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Elisha's POV
The morning began far too loud for Elisha's liking. He had barely finished sweeping the floor when Madam Lucky breezed into the restaurant in her usual flurry of scarves, jewelry, and perfume. Two of her girls trailed behind her, giggling as they balanced baskets on their hips.
"Elisha," she called, clapping her hands once like he was some lazy rooster she needed to wake. "I'm leaving for the market outside the city gates. Fresh wines, better than the sour swill the traders in this district try to sell us. You—" she jabbed a bejeweled finger at him, "—will mind the place while I'm gone. Don't burn it down. Don't drink my stock. And don't sleep all day!"
Elisha leaned on the counter, arms folded, and gave her a flat look. "Madam, when have I ever burned the place down? If anything, I should be praised for enduring this circus every day."
The chef—an older man with a bald head and a permanent scowl—snorted from behind the kitchen curtain. "Enduring? Boy, half the time you're sprawled across the counter like a dead lizard. I'm the one who keeps this place alive."
Elisha tossed the rag he'd been holding onto a stool and smirked. "Alive, he says. More like barely breathing. One more of your salty stews and the customers will riot."
"Enough!" Madam Lucky snapped, though her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. She swept toward the door, skirts rustling. "I'll be gone the whole day. Try not to scare the customers away."
The moment she was out of sight, Elisha muttered, "That's impossible. Customers scare me away."
The chef barked a laugh and disappeared into his kitchen, leaving Elisha to settle behind the counter. He had hoped for a quiet day—few customers, little noise, maybe even a stolen nap. For the first hour, his wish came true. The restaurant was nearly empty, sunlight streaming lazily across the wooden tables.
Until trouble walked in.
A man in a patched cloak stomped to the counter, slamming a coin down. "Wine. Your strongest."
Elisha didn't even bother pretending politeness. He glanced at the empty shelves behind him and shrugged. "We're out. Try water. It's free, and it won't kill your liver."
The man's face darkened. "What kind of restaurant runs out of wine by morning?"
"The kind owned by Madam Lucky," Elisha shot back. "Complain to her, not me."
The man slammed his fist again, harder this time. "Boy, do you know who I—"
"An idiot?" Elisha cut him off, already annoyed. "If you're done shouting, the door is right behind you. Don't trip on the way out."
The man sputtered, red with rage, but Elisha's stare was sharp enough to silence him. Muttering curses, he stormed out. Elisha leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Peace restored."
He should have known better than to tempt fate.
Because the next customer to walk in was none other than Nathaniel Black—highest-ranked Black Raider, heir of a powerful house, and possibly the most arrogant man Elisha had ever laid eyes on.
Nathan pushed open the door like he owned the place, cloak sweeping behind him. His boots clicked against the floorboards as he strode to the counter, gaze raking the room as if everything inside was beneath him.
Elisha groaned aloud. "Oh, great. Trouble in expensive boots."
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Wine. Two bottles. Your best."
"Out," Elisha said flatly, propping his chin on his palm.
Nathan's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"Wine's finished," Elisha repeated, deliberately slow. "You deaf or just stupid?"
A dangerous silence stretched. Nathan's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, gleaming at his side. The air in the room thickened.
"Careful, servant boy," Nathan said softly, voice edged like a blade. "I don't tolerate insolence."
Elisha's grin widened, sharp and mocking. "Funny. I don't tolerate pompous idiots who think the world owes them wine. Looks like we're at an impasse."
Nathan's sword flashed an inch from its sheath. Instinct kicked in—Elisha ducked, rolling sideways behind the counter. "Oi! Are you insane? Swing that thing in here and you'll cut more tables than me!"
The chef peeked out of the kitchen, eyes wide, then immediately disappeared again, muttering, "Not my problem."
Nathan stalked forward, fury written across his face. Elisha, crouched low, raised his hands mockingly. "Relax, Black Raider. Wine's gone, end of story. Now either buy water or get out before you break a nail."
For a moment, Nathan looked like he might actually strike. Then, with visible effort, he sheathed his blade and leaned in close. "You're not worth staining my sword."
"Finally, some wisdom," Elisha quipped. "Took you long enough."
Nathan glared at him, but something flickered in his eyes—confusion, irritation, maybe even curiosity. Why was this nobody smiling so boldly in front of him?
With a scoff, Nathan turned on his heel and stormed out, his cloak snapping behind him.
Elisha popped his head over the counter, grinning ear to ear. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you ruin a Black Raider's morning."
The restaurant was empty again, but Elisha still chuckled to himself as he sprawled across the counter. "Pathetic weakling, he called me. At least I'm laughing. He's not."
And with that, he promptly fell asleep.
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Elisha's POV – Delivery to the Palace
The peace didn't last. A heavy tapping on the counter dragged Elisha from his nap. He cracked one eye open to find a palace guard looming over him, helmet shadowing his face.
"What?" Elisha groaned. "If you're here for wine, join the queue of disappointed nobles."
"You," the guard said bluntly. "You'll deliver supplies to the imperial kitchen. Now."
Elisha sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "You sure you've got the right place? This is a restaurant, not a delivery service."
The guard's tone was firm. "Is this Madam Lucky's establishment?"
"Yes."
"Then the delivery is yours. Crates are ready."
Elisha dragged a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. First, I get threatened by a sword-swinging peacock, now I'm reduced to errand boy." He shoved himself off the stool and headed to the storeroom.
The crates were heavy—packed with salted meats, jars of spices, and three dusty bottles of wine. Elisha muttered the whole way as he and the guard loaded them into a waiting carriage.
"Am I getting paid for this?" he asked, climbing in after the last crate.
The guard's response was a curt, "Depends."
Elisha snorted. "Depends? On what? Whether I break my back before reaching the palace?"
The guard ignored him, flicking the reins. The carriage rattled forward, bumping along cobblestone streets.
On the way, Elisha spotted a familiar face—the same palace guard he had once humiliated for bullying a girl in the market. Their eyes met. The guard sneered. Elisha grinned back, slow and mocking.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite punching bag," Elisha said cheerfully. "Still nursing that bruise?"
The guard's glare could have curdled milk, but Elisha leaned back, utterly unfazed. "Don't worry. One day you'll thank me for the lesson."
By the time they reached the palace gates, the air between them was thick with mutual hatred. Elisha hopped off the carriage, stretched, and muttered, "What a lovely day to be underappreciated."
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Paige's POV
Paige arrived at the palace earlier than most, her blue cloak trailing neatly behind her. As a High-Ranked Blue Raider, she carried herself with calm confidence, every step measured. The grand marble pillars of the throne hall glistened in the sunlight, but she barely admired them. Her mind was fixed on the summons—on what the king truly wanted from them.
Soon, another Raider entered—a boy with messy hair and sleepy eyes. He scratched his neck awkwardly.
"Uh, hi. I'm Xavier."
Paige offered a polite nod. "Paige. Blue Raider."
He smiled nervously. "Blue Raider. I, uh… forgot the meeting was today."
She arched a brow but kept her tone kind. "Try not to forget again. The king isn't known for his patience."
Before long, the hall filled with more footsteps. A girl with fiery red hair strode in, her presence sharp and unyielding. Darcelle. She didn't bother with greetings, merely crossed her arms and leaned against a pillar.
The last to arrive was Nathaniel Black. He came late, unapologetic, his posture screaming arrogance. Paige's lips tightened. She had heard the rumors, but seeing it firsthand was worse—he acted as though even the king's throne was beneath him.
The meeting began. The king's voice carried across the chamber, solemn and commanding. "Four Raiders stand before me. Yet in my decree, I summoned five. The fifth will be revealed by destiny."
Darcelle's voice cut through the silence. "Is this a joke? You call for five, but only four are here. Who else are we waiting for? Someone even later than our beloved Black Raider?"
Nathan shot her a look, but the king raised a hand. "The fifth will come. You need only wait."
Through it all, Paige watched, silent but wary. Something about the king's tone unsettled her.
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Back in the Palace – Rumors
Later, as the Raiders dispersed, the king beckoned his head servant. In low tones, he gave instructions. "Spread word across the city: a reward awaits any courageous man who meets me at dawn tomorrow. Let us see who dares answer."
The servant bowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
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Elisha's POV – The Rumor
Elisha, still grumbling after unloading the crates, overheard palace staff whispering near the back gate.
"The king wants a courageous man to meet him at dawn."
"They say the reward will be great."
"Though… who knows what he'll ask in return."
Elisha perked up, ears sharp. Reward. Money. Maybe even enough to finally buy his way out of this miserable life. He strolled over casually.
"Hey," he interrupted, flashing his most charming grin. "When exactly is this little hero audition happening?"
The staff eyed him warily but answered, "Tomorrow at dawn."
Elisha's grin widened. "Perfect." He shoved his hands into his pockets and whistled as he walked away. "Easy money. How hard could it be?"
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Evening – Madam Lucky
Elisha returned to the restaurant at dusk, only to freeze in the doorway. Madam Lucky lay on a cot, her clothes torn, her skin pale. Blood stained her side. A healer knelt beside her, shaking his head.
"What happened?" Elisha demanded, rushing forward.
"She was attacked," the chef said grimly. "A wild beast on the road. The guards barely brought her back alive."
The healer sighed. "Her wounds are severe. Ordinary medicine won't save her. A rare treatment exists, but it costs more than this establishment is worth."
Elisha's chest tightened. He stared at Madam Lucky, at the woman who had once taken him in when everyone else wanted him jailed or dead. She groaned softly, eyes fluttering but unfocused.
For the first time in a long while, Elisha felt helpless.
He clenched his fists. No. I won't let her die. Not her.
That night, he stood outside beneath the stars, the city quiet around him. His decision was already made.
"If meeting the king means saving her…" His voice was a whisper, fierce with resolve. "…then I'll do it. Even if it kills me."
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