"Home…"

  The word echoed in my mind as Elodie, Pip, and I walked down the long, wood-paneled corridor towards the dining hall. The last ‘home’ I’d really known was our miserable, damp tent under a bridge, and gods knew that wasn’t a place most people would ever associate with the word. Fleeting images from my true childhood, a lifetime ago, flashed through my mind—Mom laughing as she pushed me on a swing, Dad ruffling my hair after a bedtime story… that was home. A phantom warmth, a ghost of a feeling.

  Sighing, I shook my head, trying to clear the bittersweet memories and focus on the upcoming event. Dinner.

  I was actually really hungry, my stomach a hollow, aching pit. My curiosity about what meals here would be like was intense. It probably wouldn't compare to the rich, decadent food at the Ainsworths', but there, the atmosphere had always been so tense and oppressive that enjoying a meal properly was impossible. Every bite had felt like ash in my mouth. Maybe simpler food in a better environment would be a welcome improvement.

  After a short walk, we were back in the large entrance hall we’d seen earlier. This time, Elodie led us towards the grand double doors on the right side of the hall. Pausing before them, she turned to me and offered an encouraging nod, then pushed them open.

  Before me, a large, bright room unfolded, its far wall lined with tall, elegant windows that stretched from ceiling to floor, letting in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon. The same dark, polished wood from the entrance hall covered the floor here, its surface gleaming. The walls were painted a gentle, calming light green.

  But what surprised me most was the sheer number of children.

  Spread across roughly ten long wooden tables, each with five or six simple chairs, were kids of all ages, with a few adults scattered among them. I spotted Grimelda at one table near the far wall, presiding over a group of rather rowdy-looking older boys who looked to be around fourteen to sixteen. They were nudging each other and whispering, but quieted slightly under her sharp, hawkish gaze.

  Verity sat at another table, a mixed group of boys and girls of various ages gathered around her, listening intently as she spoke quietly to one of the younger ones.

  What struck me most, though, was the overall volume… or lack thereof. It was so… quiet. Peaceful, even. Those who were talking did so in normal indoor voices, a low, pleasant hum of conversation filling the room, not the chaotic, ear-splitting shouting I remembered from my own school days.

  But then… everyone… literally everyone in the room, turned to look at us as we entered. Or, more likely, they were looking at me, the newcomer.

  For a moment, my whole body tensed, old instincts screaming at me to expect judgment or hostility. But then, just as quickly, I relaxed. It didn’t bother me, not really. After years of scrounging for food in trash cans under the disapproving glares of passersby, and walking around in public wearing dirty, stinking clothes, the curious stares of a few children couldn’t intimidate me anymore.

  Curious myself, I looked back, trying to meet the gaze of each child, but there were too many. Elodie, seemingly unfazed by the sudden attention, walked purposefully towards a table near the center of the room where three children were already seated, leaving two chairs free. Pip trotted happily at her heels, her tail held high. As we passed, the children at the nearby tables started whispering excitedly amongst themselves, many of them giggling as they pointed—not at me, but at Pip. Seeing their genuine delight in my little cat made me incredibly happy, pulling the corners of my own mouth into an involuntary smile.

  We walked a few more meters and arrived at the designated table. Elodie sat down gracefully and greeted the children already there with a warm smile.

  At the table sat a small girl with long, curly orange hair and bright green eyes; she was perhaps six years old and clutched a well-loved, slightly tattered rag doll.

  Beside her sat another girl who looked to be around my age, maybe slightly older. Her hair was a startling… steel-grey? What the hell… The girl had actual steel-grey hair, perfectly straight and falling to her shoulders, and her eyes were a soft, ethereal lavender. She looked at me, not necessarily with disinterest, but with a kind of detached, listless apathy that felt strangely profound.

  This was the second time now, after Grimelda, that I’d seen someone with an eye color that just didn’t exist in my old life. What did that mean? Was it common here? A sign of something? But the more I thought about it, the more I found myself getting lost in her eyes… in that strange, beautiful lavender color that seemed to hold a quiet sadness. I blinked, startled, and quickly tore my gaze away, feeling a faint flush creep up my neck.

  My gaze then fell upon the last person at the table: a boy, perhaps sixteen years old. He had shoulder-length, light brown hair and a kind, open face. He too had a ‘special’ eye color, but for this one, I knew the explanation. His eyes were milky, unfocused… he was blind. Yet, despite not being able to see the world around him, or perhaps precisely because of it, he had a remarkably friendly and gentle demeanor. A slight, serene smile played on his lips, and he looked content, almost happy.

  “Come on, Grim, sit with us,” Elodie’s voice pulled me from my observations. I looked up to see her lightly patting the empty chair beside her, smiling at me. Embarrassed, realizing I’d just been standing there staring for who knew how long, I quickly went to the free chair, pulled it out with a slight scrape against the wooden floor, and sat down.

  I had barely settled when Pip leaped gracefully onto my lap. To my surprise, the eyes of the girl with the steel-grey hair lit up for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something—interest? curiosity?—in their lavender depths. The little orange-haired girl giggled with delight. The blind boy turned his head roughly in my direction, his unfocused eyes staring somewhere past my shoulder as he listened.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Allow me to introduce,” Elodie said, her voice cheerful, “this is Grim and Pip.”

  I tried to sound as friendly as possible, offering a small smile to the table. “Hello!” I said.

  Pip, right on cue, let out an excited meow.

  The two girls giggled, nudging each other. It surprised me a little, especially from the steel-grey-haired girl who had seemed so stoic and aloof just moments before. But what surprised me even more was the blind boy. His eyes widened in astonishment, and a bright, genuine grin spread across his face.

  “Is that… is that a cat?!” he asked eagerly.

  Pip meowed again, as if confirming his guess.

  Now the blind boy blinked, his expression turning to one of utter confusion. “Wait… can the cat actually understand us?”

  Even Elodie looked at me questioningly, a curious smile on her face. And when Pip let out another perfectly timed meow, even I was left feeling a little bewildered.

  I looked down at Pip, who stared back at me with her intelligent green eyes. We really need to test this out later… Pip had always been talkative, expressive, but the timing of her responses lately was almost too… perfect. Unnerving, even.

  “Pip’s just very chatty, aren’t you, Pip?” I explained, though I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it myself anymore. Pip, of course, meowed again. I scratched her behind the ears, and she immediately started purring loudly, a convenient distraction from the slightly awkward moment.

  Elodie then spoke up. “Children, Grim is quartered in Room 7, so he’ll be your neighbor. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

  The blind boy was about to open his mouth, but the little orange-haired girl was faster. “My name is Emma, and I live in the girls’ hall! So, unfortunately, we won’t be room neighbors…” she said sadly, her gaze fixed longingly on Pip. I knew exactly why she was sad.

  The blind boy continued, his voice calm and clear. “My name is Arthur. I live in Room 9. And as you’ve probably noticed, I’m blind. But please, don’t make any special considerations for me. I wish to be treated like everyone else.”

  Hm, I hadn’t expected that, but it makes sense. He probably doesn’t want to be smothered in pity. I gave him a respectful nod, which he couldn’t see… man am I stupid…

  My gaze moved expectantly to the girl with the soft lavender eyes. She, in turn, looked back at me… strangely. There was something unsettling in her gaze, a sharp, analytical quality that made me feel like she was seeing more than just a twelve-year-old boy. It made me vaguely uncomfortable. Before I could dwell on it, she blinked, and her expression softened, becoming more neutral.

  “My name is Mara,” she said, her voice quiet, almost monotone. “I live in Room 8.”

  Okay… that was short. But to be honest, I wasn’t here to make best friends; I was here to survive, to find my footing. If everyone here preferred to keep to themselves, that was perfectly fine with me. Still, there was something that interested me greatly.

  “It’s nice to meet you all,” I said, trying for a friendly tone. “I hope we get along well.” Arthur nodded with a smile. Mara just gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod and Emma grinned happily.

  Good, the ice is broken. Time for the attack.

  “I heard,” I began carefully, “that children who are old enough have to find work or an apprenticeship. May I ask if any of you have one, and if so, as what?” I asked the group, simultaneously preventing Pip from climbing onto the table.

  Everyone except Arthur frowned in surprise. Elodie looked at me with a pleased smile, though whether it was because I was showing initiative or because she thought I was eager to start working, who knew.

  Little Emma proudly announced, “I’m still too small to really work, but I help out in the garden a lot!” That didn’t really help me.

  Mara continued, her voice still flat. “I’m a florist.”

  …Is that it? I sighed internally. Pip seemed to possess more charm than I did. But now I was really curious what kind of work a blind boy could do.

  I looked at Arthur expectantly. He was silent for a while, as if gathering his thoughts. “I am… a judge or a mediator, you could say,” he said finally. “I don’t deal with criminal matters, but rather civil law. Imagine you are an adventurer and you buy a shield that breaks in the first fight against… goblins. You would feel cheated. To prevent things from escalating, both parties come before the court, and I decide, fairly and honestly, on the case.”

  Wow. I definitely hadn't expected that. But it made a strange kind of sense. Being blind, he couldn’t be influenced by appearance. It seemed like the perfect profession. But something in what he said bothered me.

  “I have a question, Arthur,” I said. “You mentioned goblins. I come from far away. Is information about goblins and other monsters so widely available here? I mean, I killed a few goblins on my journey, but I haven’t seen any more since. So, I just assumed they were very rare.”

  When I saw the expressions on their faces—Elodie’s sudden concern, Emma’s wide eyes, even Arthur’s serene smile faltering—I knew I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

  It was Elodie who spoke first, her voice a little breathless. “You… you killed goblins yourself?! With your magic, Grim?”

  Suddenly, Mara slammed her hands down flat on the table, making the cutlery jump. On her feet now, her steel-grey hair falling wildly into her face, her lavender eyes blazed with an intense, almost manic light. She roared, her voice shockingly loud in the otherwise calm dining hall,

  “YOU CAN DO MAGIC?!”

  …And of course, now everyone was staring at me. And I mean everyone. Even the kitchen staff, who were just bringing out trays laden with food, stopped in their tracks. Please… please don’t let them drop the food.

  I sighed loudly, raised my hand, and summoned a gentle stream of air, carefully directing it to blow Mara’s hair out of her furious face. She stared at me, completely dumbfounded now, her outburst apparently spent. Slowly, she sat back down without another word, though her eyes never left me. Helplessly, I looked at Elodie, but she just smiled at me sympathetically, a sort of ‘well, cat’s out of the bag now’ expression on her face.

  About ten minutes later, after Elodie had skillfully calmed everyone down, the tables were finally set. Tonight, it was tomato soup, thick and steaming, with chunks of bread. For Pip, someone had thoughtfully provided a small bowl of finely minced meat, for which she expressed her gratitude with loud purrs, rubbing against the legs of the kitchen woman who brought it.

  Aside from Pip’s happy noises, we prayed silently before the meal. This time, I decided I would pray too.

  Merciful and mighty gods… I began silently, my eyes closed. I wish to thank you, in my name and in Pip’s, for your kindness and your help. I survived, and I think that’s thanks to your blessings. So, thank you. I hope it’s alright if I check in more often. Ehm… Best regards?

  Well, time to eat. The soup steamed invitingly. I picked up my spoon and tried to cool it by blowing carefully. Little Emma beside me was doing the same, but apparently, hers was still too hot, because she let out a small yelp and dropped her spoon back into her bowl with a clatter. Red tomato soup splashed up, spattering her face.

  Suddenly, scenes from the execution flashed vividly in my mind: Ainsworth spitting, the King’s swift, unseen motion, the drawn sword gleaming with blood, the severed head tumbling to the ground, and the crimson spray erupting from Lord Ainsworth’s neck, splattering across the King’s face…

  An overwhelming wave of nausea hit me. My stomach churned violently. Gods, I’d apparently just suppressed it all… My hand trembled as I lowered my spoon back into my own soup, untouched.

  For me, supper was over.