Chapter 20 - The Cat, the Cook, and the Captain
The clock chimed softly in the distance, a polite but unmistakable signal that the workday had drawn to a close. Papers were tucked away, crystalinks silenced, and the quiet hum of arcane equipment gave way to the rustle of coats and scarves being retrieved from hooks by the door.
Tessa stretched her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh. “That’s another day survived. Neia, Yvaine, ready?”
Neia nodded, fastening the buttons of her outer cloak. Her satchel swung lightly at her hip as she rose, still holding the faint nervous energy of one who had something on her mind.
“I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” she admitted as the three of them stepped out into the late afternoon chill, their boots tapping softly along the cobbled lane.
Yvaine gave her a look that was half amused, half reassuring. “You’ve never cooked dinner?”
Neia gave a soft laugh. “I’ve never cooked dinner for someone like him.”
They reached the marketplace just as the sun began to dip below the rooftops, casting a golden-pink hue over the stalls. The scent of fire-roasted chestnuts mingled with sharp citrus and sea salt from crates of fresh catch brought in from the river markets.
“Alright,” Tessa said, sliding her arm through Neia’s with cheerful determination. “Tell us what we’re hunting for.”
Neia paused, then gave a gentle smile. “It’s a dish from home. I’ll know what we can use when I see it.”
They moved between the stalls with purpose, letting the familiar rhythm of market chatter and clinking coin lull them into ease. Neia’s gaze lingered on a cluster of leafy greens that looked just enough like cabbage to serve, and a fillet of white fish that reminded her of halibut, though it carried a more local scent. She added soft herbs to the bundle, a pat of creamy butter wrapped in wax, and a small vial of tart fruit vinegar that Tessa insisted would brighten the dish.
As they selected their produce, Yvaine watched Neia closely. “You’re steady with your hands,” she said. “You must’ve done this a lot.”
Neia shrugged with a small laugh. “It’s been a while. But I want it to be something that feels… like home.”
Yvaine nodded. “Then it’s perfect.”
By the time the sun began its slow descent behind the rooftops of Korth, the evening air had cooled to a gentle breeze, rustling the corners of cloaks and the tops of paper bags. With their market errand completed and arms laden with the best substitutes they could find for Neia’s beloved recipe, the trio departed for the Community Ward, their spirits buoyed by the novelty of it all.
Neia consulted her crystalink once more as they approached the right street, its soft arcane glow flickering faintly in her palm. “It should be just ahead,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. The closer they drew, the quieter she became.
Tessa glanced up at the row of handsome buildings. “Oh my,” she murmured, eyes wide with admiration. “This is quite a nice part of the ward, isn’t it?”
Yvaine, always composed, offered a knowing smile. “Fitting, given his position in the Guild. The Defenders do not house their captains in hovels.”
Neia halted at the foot of the stone steps leading up to a modest yet well-kept building with flowering vines trained up its iron railing. She cast a furtive glance at her reflection in a nearby windowpane, smoothing a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Do I look—?” she began, then stopped herself. “Is my hair alright?”
“You look lovely,” Tessa said at once.
“Perfectly presentable,” Yvaine added, with an encouraging nod.
Neia took a deep breath and stepped forward. She reached up and pressed the bell beside the door, the chime within sounding gentle but clear. As footsteps approached from the other side, she felt her heartbeat quicken, its rhythm thudding a little too loudly for her comfort. Tessa let out a small squeal and clutched Neia’s arm with barely contained glee, while Yvaine remained steadfast as ever, folding her arms with the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
The door swung open, and there stood Gideon, his expression briefly surprised before it softened at once.
“Neia,” he said warmly. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
Before she could stammer a reply, he turned politely toward the other two. “Good evening. I’m Gideon Thorne.”
Yvaine offered her hand first. “Yvaine Durnholde. A pleasure, Captain.”
Tessa, for her part, stepped forward far too eagerly. “Tessa Kaldrith! I’m Neia’s colleague. We just came to drop her off, and—” She paused to glance at Gideon with wide, sparkling eyes. “Goodness me, he is handsome,” she whispered, not nearly softly enough.
Neia’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Tessa!”
Yvaine reached over and pinched the younger woman’s arm with subtle precision, her smile never faltering.
Gideon, gracious as ever, simply chuckled under his breath. “You’re all very kind. Thank you for walking her here.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Yvaine said smoothly, nudging Tessa away. “Enjoy your evening, Neia.”
Before Neia could regain her composure, Gideon stepped forward and gently took the bag of ingredients from her arms. “Apologies for not offering sooner,” he said. “Let me carry that.”
Neia, still pink about the ears, nodded. “Thank you, Gideon.”
He gestured for her to follow, and the two disappeared into the building, the door closing behind them with a soft click, leaving Yvaine and Tessa on the steps, one smiling fondly, the other already gushing about how she absolutely must hear everything later.
As the door closed gently behind them, Gideon stepped aside and gestured toward a small wooden shelf by the entryway. “Feel free to use a pair of guest slippers,” he said, his tone gentle. “They should be clean.”
Neia glanced down at her boots, already damp from the evening air, and quickly unlaced them. She selected a pair of slippers from the row, each one neatly aligned and clearly sized for larger feet. Slipping them on, she swayed a little, the heels loose.
“They’re a bit big,” she admitted with a soft laugh.
Gideon looked over, catching sight of how her foot nearly slipped out of the back of the slipper. “Ah. Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I only ever have Caelan or Devon over. Should’ve thought ahead.”
She smiled up at him. “It’s alright. I’ll manage.”
They continued down the hallway, Gideon moving at a slow enough pace that she could follow with ease. The apartment was neat and quietly handsome, much like its occupant. The walls bore no ostentatious decoration, but the warm wood, tidy arrangement, and modest artwork offered a sense of peaceful order. As they reached the living area, the space opened to reveal a small but well-kept kitchen in one corner and a large, cushioned sofa by the window.
And on the back of that very sofa, perched with a regal air, sat a tuxedo cat.
Neia came to a gentle stop, her eyes lighting with soft amusement. “Oh! Thank you for having me,” she said with a polite smile, bowing her head slightly in the manner one might enter a friend’s home. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.” The cat tilted his head, flicking his tail once before speaking in a voice that, to Neia, carried the lofty cadence of an upper-class gentleman. “My dear lady,” he intoned with great dignity, “you honour my humble abode with your presence. Sir Pounceforth the Third, at your service.”
Gideon, of course, heard none of this. Only a brief chirp and a tail flick.
Just as Gideon opened his mouth to introduce him, Neia took a small step forward and, with a serene expression and hand pressed to her heart, said warmly, “It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, Sir Pounceforth the Third. Thank you for welcoming me into your wonderful home.”
Gideon froze. “Wait… how did you—”
She turned to him, her smile quietly radiant. “I forgot to mention. I’m a Circle of the Shepherd Druid. I can speak with animals.”
There was a pause. Then Gideon’s eyes went wide, and he practically lit up.
“No way,” he said, grinning for the first time that evening without reservation. “You can actually talk to him? That’s amazing. I’ve always known he was judging me, but now I might finally get the proof.”
He glanced at Sir Pounceforth, who let out a soft, indifferent meow, before returning his gaze to Neia like a man who had just discovered a hidden door in his own home.
“That’s honestly one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard,” Gideon added, his tone sincere and unguarded. Then, catching himself, he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahem. I mean… right. Good to know. You two seem to be getting along.”
Neia laughed, warm and delighted. Sir Pounceforth flicked his tail with refined approval, as if to say naturally.
With a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Gideon gestured toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”
Neia nodded, following him into the warmly lit space as they began to lay out their ingredients side by side. And as the quiet rustle of bags and the soft clink of jars filled the air, Gideon found himself wondering, perhaps a little too eagerly, what she had planned for dinner.