Chapter 190 Supper Among Friends
Chapter 190 Supper Among Friends
The dinner was considerably quieter than the conclave. Not because there were fewer opinions. Merely because there were fewer people.
The great pavilion had been exchanged for a private dining tent overlooking the river in the Avalon compound. Lamps burned warmly along the walls, servants moved quietly between tables, and for the first time since arriving at Levy Point, the principal southern lords found themselves able to speak without half the kingdom listening.
Lady Elena Avalon found the change refreshing and freeing after her past few years. The day’s debates had been necessary. This was a pleasantry.
Wine flowed.
Food disappeared.
Stories emerged.
The conversation began, as expected, with her return.
Lord Varlin of Eastwatch stood and raised his cup first.
“To the return of Lady Elena Avalon.”
All the others followed suit.
“Welcome home!”
The sentiment was simple.
The warmth behind it was genuine.
An unexpected wave of emotion momentarily overcame Elena.
Ten years. Ten years was a long time. Children became adults. Lords became old. Some would never be met again.
Yet here sat familiar faces.
Some, like her older, grayer, but familiar nonetheless.
She raised her own cup.
“And to all of you. It is good to discover the south survived without me.”
That earned laughter.
Lord Varlin shook his head. “Barely.”
Lady Anastara snorted into her wine. “That is a lie.”
“A slight exaggeration?” the lord of Eastwatch followed.
“A significant exaggeration.” Malric quip.
The room laughed again.
The conversation drifted naturally from there.
Stories were exchanged.
Old memories resurfaced.
Lord Malric told a tale involving the greatest threat to Isenford the past year, a flooded ferry, three stubborn merchants, and a goat that apparently held stronger opinions than everyone involved.
No one was entirely certain how much of the story was true.
Including Malric.
Then Lord Varlin set down his cup.
“I have one.”
The smile on his face immediately drew attention.
“Oh no,” Lady Anastara muttered.
Lord Varlin ignored her.
“Your son once gave me the worst headache of my entire rule.”
Elena immediately smiled. “Eldric?”
“Eldric.” The Eastwatch lord nodded.
“I received a formal letter informing me that one of my distant cousins had committed robbery.”
The room grew interested.
Lord Varlin continued.
“Not only robbery.”
He raised a finger. “Robbery against Avalon.”
A second finger. “And against the Crown.”
Now several people laughed.
“We all know of that incident,” Lady Anastara said.
“Unfortunately, so do I. And knowing of it and living it are two very different experiences.”
Lord Varlin sighed dramatically.
“He investigated the matter. Gathered witnesses. Established guilt.”
Another sigh. “And then he sent the dam idiot home.”
The room erupted into laughter.
Elena covered her smile. “Of course he did. I thought him to make others clean up their own messes.”
“Naturally.” Lord Varlin pointed accusingly toward the ceiling.
“He could have simply disposed of the problem.”
“That would not have been honorable in his father’s eyes,” Elena said with pride.
“Exactly.” Malric agreed, slamming his hand down on the table.
More laughter followed.
The Eastwatch lord shook his head.
“Instead, he informed me that my relative had committed crimes, presented all the evidence, and expected me to handle the matter.”
“And did you?”
“I was preparing to.”
His smile widened.
“Fortunately, pirates intercepted the ship. Veils be praised.”
The room laughed even harder.
Even Lady Eryndel appeared amused.
Lord Varlin spread his hands.
“The matter resolved itself.”
Elena took a sip of wine. Then smiled. “You must learn to prune your overgrown garden.”
That earned immediate approval.
Lord Varlin laughed loudly.
“A lesson I attempted to practice and teach.”
“And if they’re not smart enough to stay out of trouble,” Elena continued, “don’t let them outside to play!”
More laughter followed.
The stories were added to the growing collection of noble legends that always seemed to gather around House Avalon.
Eventually, the conversation shifted.
Lady Elena turned toward Lady Seryn of Windwatch.
“I owe your house a considerable debt.”
The room quieted slightly.
Not from discomfort.
From respect.
Elena inclined her head.
“Therefore, I will avoid discussing the finer details of what I have understood happened today.”
Lady Seryn smiled.
“How generous.”
“I am capable of generosity.”
Several people immediately laughed—Lady Anastara the loudest of them all.
Elena ignored them.
“What I will say is that I am pleased by what I have seen.”
Her gaze moved around the table.
“The friendship between our houses appears stronger than when I departed.”
That statement drew several nods.
“It gives me hope for the future.”
Lady Seryn raised her cup.
“And mine.”
The moment lingered pleasantly.
Then Lady Eryndel of Culterrax spoke up.
“As it happens, I would also enjoy discussing improved relationships in the future.”
Her voice remained calm.
Almost casual.
Almost.
Elena immediately noticed the look.
So did everyone else.
The Lady of Culterrax continued.
“Though my ambitions in that regard may not be quite so high as others.”
Now several knowing smiles appeared.
“I have already spoken with Lady Seraphine on the subject.”
She paused.
“And I would very much enjoy speaking with you as well.”
Then she glanced toward Lady Maerise of Galeden Vale.
The look was brief.
Entirely innocent.
Completely intentional.
Lady Maerise immediately raised both hands.
“I have no idea what you are referring to.”
The room burst into laughter.
“None at all?”
“None.” Lady Maerise looked scandalized.
“I cast no eyes high.” She paused. “Or low.”
More laughter followed.
“The only stories I know involve children.”
Now, everyone was openly smiling.
Lady Eryndel appeared delighted.
Lady Maerise continued.
“Particularly Avalon children.”
Lord Varlin groaned.
“Oh, here we go.”
“I only hear,” Lady Eryndel said innocently, “that a certain young lady of Galeden Vale has become quite fond of a certain young lord.”
The smiles around the table widened.
“And I hear,” she continued, “that a certain young lady of Avalon insists upon referring to that same lady as sister.”
Now even Elena was laughing.
The discussion immediately devolved into the sort of veiled commentary that noble families had perfected over centuries.
Nobody spoke directly.
Everyone understood perfectly.
Lady Eryndel appeared entirely too pleased with herself.
Lady Maerise appeared entirely too innocent.
Neither performance convinced anyone.
Finally, Lady Anastara set down her wine.
“Before this becomes a problem.”
The room turned toward her.
She sighed.
“Not to cast a pall over the conversation, but it would be wisest if we stopped.”
Several people laughed.
Anastara ignored them. “Her ladyship Seraphine is not present.”
That immediately earned agreement.
“And I refuse to be the person required to explain why I let you all discuss such matters without her.”
The room erupted with warm delight.
Even Elena laughed.
Across the table, Malric immediately raised his wine glass.
“I agree.”
Everyone chuckled even more.
Then from somewhere near the back of the room came a familiar voice.
A weary voice.
An exasperated voice.
Aldric stated, “And I second it.”
The laughter that followed echoed through the tent for a good two minutes.
For this group, and for a few precious moments, there were no roads, no trade agreements, no politics of nobles, and no negotiations, only friends and family.
And the quiet understanding that whatever tomorrow brought, tonight belonged to the south.
…
The conversation gradually gave way to dinner.
Servants appeared from side entrances carrying steaming platters, baskets of bread, and pitchers filled with unfamiliar drinks.
Lady Eryndel of Culterrax watched the procession with interest before looking directly at Aldric.
“I hope you have New Hope soup tonight.”
Aldric laughed.
“There is not a kitchen in Avalon that lacks those ingredients anymore.”
Several people at the table smiled immediately.
Lady Eryndel looked pleased. “Good. Although those tarts are almost as delicious.”
Aldric gestured toward the approaching servants.
“Though I confess I am partial to the entire New Hope supper. The soup is excellent, but new dishes are appearing throughout the south that are just as good, and some say better.”
“Better?” Lord Varlin of Eastwatch asked immediately.
The challenge came so quickly that several people laughed.
Aldric nodded. “Possibly.”
“You must share.” Lord Varlin declared hungrily.
“We intend to.”
Across the table, Lady Elena looked from one face to another.
Everyone seemed to know exactly what was being discussed.
Everyone except her.
Her eyes finally settled upon Aldric.
“New Hope soup?”
Aldric smiled.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
The word caused an unexpected pause in her thoughts.
Grandmother. The word was now spoken by a young man, not a child, and no longer a boy.
She suddenly found herself looking at the young man differently.
At some point while she had been gone, the child had become a man.
A rather capable one, apparently.
That realization could wait.
For now.
“What is New Hope soup?”
“It is an onion soup,” Aldric explained.
Before he could continue, Lady Anastara leaned forward.
“It is currently one of the most popular dishes in Avalon.”
“That and molasses beans,” she added.
Lord Malric immediately pointed across the table.
“And oatmeal raisin cookies.”
Several people nodded.
The argument over what is the best erupted so quickly that the table dissolved into laughter.
Lady Elena listened in growing confusion.
Much of what they were describing sounded remarkably simple.
Peasant ingredients.
Village food.
Yet everyone spoke of it with genuine enthusiasm.
Then a servant placed a glass before her.
The liquid inside was pale gold.
Tiny droplets of moisture gathered on the outside.
She took a cautious sip.
The effect was immediate.
Bright.
Sweet.
Refreshing.
The sharpness of the lemon struck first, followed by a sweetness unlike honey.
The drink seemed to sweep away the dust of travel and the day's exhaustion.
“What is this?”
“Lemonade,” Aldric said.
“Lemon juice mixed with sugar.”
Lady Elena blinked. Sugar. True sugar. In a drink. Not for great lords. Not for holidays. A common drink should not contain sugar. Sugar is too expensive. Too rare to waste.
The realization was almost as surprising as the taste.
Then the first course arrived.
The New Hope soup.
Lady Elena found herself staring.
The bowl looked deceptively simple.
A rich golden broth.
A thick slice of toasted bread floating on top.
And over all of it, a generous layer of melted cheese browned beneath the oven’s heat.
Steam drifted upward.
The aroma was wonderful.
She took her first spoonful.
The onion flavor was deep and rich.
The broth carried warmth rather than heaviness.
The toasted bread softened just enough to absorb the flavor without losing its texture.
And the cheese—
The cheese transformed the entire dish into something comforting and indulgent.
It tasted like home.
Not the kitchens of kings.
Not the banquets of courts.
Home.
Lady Elena found herself taking another spoonful before she realized it.
Then another.
Across the table, Lady Eryndel smiled knowingly.
“I had much the same reaction.”
The others began discussing additional dishes they had encountered throughout Avalon.
The crispy baked pork.
The new breads.
The spiced root vegetables.
Honey-glazed carrots.
New cheeses.
New pastries.
Several dishes Elena had never heard of.
Lady Anastara smiled.
“And there are more appearing every season.”
She gestured southward.
“The Hollow and Litus Solis have become centers of experimentation.”
Immediately, Lord Varlin leaned forward.
“The Hollow.”
There it was again.
The mysterious place.
Everything seemed to come from there.
Innovations.
Goods.
Ideas.
Food.
Even rumors.
“What exactly is this Hollow?”
Lady Seryn asked the question before anyone else could.
“And how much wealth does it contain?”
The question sounded casual.
It was not.
Every noble at the table understood the real meaning.
Where was it?
How important was it?
How much influence did it represent?
Aldric, Malric, and Anastara exchanged a glance.
The reaction alone was suspicious.
Malric finally waved a hand dismissively.
“Soon.”
Lady Seryn narrowed her eyes.
“Soon?”
“Soon.”
Lord Varlin looked no more satisfied.
Aldric smiled.
“You will know more when the time is right.”
That answer somehow revealed less than saying nothing at all.
The probing continued.
The answers did not improve.
Eventually, everyone gave up.
Temporarily.
The feast continued.
Conversation flowed.
Wine disappeared.
Stories multiplied.
Then a servant entered carrying a large clay jug.
Lord Malric immediately clapped his hands together.
“Finally.”
Several people laughed.
“The rum.”
Lord Varlin reached out and handed his empty cup toward the servant.
Now Lady Elena was completely lost.
Rum?
The servants began pouring.
A rich amber liquid filled the cups.
The aroma drifted across the table.
Sweet.
Warm.
Almost exotic.
Lord Varlin noticed her expression.
“Rum is a new drink in Avalon.”
“It is excellent,” Lady Seryn added.
“And dangerous,” said Lady Anastara.
“Mostly because people underestimate it.”
Malric nodded solemnly.
“Many good decisions have been delayed because of rum.”
“Many bad decisions have also been made because of rum.”
“That too.”
The laughter returned.
Lord Varlin lifted his cup.
“Unfortunately, we do not have any of Lady Seraphine’s private reserve.”
Lady Elena immediately looked interested.
“She has a private reserve?”
The table erupted.
Aldric groaned.
Anastara laughed.
Malric nearly choked on his drink.
“Of course she does,” Lady Seryn said. “It is rumored that the creator of Rum makes every batch of M’lay special just for her.”
Lady Elena shook her head.
That sounded exactly like Seraphine.
The servant finally placed a cup before her.
Lady Elena studied it carefully.
The liquid caught the lantern light beautifully.
Amber and gold.
Almost like a liquid sunset.
She lifted the cup and inhaled.
The scent surprised her.
Sweet.
Warm spices.
A faint note of fruit.
Something deeper beneath it all, she could not identify.
It smelled rich.
Comforting.
Dangerous.
She took a cautious sip.
The first sensation was sweetness.
Not overwhelming.
Balanced.
Then warmth followed.
A pleasant heat that spread across her tongue and down her throat.
Moments later, that warmth settled comfortably in her chest.
The flavor lingered—sweetness, vanilla, richness, and oak.
Complex layers she could not entirely identify but very much enjoyed.
Her eyebrows rose.
Then she took another sip.
A larger one.
The table watched.
Waiting.
Lady Elena lowered the cup.
Considered it.
Then looked directly at Aldric.
“This is excellent.”
The room burst into laughter.
“That,” said Lord Varlin, “is exactly what I said.”
“And exactly what I said,” added Lady Eryndel.
“And everyone else.”
Lady Elena ignored them.
She took another sip.
Slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Then nodded once.
“I understand why Seraphine has a private reserve.”
That statement generated the loudest laughter of the evening.
Even Lady Elena joined in.
And somewhere deep inside, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, exactly what else had changed while she had been away.
…
The servants quietly cleared plates while the nobles relaxed into the sort of discussions that only happened after good food, good drink, and the knowledge that no immediate decisions remained to be made.
Lady Elena found herself enjoying the evening far more than she had expected.
Then the tent flap opened.
Three servants entered.
Each carried a small silver tray.
The effect was immediate.
Almost comical.
Lord Varlin of Eastwatch stopped speaking.
Lady Eryndel of Culterrax turned her head.
Lady Maerise of Galeden Vale visibly leaned forward.
The three of them noticed the trays almost simultaneously.
Lady Elena caught the reaction and was immediately amused.
“Remarkable.”
The three nobles looked at her.
“You noticed that before you noticed the servants.”
The accusation drew laughter.
Lord Varlin pointed toward the trays. “Experience.”
“Greed,” corrected Lady Maerise.
“Wisdom,” Lady Eryndel replied.
“Greed,” repeated Lady Maerise.
The servants continued forward.
Upon each tray sat small pieces of something pale brown and golden, twisted into shapes unlike any sweet Elena had ever seen.
Aldric smiled immediately.
“Ah.”
The young heir sat forward.
“You finally managed it.”
The head servant bowed.
“The confectioner succeeded this afternoon, my lord.”
That immediately gained everyone’s attention.
“The Confectioner?” Lord Varlin asked.
The word itself sounded strange.
Aldric continued without providing details.
“A new sweet from the south.”
The trays were placed upon the table.
“It is called Melcocha.”
The unfamiliar name rolled across the room.
“Melcocha?” repeated Lady Eryndel.
Aldric nodded.
“It is made from boiled sugarcane juice.”
Now everyone’s attention sharpened. The lords had all been secretly investing in what Sugarcane is and where it came from.
“When the syrup reaches the correct temperature,” Aldric explained, “it is cooled and repeatedly stretched and folded.”
Lady Elena watched as he demonstrated with his hands.
“Over and over again.”
“What does that accomplish?” asked Lady Maerise.
“It traps air.”
Now, several people looked confused.
Aldric smiled.
“The confectioners claim it changes the texture.”
Lord Varlin immediately picked one up.
“Only one way to determine that.”
Lady Anastara laughed.
“I would recommend not sharing them with children.”
That immediately earned attention.
“Why?” asked Lady Maerise.
Anastara took one herself.
“Because if you do not have enough for everyone, they become surprisingly territorial.”
The room erupted into laughter.
Malric nodded solemnly.
“I witnessed two children nearly start a war over the last piece.”
“It was one child,” Aldric corrected.
“It became two when the second child decided they wanted it.”
More laughter followed.
Even Lady Elena smiled. “Then let us not share this with the Middle Lords either, due to the difficulty in distinguishing them from children.”
The sweets began disappearing from the trays.
She picked one up carefully.
It felt strangely light.
Far lighter than expected.
The surface glistened softly beneath the lantern light.
She took a cautious bite.
The reaction was immediate.
The sweet shattered slightly before melting.
Warm caramel.
Hints of butter.
Something toasted.
Something almost smoky.
And beneath it all, a texture unlike anything she had experienced before.
Not hard.
Not soft.
Not quite taffy.
Yet somehow all three at once.
Lady Elena blinked, took another bite. Across the table, Lord Varlin indicated her with his finger.
There was a round of laughter from the room.
"And you continue to make that face." Lady Maerise was reaching for her next piece.
“This may be a problem.”
“A profitable problem,” Lady Eryndel observed.
The conversation immediately shifted.
Merchants.
Sugar.
Production.
Transport.
Everyone around the table was already calculating.
How much could be produced?
How expensive would it be?
How quickly could it be transported?
Aldric wisely allowed the discussion to continue for several minutes before raising a hand.
That gesture alone immediately drew attention.
Not because of his rank.
Because everyone had learned that when Aldric waited for the right moment, something important usually followed.
The room gradually settled.
Aldric glanced toward Malric.
Then toward Lady Anastara.
Both nodded.
Lady Elena immediately noticed.
The atmosphere changed.
Subtly.
But unmistakably.
The conversation quieted.
Even Lord Varlin sat back.
Aldric rose.
“Before the evening concludes,” he said, “there is one final matter that should be shared among friends.”
The wording immediately caught Elena’s attention.
Not among lords.
Not among allies.
Friends.
That choice was deliberate.
The room became still.
Aldric looked around the table.
At Eastwatch.
At Windwatch.
At Culterrax.
At Galeden Vale.
Then, finally, at Lady Elena.
“The roads are important.”
Several nodded.
“The keeps are important.”
More agreement followed.
“The trade agreements are important.”
Everyone understood that.
Aldric smiled.
“But they are not the reason Avalon is investing so heavily.”
The people in that room knew the weight of those words. It invoked a feeling of understanding and honesty based on what this boy had already done.
Lady Elena watched every face sharpen.
Every noble present understood what had just happened.
The real conversation had begun.
“We are not building roads because we need roads.”
The silence deepened.
“We are building roads because the South is about to become something it has never been before.”
Now nobody moved.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody reached for wine.
“The South has always been divided.”
Aldric’s gaze moved from house to house.
“Avalon.”
“Eastwatch.”
“Windwatch.”
“Culterrax.”
“Galeden Vale.”
“Good neighbors at times.”
“Difficult neighbors at others.”
A few smiles appeared.
Because that was a diplomatic way of describing several generations of rivalry.
Aldric continued.
“The middle lords see us as distant.”
“The northern lords see us as inconvenient.”
“The Crown sees us as useful.”
That drew a few quiet chuckles.
“But regardless of how others see us, one truth remains.”
He paused.
“The south is stronger together than apart.”
No one spoke.
Because no one could honestly disagree.
“The roads are not merely connecting cities.”
His hand moved toward the maps still resting nearby.
“They are connecting people.”
The room remained silent.
Lady Elena found herself once again studying the young man.
Not the boy she remembered.
The man he was becoming.
And for the first time that evening, she understood why everyone listened when he spoke.
Not because he was Eldric’s heir.
Not because he was Avalon.
Because he believed what he was saying.
And somehow that made others believe it as well.
The silence lingered.
Then Lord Varlin slowly raised his cup.
“To the south.”
Lady Seryn followed.
“To the south.”
Lady Eryndel smiled.
“To the south.”
One by one, the others joined.
Until every cup around the table was raised.
Even Lady Elena’s.
She looked around the gathering.
Old rivals.
Old allies.
Old friends.
Perhaps something new.
And as the cups touched together, she found herself thinking that perhaps the greatest thing being built at Levy Point was not the roads.
It was trust.
…
The laughter surrounding the Melcocha had only just begun to fade when the tent flap opened once more.
Three figures entered.
The first was a young boy, the Lady Breckenmere’s son, serving as Aldric’s new squire.
The second was one of Lady Anastara’s maidens from Hollow March.
The third was Mirelle.
Each servant carried a sealed letter packet.
The room quieted immediately.
The squire approached Aldric.
The maiden approached Lady Anastara.
Mirelle stopped beside Aldric as well.
The packets were exchanged.
Aldric dismissed his squire with a nod.
Lady Anastara thanked her maiden and sent her on her way.
Mirelle remained.
That alone drew Lady Elena’s attention.
Aldric broke the seal first.
Inside were several letters.
He quickly examined the addresses and seals before selecting one and handing it across the table.
“Grandmother.”
Lady Elena accepted it.
The moment she saw the seal, her breath caught.
Seraphine.
At the same time, Aldric selected another letter and handed it to Mirelle.
The woman accepted it almost reverently, bowed, and departed without a word.
Lady Anastara had already opened her own packet and was reading.
Aldric returned to his letters.
Conversation faded around the table.
Everyone understood that something important had arrived.
Lady Elena finally broke her seal.
The familiar handwriting struck her immediately.
It had been years.
The opening was warm and affectionate, welcoming her home and apologizing that Seraphine could not greet her personally. She encouraged Elena to return to Avalon as quickly as she wished.
Then the letter became strange.
Seraphine wrote that she would not be waiting at Avalon Citadel.
Nor at the manor south of the city.
Instead, Elena should travel through the Citadel, cross the Lake of Lanterns, and continue to a new manor being built near Litus Solis.
A new manor.
Elena frowned.
She read on.
There, the family would gather for Lisette’s birthday.
Then came the final surprise.
Lady Seraphine wished to host a Matron’s Council.
Not a private family gathering.
Not a local celebration.
A true Matron’s Council open to the noblewomen of the realm.
The location was listed clearly.
The new manor near the Hollow.
North of Litus Solis.
Lady Elena slowly lowered the letter.
She knew of no such manor.
More importantly, she knew of no estate outside Avalon City capable of hosting such an event.
Yet Seraphine wrote with absolute certainty.
Across the table, Lady Anastara had finished reading.
The two women exchanged a look.
Anastara gave a small nod.
The manor existed.
Whatever it was.
Wherever it was.
It existed.
Lady Anastara rose.
The room immediately quieted.
“If you will forgive the interruption,” she said. “Though I have learned that some interruptions are worth having.”
A few smiles appeared.
“We have received communication from Lady Seraphine Avalon.”
Now everyone was listening.
“It is her desire, and the desire of House Avalon, to celebrate Lady Elena’s return to the south with a gathering to be held within Avalon.”
Several heads nodded.
Then Anastara continued.
“It is also her desire to host a Matron’s Council.”
The room went still.
Lady Eryndel’s eyebrows rose.
Lady Maerise stopped reaching for another sweet.
Lord Varlin lowered his cup.
“The gathering will take place near the Hollow at a new manor recently completed north of Litus Solis.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
The Hollow.
Again.
That mysterious place from which new goods, new ideas, and apparently now entire manor houses emerged.
Anastara continued.
“Formal invitations will be sent throughout the realm. Any noblewoman or matron who wishes to attend shall be welcomed as a guest of House Avalon.”
The weight of the announcement settled over the table.
This was more than a celebration.
More than a birthday.
More than Lady Elena’s return.
Avalon was publicly opening its doors.
And in doing so, it was revealing the existence of the Hollow to the wider realm.
No one spoke.
For perhaps the first time that entire day, even the politicians had run out of words.