The receptionist hurried to signal another server, a young girl who looked to be trembling in the corner of the room. With hesitant but quick steps, the replacement waitress approached the table to present the menus, her hands shaking slightly as she placed them before Elara.
While they began to look over the choices, Calian and Wolvin could only exchange glances. They were stunned, caught between awe and a touch of fear at this side of Elara.
Her merciless, firm, and dominant demeanor was a staggering contrast to the warmth and affection she had shown them in private.
Mother is truly terrifying when she's angry. Calian thought, swallowing hard. But... that was incredible.
Wolvin, on the other hand, felt a warmth spreading through his chest. All his life, he had been conditioned to accept mistreatment and to bow his head in resignation. But today, someone had stood up for him with such fierce bravery in public. Hidden beneath the table, his tail wagged ever so slightly, a secret sign of happiness.
The atmosphere in the restaurant gradually returned to normal, though hushed whispers still lingered. The other patrons who had witnessed the event remained quiet, not daring to speak too loudly. They realized that the golden-haired woman was not someone to be trifled with.
However, curiosity often outweighs fear.
A middle-aged man sitting two tables away, dressed in the fine attire of a successful merchant, found the courage to stand up. He walked over, though he faltered for a moment when Elara's gaze flicked toward him.
"Pardon me, My Lady..." the man greeted cautiously.
Elara closed her menu and looked up. "Yes?"
The man hesitated, glancing briefly at Wolvin before looking back at Elara. "I am merely curious... Why did you go to such great lengths to defend this beastfolk? I mean, isn't it only natural for people to be a bit... wary?"
The question echoed the thoughts of nearly everyone in the room. In this empire, beastfolk were second-class citizens, often regarded as nothing more than slaves, bodyguards, mercenaries, or criminals. To defend one at the cost of a human's livelihood was seen as an eccentricity.
Elara didn't answer immediately. She studied the man with a flat, unreadable expression.
"Let me ask you something!" Elara countered, her voice calm yet piercing. "You are a merchant, aren't you?"
The man nodded. "Indeed. I am a cloth merchant."
"If you were dining in this restaurant with a business partner who brought you significant profit, and suddenly a waiter looked at that partner with cynicism and disgust, how would you feel?"
The man frowned, imagining the scenario. "Naturally, I would be insulted and furious! It would be an affront to both myself and my associate," he answered without hesitation.
"That is exactly what I felt when that waiter looked at my companion with such disdain!" Elara replied sharply, her voice gaining an edge. She gestured toward Wolvin with a polite but firm hand. "He is a part of my group. An insult to him is an insult to me."
Elara leaned in slightly, her gaze heavy with a subtle, chilling intimidation. "If you understand the reason now, why would you ask me such a ridiculous question? Is your mind unable to process the simple logic of respecting another person's associate?"
The merchant was struck dumb. His face turned a deep crimson with embarrassment. Her argument was so simple, so logical, and so utterly irrefutable. He felt foolish for having questioned something that was now so obvious.
"M-My apologies, My Lady..." the man murmured, his confidence withering under Elara's charisma. "You are right. My question was indeed uncalled for."
The man gave a stiff bow of apology and hurried back to his seat, avoiding any further eye contact.
Calian suppressed a smile, watching his mother win yet another debate with absolute ease.
"Now then..." Elara said casually, reopening her menu as if nothing had happened. "Order plenty of meat, Wolvin. You'll need the energy for our journey to the Adventurers' Guild."
"Yes, Moth—I mean, Lady Arale!" Wolvin replied enthusiastically, his broad smile returning to light up his face.
The atmosphere inside the restaurant had not yet fully recovered from the tension that had just occurred. Although the problematic waiter had been fired, taking his shattered pride with him, the remnants of hostility still hung thick in the air, like morning fog reluctant to lift even under the sun.
The faint clinking of silverware against porcelain plates could be heard from other tables, but the rhythm felt stiff and forced. Conversations among the guests, mostly wealthy merchants and a few lower-ranking nobles passing through, continued in hushed, restrained tones.
Almost every pair of eyes in the room was secretly stealing glances toward one specific point: Wolvin.
In the minds of those poisoned by years of imperial dogma, beastfolk were nothing more than second-class creatures. Crude, stupid, and closer to wild beasts than to civilized humans.
They were waiting for a show. A mistake. A moment where the wolf-eared youth would forget his senses and surrender to his primitive, wild instincts.
"Just watch." whispered a stout noblewoman at a corner table to her husband. Her face was half-hidden behind a feathered fan, but her eyes radiated an unconcealed disgust. "He will surely eat in a shameful manner. Give him meat, and he will devour the dish without any etiquette. It is truly repulsive to imagine we have to share a dining room with a creature like that."
Her husband simply nodded in agreement, a napkin covering his mouth as if suppressing a nausea that hadn't even risen yet. "That is just how beastfolk are. They have no concept of etiquette. It's a shame a restaurant this luxurious allows them entry just because they are brought by someone wealthy."
Not long after, the replacement waiter arrived with hurried but extremely cautious steps, terrified of making even the slightest mistake in front of Elara. He carried a large silver tray, from which hot steam billowed, carrying an appetizing aroma.
"Please enjoy your meal, Sir, Madam..." the waiter said with a trembling voice, placing the plates before the guests with swift movements before retreating in an orderly fashion.
Before Wolvin sat a steak of the finest quality the inn's kitchen could offer. The meat was grilled to perfection, its surface a perfect brown with artistic grill marks, while the aroma of spices wafted strongly from it.
For anyone hungry, the dish was paradise. For Wolvin, it was a test.
Wolvin's nose twitched slightly. The savory scent tickled his keen sense of smell. His stomach rumbled, demanding to be filled. However, his body remained still, frozen in his chair.
He could feel thousands of invisible needles pricking his skin. Cynical stares waiting for him to fail. Stares hoping he would humiliate himself in that restaurant.
Don't make a mistake! Wolvin thought, gripping his own knees under the table.