The sun was leaning toward the horizon when the iron gates of Verdalis creaked open. Hooves struck the ground with a proud rhythm as the people on the streets whispered, "The Silver Fang has returned…"
After months in the northern campaigns, Issac—the White Tiger General of Verdalis—was finally home.
As his armored boots touched the familiar cobblestones of his district, the cool breeze carried the scent of the river and the warmth of family. The sharp aura that usually surrounded him on the battlefield softened the moment his home came into sight—a modest wooden house, weathered yet filled with memories.
Before he could even knock, the door flung open.
"Issac!" His mother's voice trembled between joy and disbelief. She ran forward, tears brimming in her eyes, pulling him into an embrace. His father, though trying to maintain composure, could not hide his smile.
"You've become the pride of Verdalis," his father said, gripping his shoulder. "A general… my son, the White Tiger General."
Issac chuckled softly. "Still the same son, Father. Just with a bit more armor and a few more scars."
Laughter filled the home. The warmth of reunion replaced the coldness of war.
---
Across the narrow lane, Vaela heard the commotion. Her crane spirit stirred faintly inside her—its wings reflecting her emotions.
"Who's making all that noise?" she muttered, peeking out the window. But when she saw him—standing tall, sunlight glinting off his silver armor—her eyes widened.
Without thinking, she rushed outside.
"Issac!"
Before he could react, Vaela threw her arms around him. For a second, the mighty general froze—then smiled faintly, patting her head. But her hug quickly turned into a series of soft punches on his chest.
"You idiot!" she scolded, tears pricking her eyes. "You vanish for months, and the first thing you do is act like nothing happened? Do you know how worried we were?"
Issac laughed quietly. "I sent letters."
"Letters don't talk back!" she huffed, still emotional.
The scene was light, but something in her voice betrayed how deeply she'd missed him.
Then Issac said with his usual calm confidence, "Vaela, I have news. The Crown Prince and Princess Diya will visit tonight. We'll have dinner together."
Her eyes widened. "What?! The royals? Here?"
His mother froze mid-step in the kitchen. "Issac, our house is tiny! What will the king's children think of—of our simple home?"
Issac smiled. "They're not coming for luxury. They're coming for peace. Besides… I'll cook tonight."
His mother blinked. "You?"
Vaela burst out laughing. "Oh no, I'm fasting tonight," she teased.
Issac narrowed his eyes playfully. "Is that so? Then let's see if my cooking can change your mind."
The challenge was set.
---
As the evening deepened, the humble house filled with the crackle of firewood and the rhythm of Issac's movements in the kitchen. He removed his silver armor, wearing a plain dark tunic, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His once-warrior hands now wielded a wooden ladle instead of a sword.
Vaela watched from the doorway, smirking. "Who knew the great White Tiger could cook?"
"Every general must master survival," Issac replied, tasting the broth. "Even in the harshest snow, a warm meal can raise a soldier's spirit."
His father chuckled from the table. "Your mother will be jealous if you outshine her cooking."
The aroma soon drifted outside—stew spiced with herbs from the northern fields, roasted vegetables, and soft bread baked in the old stone oven.
---
Outside, a royal carriage stopped before the small home. Guards stepped aside as Prince Ravender and Princess Diya stepped out. The prince's lion spirit shimmered faintly around him—a golden outline pulsing with confidence. Beside him, Diya's calm and unspirited aura stood in contrast, yet her presence radiated kindness and quiet poise.
Vaela rushed to the door, almost tripping in her nervous excitement. "Your Highnesses—welcome! Please, come in!"
Prince Ravender smiled warmly. "No need for formalities, Lady Vaela. We're visiting as friends tonight."
Inside, the humble home looked brighter than ever. The prince looked around, impressed. "Simple… but full of heart," he murmured.
Diya's gaze fell upon the small framed picture on the wall—young Issac with his parents and Vaela beside him, grinning with missing teeth. Her lips curved softly. "He looks so different," she whispered.
"That's because he was still human back then," Vaela said playfully, earning a glare from Issac's mother.
Moments later, Issac appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. "Forgive the delay, Your Highness. Just a few more minutes."
Prince Ravender crossed his arms with a grin. "This hand that should wield a blade now stirs a pot? Tell me, General—do your enemies surrender from the aroma?"
Issac smirked. "Only if they're hungry enough, my lord."
They shared a hearty laugh.
---
When the meal was ready, Issac brought the dishes one by one—a spread of savory stews, spiced rice, and grilled venison glazed with honey. The scent filled every corner.
"Smells divine," Diya said sincerely, her usual reserved tone brightened by genuine delight.
They gathered around the table—royalty and commoners alike—and for once, there was no barrier between them. The clinking of dishes mingled with laughter and stories from the battlefield and the city.
Prince Ravender leaned back, grinning. "Issac, I've eaten in palaces across kingdoms. Yet, somehow, this… this feels warmer than all of them."
Issac bowed slightly. "Then my home has served its purpose, my lord."
Vaela puffed her chest. "See? I told you his cooking wouldn't be terrible."
Diya giggled quietly, her gentle eyes observing how easily Issac blended command with humility. Something about that balance fascinated her.
---
As the night deepened, the conversation turned thoughtful. Ravender spoke about new reforms, the rebuilding of the border villages, and whispers of unrest beyond the eastern plains.
Issac listened carefully, his soldier's instincts sharp as ever. Diya added softly, "The people talk about you, General. They call you the Silver Fang—protector of Verdalis."
Issac's expression remained calm, but his eyes softened. "Names fade, Princess. What matters is whether they sleep safely each night."
Diya looked at him for a moment longer, as if seeing beyond the armor and into the heart of the man who carried the weight of so many lives.
---
When the meal ended, Issac walked the prince and princess to their carriage. The moon hung bright, bathing the village in silver light. The breeze carried laughter and the faint call of a night bird.
Before stepping into the carriage, Prince Ravender turned. "Issac."
"Yes, my lord?"
"There's something we must discuss—kingdom matters. Confidential. Come to the palace tomorrow morning."
Issac bowed. "As you command."
The prince placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You've grown, brother. Verdalis stands taller because of you."
As the carriage rolled away, Vaela stepped beside him, arms folded. "Tomorrow, the Silver Fang returns to the castle again, huh?"
Issac looked at the fading glow of the royal crest on the carriage. "Duty calls, Vaela. Always."
She smiled faintly. "Then don't keep them waiting, General."
---
That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Issac sat outside beneath the stars. His armor glimmered faintly beside him, resting against the wall. He stared at his calloused hands—the same hands that had held a blade, a banner… and a ladle.
The crane spirit of Vaela flew across the sky, its outline faintly visible under the moonlight. For a moment, it reminded him of peace—something he often forgot existed.
He whispered quietly to himself,
"Peace feels heavier than war sometimes… because in peace, you start to feel everything again."
And from the darkness, the White Tiger spirit stirred inside him, glowing faintly like silver fire—watching, listening, waiting.
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End of Chapter 9: The Dinner of Bonds
Next Chapter Preview (Teaser):
> In the halls of Verdalis Palace, secrets stir. The King has plans that could shift the fate of the realm, and the Crown Prince's trust in Issac will be tested. Meanwhile, Princess Diya finds herself drawn to a destiny she cannot yet understand…
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