Something… was wrong with Pacifica.

  Rebecca knew that much. Shouri didn’t say much about it last night, but after they got home, she was unusually quiet. It only got worse after she took a shower.

  She said she was just tired, but she was doing a piss poor job hiding it from her fellow stave bearer. They shared the same strong social sense after all. It wasn’t intentional, the otter was just being sloppy.

  Something was bothering her.

  Really bothering her.

  Rebecca worked with Taika to give up the coveted “Shouri’s body pillow” spot for the night to allow Pacifica to reap the full benefits of a direct etude. Thankfully even Taika realized something was amiss, so she quickly and quietly agreed to the arrangement.

  “Tired…” groaned the otter upon dawn’s early light reaching their humble little bedroom.

  “Did you not sleep well?” asked Shouri.

  “Mrrr… no…” she admitted quietly.

  “Sleep some more then, we’ll move to the office.”

  And that was that.

  Taika hadn’t attacked the office in terms of cleaning, so it worked out in all honesty. Shouri had done a decent job cleaning when he found spots, but he’d be the first to admit it wasn’t his primary reason for being in the office. That gave the industrious lunar fox plenty to scrub, which started with the baseboards. Shouri and Rebecca sat across from one another, Shouri on the guild’s laptop, and Rebecca watching a video on her tuner.

  “What time are we going to get moneybags?” asked Rebecca.

  “His flight comes in at one,” replied Shouri without missing a beat.

  9:43 AM read the clock at the top of her tuner’s screen. “Crap,” she groaned.

  “Yeeep,” agreed Shouri.

  Time passed slowly for the trio. Taika was a one-woman army against dirt and grime alike. By the time noon hit and Emily strolled through the door, it was like a totally different room.

  “Woah! This place cleans up crazy good!” exclaimed the princess.

  “Taika’s a miracle worker, what can I say?” Shouri said, his eyes still glued to his laptop display.

  “Good work! It looks great in here!” Emily praised the fox.

  Taika halted her cleaning. She had an oddly distant stare. “Davvero, non è un problema...” muttered the raven-haired fox, ducking down to hide in the guise of cleaning.

  Certainly an odd reaction to praise, Rebecca knew there was something more to Taika’s feelings on the matter. A sudden sense of dread fell upon the Renard; two of her friends were being cagey and weird right now - fantastic.

  Emily also noticed, but held her tongue – Shouri would address any problems with his trio, she knew as much. “What do you have going on today?” she asked.

  “Gonna get Klein, then probably take him out to hunt tonight. I want you to take Colette hunting in the fields this evening. Girl needs more proper experience. Don’t her let rely on Kaira’s ad-Lib to fight,” Shouri instructed.

  “Righto guild leader!” Emily saluted.

  “Drop the formalities, Ems,” groaned Shouri, only earning a playful giggle from his vice-guild master.

  “Oh my god,” said Rebecca suddenly.

  “What is it?” asked Shouri.

  “I really did memorize the way to get here.”

  The car sat in wait at the arrival terminal at Dalliva Airport, Rebecca behind the wheel as usual. They watched as Maestros and their Resonators left the terminal, getting in other cars and driving off. There were a few Resonators in uniform directing traffic – they were tall with sturdy legs. Many of them had thicker hair, with tall triangular ears poking out the top of their heads. The long-haired tail was the final piece of the puzzle that Rebecca needed.

  “Horses,” Rebecca spoke her observation.

  “Hm?” Shouri looked up from his tuner.

  “I just noticed they have horses directing traffic here,” noted the fox, pointing at one of the horse Resonators standing nearby.

  “Yeah, I think they’re usually traffic directors in most places where that’s needed. Their trait, Wild Hunt gives them great stamina, and depending on their attribute they get even better defenses,” he told her.

  “Crushing,” Rebecca observed, noting the musculature on the stallions.

  Shouri nodded in the affirmative. “They work great in jobs that require a lot of standing.”

  “I see,” Rebecca murmured. She watched them work for a bit longer before her thoughts snapped back to reality.

  “There he is,” Shouri spoke up.

  Sure enough, the man of the hour wandered out of the airport terminal. Naturally, given who Elijah was and the dinosaurian following him, they had a small entourage of adoring fans surrounding them only kept at bay by Zino’s threats.

  “Should we let him suffer?” asked Shouri.

  Rebecca considered her Maestro’s proposition for a moment, humming thoughtfully as she did so. “Flag him down, it’ll be annoying if they bring that crowd by the car,” she pointed out.

  “Damn it, you’re right.” Shouri rolled down the window. “KLEIN!” he shouted.

  The heir in question spotted his ride and broke free of the public’s adoration to pile into the car with Zino right behind.

  “Where’s your stuff?” Shouri asked as Rebecca pulled the car out before the crowd could surround them.

  “Good afternoon to you too, dear guildmaster,” greeted Elijah. “I’m having it shipped to our guild hall,” the man boasted.

  Shouri furrowed his brow, looking at the blond Maestro through the rearview mirror. “How much money do you even have?”

  There was a noticeable hesitation from the Klein heir. “I have enough,” he spoke evenly.

  “We’re broke,” Zino blurted.

  “Zino! Diplomacy!” hissed his Maestro.

  A positively evil grin rose on Shouri’s lips. “Why Mister Klein… it almost sounds like you’re at my mercy since you’ve been cut off from your pops.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Elijah smiled, though the quickly gathering sweat told the truth of his feelings. “Now guild master, I would like to offer the olive branch of friendship.”

  “Oh, you’re not talking your way out of this one Mister Klein.”

  Shouri and Rebecca’s laughter was deep and for the Klein heir, the most ominous sound he had ever heard.

  “It’s… quaint,” Elijah noted upon seeing the guild hall in person.

  “You picked the building, you don’t get to complain,” Shouri groused as he stepped out of the car.

  “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Elijah suppressed the sigh that built in his gut. Thankfully he succeeded in that willpower check. “Come Zino, let’s make the most of this.”

  Stepping out into the sunlight was a new experience for the Klein heir. Not the act itself, but the phase of his life he was entering. The first thing he noticed was the squish of the wet clay under his dress shoes, and how they immediately sunk slightly into the reddened soil.

  “Oh my.” The boy’s world continued to crumble, as did the shine of his shoes.

  “Hey, this ain’t half bad,” Zino spoke from the other side of the car. Upon inspection, the wild child was already in the dirt, having donned a pair of his signature dirt claws, now in red thanks to the local substrate.

  “You two are in the center room there, room three,” Shouri directed Elijah and Zino to their room.

  Upon opening the door, Elijah hummed in disappointment. “It’s small,” he said.

  “Yeah, we’re living modestly Mr. Klein, get used to it,” Shouri patted the back of his guild member. “Taika’s doing a cooking class at three – I expect you to be there.”

  The bombshells continued to drop and Elijah wasn’t pleased. “Why?” was all he managed to utter.

  “Because I’m not answering the question of why I let the Klein Foundation heir starve to death. Bring your learning brain,” and with that Elijah was left to his own devices.

  Checking his tuner, it was 2:30 in the afternoon. He had a mere thirty minutes to himself before this cooking class was to be done. The classically trained businessman smirked. This was nothing compared to what he was used to.

  He spent the next thirty minutes checking business news and the shipment of his personal effects. When the appointed time came, he left the confines of his room to a sleeping Zino and made his way to the office.

  Joining him on this culinary adventure was Colette and Mila. One of the two was there willingly clearly based on Mila’s curious questioning of Taika while Colette’s face being in her tuner informed of her compulsory attendance.

  “Sandwiches seem kind of simple to make though?” Mila questioned.

  “Si! They’re affordable and the ingredients you buy to make them make a ton of sandwiches. Good for budgeting, but infinitely customizable!” Taika beamed. “Also, I have a feeling some present couldn’t do that without being told how.”

  Elijah nodded in agreement with Taika’s appraisal. He didn’t think about the simple efficiencies sandwiches provided. More interestingly he hadn’t been made privy to the culinary prowess in Taika’s skillset. Or maybe he had but hadn’t given it much thought in the past. Either way, he wasn’t a fan of starvation, so he drew a tuner of his own to take notes.

  Their kitchen was one of the unused guest rooms which had been converted into a tiny classroom.

  Taika needed no assistance in passing out the materials for this simple lesson. Her beads rushed around the room delivering the stack of ingredients to the eager students.

  It was mind-numbingly simple: just put the ingredients between the two pieces of bread and you were done.

  But that was boring. Elijah’s note-taking thumbs got an intense workout as she began drilling in condiments and other options for sandwich configurations, starting with the simple and humble ham and cheese, to the delicious and effective BLT, and even a more in-depth recipe of the curry chicken salad sandwich.

  There were also other options, such as toasting the bread, frying it on the stove, and other such configurations to keep things interesting.

  By the end of it all, Elijah felt a strange sensation he couldn’t claim familiarity with. It was like pride, but it felt more mundane. Was mundane pride a thing? A sense of achievement over something as simple as making yourself lunch?

  It was a theory he had to test.

  “Zino, wake up.”

  The dinosaurian shook himself awake. His Maestro had shaken him from his nap. “Would you perhaps be interested in lunch?” asked the boy.

  “Food sounds good, where are we going?” asked Zino as he groggily sat up.

  “Nowhere. Here.”

  Before Zino could question what was going on, a plate was shoved onto his lap.

  “A sandwich? Where’d you get this?” questioned the dinosaur.

  “I made it.”

  Silence.

  Zino stared at the sandwich, rubbing his face and blinking several times, then he looked to his Maestro, who sat at the desk with his own sandwich, taking a bite into it. “Maybe too much of the mayonnaise,” commented the Klein heir.

  Back down to the sandwich, Zino studied it, once again trying to dismiss the sleepiness from his eyes. “You made this?” asked Zino.

  “Yes. I might have gone a bit overboard on the condiments though, so my apologies.”

  For yet a third time Zino examined his food, refusing to touch it. “Like you put this together, made it in that kitchen? You did?”

  “Indeed I did. It was quite fun actually,” Elijah beamed. “Perhaps we can go to the store at some point and get more ingredients,” he suggested.

  Zino examined his hands. “Man, I dunno what they’re putting in that clay, but it’s the good shit,” the earth element commented to himself.