Draden was on his feet in an instant, his body instinctively moving to shield the girls from view as the sound of horses and a heavy wagon approached. Emilie’s hand went to the small dagger she had started carrying at her belt.

  A large, rickety cart pulled by two weary-looking horses lumbered to a stop on the road, blocking their path. It was piled high with what looked like farming equipment and burlap sacks, but the four men driving it were no farmers. They were big, rough-looking men with the hard eyes and scarred knuckles of hired thugs. The sigil of a minor but notoriously aggressive noble house, House Kline, was crudely painted on the side of the wagon.

  The leader, a thick-necked man with a jagged scar across his cheek, swung down from the driver’s seat. His eyes scanned their small group, lingering on Draden before flicking to Emilie and the two children. A slow, unpleasant smirk spread across his face.

  “Well, well. What have we here?” He drawled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. “A bit far from the city for a picnic, ain’t it?”

  Draden stepped forward, his expression cold and unreadable. He kept his hand away from the sword on his back, knowing that showing aggression too early would only escalate things. “We’re just heading home. The road is clear enough for you to pass.”

  The man chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, I think we’ll rest here a bit. The horses are tired.” He sauntered closer, his men fanning out behind him, their postures menacing. “Heard tell there’s a new restaurant out this way. One that serves… special food. Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  The threat was unspoken but hung heavy in the air. This wasn’t a random encounter. It was a message, just like the men at the school.

  “The restaurant is farther down the road, but it's closed for lunch,” Draden said, his voice flat. “You’ll have to come back during dinner hours.”

  The leader’s smirk widened. “We’re not looking to be customers. Our lord is… interested in a private tasting. A demonstration of your skills. He sent us to extend an invitation.” He gestured to the wagon. “He’d like you to come with us.”

  Behind Draden, Leah had gone quiet, her small hand clutching Eowin’s. Emilie had slowly risen to her feet, her face pale but determined, her hand still resting on her dagger.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Draden said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “Tell your lord if he wants to talk, he can come to me. Like a man.”

  The scar-faced man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not the answer he’s looking for.” He took another step forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of the crude longsword at his hip. “We have our orders. You can come the easy way, or you can come the hard way. It makes no difference to us.”

  The air crackled with tension. The quiet afternoon had turned deadly. Draden’s mind raced, calculating the odds. Four to one, and he was nowhere near his full strength. The brief surge of power he’d used against Valerius had emptied him; the only reason he’d managed to recover was because he had been near the kitchen. Out here, with only a couple of partially eaten sandwiches at hand, he couldn’t afford another display like that. But he would not let them take him either. He would not leave his daughter.

  Just as the man’s hand closed around his sword hilt, a new sound cut through the standoff—the sharp, clear call of a guard’s horn from the direction of the city.

  All four thugs froze, their heads whipping toward the sound. A moment later, a small patrol of city guards on horseback appeared over the rise, their armor glinting in the sun. They weren’t moving fast, just a routine patrol, but their presence was enough.

  The leader of the thugs cursed under his breath. He shot Draden a look filled with venomous promise. “This isn’t over.”

  With a curt nod to his men, he climbed back onto the wagon. They spurred the horses into motion, the heavy cart rumbling away down the road, leaving a cloud of dust and a suffocating silence in its wake.

  The guard patrol trotted past a few moments later, giving their small group a curious glance but continuing on their way, oblivious to the confrontation they had just unknowingly diffused.

  Draden didn’t move until the wagon was out of sight. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the adrenaline leaving him feeling shaky. He turned to see Emilie shepherding the two girls, who were wide-eyed and frightened, back to the safety of the boulder.

  He had gotten lucky this time, but he knew that no one got lucky forever. And when the time came, the ones to pay the price would be those around him. As much as he liked the plan they had come up with, he still needed to get stronger. He needed to heal his prime meridians, and he needed to do it soon.

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  ***

  Later that afternoon, after their second delivery of juice, seeking a moment of solitude before the evening rush, Draden stepped out into the backyard. The air was warm, and the low hum of insects filled the quiet space. He drew his sword, the familiar weight a comforting presence. He moved through the first few forms, his body remembering the motions even when his muscles still protested. He focused on his breathing, on the feel of the blade cutting through the air, letting the repetitive action clear his mind.

  His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what he could make and what ingredients he could use. The issue was that there wasn’t a clear amount of qi or healing energy in each item he summoned. He had begun keeping notes, but the conversions were hard to say the least.

  How did you even go about comparing spices to each other? In one recipe, he might use a quarter teaspoon of garlic powder, while in the next, he would use a full tablespoon. There were others that rarely got used but contained a high amount of energy. Subsequently, his notes had turned into a mess.

  He needed a recipe, something new and powerful that would continue to heal his prime meridian. It also needed to be good and something that he could eat constantly to replace the almond snack balls he had grown tired of.

  No matter how hard he thought or swung the sword, his mind remained mostly blank. He did have a couple of ideas, but they would need to wait until later as they required several summoned items. He just really hadn’t made many sugary snacks in the past. He did have recipes for other things; they just wouldn’t be as potent.

  With a final swing of his sword, he finished the set of movements and began wiping himself down. Looking up at the position of the sun, he had just enough time to take a shower and then spend a bit of time with his daughter before the restaurant opened for the night.

  The warm water from the shower sluiced over him, washing away the sweat and grime of his workout but doing little to ease the tension coiled in his gut. He needed something that would give him an edge if a situation like that ever arose again. Right now, the only thing he could do was ask Marcus or Coradine to accompany them anytime they went anywhere. It burned at his pride, but he would do it without question to keep the little girl safe.

  Stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom, he dried himself with a rough towel, his movements brisk and efficient. He caught his reflection in the small, polished metal mirror he’d installed. The man staring back was harder than the one who had first arrived in this world. The softness from years of neglect was gone, replaced by the lean, corded muscle he was slowly reclaiming. But his eyes… they held a familiar weariness, a shadow of the fear he constantly fought to keep at bay. It was the fear of a father who knew the world was full of monsters, and that he wasn’t yet strong enough to protect his family.

  Dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, he walked into the main room of the house. Leah was already there, sitting on the floor with a piece of charcoal and a wide sheet of parchment. Her tongue was stuck out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she drew a series of wobbly circles.

  “What’re you making, sweetie?” He asked, his voice softer than he intended.

  “A map!” She declared without looking up. “So Winnie knows the way from her house to our house all by herself. This is the big rock we ate on, and this squiggly part is the scary wagon.”

  His heart clenched. He crouched beside her, his hand resting gently on her back. “It might be best if she doesn’t attempt to come on her own. Those sorts of men might come back and scare her with how… rude they are. But they’re gone for the moment.”

  She finally looked up at him, her green eyes wide and serious. “They were rude, daddy, and their faces were grumpy. Like the time I tried to put pepper in the pudding.”

  He couldn’t help but let out a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah, they were pretty grumpy.” He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair, the scent of strawberries and sunshine a potent anchor. “But you don’t have to worry about them. I’m here. Grandpa Marcus and Grandma Coradine are here. We’ll keep you safe.”

  She hugged him back tightly, her small arms a fierce band around his neck. “Leah knows. You’re the strongest.”

  The simple, unwavering faith in her voice was both a comfort and a crushing weight. He had to be the strongest. There was no other option.

  He let her go and stood up, his mind already shifting gears. “Come on, let’s go see what everyone else is up to. I bet Grandma Coradine is getting hungry.”

  They walked through the connecting hallway into the restaurant. The main dining area was a hive of quiet activity. Emilie and Alice moved with a practiced grace, setting out cutlery and folding napkins. Eowin had her head on the kids' table in the corner, taking a short nap.

  Marcus was out behind the restaurant, his eyes closed in concentration, a faint, silvery light tracing patterns onto the side of the building. The lines followed the schematics of the new ward arrays that he and Coradine had designed. Coradine was supervising, her sharp gaze missing nothing, occasionally murmuring a correction that made the light shimmer and intensify. Once the lines were firmly in place, they began tracing them with the mana crystals, swapping between the two kinds as needed.

  Knowing that everyone was working together, a sense of belonging, of a strange, cobbled-together family, settled over Draden. This was what he was fighting for. Not just Leah, but this sanctuary they had built, this small pocket of warmth and good food in a world that was often cold and unforgiving.

  “Daddy, what’s for dinner?” Leah asked, tugging on his apron, her thoughts, as always, circling back to food.

  “Same as last night,” He said, ruffling her hair. “Chili, tacos, and gyros. Oh, and I suppose, there is a special treat.”

  Her face lit up. “What sort of treat?”

  “A new dessert that I tested out on Coradine the other day.”

  The little girl frowned cutely at him. “You let someone else try one of your dishes before me?”

  “Sorry, you were asleep at the time.” He gently nudged her toward her sleeping friend in the corner and then headed into the kitchen. The familiar space welcomed him. The gleaming counters, the neatly organized spices, the simmering pots—this was his domain, his armory.

  He took a deep breath, the scents of the different spices he used in the stew and marinade grounding him. He had work to do. He popped another almond ball into his mouth, the intense flavor a jolt to his senses, and began.

  Thank you to all the people who have taken the time to rate the story and to my latest Patrons! I have other stories up on my Patreon, including my current WIPs. Which are now Created G.H.O.S.T. System(My Cyberpunk story), WetWorks2, plus The Restaurateur and His Daughter and DungeonFall. :)

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