The morning alarm in Lencar's head didn't need to ring. He was awake long before the sun dared to crest the horizon, staring up at the rough-hewn wooden beams of the ceiling. The house was silent, wrapped in the cool, blue stillness of the pre-dawn hour, but inside Lencar's mind, a countdown clock was ticking with deafening precision.
Three days.
The Kiten Dungeon had been breached. The signal fires were lit across the border. The Diamond Kingdom was mobilizing its heavy hitters, and the Clover Kingdom was scrambling its knights. The board was set, the pieces were moving, and the collision was inevitable.
But for now, he had to peel potatoes.
Lencar rolled out of bed, the floorboards biting cold against his bare feet. He dressed in his work clothes slowly, smoothing out the apron he had ironed the night before with a kind of ritualistic care. He checked his reflection in the small, cracked mirror on the wall. The dark circles that usually bruised the skin under his eyes were fading, a testament to the restorative power of the Breath of Yggdrasil, but the tension in his jaw remained. He looked too sharp. Too alert.
He closed his eyes and exhaled, forcing the muscles in his face to slacken. He softened the edges of his expression, burying the Warlord deep in his psyche until only Lencar the dishwasher—the boy next door, the hard worker—remained.
"Showtime," he whispered to the empty room.
The day at "The Rusty Spoon" was frantic, a chaotic ballet of steam and shouting. A large merchant caravan from the Heart Kingdom had stopped in Nairn overnight, bringing with them crates of exotic spices, mana-rich fruits, and an insatiable appetite for Gorn's famous beef stew.
The kitchen was a war zone of a different kind. Pots clattered, oil hissed, and orders were shouted over the roar of the ovens. Lencar moved through it like a ghost in the machine. He chopped vegetables with a speed that blurred the eye, anticipated Gorn's needs before the big man could even voice them, and plated dishes with a rhythmic precision that kept the line moving.
"Lencar! Where's the rosemary?"
"Already in the pot, boss!"
"Table seven needs ale!"
" poured and waiting at the pass!"
He was efficient, yes, but he was also present. He joked with the waitstaff, laughed at Gorn's bawdy tavern songs, and flashed reassuring smiles at Rebecca whenever their paths crossed in the narrow workspace. But beneath the banter, his mind was running simulations of crystal magic and dungeon traps.
Around 2:00 PM, the lunch rush finally subsided. The kitchen settled into the lazy, warm lull of the afternoon. The smell of roasted garlic and simmering beef hung heavy in the air. Gorn was wiping down the counter, humming a tune, his face flushed red from the heat of the stove.
Lencar untied his apron, folding it neatly into a square. He took a deep breath, his heart rate spiking slightly. This was the first hurdle. He hated lying to Gorn, but the truth was a weapon Gorn couldn't handle.
"Boss," Lencar said, leaning casually against the prep table. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Gorn looked up, his mustache twitching with amusement. "Sounds serious. Did you break a plate? Or did you finally realize you're too smart to be scrubbing pots for a living and you're leaving me for a library?"
Lencar chuckled, shaking his head. "Neither. I love it here. But... I need to ask a favor. I need to take some leave."
Gorn raised a bushy eyebrow, the rag stopping in mid-wipe. "Leave? You? You haven't taken a sick day since you started. You work harder than the stove, lad. I thought you were allergic to time off."
"I have some... family business," Lencar lied, keeping his voice steady and his eyes open, feigning vulnerability. "Some old contacts from my village back in Hage sent word. There's a... complication with my parents' farm. I need to head out of town in two days to help sort it out. I'll be gone for three, maybe four days tops."
Gorn studied him for a long moment. The big man had eyes that were sharper than people gave him credit for; twenty years of running a tavern taught you how to read a bluff. He saw the stiffness in Lencar's shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table. But Gorn, being a man of the Common Realm, also knew that "family business" was often code for "trouble I don't want to talk about."
"Family business, eh?" Gorn grunted, his expression softening. He didn't push. He knew everyone in the Forsaken Realm had skeletons they were trying to bury. "Alright. We'll manage. The Miller twins have been begging for extra shifts anyway, though they'll never match your peeling speed. Just... be careful, lad. The roads aren't safe lately. Lots of strange rumors coming from the border."
"I will," Lencar promised, a pang of guilt striking his chest. "Thanks, Gorn. I appreciate it."
"Don't thank me. Just come back in one piece. Rebecca worries about you, you know. She watches you like a hawk."
The mention of Rebecca tightened the knot in Lencar's stomach. That was the second, and much harder, hurdle. Deceiving Gorn was business; deceiving Rebecca felt like betrayal.
The rest of the shift passed in a blur of cleaning and prep work. When the sun finally set, painting the sky over Nairn in bruises of purple and orange, they walked home together. Lencar made a point to play with the kids the moment they walked through the door. He let Marco tackle him onto the rug, let Pem drool on his shoulder while he carried him around like a sack of flour, and listened intently to Luca's story about a stray cat she saw.
He absorbed their innocence, storing it away like fuel. He needed this warmth to insulate him against the cold violence he was about to step into.
Dinner was finished. The stories were told. The house grew quiet as the children drifted off to sleep, their soft breathing filling the rooms.
Lencar stood in the kitchen, drying the last plate. Rebecca was wiping the table, her movements slow and thoughtful. The silence between them was heavy, loaded with the things they weren't saying.
"Rebecca," Lencar started, his voice soft, breaking the stillness.
She stopped wiping. She didn't look up immediately. "I had a feeling you were going to say something. You've been... quiet today. Oh, you were loud with the kids, playing the monster, but... your eyes were quiet. You were somewhere else."
She looked at him then. Her green eyes were wide, filled with a terrifying intuition that cut right through his defenses.
"I took another job," Lencar said. It wasn't a lie, technically. Being a shadow vigilante was a job. It just didn't pay in legal currency; it paid in survival. "It starts in two days. I have to travel. I'll be gone for three or four days."
Rebecca walked over to him, abandoning the cloth on the table. She placed her hands on the counter, leaning in, searching his face for the truth.
"What kind of job takes you away for four days, Lencar?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "You wash dishes. You peel vegetables. Unless Gorn is opening a branch in the Capital, this doesn't make sense." She paused, a darker thought crossing her mind. "Are you taking a hunting job again? Like the ones you used to do before you came here?"
Lencar winced internally. She remembered the state he was in when he arrived—bruised, wild, and dangerous.
"It's... a delivery run," Lencar improvised, hating the taste of the deception but knowing it was necessary. "High-value courier work. For a merchant I met today from the Heart Kingdom caravan. He needs someone trustworthy to run documents to a partner in the next town. It pays well, Rebecca. Really well. Enough to put a serious down payment on that dream of ours."
"Is it dangerous?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Lencar looked at her. He thought about Mars and his crystal magic that could crush diamonds. He thought about the Diamond Kingdom assassins hiding in the canyons. He thought about the cursed sword waiting in his vault that wanted to eat his soul.
"No," Lencar smiled, the mask slipping perfectly into place, shielding her from the reality of his life. "It's not dangerous. Just boring travel on the main roads. I'll be back sooner than you think. And when I get back... we'll be a lot closer to that restaurant."