Juniper adjusted her grip beneath the long iron skewer, bracing her shoulder properly as Panette steadied the opposite end with practiced ease. The metal radiated heat through her sleeves, and the weight alone told her how much meat had been threaded along its length. Fat hissed softly where it escaped the thin stretch of bull's stomach wrapped around the slabs, the casing designed to trap every rendered drop until the very last moment.
The scent filled the room immediately, rich and savory with layers of seasoning that suggested thought rather than extravagance. Juniper inhaled despite herself, recognizing the deliberate balance of salt, herbs, and heat that spoke of cooking done by necessity rather than indulgence. Panette guided their steps carefully between the hearth and the long table, her movements smooth and confident, as though navigating tight spaces with hot iron was simply another daily task.
Blanche had already prepared the table, laying wide banana leaves across the wood with deliberate precision. The leaves overlapped slightly, forming a natural barrier to catch juices and grease without waste. Their green surfaces gleamed faintly under the hearthlight, still fresh enough to carry a subtle vegetal scent beneath the heavier aroma of meat.
When the skewer was finally lowered into place, Blanche stepped forward with a knife already in hand. She cut cleanly through the stretched casing, slicing the intestine string that secured the slabs with careful efficiency. The stomach split open, releasing a rush of steam and glistening fat that spilled across the banana leaves like liquid gold. Several of the boys made appreciative sounds despite themselves, and Singe had to physically restrain his hands from reaching forward too soon.
"I brought extra," Juniper said calmly, as though she had not just revealed enough marbled cuts to cause a panic in the servant wing of her dormitory. "There were seven of you listed during orientation, and people who rely on their hands rarely contain one stomach."
Juniper stared at the spread, her mind briefly calculating how many rules had just been bent, ignored, or outright violated. "The servants in my dormitory will absolutely notice this," she said after a moment, her tone wavering between awe and dread. "They may accuse me of theft, and I may have to sleep outdoors."
Blanche considered this with the seriousness of someone evaluating weather conditions. "Then we will leave you a blanket," she replied simply.
Panette snorted laughter, leaning closer to Juniper as they eased the skewer aside to cool. "You worry too much," she said cheerfully. "Worst case scenario, we hide you behind the empty wine racks."
Juniper glanced around the room, suddenly aware of how naturally the space functioned despite its improvised appearance. The baked sweet potatoes were already stacked high in a woven basket, their skins split and salted generously. A massive pot of onion stew simmered near the hearth, its surface rippling slowly with heat. Five loaves of fresh bread sat torn and ready, accompanied by bowls of herb and floral butter that had clearly been whipped in a hurry but with care.
Juniper turned back toward Panette, her expression softening. "I will help clean afterward," she said earnestly. "Everything. Dishes, floors, whatever needs doing."
Panette's eyes glittered with mischief as she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I saw you arrive on horseback," she said lightly. "I would greatly appreciate its flanks."
The words landed like a dropped plate.
Juniper froze mid-motion, her brain refusing to process the sentence properly. Blanche stopped slicing bread, her knife hovering dangerously close to her fingers. For a heartbeat, the room held its breath. Then Panette burst into laughter so sudden and intense that she had to brace herself against the table to remain upright. Her shoulders shook violently, and her face flushed with barely contained amusement.
Juniper stared at her, disbelief slowly giving way to reluctant understanding. "You are deeply unwell, Sister," Juniper said flatly, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a faint smile.
Panette wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "You should have seen your face," she replied, straightening with effort. "Absolutely priceless."
Blanche exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "As long as you get along," she said with long-suffering fondness, "I will tolerate this behavior."
They finally gathered around the table, hands washed and faces cleaned, abandoning the last remnants of formality. Nobody waited for utensils. Juniper noticed this and chose not to comment, though she was quietly pleased. She preferred eating with her hands, a habit she would never admit aloud near François or her parents, who would have regarded it as a personal failure of upbringing. She lifted one of the wooden bowls, pausing as she inspected the carving. The grain was sealed properly, the edges smoothed, the interior treated and dried with care. This was not hurried craftsmanship.
"These are new," Juniper observed thoughtfully. "And very well made."
Bariq, seated beside her, stiffened slightly, his good eye flicking toward her face for any hint of criticism. Even Blanche glanced over, her chewing slowing. Juniper shook her head gently. "They are excellent," she continued. "I missed eating from wooden bowls. They remind me of small camping trips near home. My knight's stew always tasted deeper after a season of use."
Singe's face lit up instantly, crumbs and butter clinging to his nose and mouth. "Aurore made them!" he announced proudly. Juniper turned toward Aurore, who paused mid-bite, clearly unaccustomed to being discussed while present. His rough hands cradled his bowl carefully, fingers shaped more for tools than tableware.
She nodded once, approvingly. "Near perfect," she said simply.
Cerise echoed the sentiment without looking up. "He manages the household well. Quietly. Unlike someone."
His gaze slid toward Singe.
"A house full of people should never be silent," Singe shot back immediately. "Otherwise it becomes haunted!"
Blanche and Panette exchanged fond smiles, nodding in agreement.
Juniper slurped her soup thoughtfully, choosing not to defend Cerise when he glanced at her for support. Bariq stared at her with open curiosity before returning to his own bowl. Espoir sat pressed beside Cerise, barely touching his food, shoulders tense. Cerise noticed movement beneath the table as a small flower slowly bloomed, settling gently into an empty bowl. Cerise sighed quietly, grateful for the distraction.
"The butter was turned, and made by Espoir's hands," Cerise offered casually.
Espoir's shoulders trembled instantly.
"The quality, it could be sold," Aurore said evenly, his tone thoughtful rather than teasing.
Singe nearly choked outright at his own enthusiasm. "I would bathe in it," he declared dramatically, wiping butter across his mouth, "if the stables afforded us a goat and a private trough!" The girls burst into giggles as Singe smeared another thick layer across his bread like garish lipstick, smacking his lips with theatrical approval, and kissing the buttered slice lovingly.
Conversation loosened after that, stories spilling between bites and gestures as naturally as breath. Cerise spoke first, his tone casual but precise, recounting how he lost a bandit group by abandoning the road entirely and trusting the forest canopy. He described the way branches bent under his weight, how leaves concealed depth and danger, and how he nearly plunged into a tiger trap hidden beneath moss and rotting foliage.
"They called me a damn monkey," he added dryly, as though quoting an inconvenience rather than an insult.
Bariq groaned loudly, leaning back as if reliving the moment physically. "I fell for the old woman near the edge of the path scam," he admitted without pride. The table reacted in unison, groans and sharp inhales overlapping, even Aurore crossing his arms with unmistakable disapproval.
"They mentioned my blind eye before looking at my face," Bariq continued, his voice tightening. "That is when I knew I had been marked already." He described jumping into the rapids without hesitation, the shock of cold stealing breath instantly, and how he used wind magic to steer himself toward shore while burning precious mana just to keep his core temperature stable. "The water here is too frigid," he added, shuddering slightly. "Even in summer."
Blanche spoke next, folding her napkin neatly as she did. Her voice remained calm, almost instructional. "I encountered a small group of bandits three days from the capital," she said. "They requested healing in exchange for my safe passage, and I accepted the terms."
Singe blinked slowly. "And then?"
"Unfortunately, they attempted to attack anyway," Blanche replied serenely. "My water magic is currently only strong enough to sever through all bones. I still have significant room to improve my mana control." The room went quiet in a way that carried weight rather than fear. Nobody asked further questions.
Aurore cleared his throat softly, drawing attention without raising his voice. "I encountered a demon boar," he said.
The room suddenly leaned in as one, even Singe restraining himself from interrupting. Aurore spoke without embellishment, but the detail itself carried gravity. He described days without food, counting dehydrated meat strips until none remained, and the unease of encountering a demonic beast in a valley devoid of vegetation or prey.
"It was starving," he explained evenly. "That made it reckless and desperate."
He described using his cloak deliberately, dragging it through dust to provoke the creature, calculating distance by footfall and breath. When it charged, he waited until its mouth opened fully before unleashing fire directly inside, jumping aside as the heat ignited it from within. The beast screamed, staggered, and still charged again.
"I had little mana left," Aurore continued. "And no certainty I would recover if I failed."
He explained how he broke flint from his pockets mid-motion, fragmenting it with practiced force, launching the shards with fire toward the creature's eyes and nostrils as it bore down on him again. He admitted stressing his ankle in the dodge, the pain sharp but secondary.
"I expected it to finish me," he said quietly. Instead, the ground erupted. Aurore described the sound first, wood splitting stone, followed by thick thorned vines surging from beneath the path itself. They skewered the demon boar in a violent, precise motion, tearing it apart as if guided by intent rather than chance.
"It was impressive," Aurore said simply. "We later butchered the boar's meat, preserved what was needed, and grilled its belly that night." Gasps rippled around the table.
Cerise leaned toward Espoir, his voice gentle. "He said you helped him find the correct path."
Espoir nodded faintly, eyes wide, and Cerise spoke for him again, translating the whisper without mockery. "He said it was repayment for kindness."
Aurore hesitated, then spoke again as though the detail had only just occurred to him. "For five days," he said evenly, "I did not realize he was following me." Several heads turned sharply toward Espoir, who stiffened as though caught doing something improper rather than quietly heroic.
"I noticed small inconsistencies," Aurore continued, folding his arms loosely. "Shelters woven from branches appeared each night where I camped, always positioned against the wind. The ground beneath them was packed flat, as if prepared intentionally." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "And whenever I boiled water, it purified itself. There was always a faint scent of mint, no matter the source."
The table went silent for exactly one heartbeat before the reaction exploded.
"That is too much, my heart does not stop swelling!" Panette declared immediately, already on her feet.
"You were protecting him the entire time, despite the journey terrifying you," Blanche said softly, her voice full of wonder.
Juniper felt something warm bloom behind her ribs as realization settled. Espoir had not been hiding out of fear alone, but staying close enough to help, close enough to care, without ever demanding acknowledgment. The girls closed in on Espoir almost instantly, voices overlapping with praise and amazement, hands reaching to squeeze Espoir's arms, shoulders, and hands far too enthusiastically. Panette praised his bravery in a dramatic rush. Blanche told him gently that such devotion was rare. Juniper added that the forest itself must have trusted him to act so heroically. Espoir's breathing became shallow and uneven, his hands fluttering uselessly as though he could not decide where to place them. His face burned red, eyes wide with panic and embarrassment, lips parting without sound.
Cerise reacted before anyone else noticed the danger.
He stepped forward smoothly and caught Espoir as his knees buckled, one arm bracing his back while the other steadied his shoulders. Espoir went limp with a soft exhale, consciousness slipping away entirely.
"He has fainted.We should let him rest," Cerise said calmly, already adjusting his grip to lift him properly.
There was a brief scramble of concern before laughter followed, not cruel but fond, easing the tension that had snapped too tightly. Singe muttered something about heroes fainting being unfairly endearing, but held irony. Bariq snorted and suggested Espoir needed more soup and fewer compliments. Cleanup followed naturally after that, hands moving without instruction as plates were gathered and bowls stacked. Benches scraped softly against stone as people shifted, voices lighter now, the weight of the stories settling into something shared rather than heavy.
Cerise carried Espoir carefully toward their room, pausing only to accept a blanket Blanche draped over Espoir's middle. When Cerise returned, he joined the others in clearing the table as though nothing unusual had happened. When the night finally deepened and the warmth of the hearth faded into embers, Juniper excused herself quietly. She slipped back across the campus paths and climbed through her dormitory window with practiced ease, avoiding lantern light and watchful eyes alike. She washed her face, changed into her nightgown, and lay back against the thin mattress, exhaustion settling pleasantly into her bones. Her thoughts were uncharacteristically still, her heart full in a way she had not expected so soon.
Perhaps the academy would be bearable after all.