Duke Stark walked the length of his garden path, boots crunching softly over frost-hardened gravel. The breath that left him in steady bursts curled white into the air, only to fade into the pale blue of an early winter morning. The hedges were stiff with frost, the last stubborn leaves rimmed with silver, and the fountain at the center of the garden wore a thin crust of ice.

  Still, his thoughts weighed heavier than those ice.

  The letter had come the other night, not delivered by courier or servant, but through one of Suri’s illusions. That alone was enough to unsettle him. Clever, yes—impressive, even—but bold beyond what children their age should attempt. And the request itself?

  A mid-low level dungeon.

  The duke exhaled sharply, watching the vapor of his breath drift away. Four children, barely old enough to be trusted in the academy’s safer trials, daring to ask for something reserved for seasoned adventurers. Was this truly the secret to their rapid strengthening? Throwing themselves against foes far above their level, surviving by some miracle, and growing sharper with every scrape of death?

  He stopped at the edge of the fountain, gazing at his reflection fractured across the thin ice. No student—no child—was supposed to tread where these brats wanted to go. And yet…

  His thoughts turned to Leo. His son had returned from training with Kana and her circle carrying himself differently—he became more. His sword no longer wavered, his strikes carried weight, and his presence was changed, like a flame burning hotter after being tested by the wind. The boy—his son had grown.

  The duke resumed pacing, cloak trailing over frozen grass. He respected growth. He even respected risk. But to let them walk unguarded into that dungeon would be reckless beyond reason. Rules existed to keep fools alive—and he had no intention of burying promising fools so soon.

  No, outright refusal would be too simple. Too heavy-handed. These children had already shown they would find ways around obstacles if denied. He had no wish to make them reckless in secret. Better to control the flame than smother it.

  He paused beneath a frost-dusted tree, its bare branches clawing at the pale sky. The decision came to him, clear and cold.

  “They can have their dungeon,” he murmured into the stillness of the morning. “But not without my hand upon it.”

  He would put forth a condition. One capable adult, of his own choosing, would accompany them. Someone strong enough to protect them if needed, and loyal enough to report every detail back to him.

  ….

  The children huddled near the chimney, wrapped in thick towels that steamed faintly as the fire’s heat chased away the cold from their bones. Laughter and sniffles filled the room until Kana appeared from the kitchen, her arms balancing several plates stacked high. She set them on the table with a careful clatter, though her hands lingered on the last dish as if uncertain.

  She hadn’t tasted it herself. The aroma was rich, buttery with a sharp hint of herbs, but she still wasn’t sure if the flavor was right. Worse, the pasta’s shape mocked her memory of the recipe—it wasn’t a neat circle like she had intended, but long, uneven rectangles, like ribbons cut by a child’s hand.

  On each plate, a glossy yellow sauce clung to the pasta, sprinkled with chopped greens that shimmered in the firelight. The fragrance drifted across the room, and soon little faces peeked out from behind towels, eyes wide and mouths watering.

  “Is that really food?” one of them asked, suspicious but hopeful.

  “Looks yummy!” another chirped, scooting closer to the table.

  “Can I taste it?” a bolder child piped up, already reaching.

  Suri was no better. She leaned forward eagerly, eyes shining, her own portion already waiting in front of her as if she had claimed the best spot at a festival. Her fingers drummed the edge of the table, her nose twitching with every wave of steam.

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  Kana bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know whether to stop them or let them dive in.

  After a while, the adults drifted in, drawn by the unfamiliar aroma that clung to the air. Their footsteps slowed as they caught sight of the strange dishes spread across the table.

  “When did you learn to cook?” Lily asked, brows raised as she leaned closer, inspecting the odd rectangular noodles with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

  “I bet the academy had some sort of secret cooking classes,” Shar muttered, arms crossed. His tone was dry, but there was a spark of intrigue in his eyes.

  Kana forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I… learned it from some old books. Not sure if I got the recipe right.”

  Shar coughed into his hand, taking a deliberate step forward. “I’ll try it first. My body has a strong resistance to poison.”

  Several of the children gasped, eyes darting between the food and Kana, but before the tension could settle, Suri dug in without hesitation.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, nearly choking as she tried to speak through a mouthful. “It tastes good!”

  And then, with complete disregard for appearances, she shoveled in another spoonful, and another, eating with a speed that made the children blink in awe.

  That was all the encouragement they needed. One by one, the kids began to eat—some clumsy with forks or spoons, fumbling with the unfamiliar shape of the pasta, while others abandoned pretense altogether and used their hands.

  Kana finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Maybe they were simply too hungry to care, but at least they weren’t grimacing. She tried to bite herself. The flavor wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for—the substitutions she’d made for missing ingredients had altered the taste—but it wasn’t terrible either. A decent copy, she thought, even if it fell short of the original recipe lodged in her memory.

  The room grew quiet. For several long moments, the only sounds were slurps, clinks of utensils, and satisfied munching.

  “You’ll have to share that recipe with us,” Lily said at last, her lips curling into a smile as she watched the children devour their portions. “Looks like this is going to be their new favorite.”

  Suri raised her fork like a banner of victory. “I second that!” she declared, already halfway through her plate.

  Kana couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension finally melting from her shoulders. More so than doing raids in the dungeons.

  ..

  The trio waved their goodbyes as the children clung to them as if they were their parents, the little ones reluctant to let go.

  Among them, the small familiar boy shuffled forward, clutching something in his tiny fist. His cheeks were red with shyness, but he extended a hand to Kana, revealing a fragile wildflower.

  “Thank you, miss,” he whispered, voice trembling. “For not abandoning us.”

  Kana felt her chest tighten. She bent down, meeting his eyes, and smiled. At last, she could face him without the weight of guilt dragging her gaze away. She patted his head gently, then knelt to embrace him. “Of course I won’t.”

  The boy’s little arms wrapped around her neck with all the strength he could muster. Then he pulled back, face scrunching with determination.

  “I will marry you someday when I grow up.”

  Boris and Suri both stifled laughs, chuckles slipping free. Even some of the parents smiled through their weariness.

  Kana grinned wide, playing along, “Sure. I’ll wait for you. Come and find me when you’re all grown up.”

  The boy puffed his chest proudly, clutching the flower as though it were a promise sealed.

  Nearby, villagers who remained gathered around the chief. Their tasks were far from done—among them, constructing a modest yet tall watchtower for Aldo, so he could keep a clear view of anything approaching. Even a small advantage could mean survival.

  Before boarding the carriage, Kana approached Aldo. “Uncle,” she said quietly, “someone was watching us earlier. I don’t know if they’re friends or foes.”

  Aldo chuckled, though his sharp eyes betrayed what he had already noticed. “You lads have really grown. Thought you wouldn’t catch that. Don’t fret—some of our best warriors are staying a week or two. We’ll be on high alert.”

  Kana nodded, though unease lingered. For now, their preparations would hold, but she knew the burden would press hardest on Suri. Already, her illusions stretched across the outskirts, weaving layers of deception and warning like unseen nets around the orphanage house.

  They will be fine. They have to be.

  Still, time pressed against them. Distracted by farewells, they’d almost forgotten the urgency of their own mission. The trio climbed into the carriage, hearts heavy yet resolute. They needed to hurry back, to see if Toby’s posting at the Adventurer’s Guild had been answered—and to pray the one who took the job was someone truly capable.