Chapter 451 --451
Chapter 451: Chapter-451
"My mouth is happy," he repeated, mimicking her deadpan delivery before shaking his head. "Gods, Elara. If I had known all it took to break your administrative brain was a stick of spun sugar, I would have brought a whole cart of it to the war room on my first day.""That would have been a severe violation of military protocol," Mahir interjected, his golden eyes sweeping the gathering crowd with a dark, predatory intensity. The beast-kin commander took a deliberate step closer to Elara, his broad shoulders shielding her from the stares of the merchants. "And the Regent is correct. Your audible outburst is compromising our stealth initiative."
"Stealth initiative," Julian scoffed, waving his half-eaten stick of sugar at Mahir. "We are in the middle of the artisan district, Mahir. People laugh here. People yell. You two are the ones compromising our cover by standing there like you’re waiting for an assassination attempt."
Ken, who had been staring down a stray dog that had dared to sniff at his boots, crossed his massive, muscular arms over his chest. His cheap linen shirt pulled taut over his biceps, a visual detail that was currently causing three passing tavern maids to completely lose their train of thought.
"Every civilian in a ten-foot radius is an unverified variable," Ken growled, his voice a low, rumbling vibration that sent the stray dog whimpering back into the alleyway. "We do not know their affiliations. We do not know if they carry concealed weaponry."
"They carry cabbages and stale bread, Ken!" Julian groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "They are peasants! Look at them! That old woman over there is literally trying to sell wooden spoons. Do you think she is a highly trained imperial assassin?"
"Wooden spoons can be carved into lethal shivs," Ken muttered darkly, never taking his eyes off the terrified elderly woman. "It is an improvisational tactic."
Julian stared at Ken for a long, heavy moment before turning to Elara. "Tell your dog to stop terrorizing the spoon vendor. In simple human words."
Elara blinked. She ran the translation matrix in her mind, simplifying the command. She turned her head toward Ken. "Ken. Stop looking at the old lady. It is bad."
Ken’s jaw tightened. Being commanded in the tone of a scolding mother addressing a toddler clearly bruised his predatory pride, but he was bound by absolute loyalty. He bowed his head slightly. "Yes, cous... yes, sister El."
"Perfect," Julian said, clapping his hands together. "Now that we have established basic human decency, we are going to do something normal people do. We are going to eat real food. Not palace food that has been tasted by three different poison checkers and arranged to look like a floral centerpiece. Real, greasy, loud street food."
Julian led them away from the open market square and down a narrower, slightly darker street lined with taverns and open-air grills. The scent of roasted pork, heavy spices, and spilled ale hung thick in the air. The noise level was deafening—a chaotic symphony of clashing tankards, roaring laughter, and off-key lute music.
They stopped in front of a sprawling, open-front establishment called ’The Crimson Boar’. Smoke billowed from a massive iron grill in the center, where a sweaty, heavily tattooed cook was flipping rows of thick meat skewers over open flames.
"This place violates at least fourteen fire safety ordinances," Elara stated calmly, analyzing the proximity of the open flames to the wooden support beams. "The structural integrity of that roof is highly compromised. One stray ember will cause a localized disaster."
"And the meat is likely sourced from questionable livestock," Mahir added, wrinkling his nose as his enhanced beast-kin senses picked up the heavy, unrefined spices designed to mask the quality of the meat.