The Storm Clan's dining hall was buzzing with life, the clamor of warriors and apprentices blending with the aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted meat, and herbed soup wafting through the air.

Wooden tables were packed—some filled with rowdy groups laughing and swapping stories, others with people eating quietly, focused on their plates.

Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating the polished stone floor and giving the place a warm vibe despite the chaos.

Charles walked beside Elyse, the girl in the black tunic with brown stripes, his stomach growling with hunger.

'Finally, some food,' he thought, a faint smile on his face.

But as he crossed the threshold to the serving line, the cooks' glares from behind the counter stopped him cold.

There were three of them, all in stained aprons with hard expressions.

Charles recognized them instantly—they were the same ones who'd always treated him like garbage when he wore the white servant's tunic.

Back then, they'd made him wait at the end of the line, mocking his low rank and lack of talent.

Now, seeing him in the black Warrior tunic with red stripes, their faces twisted into a mix of surprise and disdain.

The burly one with a scruffy beard spoke first.

"Well, look who thinks he's hot stuff now," the cook said, crossing his arms with a sarcastic laugh. "Where'd you get that tunic, Cole? Swipe it from the laundry room? 'Cause I ain't buying that a nobody like you's a Warrior."

Charles felt a stab of irritation but kept his cool.

He'd dealt with these jerks before and wasn't about to let them get under his skin so easily.

"Forget already? I ate here a few days ago," he said, his tone calm but firm. "You didn't make a fuss then. What's the deal now? Run out of gossip or something?"

The second cook, a scrawny guy with greasy hair, let out a snicker.

"You think we're gonna buy that?" he shot back, pointing at Charles's tunic. "That tunic doesn't suit you, Cole. You're a servant, not a Warrior. Get outta here before we call someone to drag you out."

Charles clenched his fists, anger rising in his chest.

'These idiots,' he thought.

He was sick of being treated like he was nothing, especially after everything he'd been through in the arena.

But before he could fire back, Elyse stepped forward, arms crossed, her glare sharp enough to cut through the air.

"What the hell's going on here?" she asked, her voice dripping with authority. "Why are you treating a Warrior like this?"

The cooks fell silent for a second, clearly thrown off by her intervention.

The scruffy-bearded one eyed Elyse's tunic, noting the brown stripes marking her Warrior rank, same as Charles's red ones.

He swallowed hard but tried to hold his ground.

"Easy, miss," he said, forcing a tight smile. "Just clearing out a fraud from the line. This guy's no Warrior. Everyone knows Cole's a nobody."

Elyse raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and contempt.

"A fraud?" she repeated, her tone laced with scorn. "What authority do you have to decide who's a Warrior and who isn't? Far as I can see, he's wearing the same tunic as me. Want me to call someone from the council to confirm it, or are you gonna do your job and serve us already?"

The air grew tense.

The cooks exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable.

Behind Charles and Elyse, the line of people waiting to eat started murmuring—some curious, others impatient.

The scrawny cook grunted but finally raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said, his politeness so fake it was almost laughable. "What do you want to eat, then?"

Charles grinned, savoring the small victory.

"Roasted meat, bread, and some of that herbed soup that smells so good," he said, his tone calm but with a hint of defiance. "And don't forget to serve my friend here."

Elyse nodded, arms still crossed.

"Same," she said, not breaking eye contact with the cooks.

The scruffy-bearded cook muttered something under his breath but turned and started dishing out the food.

Minutes later, they handed over two trays piled with generous portions of juicy, steaming roasted meat, thick slices of crusty bread, and bowls of herbed soup with an aroma that made Charles's stomach growl louder.

The cooks' angry glares didn't let up, but Charles ignored them as he took his tray and followed Elyse to a table near the window.

As they sat, Elyse looked at him with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

"Why the hell did they talk to you like that?" she asked, slicing a piece of meat with her knife. "It's like they hate your guts. What'd you do to them?"

Charles sighed, spearing a chunk of meat with his fork.

"Didn't do anything," he said, his tone a mix of weariness and frustration. "I used to be a servant, stuck in a white tunic, and these guys always treated me like dirt. Mocked me, made me wait till the end to eat, that kind of thing. Guess they can't handle seeing me in this tunic now."

He paused, glancing at his tray.

"Haven't you heard the rumors about me?"

Elyse frowned, clearly surprised.

"Rumors? Nah, not really," she said, shrugging. "I spend most of my time in the Warriors' training area. Don't get caught up in clan gossip. What rumors?"

Charles laughed, a bit surprised by her answer.

"Wow, you're one of the few who's out of the loop," he said, his tone playful. "Let's just say after my fight in the arena yesterday, people are talking. Some think I cheated, others say I got lucky. Then there's my cousin Kain, who's probably telling everyone I'm using witchcraft or some nonsense."

Elyse's eyebrows shot up, intrigued.

"Witchcraft? Seriously?" she said, taking a sip of her soup. "Sounds like someone's jealous. But, hey, if you fought in the arena and won, I don't see why they're treating you like you don't belong."

Charles shrugged, cutting a piece of bread.

"It's complicated," he said. "I've always been the guy everyone ignored, and now that I'm climbing the ranks, they don't know how to deal with it. But, changing the subject, what do you do around here? I heard there's a spot in the Warriors' training area that serves beer. Why not eat there?"

Elyse let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, trust me, I've tried the food there," she said, her tone dripping with disgust. "It's awful. The meat's always dry, the bread's like it's a week old, and the beer… well, let's just say it tastes more like dirty dishwater than beer. I'd rather come here, even if it means dealing with grumpy cooks."

Charles burst out laughing, nearly choking on a piece of meat.

"Dirty dishwater?" he repeatedburly one repeated, still chuckling. "That's rough. No wonder you're here. The food in this dining hall's not bad, even if the cooks are jerks."

Elyse grinned, clearly amused.

"Yeah, well, at least you can get a decent meal here," she said, gesturing to her plate. "And the company's not too bad either." She winked, making Charles laugh again, though he felt a slight flush in his cheeks.

"By the way," Charles said, leaning forward. "I don't remember if you told me already, but what's your name? I know you mentioned your friend invited me to the hunt, but I don't think you said who you are."

Elyse blinked, clearly surprised, then laughed.

"Seriously, you forgot?" she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I'm Elyse. Nice to officially meet you, Rian. And yeah, my friend's the one obsessed with getting you to hunt with us. But don't worry, I won't push you on that now. I can see you're in rough shape."

Charles smiled, grateful for her laid-back attitude.

"Thanks, Elyse," he said, taking a sip of his soup. "And don't worry, maybe when I'm less bandaged up, I'll join you for that hunt. But for now, I just want to eat and chill."

Elyse nodded, slicing another piece of meat.

"Fair enough," she said. "But don't think you're off the hook that easily. My friend won't quit until she sees you out in the woods with us."

Charles laughed, feeling a spark of relief.

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