"You're quiet this morning," Rebecca noted softly, leaning her elbows on the table.
"Just thinking about the prep list for the tavern," Lencar lied effortlessly, offering a gentle, reassuring smile. "Gorn mentioned a merchant caravan might be passing through for lunch. We're going to need a lot of potatoes."
Rebecca didn't look entirely convinced. She picked at a piece of bread, her gaze dropping to the scarred, calloused knuckles wrapped around his ceramic mug.
"You aren't planning another one of your sudden 'vacations', are you, Lencar?" she asked, her voice keeping a light, teasing tone, though her eyes were serious.
Lencar paused, the mug halfway to his lips. He carefully set it back down on the table, maintaining his relaxed posture. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Because the last time you got this quiet and restless, you disappeared for over a week," Rebecca pointed out, taking a bite of her bread. "You came back looking like you hadn't slept in a month. Gorn and I don't pry into your business, Lencar. You know that. But you have a habit of vanishing right when things get complicated."
She didn't know the half of it. The last time he had taken a "vacation," he had been busy hunting down Diamond Kingdom generals and recruiting rogue artificers in the black market.
"I appreciate the concern, Rebecca," Lencar said smoothly, his voice dropping to a softer, more earnest timbre. "But I have no plans to leave Nairn anytime soon. My place is here, working at the tavern and helping you keep these little monsters in line."
He reached over and playfully ruffled Marco's hair, earning a loud squawk of protest from the boy.
Rebecca smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good. Because if you leave me alone with Gorn during the harvest festival rush next month, I might actually strangle him with his own apron strings."
The breakfast concluded with the usual laughter and chaotic cleanup. Lencar helped Rebecca gather the dishes, gave the kids their daily instructions to stay out of trouble, and walked side-by-side with her through the muddy streets toward the Rusty Spoon.
But as they walked, Lencar's mind was turning the conversation over and over, analyzing it with cold, tactical precision.
Rebecca was already suspicious of his absences. She was noticing patterns.
An hour later, the heat of the tavern kitchen was in full swing.
"Barl! You're burning the onions! Turn the heat down before I turn you into a stew!" Gorn bellowed, his massive frame dominating the space near the main hearth.
"I'm sorry, boss! The wood is too dry, it caught fast!" the panicked apprentice squeaked, desperately trying to scrape the blackened bits from the bottom of a heavy iron pan.
Lencar stood at his station, his hands moving with blinding, automatic speed as he diced a mountain of carrots. Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was a constant, steady drumbeat beneath the chaos of the kitchen.
He was physically present, entirely efficient, but mentally, he was trapped in a highly complex logistical nightmare.
He wanted to be in the Royal Capital tomorrow. He needed to be there.
The invasion by the Eye of the Midnight Sun was not just a historical event; it was a massive concentration of high-tier magical assets, rare magic stones, and critical, timeline-defining battles. If he played his cards right, he could harvest incredible new magic attributes from the Midnight Sun operatives. He could intercept the spatial mages.
But the problem wasn't getting there. With his advanced Spatial Magic, he could step into the Royal Capital in a fraction of a second.
The problem was the alibi.
He had previously considered just telling Gorn and Rebecca that he needed a few days off to travel to a neighboring town for personal business. It was the same excuse he had used when he went to the Kiten region.
But Rebecca's comments at breakfast had completely killed that idea.
"You have a habit of vanishing right when things get complicated."
If Lencar Abarame conveniently took a vacation tomorrow, and exactly twelve hours later, the Royal Capital of the Clover Kingdom was subjected to a horrific, unprecedented terrorist attack involving armies of the dead and spatial anomalies... the coincidence would be too massive to ignore.
Gorn and Rebecca weren't Magic Knights, but they weren't stupid. They knew he was strong. They knew he had secrets. If he vanished right as the kingdom burned, a seed of genuine doubt would plant itself in their minds. They might not think he was the mastermind, but they would undoubtedly suspect he was involved with the dark factions responsible.
Once that suspicion took root, his peaceful, grounding life in Nairn would be over. The Scarlet family would look at him with fear instead of warmth. He would lose his anchor.
Thwack-thwack-thwack. "How do I be in two places at once?" Lencar muttered under his breath, sweeping a massive pile of diced carrots into a waiting wooden bowl.
If he had Clone Magic, this wouldn't even be an issue. A high-tier clone could easily stand in this kitchen, chop vegetables, and banter with Gorn while his true body slaughtered zombies in the capital. But despite the vast, terrifying arsenal of magic he had siphoned and integrated through Absolute Replication, true physical duplication eluded him. It was a remarkably rare attribute.
"Hey, Lencar?" Barl's voice broke through his intense concentration.
Lencar paused, looking up to see the teenager standing nearby, holding a half-peeled potato and looking incredibly anxious.
"What is it, Barl?" Lencar asked patiently.
"Do you... do you know anything about flowers?" Barl asked, his face flushing a deep, violently bright red. "Like, what kind of flowers a girl might like? Elara, the baker's daughter... her birthday is tomorrow. I saved up a few coppers, and I wanted to get her something, but I don't want to look stupid."
Lencar stared at the blushing teenager for a moment. Here he was, agonizing over how to secretly participate in a national war without blowing his cover as an omnipotent syndicate leader, and this kid was having a panic attack over a bouquet. The contrast was almost comical.
Lencar offered a gentle, entirely genuine smile. "Don't buy the expensive roses, Barl. Everyone buys roses. Get her a bundle of wild bluebells from the edge of the woods. Tie them with a simple piece of twine. It shows you actually put effort into finding them yourself, rather than just throwing coin at a merchant."
Barl's eyes widened, completely amazed by this profound wisdom. "Wild bluebells. Right. That's... that's genius, Lencar! Thanks!" The boy practically skipped back to his station, his mood entirely lifted.
Lencar shook his head, returning to his cutting board. He grabbed a massive, heavy sack of flour and easily hauled it onto the counter.
I need a solution, he demanded of himself, his mind returning to the tactical problem.
He ran through the catalog of his integrated magic attributes, searching for any combination that could solve his dilemma.
Spatial Magic allowed him to travel instantly, but he couldn't leave a portal open in the kitchen; Gorn would notice the glowing purple hole in space immediately.
Illusion Magic, which he had harvested from the bounty hunter Madame Vex, was powerful. He could easily cast an illusion of himself standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. But illusions were just bent light and sound. They had no physical mass. The moment Gorn bumped into him, or Barl tried to hand him a pan, their hands would pass right through his body. The illusion would shatter, and the panic that would ensue would be disastrous.