Ojero's knife cut into the meat with little resistance, the tender flesh parting as easily as butter. A fragrant sauce coated the lightly browned exterior, painting it slightly orange. His silver fork speared it, and he brought it to his mouth with glee.
'Once again, Sir Lancel has outdone himself!' He thought to himself.
Swallowing the bite, he immediately used his fork to scoop up some corn. Butter covered every golden piece, dripping off like an ichor shower. Savoring the taste, he glanced over at Orpham, who had already cleaned his plate and was now watching Sir Lancel scoop some candied fruit onto his plate with rapt attention.
His brother had always had a far more aggressive appetite than Ojero, a trait their father thought to be a sign of good health. His mother on the other hand believed it to be a sign of barbarism. Ojero happened to agree with her on the subject.
Noticing his glance, Orpham shot his brother a smile that seemed to brighten the room. His perfect teeth almost seemed like white orbs, and somehow managed to remain unstained even by the food he ate only minutes ago.
Sir Lancel, noticing Ojeros's look, immediately stood up straight.
"Would you also like some sweets, young lord?"
The question almost seemed like an order coming from the large-bodied butler.
Sir Lancel had once been a soldier, a Knight of Avar, and had served in multiple campaigns against the increasing tide of Beasts. That was where he had met Ojero's father, Quasar, and came into his service. The two had seen more bloodshed and warfare than most entire battalions, their talents making them uniquely suited for the most violent of battles.
After he had served his required amount of time, he had come to work in their house in a multitude of roles but mostly served as a butler to tend to their every request.
It was often a point of pride for their family to claim they had a prestigious knight serving them every day.
Ojero often wondered what kind of experiences had led such a man to swear service to their family in a menial fashion.
"Uh, no thank you, Sir Lancel. I still have to finish my main portion."
Nodding approvingly, the man turned around and walked out of the large room to return to the kitchen.
"Good choice, Ojero. It is never wise to take a reward without completing the task."
Ojero's mother stated, tapping a napkin to her mouth to clean any food from her lips. Her green eyes peered over it, looking directly at him.
He appreciated her praise but didn't know what she meant. The food itself tasted better than those overly sweet fruits anyway, so he didn't feel like he was missing out on anything.
"Probably for the best. The sooner those two finish their meals, the sooner I can show them their gifts."
His father commented. His gruff voice seemed to match his broad-shouldered form perfectly, the dark mustache on his face hiding the movement of his mouth.
Most people assumed that the facial hair was a cosmetic choice, but Ojero knew the truth. His father was a High Magos and an Incanter, so covering his lips often served to disguise the spells he was casting.
It was a common thing his father explained when he regaled the brothers about his time serving in the military. He took great pride in his service and said it was the price they paid for their position as Dukes of the realm.
Hearing their father's words, the boys immediately went wide-eyed. They didn't know they were going to be receiving any gifts today.
A loud smacking sound echoed across the large dining hall.
Turning to their father, they saw their mother had swatted him on the arm, a look of annoyance clear on her face.
"That was intended to be a surprise, dear." Her voice sounded sweet, but the underlying threat of retribution was clear.
Looking away, their father responded softly.
"Ah, yes. I apologize, love."
Ignoring his parents' actions, Ojero began shoveling food into his mouth as if he had never eaten a day in his life. Corn mixed with meat and roasted potatoes turning into a medley of flavors.
Swallowing with gusto, one forkful followed another, and within minutes the plate was picked clean. Raising his glass of wine, he drank it all in one gulp to cleanse the mixture of tastes remaining in his mouth.
'I don't believe I have ever eaten so much so fast!'
Finally looking up from his conquest, he noticed his brother looking at him with wide eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just wondering what rank of Beast would have the ability to shapeshift into you and trick us for so long. Maybe a Tier 5…"
Their father's gaze sharpened and pierced right into Orpham, stopping the boy mid-sentence. He then slowly panned his vision to narrow right on Ojero. The air itself felt heavier, and the boys both like it was harder to breathe.
"No… to evade Lancel and I, it would take at least a Tier 7. Tell me, Beast, are you masquerading as my son?"
For a moment no one moved, and then a soft tinkling laugh broke the silence.
"Look at them dear, you've scared them half the death! You better pray to the Merciful One for forgiveness, tormenting your children isn't looked upon fondly by the gods."
Relaxing his face, their father leaned back and cracked a small grin.
"Even after all these years, I still got it."
Suddenly able to breathe normally, the two boys gasped in lungfuls of air.
Not a moment later, Sir Lancel walked back into the dining room and casually glanced around the room.
"I take it there is no danger, my lord?"
"No, old friend. Just messing with the children. You should have seen their faces! I swear I only had kids for moments like this!"
Quasar responded with a belly laugh, prompting another slap from his wife.
"I would ask that you warn me in the future before releasing your aura. It may also do you some good to speak to the Academy representative near the estate and schedule an aura lesson. Your control feels far lesser than what it should be for a man of your rank."
Sir Lancels tone hid any sarcasm or insult, yet it still felt like he was expressing annoyance at the whole situation.
Calming down, their father sighed.
"Maybe I do need a refresher. It's been too long since I had to properly swing a sword or chant a spell. If only things…"
Catching himself mid-sentence, the man paused before continuing.
"... weren't so busy around here. With both my boys going off to the Academy, I don't have time to worry about such things. My focus has to be on preparing them for the trials of growing up."
Ojero felt like he almost just heard something new and exciting, but didn't dare speak up. If something was important enough for his father to hide, then it had to have a good reason. His father was many things, but a secretive man was not one of them.
The two veterans held each other's gaze for a moment, and a silent conversation seemed to play out before the sizable butler bowed slightly and then turned back to the kitchen.
A loud crunching sound broke the tension a second later, and three gazes locked onto Orpham. He had just bitten into a candied apple and was happily chewing it.
"Why Sir Lancel became anything except a royal chef has to be one of the world's greatest mysteries. These fruits are to die for!"
Quiet laughter echoed around the dinner table as every set themselves back to their dinner.
Ojero quietly waited as his brother ate one sweet after another, his impatience growing with each obnoxious crunch and exaggerated chew. His brother, noticing this, seemed to eat even slower, reveling in his brothers unbridled anticipation.
Just as Ojero felt his annoyance reach an entirely new level, his brother finally finished his plate with a bite that seemed to last minutes. By that point, his skin had gone from pasty white to very red, and his recently combed brown hair now seemed disturbed and disorderly.
"You should be careful with impatience, it kills as many warriors as bad luck!" Orpham said with another large smile, quoting another one of their father's lessons.
'I wonder how many warriors die from fratricide' He pondered darkly, not daring to voice the words aloud.
Their parents allowed their brotherly banter so long as it stayed convincingly friendly. Questioning murder would not have resulted in a very positive reaction.
He did not have long to think these thoughts, however, as their father had just noticed that both of them had clean plates in front of them.
"Well, now that you both are done with your food, what do you say we go take a look in the armory? I have a feeling you'll both find something pretty cool in there."
His anger and annoyance suddenly forgotten, Ojero pushed his wooden chair away from the table and stood up with renewed energy. A second scraping sound told him a similar scene was repeating with his brother.
Their father smiled wide at this, casually standing up himself.
Their mother also stood, showing proper respect for her husband's rank despite the private setting. It was a habit of hers to observe proper decorum in every situation.
"Well come on then, I only get so much time with you young men before you've grown up and set off on your own adventures!"
Ojero stood up to follow but felt a strange presence around him. He could not identify where it came from, but it seemed to be watching him. Waiting.
As quickly as the thoughts appeared, they were banished, Ojero forgetting why he paused in the first place.
Meanwhile, eyes that shifted colors rapidly seemed to disappear from the corner of the room.
***
Sir Lancel, who was in the kitchen, felt a tingle run down his spine, causing him to drop the plate in his hand.
It shattered on the floor, but the large man made no move to clean it up.
He felt something he had not experienced in years:
True terror.