Bjorn's smile was wide. It was just the pure, simple joy of a guy who just found out he had a whole new family.
Lilly, whose jaw was practically on the floor because of how enormous this guy was, took a careful step forward. Her little wooden sword was still clutched under her arm.
"Wow, you're… super big," she said, baffled by the enormity of her grandfather.
Bjorn let out a low, gentle rumble of a laugh that actually made the cups on the shelf rattle. He managed to crouch down until he was eye-level with her.
"I am, little one," he confirmed, his voice a deep, comforting vibration. "And I hear you're training with a rapier. Good choice. Your dad was a big, clumsy greatsword guy, but a rapier takes finesse. Welcome home, Lilly. Your grandma made her famous stew."
Darius gave a quick, respectful little head salute. "Sir, I'm Darius. It's an honor to meet such a... muscular person."
Bjorn's eyes crinkled up. "Drop the 'Sir' stuff, kid. I'm just Grandpa Bjorn. And you look like a boy who hasn't had a proper meal in a week. Hope you like boar."
Alex gave a simple nod. "Grandfather. The Phoenix carving is excellent."
Bjorn just grinned, totally ignoring the silver coin calculation and focusing on the compliment. "You noticed that, huh? It takes a keen eye to see the quality of the wood, son. Come here." He pulled Alex into a huge, gentle hug that nearly eclipsed the boy entirely.
Alexia, looking perfectly composed and scholarly, stepped up next. "Grandfather, the stove's heat retention seems unusually good. What material is it made of?"
Bjorn gave a soft chuckle, clearly pleased. "It's cast iron, sweetheart. But the real trick isn't the metal; it's patience. Low and slow heat. Works for stew, works for life." He eyed her glasses. "You've got your grandmother's brain, little one. It's good to finally have you here."
Lucia, who had been hiding mostly behind Rowan's leg, finally peeked out. She looked up at the giant man with her bright, trusting ruby eyes, not scared at all, just sleepy and curious.
"Grandpa," she mumbled, her face lighting up. "Stew?"
Bjorn's heart just melted. He scooped her up effortlessly, settling her snugly on his massive hip. "The very best stew in the whole world, little princess. All for you."
With the introductions done, everyone piled into the kitchen. Clara and Rowan started serving the stew. It was thick, dark brown, absolutely loaded with slowly cooked wild boar, carrots, potatoes, and dark-green herbs. It smelled amazing and looked hearty. They had thick slices of dark, crusty sourdough bread on the side.
Nytra came up after closing the store and also joined them for the meal. She gave a little flourish of a bow, her ice-white hair shimmering.
"Hello, everyone! I'm Nytra Blacksun, your father's cousin, and your lovely aunt. Im the official coin counter for this establishment!" she declared, her voice bright and melodic.
She spotted Alex looking up at her with his serious, analytic gaze. "And I see we have a fellow ledger enthusiast among us!"
She winked at Alex, then turned her focus to the others, a huge, genuine smile on her face. "Welcome to Mivvy! If you ever need to know the price of anything downstairs, you come to me! But first, let's eat this amazing stew!"
The kids, who were starving after their chaotic morning shopping trip, attacked the meal with an intensity that even Rowan had to admire.
"The meat texture is ideal, Father," Alexia stated, taking a serious but satisfied bite. "It holds its shape without being dry."
"It's dense for a reason, little witch," Bjorn corrected, taking a huge spoonful himself. "A man needs fuel that sticks. This boar came from deep in the woods. It was tough, and now it makes us tough."
Lilly ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it deep into the broth. "This is way better than mom's forest food, Daddy! This tastes like…" She struggled for the right word. "It tastes like a big hug."
Lucia, secure next to Bjorn, was meticulously picking out only the biggest chunks of carrot, looking completely focused and content.
Rowan watched the whole scene: the loud, happy scraping of spoons, the easy chatter filling the room. His parents were perfectly in their element, their quiet lives suddenly and beautifully centered on these five new kids.
"You know, Rowan," Bjorn mused, chewing slowly. "A man spends his life thinking strength is a big sword or a finely carved piece of wood. But the real strength… the real strength is sitting at a table with a full house like this. You're not just building a home, son. You are building an unbreakable family."
Clara reached out and placed her hand on Rowan's arm, a look of deep peace in her eyes. "Your father's right. You worried about the money, the supplies, the danger. But look at them. They're home. And now, so are we, finally."
The meal went on, a warm, comforting blur, the simple act of eating together instantly cementing their bond. The Blacksun family was finally, fully, together. Well, not all the way full because the mothers of his kids weren't here but his parents wouldn't mention that.
They knew their son was probably looking for a way to get them back and keep them. They would leave it up to him as that's his responsibility. If he needed help, he would ask.
After the hearty lunch, the Blacksun family finally moved on to the afternoon's activities: the grandparents' grand tour.
Bjorn led the way. He took the five children through a back door and into a sprawling, sunlit workshop attached to the main store. The air here was heavy with the honest scent of cut wood, fine dust, and the faint, earthy tang of plant-based paint.
The room was a woodworker's paradise. Long, sturdy tables were covered in half-finished pieces, their forms emerging from blocks of cedar, oak, and dark ebony. There were carved animals waiting for their final polish, intricate scrollwork designs laid out, and practice pieces scattered everywhere.
Canisters of vibrant, natural paints were lined up neatly along one shelf. All sharp tools, as a matter of habit and for the immediate safety of his new, tiny visitors, had already been put away.
"This is my space," Bjorn announced, his voice proud. "This is where i make all my works."
Lilly, her awe renewed, stood before a massive, unfinished carving of a stallion. "It's so big! How do you know where to cut?"
"You look at the wood, little one," Bjorn explained, gently running a hand over the rough carving. "The wood tells you what it wants to be. You just listen and help it along."
Darius was drawn to a set of small, perfectly balanced wooden throwing axes used as display pieces. He picked one up, testing its weight, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The balance is perfect, Grandfather. Even for a display piece."
"It has to be, son," Bjorn affirmed. "Every piece I make has to be honest. No lies in the wood."
Alexia, predictably, found her way to the paint shelf, analyzing the complex pigments. "Are these dyes made from plants?"
"The best natural paints are needed to give true life to my creations!" Bjorn chuckled. "All from the farm. Berries, roots, leaves. Your father's harvest makes the best colors!"
While the children were reeling from the wood dust, Clara ushered them next door into her workshop. The contrast was immediate and total. The air in here was soft and warm, smelling like a botanical garden after a spring rain, mostly rose, lavender, and mint.
Clara's workshop was clean and picturesque. It was not like a carpenter's room and more like an orderly chemistry lab, filled with large copper cauldrons, measurement scales, and cooling trays.
There were drying racks stacked high with bars of soap in every shade. From deep indigo, pale rose, and sunset orange, each one was perfectly cut and waiting for its final wrap.
"This is where Grandma makes it all smell good," Clara said, a gentle pride in her voice. "This is where we turn oils and herbs into something beautiful and useful."
Lucia, delighted by the colors and the soft scents, wandered over to a tray of rose-pink soap. "Pretty. Smells like daddy's flower garden."
Clara smiled, her heart warming at the comment. "It is a beautiful scent, sweetheart. And these..," she pointed to a set of precise glass measuring cups, "are my tools. I measure everything perfectly. A good soap, just like a good stew, needs precision."
Alexia observed the measuring process. "So, the fragrance infusion requires a specific ratio of essential oil to base oil, Grandmother?"
"Exactly, Alexia!" Clara praised. "You have to be a little witch to make perfect soap. If you're off by even a drop, the scent is ruined!"
Rowan stood near the doorway, watching his parents beam as they shared their life's work with the children.
He'd seen the animal carvings come to life, felt the wood dust settle on him countless times, and smelled the evolving soaps since he was a boy. He was content simply watching the quiet joy on his children's faces.
A light pressure suddenly settled on his arm. Nytra, who had been quietly observing the scene with a pleased smile, now stood beside him. She was holding his arm, leaning against him like a proper cousin, or a little sister.
"You've been quiet, Big Brother," Nytra murmured, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper that only he could hear. Her grip on his arm tightened gently, a somewhat intimate signal. "I need a word with you. It can't wait until we close up."
She subtly steered him a few steps away, toward a dark, cedar-paneled wall away from the main door.
"It's about our new friend, Lyra Thorne," Nytra continued, her playful demeanor gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a seasoned merchant. "I ran her name and her Phoenix Trading Group through three separate Guild contacts while you were talking to the three bozos in the back."
She glanced over to ensure the grandparents were still engrossed. "First, the group is barely six months old. It's thriving too fast. Second, her cash reserve is absolutely astronomical, way beyond what a new trade house should have.
Third, and this is the important part. One of my best contacts, a broker who deals exclusively with military contracts, informed me that the Phoenix Group has recently been thrown into conversations about military provisions contracts. He said it was all too sudden."
Nytra leaned in, her ice-white hair brushing his shoulder. "Big Brother, she is not a connoisseur of fine produce. She is a procurement officer, and a high-level one at that. But her sudden presence and past records are clean but somewhat sudden at the same time.
I'm not sure about trusting her but I can't pick out anything wrong with her either, so I can only ask for your opinion, brother. What are you going to do?"
She looked him directly in the eye, the gravity of her statement hanging in the warm, scented air. "So, what's the play? Are you going to trust her or test her first?"
Rowan absorbed Nytra's detailed analysis, his expression hardening slightly. Her information only bolstered his initial suspicion. Lyra Thorne was possibly a plant, or at the very least, someone with dubious origins.
He gave a slow nod, his gaze fixed on the vibrant colors of his mother's soaps.
"Thanks, Nytra. That confirms my gut feeling," Rowan said, his voice quiet but firm.
"A merchant who 'sees the poetry in a perfectly grown tomato' is a convenient timing. The military contracts are suspicious but could just be her personal connections. I'm not going to declare her threat just yet."
He shifted his weight, his arms still crossed. "No, I won't trust her. But I will play along. She wants to see the farm? She'll see the farm. I can control the environment there, and I can control what she sees. We are going to test her the moment she steps onto the land."
He paused, a subtle, confident glint in his eye. "I will give her a chance to prove her intentions. If she is a legitimate buyer, even with a suspicious past, she'll get a legitimate price.
If she tries to leverage her position or probe too deeply into things that don't concern her, she'll find out why my sword earned the name 'Demon-Splitter'."
Nytra's serious expression melted away, replaced by her usual bright, teasing smile. She poked him lightly in the ribcage.
"Good, Big Brother," she said, a playful lilt in her voice. "That's the attitude I like to hear. Now that the serious stuff is said, can we discuss a more pressing matter?"
She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a theatrical whisper. "Five children, brother? Five? And all from different mothers? You certainly didn't waste any time after you retired the sword, did you? You've got a whole little army of genius half-sisters and brothers. Honestly, sometimes I think you're more dangerous outside of the military than you ever were in it."
She pulled back, shaking her head in mock disbelief while her smile remained wide and genuine. "I just hope you bought enough parchment to track all the money you're going to spend on them. It's going to take all of Nytra's accounting magic to sort that mess out!"
Rowan just chuckled, the tension from the Lyra Thorne discussion finally gone. "Don't worry about my finances, Nytra. Focus on yours. Now, come on. Before father forces me to smash wood with my head."