It was supposed to be a peaceful breakfast.
The sun streamed gently through the windows, birds chirped in the gardens, and tea was served in hand-painted porcelain cups. Everything seemed perfect.
Except for one detail:
Liora was fuming like a caged bull.
"This," she growled, pointing at the star-shaped toast delicately placed on her plate, "is a deliberate provocation."
Luziel, sitting beside her, gave her an uncertain look. "It's… toast?"
"It's emotional sabotage," she snapped, holding the toast between two fingers like it was a cursed scroll. "They're trying to tame me. Turn me into some… light princess."
Morian, seated across the table, sipped his tea with the calm of someone who had seen much worse. "And would that be so terrible?"
"It's an insult to my reputation. I used to command armies! I made traitor princes confess just by hearing badly played flutes!"
Luziel coughed into his cup, trying to hide a laugh. He failed.
Liora turned slowly, eyes narrowed. "Something funny, squire?"
"Uh… nervous smile. Totally fear-based."
"Then smile more. I enjoy sincere panic."
Luziel's grin wilted like stale bread. He looked like a servant being judged by a lion in a powdered wig.
Liora stood up, pushing back her chair with the dramatic elegance of someone about to start a revolution.
"That's it. I'm going to train."
"Train what, exactly?" Morian asked, still holding his cup.
"Aura control. Self-control. And maybe... object smashing."
She marched off with such purpose that the floor seemed to tremble. Two young acolytes in the hallway pressed themselves against the wall as if she were the divine inspector herself.
Moments later, in the training yard, Liora stood in front of a row of wooden dummies.
But these weren't ordinary dummies—they were dressed in embroidered cloth, painted with cheerful smiles. Caricatures of kindness.
"YOU CAN'T FOOL ME!" she roared, unleashing her demonic aura. One of the dummies began to float.
Another simply exploded.
From a distance, Luziel sighed. "Yesterday she blessed a village. Today, she's fighting a stuffed bear."
Morian approached, arms crossed. "The contrast of peace. Sometimes more dangerous than war."
"That's what people say right before a disaster."
On the field, Liora spun and kicked three dummies in a row. Her crimson aura pulsed like a war drum.
"Lady Liora!" a priest called out, running over. "The grass… it's on fire."
She paused, surveyed the smoking field, and nodded calmly. "Not bad. Only twelve percent burned. Better than last week."
Morian stepped closer, offering her a cup of tea with a faint smile. "Finished? Or still planning to roast one more plush bear?"
Liora took the tea with dignified exhaustion. Her eyes still blazed with wild energy.
"If someone serves me another star-shaped toast, I swear I'll seal the kitchen with ancient magic and let the dishes weep in silence."
Luziel cleared his throat. "Right. So heart-shaped coffee is definitely… off the menu."
She turned her head slowly, with a glare that could make a battle-hardened general rethink his life choices.
Luziel didn't wait for a response. He ran before the tea could fly too.