and even her irritation faltered when her eyes found the spread laid out on one of the larger tables.

In the morning light, the tavern's main room looked warmer and more welcoming than it had the night before. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes that drifted in golden beams across the wooden floor. The room was clean but well lived-in, its scrubbed tables still marked by years of patrons.

Lena stood by the table, wiping her hands on the cloth tucked into her apron. Her blue eyes brightened when she saw them come down the stairs, and she quickly motioned toward the empty chairs.

"There you are!" She said cheerfully. "I was starting to think grandmother was going to let you sleep in all day." She gleamed.

Oreon gave her a sidelong look, lacking anything close to Lena's brightness. "You know that's not true. Meara hasn't let me sleep in once since the day I met her," he groaned.

Lena laughed softly and clapped Oreon on the back, making him grimace and shoot her a playful glare. "Fair point. She woke me up at the crack of dawn to help prepare all this." She moved around the table, adjusting a plate here and there.

"Aye, but I let you get an extra hour of sleep, and you're still ungrateful," Meara chimed in, glancing over at Oreon. "You're still as lazy as ever, always trying to sleep late." After sitting down, she took a sip from the cup Lena had prepared.

"Lazy! I'm not lazy, you old hag!" Oreon protested, moving toward the table with a slight limp. "I broke into the Order's stronghold, rescued two elves, fought the Order, and more! How many people can do all that and still wake up at the crack of dawn?" Oreon's head swelled comically as he glared at Meara, who ignored him and took another sip from her cup.

"Plenty," Meara replied without missing a beat, setting her cup down with a soft clink. "The difference is they didn't use it as a crutch like some ungrateful brat I know."

"Ungrateful brat!" Oreon seethed.

Celestia stood beside Lena, watching helplessly as the two started bickering again. "Are they...always like this?" she whispered.

Lena glanced at Celestia, looking both amused and resigned. "Every. Single. Day," she whispered back, shaking her head with a small smile. "You'd think they hated each other, but once you know them, it's pretty clear this is just how they show they care."

"Care?" Sylvanie raised an eyebrow as she watched the exchange between the two. "This is what humans call caring? Insulting each other until someone's voice gives out?"

"Pretty much," Lena confirmed with a light shrug. "Though usually, grandmother wins. Oreon's never been able to out-stubborn her—not once in the decade that I've known him."

Sylvanie's expression turned thoughtful, almost calculating, as she watched Oreon and Meara keep bickering. "A decade..." she murmured. "So, this arrangement has been going on for quite some time, then?"

"Arrangement?" Lena tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering across her features. "I wouldn't call it an arrangement. It's more like—"

"The boy was placed in my care after the incident with his mother and sister. However, ever since then, he's been a pain in my ass, always complaining and whining about hard work and never getting enough sleep." Meara sipped her cup again.

"That's not—" Oreon started, but Meara cut him off with a single raised hand.

"Sit down and eat before the food gets cold," She commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "We've wasted enough time on your theatrics this morning."

Oreon opened his mouth to protest, but another growl from his stomach betrayed him—louder than the last. He grimaced and pressed a hand to his abdomen, as if he could force it to be quiet.

"See?" Sylvanie muttered from where she stood. "Loud and annoying." But her cheeks quickly flushed as her own stomach answered with a set of embarrassing sounds.

Celestia pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh as Sylvanie's stomach rumbled again. The dark elf's face flushed deeper, her eyes widening before she glared at no one in particular.

"Don't," Sylvanie warned, her voice low and sharp as she pointed at Oreon, who already had his mouth open. "Don't you dare—"

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Oreon held up both hands defensively, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise. "Your stomach spoke for itself."

"Alright now, I've heard enough of this foolishness. Sit down and eat before Lena's hard work goes to waste." Meara sent a slight glare towards Oreon and Sylvanie.

Without another word, the group settled around the table, their earlier tension giving way to simple hunger. Lena had outdone herself. The meal was modest but hearty: thick slices of bread still warm from the oven, herb-seasoned eggs, roasted meat, and soft honey cakes glazed until they shone.

Celestia sat with graceful ease, folding her hands in her lap for a moment as she looked over the generous spread. "Thank you, Lena. Your kindness is truly appreciated."

Lena's cheeks flushed at Celestia's formal thanks, and she waved it off with a genuine smile. "Oh, please—just Lena is fine. No need for any 'Ms.' stuff. Besides, it's nothing special. Just what we had on hand."

Sylvanie, less interested in pleasantries, had already started attacking her food with surprising enthusiasm. Between bites, she glanced up at Lena with narrowed eyes, as if deciding whether the girl's cheerfulness was sincere or somehow dangerous.

"The food is...acceptable," she finally offers, still stuffing food into her mouth.

Oreon rolls his eyes at Sylvanie's grudging compliment before turning to Lena. "What this 'untamed beast' means to say is that this food is great!" Oreon exclaimed.

"Untamed beast?!" Sylvanie's head snapped up so fast a piece of bread nearly slipped from her mouth. She swallowed in a hurry, eyes blazing as she glared daggers at Oreon. "Did you just call me a beast, you insufferable—"

"I called you untamed," Oreon corrected, cutting into his meat as if trying to prove he had better manners than her. "You supplied the beast part yourself." He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed with exaggerated satisfaction, never breaking eye contact.

Sylvanie gripped the fork beside her plate. "You—"

"Sylvanie," Celestia said softly, causing her sister to pause her actions and slowly resume eating.

For a moment, only the quiet sounds of eating filled the empty tavern. Then Meara picked up her napkin and lightly dabbed at her mouth.

"So, after you're refitted, have you decided what to do next?" Meara asked, turning her gaze to Oreon. "The Order may send soldiers through here to collect debts from these poor folk."

Oreon's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. The earlier playfulness faded as Meara's warning settled over the table. He slowly set the fork down, his expression turning serious—almost calculating.

"I know," he said quietly. "That's why we need to move quickly. The longer we stay in one place, the more danger we bring to everyone here." He glanced at Lena, then back to Meara. "But…" He paused. "I was hoping we could stretch it one more day, maybe two—just long enough to gather supplies and let these two rest a little more. Without that, they're not much better off than when I broke them out." Oreon stared down at his plate, unaware that both Celestia and Sylvanie had turned to look at him in silence.

Meara studied him for a long moment, her weathered fingers tapping lightly against the rim of her cup. "A day, maybe two more at most," she said finally, her tone measured. "Any longer than that and you're gambling with lives—not just yours, but everyone in this town." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "The Order doesn't take kindly to being embarrassed, and after what you did? They will definitely try to hunt you down and make an example out of you."

Oreon's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I know..."

"Probably more so because of that Dragon shard you stole from them," Sylvanie said as she stuffed another piece in her mouth.

Meara's eyes widened instantly. "Dragon shard!" She exclaimed.

Lena's hand froze mid-reach for the breadbasket, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. "Wait—YOU DID WHAT!

Silence fell over the table, broken only by Sylvanie's steady chewing as she remained completely unfazed by the bombshell she had dropped into breakfast.

Oreon's head whipped toward Sylvanie so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. "Could you—" He hissed under his breath, his eyes wide with alarm. "Could you not just blurt that out?!"

Sylvanie swallowed her food and shrugged, reaching for another honey cake. "What? You were talking about the Order hunting us down. Seemed relevant." She took a bite, her eyes flicking toward him with an air of complete nonchalance. "Besides, it's not like it's a secret. They already know you have it."

"That doesn't mean we needed to announce it to the entire room!" Oreon hissed, gesturing around the table.

"The 'entire room' is five people," Sylvanie shot back coolly. "And two of them are already harboring fugitives. What's one more crime added to the list?"

Celestia pressed her fingers against her temple, exhaling slowly as if summoning every ounce of patience she had left. "Sylvanie...please."

"What?" Sylvanie turned towards her sister, genuinely confused. "I'm just being honest."

Meara set her cup down with a deliberate clink, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. Her expression completely shifted, now more serious and concerned.

"A Dragon shard," She repeated slowly. "Boy...do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?" Her voice was low, dangerous even, but not directed at Oreon in anger—it was the tone of someone who understood the gravity of what he'd done.

Oreon met her gaze, his jaw set, but didn't say anything.

"Oreon...Please tell me she's exaggerating." Lena face-palmed, slowly dragging her hand down her face. "Please tell me...By the stars, please tell me you didn't..."

Oreon remained silent, unable to respond to either of them.

Lena's hand dropped from her face, revealing an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and genuine fear. "Out of all the irresponsible—"

"Boy, you snuck in and stole a sacred relic," Meara cut in, her fingers drumming once against the table before going still. "Show me." Her eyes remained stern as Oreon hesitated a bit.

Oreon kept his gaze on his plate as his hand drifted toward the pouch at his side, then stopped. His fingers hovered there, trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of what revealing it would mean.

"Grandmother—" Lena started, but Meara raised a single finger, silencing her granddaughter without even looking her way.

"Show. Me." Meara repeated, each word heavy and deliberate.