Chapter 167: Bread and Salt
The dining chamber was smaller than the grand halls Kael had expected. The room was warmly lit, golden sconces casting soft light against pearl-white stone. A long table of polished oak stretched down the center, its surface already laden with platters of roasted fish, bowls of citrus-glazed vegetables, and goblets of gleaming wine.
Kael sat at Thalren's left hand, with Lyria just beyond him and Fenrik further down. Across from them were Queen Serenya, her children, and two advisors who had been invited as guests of honor.
"Let us eat," Thalren said, lifting his goblet in a simple but earnest toast. "To peace, prosperity, and the hope that our peoples may find strength in one another."
Goblets clinked, and the meal began.
At first, the conversation circled practical matters.
Thalren spoke of the Introduction of Kings, describing the ceremony as one of binding—"a way for the people to know whom their leaders stand beside," he explained. "It is less about crowns, more about trust. If your Hollow is to stand with us, it must be known, and it must be seen."
Kael nodded slowly, weighing the words as he cut into his fish. "Such things carry power. A name declared before the people becomes something greater than an agreement between two men. It becomes expectation."
"Expectation can steady or break a realm," Serenya added, her voice calm and lilting. "But without it, no one knows where they stand."
Kael raised his goblet slightly in acknowledgment. "I'll need time to consider. My council will want a voice in this, and I won't bind them without it."
"Fair," Thalren said with an approving nod. "And wise."
The talk turned, then, toward trade.
"We've seen good flow from your caravans already," Thalren remarked, gesturing to one of his advisors. "But there are whispers of clashes. Merchants say your people are… spirited."
Kael let out a low, amused breath. "Spirited is one word for it. My people are young in the way of working with outsiders. They'll learn. Those issues will smooth with time."
The king smiled knowingly. "You sound much like me, when I took the crown. My merchants shouted of disaster every week for a year. Yet here we are, still standing."
"Then we share that burden." Kael leaned back slightly. "The truth is, trade is flowing well enough. We'll settle disputes swiftly and fairly. A people who know they're heard will be less quick to fight."
Thalren's expression warmed. "Spoken like one who's had to lead not only with fire, but with patience."
Once the heavy topics had been addressed, the mood lightened.
The queen's youngest daughter asked, bold with curiosity, "Lord Kael, is it true you can ride a dragon?"
Lyria choked on her wine, nearly sputtering, while Fenrik smirked into his cup. Kael gave the child a faint smile. "Something like that," he said. "But most of the time, I ride a wolf."
The girl's eyes widened. "A wolf? That's even better!"
Her brother leaned forward eagerly. "Do your people train them to fight? Could they guard a city like ours?"
"Not quite," Kael answered with a hint of humor. "They guard families, not walls. But they fight fiercely when they must."
The laughter around the table grew as the children's questions spilled forth, each one more earnest than the last. For a while, the burdens of kingdoms fell away, replaced by the simple innocence of curiosity.
But when the queen, smiling, asked softly if Kael had children of his own, the mood shifted.
Kael glanced at Lyria. She froze, her cheeks coloring a shade too deep to ignore. She quickly turned her eyes to her plate, pretending to focus intently on her fish.
The king raised an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his lips. "Ah. Perhaps a matter for the future, then."
Kael chuckled lowly, deciding to rescue her. "Our people have been busy building foundations. Children come once the walls are steady. One task at a time."
The table erupted in knowing laughter, and even Lyria's lips twitched despite her embarrassment.
As the meal drew on, the wine loosened tongues. Kael and Thalren found themselves drifting into talk of leadership—of the strange balance between strength and softness, of the loneliness that came with crowns unseen.
"The hardest part," Thalren said quietly, "is knowing when to be stone, and when to be water. Too much of either, and the people break beneath it."
Kael nodded, thoughtful. "And yet we must never show them the cracks. We can bleed in private, but never falter in their sight."
Thalren regarded him with a new respect, his goblet raised slightly. "A hard truth. And a lonely one. Perhaps that is why it is good we find allies, Kael of the Hollow."
Kael lifted his own goblet in return. "Perhaps it is."
By the time the final platters were cleared, the mood was warm and easy. The children laughed freely, Fenrik shared a quiet story of the Hollow that drew smiles, and even Lyria—though still pink-cheeked—found herself exchanging gentle banter with Serenya.
When at last the servants bowed and the evening waned, Thalren rose. "You are our guests. Tonight, you'll rest in chambers prepared for you. Tomorrow, you will see my city—its heart, its people, and its strength."
Kael inclined his head. "We'll be ready."
And so, as the ocean winds whispered beyond the palace walls, Kael and his companions were led to their quarters, the night closing gently upon them.