Chapter 633: A Small Supper

Hajin took his place at the mess table and noticed his companions set a supper bowl beside his seat.

In the center of the mess pavilion, the cooks laid out a hearty supper of braised venison and roasted tubers.

Hajin sat down on a folding seat, noticing that his stew bowl was deliberately positioned on his right side.

Ever since his spiritual shoulder strain during the tri-heart trial, the household staff made a quiet point of accommodating his reach.

"I see the kitchen brigade is still treating my left arm like antique porcelain," he remarked with a chuckle.

"Tessa gave strict orders to the field cooks before we marched," Juna answered, sitting beside him with her polearm propped against the boards.

"She said if you strain your shoulder reaching across the table for salted butter, we are all grounded."

"Salted butter is a dangerous hazard," Ferra added from across the board, tearing into a loaf of rye bread.

"A true warrior never overextends their reach when a freshly baked pastry is within arm’s length!"

Loccy trotted over, setting down a steaming plate of roasted honey potatoes right in front of the summoner.

"Eat more potatoes, summoner," she urged, piling three large tubers onto his plate with an affectionate grin.

"Potatoes build powerful shoulders, and we need you lifting giant artifacts again tomorrow morning!"

"If I eat all three of those, I will be rolling into battle instead of running," he laughed.

Vella reached across the bench, placing her fingers against his neck to monitor his spiritual meridians.

"Your energy circulation is completely balanced," the healer reported with satisfaction, pulling her hand back.

"The residual strain from the tri-heart trial has cleared, but keep your posture steady during tonight’s rest."

"Doctor’s orders," he smiled, taking an appreciative spoonful of the rich venison stew.

The entire table erupted into laughter, turning what could have been a somber physical limitation into a cheerful household joke.

A camp courier stepped into the pavilion, carrying an ordinary canvas mail pouch slung over his shoulder.

"Dispatch pouch from the Sixth District, summoner," the courier announced, presenting a sealed parchment envelope.

"Brought by the regular afternoon supply wagon from the municipal post."

Hajin took the envelope and broke the wax seal, sliding out a folded piece of drawing paper.

On the parchment was a colorful sketch of the household courtyard, drawn in bold charcoal and vegetable dye.

A small figure stood beside the garden pond, holding a wooden practice sword while feeding three round ducks.

Underneath the drawing, neatly written block letters asked a straightforward, practical question in Nyra’s careful hand.

"Did you find the mountain ducks yet, and will you be home before the honey plums ripen on the arbor?"

He smiled warmly, holding the drawing toward the lantern light so Juna and Ferra could admire the sketch.

"No cryptic omens, no apocalyptic prophecies... just asking about ducks and honey plums," he said softly.

"Nyra has her priorities completely straight," Juna commented with a fond smile, her wolf ears tilting affectionately. ℴℴ𝘮

"The plums on the home arbor will turn sweet in less than two weeks... we have to finish this campaign on schedule."

"We will be home in time for the harvest," Didi added, adjusting the silver hairpins in her braided hair.

"Sava already prepared the preserving jars, so nobody is allowed to be late for dessert."

Across the table, Rumi and Nari unrolled their reconnaissance map, arguing vehemently over an ink notation near the cisterns.

"I am telling you, that path should be labeled the Lynx Leap!" the elder twin insisted, tapping her finger on the contour lines.

"Nobody calls a muddy drainage sluice the Lynx Leap," Nari retorted, swatting her sister’s hand away with her quill.

"It is an auxiliary drainage culvert... calling it a majestic leap is pure cat delusion!"

"It was a very majestic leap when I bounded across it yesterday!"

"You almost slipped on wet moss and fell face-first into an axle grease container!"

"That was a tactical recovery roll, sister, and you know it!"

Ferra leaned over the map, chewing on a roasted carrot as she inspected their contested notations with an expert eye.

"Technically, the gradient exceeds twelve percent," the smith pointed out, tapping the elevation markers with her stylus.

"Which makes it a pressurized spillway rather than an ordinary drainage culvert."

"So neither of you gets to name it after cats... it is officially the Eastern Sluice Flue."

Both twins slumped against the board in exaggerated dismay, puffing out their cheeks in synchronized disappointment.

"You ruin all our fun, Ferra," Rumi sighed, resting her chin on her crossed arms.

"I build machines that do not collapse, little cat," the smith grinned, tossing her an apple.

"Fun comes after the blueprints are verified."

Hajin pulled a charcoal pencil from his pocket, turning Nyra’s letter over to write a brief, reassuring reply on the back.

"No mountain ducks in the canyon, but we found plenty of noisy mountain goats," his note read with clean strokes.

"We will be home around the breakfast table before the first honey plum drops from the vine."

He folded the letter, stamped it with his personal seal, and handed it back to the courier for tomorrow’s outbound post.

The courier bowed respectfully, stowing the sealed response inside his waterproof satchel before slipping out into the dusk.

Around the mess table, the conversation drifted comfortably toward the routine repairs and mundane logistics of the forward encampment.

Ferra described the replacement cotter pins she hammered out for the wagon trains during the quiet midday lull.

Loccy demonstrated how she tightened the harness buckles on the supply mules without snapping the brittle copper rivets.

"Those pack beasts know exactly when feeding time arrives," the girl chuckled, leaning back against the wooden support upright.

"One of the stubborn gray mares tried to chew the leather fringe right off my tunic while I unloaded the hay sacks."

"You probably smelled like sweet apples after raiding the pantry wagon," Juna observed with an amused shake of her head.

"I only took two bruised ones that were going to rot anyway," Loccy defended herself, puffing out her cheeks.

"Every apple saved is an act of noble battlefield conservation!"

Hajin listened to their lighthearted banter with a relaxed smile, feeling the quiet warmth of companionship ease the day’s fatigue.

"Sleep well tonight, everyone," he said, rising from the bench and stretching his arms as the night breeze entered the tent.

"Tomorrow morning, we strike their departing procession and seize the Incarnation’s deployment route."

The companions cleared their plates together, sharing a quiet, comfortable solidarity before retiring to their sleeping rolls.

In the dead of night, Taren slipped into Hajin’s tent, his voice low and urgent in the dim moonlight.

"Summoner," the swordsman whispered, waking him with a light touch to the shoulder.

"Our watch posts on the ridge just reported movement inside the cistern gorge."

"The rehearsal guards are striking their tents and preparing for a dawn departure toward the viaduct."

Hajin sat up immediately, his split-colored eyes clearing instantly of sleep as he reached for his twin blades.

"Then Juna gets her morning march," he stated with quiet, lethal confidence.

High above the quiet field camp, the celestial broadcast screen flickered with warm comments and glowing superchats.

[ Seoul_Tactician: "THAT DRAWING FROM NYRA! My heart just melted into a puddle, she is so precious!" ]

[ StarlightScholar: "Asking about honey plums instead of grim prophecy, she is living such a happy, safe childhood!" ]

[ IronVanguard: "The banter between the twins and Ferra over the drainage ditch name was comedy gold!" ]

[ HearthKeeper: "Juna heard the procession forming before dawn. Please get those people under cover!" ]

[ ShadowMage44: "Hajin’s household solidarity is the strongest shield in the entire stream!" ]

Outside the tent, the first faint light of dawn painted the eastern clouds in bruised shades of indigo and pale silver.

The brief respite was over, the enemy was on the move, and the decisive clash at the cisterns arrived at last.