Ch 38: The First Concession
The morning light filtered through the kitchen windows. Elena sat on a stool near the hearth, Greta close beside her, watching Ophelia move through her domain like a general commanding a battlefield. The older woman's hands were a blur—kneading dough, stirring pots, directing kitchen boys with sharp words and even sharper glances.
"You're back," Ophelia said when she saw them. She gestured to a stool. "Good. Make yourself useful."
So Elena spent the morning chopping vegetables. The work was meditative—the rhythm of the knife, the earthy smell of roots, the warmth of the hearth. It stirred a half-forgotten memory about her mother cooking.
Suddenly, the kitchen door banged open. Men spilled through—a wave of bodies, loud and raucous, filling the space .
"I'm telling you, the man's insane—""My arms haven't stopped shaking—""The range, then the yard, then the range again—"
"Shut it, all of you." Nikolai's voice cut through. He pushed through the crowd. His mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "It was a light morning."
"Light?" Timothy staggered in behind him, face flushed, legs unsteady. He clutched the doorframe like a drowning man clinging to wreckage. "My legs gave out on the stairs. On the stairs, Nikolai. I crawled the last flight. And I am not ashamed to admit it."
"You should be," Nikolai said mildly, but warmth lingered beneath the words.
Arlo slipped through with his usual quiet grace. His sharp eyes found Elena. He inclined his head—a small acknowledgment. She returned it.
The men spread through the kitchen, claiming stools and leaning against counters. Ophelia moved among them, smacking hands that reached too early for bread.
Elena and Greta looked on with amusement as one of the men—young, broad-shouldered—dropped onto a stool near them. He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.
"Train, train, train! I'm going to die. And my last memory will be of the captain shouting at me about my stance."
Greta perked up. She leaned forward and asked: "Why were you training so hard anyway? You're not going into battle, are you?"
The young man lifted his head, blinking at Greta like he was seeing her for the first time.
"Um," he cleared his voice. "Well. Nikolai said if we were going to be outshot by a woman half our size, we needed to ‘get into shape.’”
Elena felt heat bloom behind her ears. She kept her expression neutral, but something warmth expanded in her chest.
"His exact words were: 'I'm not having half my men outshot by someone who couldn't hold a gun three weeks ago,'" Timothy added, grinning.
The table erupted in tired, genuine laughter. Elena also found herself smiling.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
"Eat," Ophelia commanded, setting down plates and bowls laden with food. "If you're going to make noise in my kitchen, do it on a full stomach."
The men fell on the food like wolves, their earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of roasted meat and warm stew. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the clink of spoons against bowls and satisfied murmurs.
Timothy, who had been eyeing Greta with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, leaned across the table. "So what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Don't tell me Ophelia dragged you back to work?"
Greta's cheeks flushed, but she grinned. "Someone has to keep Sister company. Besides, I like it here. The people are real. They don't pretend."
Timothy nodded, his teasing edge softening.
The meal wore on. Men finished their plates and leaned back, satiated. Conversations reformed and drifted. Laughter came easier now, looser. Greta and Timothy shifted their chairs closer together, talking about something on her wrist.
Then Elena noticed Nikolai. When she held his gaze, he nodded toward the empty stool beside him.
Elena rose and crossed the space. She sat.
For a moment, neither spoke. The noise of the kitchen filled the silence.
"You're not what I expected," Nikolai said, low enough that only she could hear.
Elena raised a brow as she mouthed: ‘What did you expect?’
"Someone who needed saving. Someone who would make Kazimir weak."
She met his eyes. ‘And now?’
"You're not weak or a liability, Lady Elena. You'll make him stronger.”
Elena felt warmth bloom in her chest. She reached for the water pitcher and poured both of them a glass: ‘Thank you, but you're not wrong either. I lived more than half my life being terrified.”
His was quiet for a moment. "You didn't look terrified yesterday."
‘I've learned not to show fear.’
Nikolai nodded. "To keep moving when every part of you wants to stop. I know the feeling. I spent a long time being angry at the world. It took me years to realize that anger wasn't protecting me. It just kept me in the same place."
He glanced at the men around them—Timothy gesturing, Arlo quiet, the others laughing. He smiled.
"But I found people worth fighting for. People who saw something I couldn't see in myself." His gaze returned to her. "Same as you."
Elena pushed a glass toward him. ‘Thank you for yesterday.’
Nikolai accepted it. "You earned it. I don't cheat. If I lose, I lose fair."
Elena smiled. ‘But you don't like losing.’
A glint of humor lit his eyes. "No one likes losing, Lady Elena. But I'd rather lose to someone who deserves to win than beat someone who doesn't."
She smiled again, and something between them eased.
"You should come again," Nikolai said.
Elena tilted her head, confused.
Before she could respond, he coughed and glanced away. Then, he stood and turned to the men. "Up, boys. You've had your rest. Back to the range in ten."
Groans rose. Timothy clutched his stomach dramatically. "Nikolai, I'm begging you—"
"You can beg while running drills. Move."
The men moved. Grumbling, laughing, shoving each other toward the door. Arlo slipped away without a word but met Elena's eyes once before disappearing. Timothy paused beside Greta, murmured something that made her laugh, then jogged to catch up with the others.
At the door, Nikolai stopped and glanced back. "Lady Elena, you're not alone anymore."
She smiled and mouthed: ‘Yeah, I know.’
He held her gaze for a moment longer. Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.
Elena sat alone at the edge of the long table, watching the space where he had stood.
Nikolai admitted he was wrong, defended her publicly, and invited her back. With his support, the rumors among the men would begin to fade.
Kazimir will be happy, she thought. This is progress.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/12/26