Kairo rolled his shoulders as he strode toward the private dining hall, each step carrying the lingering soreness of another brutal training session. His body ached in places he hadn't even realized could hurt, thanks to Harper's relentless training regimen. Every day had been the same: get knocked down, get back up, get knocked down again—until his reflexes were sharpened to near perfection.
At least that was the goal.
So far, all he'd gotten was a collection of bruises and the pleasure of discovering just how flexible he wasn't when dodging a spinning chain-blade.
But today? Today was different. No drills, no dodging, no getting smacked upside the head by Harper for "thinking too slow." Today, for the first time in weeks, he was getting a real break. No training, no lectures, just food and—hopefully—good company.
As he neared the doors to the hall, the scent of roasted meat, spiced broth, and freshly baked bread made his stomach growl loudly. His diet had mostly consisted of fast meals, eaten between training and passing out from exhaustion. The thought of sitting down and actually enjoying a meal was almost too good to be true.
Pushing the doors open, he immediately spotted the large table in the center of the dimly lit room, already set with food and drink. There was no sign of the others yet, which meant—for once—he had beaten them somewhere. He grinned at the minor victory and made his way to the table.
He had barely poured himself a drink when the opposite doors swung open.
Solomon entered, moving with his usual measured confidence. Unlike Kairo, who looked like he had been tossed down a flight of stairs, Solomon was composed as ever—his dark tunic free of wrinkles, his hair neatly tied back, his sharp eyes giving away nothing. If not for the exhaustion barely hidden behind his expression, Kairo would've thought he had been living a life of luxury instead of wading through the political battlefield that was Fantasia's council.
Solomon spotted him and smirked as he approached the table. "So you do still exist. I was beginning to think Harper had killed you in training and was covering it up."
Kairo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Trust me, I've felt dead for weeks." He grabbed a piece of bread and took a large bite before adding, "Also, pretty sure dealing with politicians is worse than anything Harper could throw at me. How's babysitting the old men going?"
Solomon exhaled sharply as he poured himself a glass of water. "Oh, you know. I expose corruption, they act outraged, and then they try to quietly cover it up before I can bury them with it." He took a sip before adding, "Marek is still playing his games, but I think he's up to something bigger. He's too confident."
Kairo frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Someone is backing him. Someone higher up. I don't have proof yet, but there's no way he's making moves this bold without assurance that he won't get crushed for it."
Kairo chewed over that information, both figuratively and literally. He didn't envy Solomon's position. At least with combat, you knew where you stood. Solomon? He was playing a game where the rules kept changing, and no one was trustworthy.
Before he could respond, the doors slammed open again.
"I hope you two didn't start without me," Vera announced, striding in like she owned the place—which, given her new rank, she might as well have. She threw herself into the seat beside Kairo, grabbed a mug, and downed half of it in one go before exhaling loudly.
"Damn, I needed that," she muttered, reaching for a piece of roasted meat.
Kairo raised an eyebrow at her. Unlike Solomon, who looked untouched by stress, Vera wore the proof of her battles. There was a fresh scrape on her cheek, bruises along her knuckles, and the slight scuff of dust and dirt on her uniform.
He smirked. "What, did you fight someone on the way here?"
"Not today," Vera said, tearing off a bite of meat. "But Berrick and his stubborn ass are making me wish I had. I swear, some of these old war dogs would rather let the kingdom burn than let a 'youngster' like me change their tactics."
Solomon smirked. "Ah yes, the classic 'Vera method' of diplomacy—glare until they submit."
Vera grinned. "It works, doesn't it?"
Kairo rolled his eyes. "You both sound like you've been drowning in politics. Meanwhile, I've been getting my ass handed to me by Harper every single day."
Vera scoffed. "You think you have it bad? Try dealing with old veterans who think your mere existence is an insult to the military."
Solomon exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Try handling a council of men who would rather die than let go of their outdated power."
Kairo sat up and held up his hands. "Yeah, well, at least your opponents aren't literally throwing you into walls."
A pause.
Then, at the same time, all three reached for their drinks and took a long sip.
"Okay," Solomon admitted. "That's fair."
Vera snorted. "Yeah, I'd rather deal with Marek than get tossed around like a ragdoll."
"Thank you," Kairo muttered. "Finally, someone understands."
For the first time in weeks, it felt normal. No war meetings, no scheming, no constant training—just the three of them, talking over food like they used to. The tension that had been weighing on all of them eased just slightly, replaced by something close to comfort.
And then, the doors again swung open.
Harper stepped in, arms crossed, his usual sharp gaze sweeping across the room. Kairo groaned, already expecting a lecture, but to his surprise, Harper sighed and made his way to the far end of the table.
"I'm off duty," Harper muttered, pouring himself a drink. "Don't expect me to yell at you right now."
Kairo blinked. "Right now?"
"That's a first," Solomon mused.
Harper shot them a look. "I can still yell if you want."
Kairo shook his head. "Nope, nope. You're good."
Before the conversation could continue, another voice entered the room.
"You're all acting like you've already been to war."
Rhyker leaned against the doorframe, his usual confident smirk in place. He walked in, grabbed a chair, and sat down beside Harper. "You're placeholders. This is just the beginning."
Vera scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. 'You need to be ready for anything.'"
Rhyker raised an eyebrow. "Glad you're finally listening."
Kairo sighed. "We're just trying to have a normal meal for once."
Harper smirked. "Then you're in the wrong profession."
Here's the second third of Chapter 8 – The Reunion, continuing from where we left off.
The meal settled into a comfortable rhythm, the conversation lighthearted as they ate. For the first time in what felt like forever, none of them were worrying about the next battle, the next political move, or the next training session designed to break their bodies.
Kairo dug into his food like a starved man, enjoying every bite. Solomon, ever the picture of control, ate at a steady pace while keeping his usual observational gaze on everyone at the table. Vera, however, had the appetite of someone who had just walked off a battlefield—tearing into her meal with the same aggression she used in combat.
At some point, Harper poured himself another drink and let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple.
"If I have to deal with one more brat who thinks they're the next war hero, I might actually throw them off the castle walls."
Kairo snorted. "What happened now?"
Harper leaned back, tipping his chair slightly as he stretched his arms. "Some of the recruits are getting too cocky. A few of them think they're hot shit because they passed Selection Day. Had to remind them real quick that they're not."
Rhyker grinned. "Let me guess—by 'remind,' you mean you personally wiped the floor with them?"
Harper smirked. "Had to. You know how it is."
Kairo chuckled. "Oh, I know how it is. You do the same thing to me every day."
"You need it," Harper shot back.
Solomon watched the exchange with mild amusement. "And how did the recruits take their 'lesson'?"
Harper took a sip of his drink. "Well, one of them started crying."
Vera snorted. "Seriously?"
"Kid had a reality check," Harper shrugged. "Good for him, though. Better to cry now than die later."
That sobered the mood a little, but no one disagreed.
The quiet lingered for a moment before Solomon spoke. "Speaking of idiots, Marek's been making moves again."
Vera groaned. "Oh what now?"
Kairo tilted his head. "You said before that someone's backing him. You still think that?"
Solomon nodded. "More than ever. He's been pushing harder than usual, trying to shift the council's focus onto me. Painting me as some 'arrogant outsider' who's overstepping his place." He exhaled. "I've been countering his moves, but he's too confident. He wouldn't keep making plays if he thought I could shut him down completely."
Harper tapped a finger against the table, thinking. "So the question is—who's backing him?"
Solomon leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the armrest. "I don't know yet. But I have a feeling I'm about to find out."
Rhyker, who had been listening quietly up until now, spoke up. "It's not just the council you should be worried about."
Kairo turned to him. "What do you mean?"
Rhyker folded his arms. "There's unrest among the soldiers. Vera's been restructuring the military, which means some of the old guard aren't happy. If Marek or whoever's backing him decides to push hard enough, they could start rallying support from within the army itself."
Vera scowled. "Let them try. If they want to challenge my authority, they can step into the damn ring with me."
Harper sighed. "That's exactly the problem, though. They won't fight you head-on. They'll undermine you. Spread doubt. Make people question your leadership."
Solomon nodded. "They don't need to beat you, Vera. They just need enough people to start thinking you're not fit to lead."
Vera clenched her fists. "Then I'll just have to prove them wrong."
Rhyker smirked. "Spoken like a true leader. But be smart about it. Right now, the military is looking at you as someone who's shaking things up. You need to own that, not just fight against it."
Vera rolled her shoulders. "I don't play politics."
"No," Solomon said, "but you are playing the leadership game, whether you like it or not."
She scowled but didn't argue.
Kairo, who had been listening, frowned slightly. "Okay, so we have corrupt council members making moves, possible unrest in the military—what about outside of Fantasia?"
Harper exchanged a glance with Rhyker.
Kairo sat up. "Oh, come on. What now?"
Harper exhaled. "Fantasia's not as isolated as it used to be. Other kingdoms, other planets, are starting to take notice of how much we've grown."
Vera crossed her arms. "Are we expecting an invasion?"
Harper shook his head. "Not yet. But we are being watched. There have been minor scouting groups spotted near the borders. No full-scale attacks, just… people testing our defenses."
Kairo leaned forward. "And what are we doing about that?"
Harper smirked. "Exactly what you'd expect—we're showing them why it's a bad idea."
Vera grinned. "Now that's something I can get behind."
Kairo exhaled. "Okay, so let's break this down—Fantasia is under pressure from within and being watched from the outside. And on top of that, we still don't know who's backing Marek."
Solomon nodded. "That about sums it up."
The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of everything settled over them.
Then Vera picked up her drink and raised it slightly.
"Well," she said, "we've faced worse."
Kairo snorted. "Have we, though?"
Solomon smirked. "We will."
Rhyker lifted his glass. "Then we better be ready."
Harper shook his head but clinked his glass against Vera's anyway. "Idiots. All of you."
Kairo grinned. "Yeah, but we're your idiots."
Harper sighed. "Unfortunately."
The tension in the room eased just slightly, the seriousness of their conversation giving way to familiar camaraderie.
But even as they laughed, ate, and joked, one thing remained clear.
This was just the calm before the storm.
Here's the final third of Chapter 8 – The Reunion, bringing it home with a strong finish.
The warmth of the moment lingered, but the weight of their conversation hadn't disappeared.
Kairo leaned back in his chair, staring at the flickering candlelight. "You ever think about how normal this used to be?"
Vera raised an eyebrow. "What, dinner?"
"No," Kairo said, waving a hand. "I mean… us. Talking. Training. Living our lives without worrying about assassins, political games, or potential wars."
Solomon let out a quiet chuckle. "You're nostalgic for a time that never really existed."
Kairo sighed. "Yeah, I know. But still… this feels like the closest we've been to normal in a while."
The group fell silent at that, because—whether they admitted it or not—they all felt the same.
Harper, ever the realist, exhaled and set his glass down. "You should appreciate it while you can."
Rhyker nodded. "Because after this? Things are going to move fast."
Solomon tapped his fingers against the table. "I need to figure out Marek's next move before he makes it. If I wait until he plays his hand, it'll be too late."
Vera smirked. "Let me handle it. I'll get him to slip up."
Solomon gave her a dry look. "Your version of 'handling' things usually involves excessive force."
She grinned. "Exactly."
Kairo chuckled. "You do know subtlety exists, right?"
Vera shrugged. "Never needed it."
Harper snorted. "You will when the time comes. Not everything can be solved by punching it."
Vera scoffed. "I disagree."
Rhyker smirked but refocused the conversation. "We also need to start preparing for external threats. If these scouting parties get bolder, we need to be ready—not just reacting when it happens."
Harper nodded. "I've been pushing the recruits harder, but we're still behind where we should be. If an actual war breaks out, we're going to need more than just placeholders. We need an army that can hold its own against whatever the hell is out there."
Kairo exhaled sharply. "And we don't have that yet."
Harper shook his head. "Not even close."
Vera drummed her fingers against the table. "Then we build it."
The confidence in her voice was unshaken, unwavering.
Solomon smirked. "That's the plan."
Rhyker looked between them, amused. "You three really are something else."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment?"
Harper grinned. "I think that was as close as you're gonna get."
Vera stretched, cracking her knuckles. "Good. I love proving people right."
Solomon rolled his eyes. "Alright, one last thing before we go—Kairo, how's training with the chain blades going?"
Kairo groaned. "Why do you sound like Harper now?"
Harper smirked. "Because I am Harper."
Kairo shot him a look. "That wasn't a compliment."
Solomon chuckled. "I'm genuinely asking."
Kairo exhaled. "It's… frustrating. I get what Harper is trying to teach me, but the execution? It's killing me. The chains don't move the way I want them to. And when I do get them to work, I end up tangling myself half the time."
Harper leaned back. "You're still fighting against them."
Kairo frowned. "I know that. I just don't know how to fix it."
Harper gave him a knowing look. "You will."
The confidence in his voice caught Kairo off guard.
He expected criticism. Maybe another lecture. But Harper just believed he'd figure it out.
Kairo huffed. "Well, I hope you're right, because right now, I feel like I'm fighting two enemies—whoever I'm actually fighting and my own damn weapons."
Solomon smirked. "Sounds like a personal problem."
Kairo groaned. "I hate you."
Vera grinned. "At least you have weapons to fight with. All I need are my fists."
Kairo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We know."
The teasing continued, the weight of their responsibilities momentarily forgotten.
But beneath it all, they knew the truth.
Their enemies weren't waiting.
Their time was running out.
And this might be the last moment of peace they got for a long, long time.