Chapter 90 - Dinner at the Deymars

Etzel survived the Menagerie.

He survived an A-Rank Gravehound.

He survived a B-Rank Devourer.

Dinner was worse.

“You reached Level Seventeen?”

Neris Deymar stood on her chair.

Etzel pointed at the chair.

“Sit.”

“You don’t get to say that.”

“I’m older.”

“You got bitten by a monster because you stood too close to its mouth.”

“That is an unfairly simplified version of events.”

Across the table, DK lowered his eyes to his plate.

Etzel looked at him.

“Do not.”

“I said nothing.”

“You’re laughing internally.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Veydan cut another piece of roasted meat.

“Was the mouth attached to an A-Rank creature?”

Etzel hesitated.

Ismera stopped serving potatoes.

That was the dangerous silence.

“Yes.”

Neris sat down immediately.

Coward.

Ismera looked at her son.

“Shirt.”

Etzel blinked.

“We have guests.”

Sivenne raised a hand.

“I support this.”

Maerin did not look up from her food.

“So do I.”

Tessa looked apologetic.

“I already saw the wound.”

Etzel stared at her.

“Traitor.”

“You refused to rest.”

“I rested.”

“You sat down for four minutes.”

“Four excellent minutes.”

Ismera pointed toward the hallway.

“After dinner.”

Etzel surrendered.

This was why he preferred monsters.

The table was too full.

That was the point.

Veydan.

Ismera.

Neris.

Etzel.

DK.

Saeva, who had been given a small bowl despite insisting she did not need one.

Sivenne.

Maerin.

Tessa.

Rusk had refused the invitation because, in his words, he had “already survived enough Deymar operations this week.”

Etzel respected him more for it.

The first twenty minutes were mostly noise.

Neris interrogated Sivenne about her Rank assessment.

Sivenne exaggerated at least three parts.

Maerin corrected four.

Tessa tried not to laugh.

Saeva stole food from DK’s plate.

DK caught her hand without looking.

She tried the other hand.

He caught that too.

Etzel watched.

“Your ancient combat instincts have finally found their purpose.”

DK released Saeva.

“She is predictable.”

Saeva pointed at him.

“Old.”

Neris nearly choked laughing.

DK looked at Etzel.

“You did this.”

“I created culture.”

Veydan smiled into his drink.

For a few minutes, nobody talked about the Pale Court.

Nobody talked about Varethis.

Nobody talked about the Gardener.

Nobody talked about the sentence carved into a place that should not have known the title of Etzel’s future problems.

The last rule of death has not been written yet.

That helped.

The world could survive one meal without explaining itself.

Then Sivenne put down her fork.

“So.”

Etzel sighed.

“There it is.”

“I waited.”

“Twenty-three minutes.”

“I am growing.”

Maerin looked at Etzel.

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“The Pale Court.”

Veydan’s expression sharpened.

He knew enough now.

Not everything.

Etzel still did not unload cosmic speculation onto his family because he happened to possess it.

But they knew he was a Hunter.

They knew DK and Saeva were bound to his ability.

They knew his work had become more dangerous than forest hunting.

And they knew the Menagerie had targeted summons.

Etzel gave them the simple version.

“The Menagerie sold information.”

“About you?” Ismera asked.

“About summoners in general.”

DK’s gaze moved to him.

Etzel corrected.

“And probably me specifically now.”

Neris stabbed a potato.

“I hate them.”

“Healthy response.”

“Can I stab them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You are twelve.”

“That is age discrimination.”

Veydan rubbed his forehead.

Etzel smiled.

Then Maerin slid a printed page across the table.

Not classified.

Renn had allowed that much.

A purchase ledger.

Three entries.

No buyer names except one repeated mark.

PALE COURT.

Sivenne tapped the page.

“They bought locations.”

“Summoners,” Tessa said.

“Three.”

Etzel nodded.

“One dead before the Menagerie raid. One missing. Third is alive.”

“Who?”

“Registered Hunter. Support-type summoner. Lives outside the city.”

“Protected?”

“Authority team is moving her tonight.”

Sivenne leaned back.

“So why are we discussing it?”

“Because the Court did not buy her home address.”

Maerin finished for him.

“They bought her route.”

Silence.

Veydan understood first.

“Transport ambush.”

Etzel nodded.

“The Menagerie data was three months old. The route should be obsolete.”

“But?” Ismera asked.

“The same route was requested again yesterday.”

Neris frowned.

“The Menagerie was already being raided yesterday.”

Right.

The Court had another source.

Or someone inside the Authority.

Etzel did not like either.

Sivenne smiled.

“Now dinner is interesting.”

Ismera looked at her.

“It was interesting before.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sivenne sat straighter.

Etzel nearly laughed.

Nobody resisted Ismera for long.

Maerin studied the ledger.

“If the route is compromised, change it.”

“That’s what Renn suggested.”

“And?”

“The target refused.”

Tessa frowned.

“Why?”

Etzel looked at her.

“Because her summons are not combat summons.”

That did not answer it.

He continued.

“They’re evacuation summons.”

Maerin understood.

“She transports people.”

“During emergencies.”

The missing Hunter’s route ran past three settlements that had poor emergency access.

If the Authority visibly rerouted her under heavy protection, anyone watching would know the Menagerie data had been exposed.

The Court would disappear.

If they used the old route—

bait.

Veydan put down his fork.

“You are not the bait.”

Etzel smiled.

“Technically—”

“Etzel.”

“No.”

Veydan waited.

Etzel stopped.

He had learned that tone from Ismera.

Disturbing household synergy.

“The Hunter will travel in an empty transport vehicle,” Etzel said. “She won’t be inside. Neither will civilians. Authority will duplicate the usual signature. We follow at distance.”

Veydan relaxed slightly.

“Better.”

“Renn’s plan.”

“Much better.”

Etzel looked wounded.

DK nodded.

“Correct.”

“You live here too.”

“I know.”

“That was betrayal.”

“It was survival.”

Dinner continued.

The conversation moved.

He remembered that.

Sivenne’s Rank assessment had not changed her official Rank.

C remained C.

But her Last Answer had developed a new response pattern against repeated directional pressure.

Maerin’s Claimed Ground still felt strange after Kestrel Sink.

Not stronger.

More precise.

She could distinguish possession from definition more clearly now, though she refused to test it on ancient structures again.

That helped.

Tessa was the quietest.

Etzel noticed.

He waited until Neris dragged Sivenne into an argument about whether a Hunter could beat a tank.

Then he looked at Tessa.

“What?”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You’re thinking loudly.”

Renn had used that phrase on him.

He liked it.

Tessa looked at her hands.

“My evaluation is next week.”

C-Rank.

There it was.

“You’re worried.”

“I’m D-Rank.”

“Yes.”

“Everyone keeps saying I’m close.”

“Yes.”

“What if I’m not?”

Etzel considered joking.

Didn’t.

“You held people together inside a dungeon that should have killed us.”

Tessa looked up.

“You carried consequences your ability was never supposed to carry cleanly.”

“That nearly killed me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re bad at encouragement.”

“I’m not finished.”

She waited.

“You also learned when not to take a consequence.”

That mattered more.

Bearer of Consequence could become suicidal if Tessa treated every wound as hers to carry.

Etzel had seen that instinct in DK too.

Different mechanics.

Same danger.

“You’re stronger because you stopped trying to save everyone by hurting yourself.”

Tessa went quiet.

DK heard.

Of course he did.

He did not comment.

That helped.

Etzel pointed at her plate.

“Also you’re losing a fight with dinner.”

Tessa smiled.

“There he is.”

“Emotional competence exhausted.”

After the meal, Ismera examined Etzel’s wounds.

No negotiation.

DK was examined too.

More resistance.

Same outcome.

Saeva watched from the doorway and laughed every time Ismera told either of them to stop moving.

Neris brought bandages.

Veydan checked DK’s damaged armor after.

Not with magic.

Tools.

Measurements.

The Gravehound had crushed one shoulder articulation.

Veydan turned the plate over.

“This repair is wrong.”

DK looked offended.

“Authority armorer.”

“Still wrong.”

Etzel leaned against the workshop door.

“Fight.”

Neither looked at him.

Veydan pointed at a stress line.

“They restored the plate. They didn’t restore how the joint transfers load.”

DK crouched beside him.

“What would you change?”

That became twenty minutes.

Metal.

Movement.

Old-world armor logic.

Modern materials.

Core-assisted reinforcement.

Etzel watched.

Change.

Not Level.

Not System message.

Still change.

DK learned something.

Veydan learned something.

The armor would improve because two people from different worlds actually talked.

Exactly how it should work.

Then Etzel’s communicator vibrated.

Renn.

He answered.

“Please tell me the ambush was cancelled.”

“No.”

“Worth trying.”

“The decoy transport leaves in forty minutes.”

Etzel straightened.

Dinner ended.

The room changed with him.

Sivenne stood.

Maerin did too.

Tessa reached for her coat.

Etzel looked at her.

“Your evaluation is next week.”

“And?”

“And tonight is supposed to be observation.”

Tessa stared.

“You are Level Seventeen.”

“Unrelated.”

“You fought an A-Rank yesterday.”

“Bad example.”

Sivenne grinned.

“I vote she comes.”

“You don’t vote.”

“I vote twice.”

Maerin ignored both of them.

“What team did Renn authorize?”

Etzel checked.

Then looked again.

He smiled.

“Us.”

Sivenne’s grin widened.

“All of us?”

“Etzel, DK, Saeva, Sivenne, Maerin, Tessa. Rusk attached. Authority interception team in reserve.”

Tessa put on her coat.

“Observation.”

Etzel sighed.

“Fine.”

Neris pointed at him.

“Don’t get bitten.”

“No promises.”

Ismera looked at him.

Etzel corrected immediately.

“I will make a sincere effort not to be bitten.”

“Better.”

DK picked up his Greatblade.

Veydan stopped him.

“One moment.”

He tightened the temporary shoulder brace he had built.

Not pretty.

Functional.

DK moved the arm.

Paused.

Again.

The articulation was smoother.

He looked at Veydan.

“Thank you.”

Veydan nodded.

“Bring it back attached.”

DK smiled.

“I will try.”

They left.

Outside, the night was cool.

Saeva landed on Etzel’s shoulder.

“Dinner good.”

“Yes.”

“Fight now?”

“Probably.”

She smiled.

Etzel looked back at the house.

Warm windows.

Family inside.

Then toward the dark road.

Two lives.

He was getting better at carrying both.

The System did not reward him.

That helped.

Some things did not need it.

Forty minutes later, the decoy transport rolled onto the compromised route.

Etzel’s team followed through the tree line.

No lights.

No conversation.

At kilometer marker nineteen, the transport stopped.

Not because of an attack.

Because someone had placed a child in the road.

Etzel’s blood went cold.

The girl stood barefoot beneath the headlights.

Maybe ten.

Hands at her sides.

No visible weapon.

No monster features.

Sivenne whispered:

“That’s not bait.”

Tessa’s voice changed.

“She’s injured.”

Etzel saw blood on the girl’s sleeve.

The transport driver stayed inside.

Right.

The mess in front of them had not moved just because they had named part of it. Etzel did not let the new information become a prophecy. Names had weight; old titles had more. That did not make them instructions. He checked at Orsik, not at the history surrounding him, and deliberately used the name the man had chosen to pattern to now. The distinction mattered. Whatever the Pale Court, the Ninth Crown, or the Gardener believed they owned, the person standing beside Etzel was not an artifact waiting for the correct label. Etzel filed the moment under 'Dinner at the Deymars' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

They argued about the next step for several minutes, which Etzel considered healthy. Sivenne wanted approach. Maerin wanted another layer of verification. Orsik wanted the option that exposed Etzel to the least unnecessary risk, a category Etzel continued to find suspiciously broad. Saeva contributed by stealing his chair for no tactical reason. The disagreement did not fracture the group. It sharpened the plan. Etzel trusted that more than instant agreement. Etzel filed the moment under 'Dinner at the Deymars' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

When the room finally quieted, Etzel noticed how tired everyone checked. Not defeated. Tired. There was a difference, and he had learned not to romanticize it. He sent people to eat, sleep, replace damaged gear, or simply stand somewhere that did not contain ancient soul politics. Orsik remained. Of course he did. Etzel sighed. 'You know that order included dramatic dead knights.' 'I am not dramatic.' Etzel stared at him. Orsik stared back. 'That may be the least accurate thing you remember.' Etzel filed the moment under 'Dinner at the Deymars' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

Etzel did not let the new information become a prophecy. Names had weight; old titles had more. That did not make them instructions. He checked at Orsik, not at the history surrounding him, and deliberately used the name the man had chosen to pattern to now. The distinction mattered. Whatever the Pale Court, the Ninth Crown, or the Gardener believed they owned, the person standing beside Etzel was not an artifact waiting for the correct label. Etzel filed the moment under 'Dinner at the Deymars' only because every disaster eventually needed a name.

Etzel raised one hand.

Nobody moved.

The girl looked directly toward the dark tree line.

Toward Etzel.

Then she spoke.

Too far away to hear normally.

Yet every member of the team heard her.

“Etzel Deymar.”

The Pale Court had not come for the summoner.

They had come for him.