“Thanks folks,” Shaya took the gift box from Bri, lifting it slightly from the table to get a sense of its weight, “you really didn’t have to.”

“That’s why it’s called a ‘gift’, Shaya,” Oraeus explained with a small, sardonic smile.

Shaya shot the infernal noble a sour look, but couldn’t maintain it. She was happy to see Oraeus slowly warming up to the group and getting more comfortable cracking jokes. And Apricot’s giggle at his lame joke just warmed her own heart too much to hold a grudge.

“Alright, alright,” she sighed, pulling the box closer to her, “thank you, it means a lot to me that you went out of your way to do this for me and think I’m worth it.”

“I dunno,” Ren said, “I’m not sure if someone that can get burned by Oraeus really deserves a gift, is it too late to take it back?”

“Yes Ren,” Samorn chided with a smile, “the gift is for the risks she took to get us through our first deployment.”

“And for punching Azreon in the face,” Ralus added.

“Is that what you meant by ‘balancing the scales’?” Shaya asked, turning to Bri with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yep,” Bri nodded, “that’s how we Knights of Justice refer to it, obviously.”

“Glad you’ve got the lingo down,” Shaya snorted, “I’m sure you’re a shoo-in for the Order now.”

“Why thank you - now open your gift!”

The table went quiet as Shaya removed the lid from the heavy wooden box and gasped at the contents. She stood up to get a better view, shaking her head in disbelief. With trembling hands, she pulled out the front part of a cuirass shaped from the inky-black shell of the undead Titan they had bested in their first deployment. Much of the smooth cuirass was left the shell’s natural colour, but it was trimmed in red and gold with a rampant, red gryphon holding three golden arrows with purple fletching emblazoned on its front.

“I’m surprised you could figure out my family’s heraldry,” Shaya chuckled, restraining tears of joy, “given how faded all my clothing is.”

“Samorn asked around,” Bri explained, smiling up at her, “just to make sure we got it right.”

“It was nothing, really,” Samorn said, waving away the praise with a mischievous smile, “Bri is the one who suggested we do this in the first place.”

“No I didn’t,” Bri said quickly, blushing, “I simply raised the idea we were all thinking about and suggested a suitable gift.”

“Uh huh,” Ren said, “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who twisted my arm – literally – until I agreed.”

“To be fair,” Ralus added, their sharp smile growing, “I was ready to join in.”

“Which was definitely the turning point,” Ren nodded, shuddering at the memory.

“Auric says that it’s harder than iron and lighter than steel,” Ralus said, turning their attention to Shaya, “and we went with a design that would allow you to keep your mobility, since we know you’ve been wishing for more flexibility in combat.”

“Yep! Ralus was awesome for finding that out,” Bri said, still blushing, then looked at their silent companion, “and Oraeus is the real hero here, he’s the one who inlaid the armour with enchantments.”

“Nothing significant,” he replied, “just using the Titan shell’s natural Amethyst reserves to fuel a basic protective spell against necromantic energies.”

“Now I’ll never beat her in a duel,” Ralus complained, crossing their multi-jointed arms.

“It’s just a breastplate with a gorget and vambraces, Ralus,” Oraeus soothed, “just aim for the exposed parts of her arms or her lower body.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” they retorted, “you can predict where she’ll move, the rest of us have to figure it out quickly while she’s attacking us.”

Oraeus shrugged, “I can’t help that being perfectly rational attracted the optimal esper.”

“While I'm always happy to listen to how awesome I am...” Shaya said, looking at everyone from her lance, “thank you, all of you. This is an awesome, kingly gift. You’re the best lance a woman could ask for.”

“Hear hear!” Ren said, raising his goblet for another toast.

Apricot and her lance joined in the toast, then the small woman looked to Lan sheepishly. “Sorry Lan, we didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s quite alright,” he chuckled, “I didn’t punch Azreon in the face, so I don’t see how I deserve a gift.”

“I still can’t believe he and his lance jumped up to fifth last mission,” Licurian said, shaking his head and taking another sip of wine. Apricot’s Ruby mage was a tall, ropey Veyeiran wearing warm, summer colours, his voice a smooth tenor.

“I guess he is capable of learning,” Sathaea added with a smirk. Their lance’s Azurite mage was Vayeiran like Licurian, possessing the same minor inheritance from their God Cirithill. She was the polar opposite of Samorn, her wit mean-spirited and her ego abrasive.

“He’s not a complete idiot,” Shaya said, surprising herself, “there’s at least some level of cunning to him, even if it only seems to be toward dastardly or sadistic ends.”

“I’m surprised to hear you, of all people, say that,” Cerud said. Apricot’s Amber mage was a surprisingly short and wiry Zothirian, given that Amber mages were often the frontline shield of their comrades. “I watched what he did to you during our Abjuration class, he and Basillo are both loathsome individuals. At least that seems to be behind them.”

“I think he’s an idiot because he judges people based on shallow information,” Shaya explained with a shrug, “it would be hypocritical to write him off based on our brief – albeit awful – interactions. That’s his short-coming, not mine.”

“Well said,” their Jade mage, Melda, added, her voice gentle and introspective, “I’m happy to see Una’s lance jumping up to third place. That advancement at least feels well-earned. I remember the amount of damage they all sustained in our first deployment,” she shuddered, “it was foolish of them, but they at least went down fighting tooth and nail.”

“Agreed,” Shaya said, “I’m meeting with her and Bari after class tomorrow to go over a new spell I want to learn, so I plan to congratulate her then. And offer to sell her some of my loot.”

“Oh?” Ren said, eying the waitress appreciatively as she cleared the empty plates from their table, “I didn’t think you were keen on sharing with rivals.”

“I still need the money,” Shaya chuckled, “and I don’t need two giant raptor femurs anyway.”

“Why’d you go with a bone instead of hide or claw?” Cerud asked, “Those monsters looked nasty.”

“Given that Fraxil’s mutation manifested by transmuting their bodies into wood or plant matter,” Shaya said, “I figured that their bones would likewise be in a strange between-state, and Bari confirmed my suspicion. The femurs should take to both wood and bone manipulation spells, making them excellent and durable hafts.”

“What are you going to make out of it?” Apricot asked, expression curious as she leaned back to give the waitress space to set down tiny plates of dessert.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Shaya grinned, thanking the waitress as she left.

Everyone dug into their desserts: a deep-fried, crisp pastry stuffed with hot, melted chocolate that oozed out when you bit into it, and a side of whipped cream garnished with fresh fruits. It was as if heaven was consumable and Shaya was all for it. Based on how silent everyone at the table grew, she guessed everyone else was likewise in rapture, just as they had been each time a course was delivered to their table.

“The food here is sooo good,” Shaya moaned, not even embarrassed by it, “I can’t believe you managed to get us a private room here Samorn. I bet the other diners can barely hear how awful we are.”

“It is my pleasure,” she replied, eating her dessert with delicate motions, “fortunately, my family’s forests are famed for the quality of our venison and boar, so I have a few connections to the restaurants of the Empire. They come in handy when I want to treat friends – or myself, if I’m being honest.”

“What amazing connections to have,” Bri sighed in satisfaction, swirling her wine before sipping more of it.

“Mhm,” Ren agreed, fluffy tail flicking with pleasure.

“I’m glad the food shortages are ending,” Shaya said, everyone around the table nodded, “feels good to get back to a certain sense of normalcy, not worry about riots, and be able to afford food again.”

Conversation resumed once dessert was finished. After Apricot excused herself from the table for a minute, Shaya leaned towards Oraeus conspiratorially. “So, things seem to be working out with you two, eh?”

“Indeed,” he nearly glowed as he smiled, “we share many interests even beyond academia and magic – such as an interest in the avant-garde artistic movements in both our kingdoms. She’s even an artist herself, much like I was prior to coming here.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, honestly, “but you know I’ll have to kill you if you hurt her feelings.”

“Ah, yes,” Oraeus snorted, “I was waiting for this ritual. And what makes you think I would do that?”

“Oraeus,” Shaya said seriously, “you’re a high noble, I’m sure your father will expect you to marry into one of the huge, polyamorous love affairs you high nobles are fond of. Do you think he’ll take kindly to you fraternizing with a foreigner?”

“First,” Oraeus said, looking mildly offended, “we aren’t ‘fond of’ the polyamorous family units that are common amongst high nobility. Those are born out of necessity, given the immortal nature of our aristocracy.

“Second,” he sighed, “you’re not mistaken. At best, I may be allowed to bring Apricot into such an arrangement as a lesser partner. Which, before you ask, I know she wouldn’t appreciate. I’ve surreptitiously brought up the topic of polyamory in Vulkhad, and it is uncommon due to the smaller number of nephilim there.”

Shaya nodded. “Just as long as you’re both aware of what you’re getting into.”

“Thank you for caring for your friend,” Oraeus said with a near-smirk, “even in your own childish, brutish ways.”

“My pleasure,” Shaya said, grinning as she leaned back.

“She was defending my honour, wasn’t she?” Apricot asked Oraeus as she returned to the table.

“Indeed,” he sighed, sliding her two gold coins, “you predicted the timing perfectly.”

“You just need to work on your intuition a bit more,” Apricot smiled, pocketing the coins, “instead of relying so much on your magic.”

“Am I really that predictable?”

“Apparently,” Ren snapped, sliding a few silvers to Ralus and Bri.

“You didn’t bet one way or another, Samorn?” Shaya asked, looking amused.

“Oh, I did,” she replied with a smile that bordered on sinister, “but I trade in favours, not currency.”

“That fae esper of yours has really rubbed off on you,” Bri said, a little frightened of the woman.

Shaya shared her friend’s concerns and made a mental note to never bet against Samorn.

“So,” Ren said, “we’re full of delicious food and the night is still young – where to next? Taverns? Taverns.”

“I don’t know...” Shaya said.