Chapter 67: A Different Kind of Home

The city nightlife of Tadon was vibrant. Music spilled from taverns, laughter echoed in the streets, and the scent of grilled meats and spiced ale filled the air.

Yet as they followed Bennett, the lively streets gave way to something quieter.

Tache glanced around, frowning. "You sure we're going the right way? You've got another inn all the way out here?"

Dorian, grinning, added, "Not really business-savvy of you, is it?"

Bennett, unfazed, just kept leading them through the dimly lit streets. "It's not an inn."

Selyse raised an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

Bennett smirked. "You'll see."

They turned a corner and arrived at a large building, almost mansion-like, with a wide front yard. Warm lanterns hung from the wooden posts, casting a gentle glow on the stone pathway.

Before anyone could speak, a woman rushed out of the gate, her face lighting up as she saw Bennett.

"Bennett!"

Bennett jumped down from the wagon, grinning ear to ear, and ran toward her.

Dorian, watching the reunion, sighed dramatically. "Aww, that's adorable."

Then Bennett kissed her, holding her close before turning back to the group. "Everyone, this is my wife, Elira."

Before the group could properly react, several small children burst out of the house, running toward Bennett.

"Papa!"

They flocked to him, hugging his legs, pulling at his coat, talking over each other in their excitement.

Tache, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy, huh?"

Bennett laughed, ruffling one of the kids' hair. "Yeah, well, they're my kids."

Then he gestured to the house. "Welcome to Tumblepouch orphanage."

Elira waved them in. "Come in! The little rascals are always excited to meet new people."

Dorian swung off Regis, laughing as some of the children ran up to the horse, eyes wide with wonder.

"Whoa! He's huge!"

"Can we ride him?!"

Dorian grinned, patting Regis' neck. "Sorry, partners, Regis isn't for rent."

The kids pouted, but they were already distracted by something else—Dorian's floating flute, which he casually played with his magic.

They gasped, pointing in amazement.

"He's a wizard!"

Dorian, grinning, leaned in dramatically. "No, little ones. I am a bard."

The kids giggled as he played them a quick melody, Regis snorting in amusement.

Meanwhile, Selyse and Ralnor had already stepped inside, helping Elira with the youngest ones, who needed guidance with their food.

But Tache stood back.

He was staring at the orphanage. Not in disgust, but something else.

Something unreadable.

Dorian noticed, stepping beside him. "Hey. You good?"

Tache blinked, snapping out of it. He forced a grin. "Yeah. Just… wasn't expecting this from Bennett."

Dorian studied him but didn't push. Instead, he just patted Tache's back.

"Well, come on then, Knight of Cyclones. Let's see if these kids can survive your awful jokes."

Tache snorted, shaking off whatever ghosts haunted his thoughts, and followed the rest inside.

…

The orphanage was warm, filled with the scent of fresh-baked bread and simmering stew. The large chimney crackled, casting dancing shadows along the wooden walls. Children lay scattered across the plush rugs and cushions, their wide, curious eyes locked onto Dorian, who sat in the center with his lute resting on his lap.

Bennett and Elira sat close together, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she cradled one of the younger children who had dozed off in her lap. The three knights—Tache, Selyse, and Ralnor—were sprawled out comfortably, a rare moment of ease replacing their usual battle-readiness.

Dorian plucked the strings of his lute, sending soft, rich notes echoing through the room.

"Alright, little ones," he said, his voice carrying a playful lilt. "Shall we begin with a tale of beauty and sorrow? Or one of legend and might? Or shall we start with a ridiculous tale of some very rude snow monkeys?"

A chorus of shouts erupted from the children.

"Legend!"

"Sad one first!"

"Monkeys! Monkeys!"

Dorian chuckled, holding up a hand. "Patience, patience! You shall have all three, but we must begin properly."

He took a deep breath, letting the mood settle.

The lute's melody softened, a slow, melancholic tune drifting through the room.

"This is a story of a woman," Dorian began, his voice gentle yet captivating, "whose beauty was matched only by the depth of her love… and the sorrow that time stole from her."

A hush fell over the room as he told them of Viscount Halrik's mother, of her youthful love with Baron Elowyn, of the happiness they built together, and the pain of losing him.

As he spoke, his magic wove into the air, forming ghostly, golden silhouettes—a young woman in an elegant gown, twirling in a ballroom with a handsome man in noble attire. The children watched, enraptured, as the images danced around the room, fading into wisps of blue mist as the story reached its bittersweet conclusion.

By the end, some of the older children sniffled, while the younger ones clung to each other in the warmth of the firelight.

Bennett, who had remained quiet, gave Dorian a small, appreciative nod.

Elira wiped her eyes, whispering, "That was beautiful…"

Dorian shifted the mood, brightening the melody.

"And now," he announced, "for a story of legend! A tale of grace, majesty, and wild freedom. The tale of Aelwyn and his noble herd."

He played a strong, rhythmic tune, his voice growing bold.

"They run where the winds whisper their names, where the snow parts for their stride! They bow to no master, no king—only the call of the wild and the stars above!"

The children sat up, their eyes sparkling as Dorian recreated the moment Aelwyn stood before him, his white coat shimmering in the cold sun, the great leader of a mystical herd.

His magic swirled, forming an ethereal white horse, galloping in slow circles around the room, its mane flowing like liquid moonlight.

Gasps of wonder filled the air, and even Tache, Selyse, and Ralnor—who had seen him firsthand—seemed mesmerized.

And then, with a wicked grin, Dorian slammed a playful chord onto his lute.

"Enough of beauty! Enough of legend!" he declared. "Now, let me tell you about the time I almost got my clothes stolen by a bunch of naked little thieves!"

The children burst into laughter before the song even began.

Dorian strummed a quick, playful rhythm, launching into a hilarious, exaggerated tale of his hot spring encounter—of the furious snow monkeys, their angry chatter, their attempt to claim the hot spring, and how one almost ran off with his coat.

As he sang, illusory snow monkeys appeared—one scratching its head, another stealing a tiny lute, and a third one mimicking Dorian's dramatic expressions.

The children squealed with laughter, clapping along.

Even Ralnor, the most stoic of them all, had a rare smirk as he leaned back and listened.

Tache, at some point, had collapsed onto his back, laughing too hard to sit up.

Selyse wiped tears from her eyes, shaking her head. "By the gods, you're an idiot, Dorian."

Dorian, still strumming, grinned. "An idiot with a good song, though!"

The songs and stories continued late into the night.

Dorian taught the children simple melodies, leading them in a joyful sing-along.

Bennett and Elira held each other, listening with soft smiles as their home was filled with music.

The three knights relaxed, for once shedding the burdens of their pasts, simply enjoying the warmth of the moment.

And for Dorian, there was no better reward than the sight of laughing children, the sound of voices lifted in song, and the feeling that—if only for one night—they were all one big family.