The back door swept shut, muffling the distant chipper of birds in the garden.
Within the sanctuary of the stone-walled kitchen, the atmosphere shifted from social obligation to methodical labor.
Draco lightly stretched, the ache in his joints, throbbing as he reached for a heavy apron.
Today, the kitchen would serve as his command center, and the menu was specific: a traditional Paella.
Orario was a city in a state of precarious rebirth.
Following the devastating conflict that had nearly fractured its foundations, the pulse of commerce was finally returning.
Exotic merchants, sensing the vacuum left by the war, had begun trickling back through the main gates.
Their caravans brought more than just supplies; they brought the scents of distant lands…..smoked paprika, precious threads of saffron, and short-grain rice that held the sun of the southern coasts.
Draco had paid a premium for these ingredients, the prices bloated by the risks of the road, but the Bahamut familia's coffers were deep.
His familia members had been industrious.
With the majority of them having successfully transitioned from level three to four, the middle and lower floors of the dungeon had become their personal treasury.
They moved through various floors with lethality, harvesting high-grade magic stones and rare monster drops that kept the familia's lifestyle not just sustainable, but luxurious.
Yet, Draco kept them on a tight leash.
Despite their burgeoning power, he had strictly forbidden any expeditions deeper than the twenty-eight floor.
It was a strategic restraint, born of a secret forged in the shadows of a meeting held five days prior.
The gathering had been small, exclusive, and heavy with the weight of Orario's future.
Only the figureheads of the most trustworthy exploration familias…..Loki, Freya, Ganesha, and Bahamut—had been present.
The agenda was simple but grim: the eradication of the evilus remnants.
While the war was technically over, the "dying flame" of the cult still flickered in the city's dark corners.
Draco set a wide, shallow pan over the heat, coating the surface with golden oil.
As he began to sear the seafood, the sizzle echoed his internal thoughts.
Hermes, relentless in his pursuit of those responsible for the Astraea's death, had narrowed the search.
His investigations had unearthed a shadowy third-party force....a group connected to the Evilus coalition by blood and profit, but operating under a different banner.
This clandestine hunt was the priority, yet it required a delicate touch.
The scars across Orario were fresh; the city needed stability before it could handle another explosion of violence.
If they cornered the remnants too quickly, the "cornered rats" might resort to one final, devastating act of desperation.
The danger of these "cornered rats" could not be overstated.
The logic was sound: let the city heal, let the dungeon rush stabilize, and then strike with absolute, overwhelming precision.
Draco knew that Alise and the other members of the former Astraea familia felt the pull of vengeance like a physical ache.
They were warriors fuelled by justice, and the knowledge that their former goddess murderer was still held unaccountable, was a bitter pill to swallow.
However, they had matured.
They prioritized their duties to the their new familia over their personal vendettas, showing a level of restraint that Draco deeply respected.
They understood that a premature strike would only result in more empty seats at the dinner table.
Draco added the rice, stirring it until it took on a translucent sheen.
He then poured in the saffron-infused broth, the liquid a vibrant, earthy crimson.
As the mixture began to simmer, he lowered the flame.
The dish required patience; it couldn't be rushed, much like the upcoming hunt.
.........…
The sun hung high over the Stardust Garden, its golden rays filtering through the greenery, that gave the house its name.
Inside the spacious kitchen, the air was heavy with the intoxicating aroma of a meal that had been simmering for the better part of thirty minutes.
It was a complex scent.…rich, savoury, with a light kick of the sea and the sweetness of aromatics infused to perfection.
Draco stood over several large pan's, his expression one of focus.
To anyone else, the meal was finished, but to a connoisseur of his caliber, the final minutes were the most crucial.
He dipped a wooden ladle into the steaming mixture, brought a small serving to his lips, and tasted.
A symphony of flavours exploded across his palate, perfectly balanced.
He gave a sharp, decisive nod of approval.
Stepping toward the stone-framed window, he pushed the casement open.
A plume of flavourful steam billowed out, caught by the noon breeze and scattered across the grounds like an invitation.
'Perfect as always. Just need to let it rest' he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught a movement in his periphery.
Michalis was hovering by the counter.
The younger boy was moving with the exaggerated, grace of a practiced thief, his hand inching toward a discarded spoon on the workstation.
His eyes were glued to a specific pan, filled with a hunger that bordered on the feral.
He thought he was being subtle; he thought Draco was distracted by the view.
Swoosh! Whoopsssh!
The sound was like the crack of a whip breaking the sound barrier.
Draco's thick, powerful tail lashed out with blinding speed.
It didn't strike Michalis, but the tip whistled past his nose so closely that the wind pressure forced the boy to blink and stumble back.
The tail slammed into the wooden table with a resounding thud, vibrating with suppressed strength.
Michalis froze, his hand trembling inches away from the pan.
He looked at the tail, then up at Draco's face.
"Sorry... my bad," Michalis muttered, his face flushing a deep crimson.
He slowly backed away, his fingers loosening their grip until the spoon clattered noisily to the floor.
Draco turned fully toward him, his lips curling into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
It was a pleasant expression on the surface, but there was a predatory edge to it that made the air in the kitchen feel suddenly very thin.
"Michalis, you know I love you and all, but sometimes you test my patience," Draco said.
His voice was calm, dripping with a brotherly affection that sounded more like a veiled threat.
"Some love," Michalis grumbled under his breath, rubbing his arm as if he could still feel the phantom pain of the near-miss.
"You basically tried to whip my skin away. Do you not know your own strength? You're a monster."
Draco's smile widened, showing just a hint of a sharp canine.
"Huh? Did I just hear a complaint? A complaint from the very person who was about to contaminate an entire pan of my perfectly-cooked Paella with a dirty spoon? Just for that alone, I'm considering a new policy. Perhaps you simply won't be getting any meals I cook ever again."
The colour immediately drained from Michalis's face.
To a member of the Bahamut familia, missing a meal prepared by Draco was akin to a death sentence of the soul.
"Wait! No! I was….I mean, I'm sorry! Truly! It won't happen again!"
Without waiting for a rebuttal, Michalis turned and fled the kitchen, his boots thudding against the hallway as he beat a hasty retreat.
Draco watched him go, letting out a long, weary sigh.
'Sigh, where did I go wrong raising that boy?' he mused playfully.
He turned back to the window, resting his hands on the sill.
The warm noon breeze continued to roll over the garden, carrying the mouth-watering scent throughout the house.
Deep in the living quarters, the effect was immediate.
Several familia members who had been enjoying their rare day off began to stir.
They tossed and turned, their noses twitching as the smell of the sea tickled their senses. However, they were well-trained.
No one dared enter the kitchen early.
They waited for the signal.
Draco waited until the internal temperature of the meal had settled to the exact temperature he desired.
He took a deep breath, expanded his chest, and projected his voice with the resonance of a dragon's roar, though his tone remained jovial.
"FOOD IS READY!"
The response was instantaneous.
From every corner of the house, the sound of rhythmic marching began.
It sounded like a small army was descending upon the dining room.
Knowing the chaos that was about to ensue, Draco worked quickly.
He dished out three generous portions into ceramic bowls, placed them on a tray, and left a short handwritten note for the rest of the crew, a note he doubted anyone would read.
Then he slipped out the side door before the first hungry adventurer could burst through the main entrance.
He had guests to attend to, and they deserved a bit more decorum than the feeding frenzy currently beginning in the kitchen.
As he stepped out into the lush greenery of the garden, the atmosphere shifted from the hectic energy of the house to one of somber tranquility.
In a corner of the garden, he spotted them.
Riveria sat on a bench.
In her lap lay the small, still body of Ais.
The little girl was a bit pale, her breathing shallow but steady.
Riveria was stroking the blonde girl's hair with a tenderness that few would expect from the stoic mage.
"She still isn't awake," Draco noted quietly as he approached.
He moved closer, setting the tray down on the table.
He placed a steaming bowl in front of Riveria and another by his own seat, keeping the third one near Ais.
Riveria looked up, her jade eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and maternal worry.
She glanced at Ais, then back to Draco, her brow furrowing into a slight frown.
"You must have hit her very hard in the head, Draco. She has a constitution far beyond her years, and yet she remains in this stupor."
Draco rubbed the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly.
"I think I held back quite a lot, actually. Perhaps it's another reason, like she's been pushing herself too much" Draco said.
To that, Riveria simply nodded.
He took his seat opposite them and began to eat.
The food was as good as it smelled, a comforting warmth that grounded him.
Riveria, however, did not touch her spoon immediately.
She stared at the plate, then at Draco, then back at the plate.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked between bites.
"Not to your liking? I can assure you it's all fresh."
"While the food looks and smells extremely delicious," Riveria said, her voice measured, "it looks like an incredibly heavy meal for this time of day. I would have preferred a lighter fare."
Draco chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.
"While it is technically on the heavy side....the portion I served you is quite small. Consider it a concentrated light meal. Besides, this is all we have in the larder today. The others would riot if I made a salad as anything other than a side dish"
"Come on, give it a try, you might just fall in love" Draco urged with a wink.
Riveria sighed, the sound of someone who had long ago accepted the eccentricities of others.
"Alright."
She took her first bite, and her eyes widened ever so slightly.
She gave a small, dignified nod of satisfaction.
As she continued to eat, she kept one hand on Ais head, a constant anchor for the dreaming girl.
The garden fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant, muffled laughter from the house.
Once they had both finished, Draco reached over and covered the third bowl.
Ais had yet to stir, and he wanted to ensure the food stayed warm for whenever she finally decided to return to the waking world.