Contrary to Jiro’s belief, there was no breakfast in the Temple.
He discovered it by waiting for food after Tsunade and Roland had left. But betraying his expectations, no food ever came. He knew well enough about the fact that most servants knew by this point that he was awake. When it became clear to him that no one would knock with a tray, or porridge, or even a simple bread, his hunger seemed to get even more furious.
After not being able to endure it at all anymore, he asked around and found out from some servant that the Temple observed a strict fast until midday. Water was permitted. But nothing else.
Just after hearing it, his stomach made its opinion known with a low, unhappy twist. He ignored it and returned to his room.
For a second, he thought about sneaking food into his room. But that thought was ignored as soon as it came. After all, it was impossible; the corridors were never truly empty, and the servants in this place moved like they were trained to notice everything. The only people he could reasonably ask were Tsunade or Roland. Tsunade would probably agree if he asked, but the thought of asking her for something like this felt a little embarrassing. And Roland was even less useful. The man was loyal, loud, and about as subtle as a falling tree. Even if Jiro explained the plan in exhaustive detail, Roland would somehow manage to get caught and then cheerfully announce that he was only following Sage-sama’s orders. The resulting gossip would spread through the Temple faster than festival drums.
So Jiro had no choice but to endure.
Ruby, for her part, offered no complaints. He didn’t know when the last time she ate was, whether Tsunade had made sure she ate last night or not. The girl seemed to be treating the large chamber like a private exhibition hall, drifting from shelf to shelf with her hands clasped behind her back. Occasionally she hummed under her breath, with a low wandering melody that refused to settle into any pattern Jiro recognized. He tried to listen once, curiosity briefly outweighing irritation. The tune sat somewhere between the simple harvest songs of Doldia and the polished court pieces he had heard at the banquet, restless and slightly off-kilter.
He could not guess which melody it was actually. After a while he just stopped trying. Growing up in a farming village had given him a respectable collection of work songs and festival melodies, most of them learned at his mother’s side or during the rare traveling performances that passed through Doldia.
The capital, he had realized at the banquet, operated on an entirely different scale of musical wealth. Yesterday he saw bards with instruments he could not name, layered harmonies, songs that shifted mood mid-verse; those were the first things about the city he had genuinely liked.
Like this, with hunger crawling in his stomach, the hours crawled. Sunlight tracked slowly across the floor. Ruby hummed at her own pace. And Jiro just sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to think about roasted roots or fresh bread or the way his mother’s porridge used to taste when she added the last of the dried berries. By the time a polite knock finally sounded at the door, the emptiness in his stomach had become a dull, persistent ache. His head had started to ache too by this point.
Rudolf entered when called. The younger twin of Roland looked as neatly put together as ever, armor polished, expression politely attentive, none of the residual wine-haze from last night. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
“Sage-sama. I have been instructed to escort you to the midday meal. Your attendant is also permitted to accompany you.”
Jiro stood, smoothing the front of his robe out of habit even though the fabric no longer wrinkled as easily as village cloth. Ruby fell into place behind him without needing to be told. They left the chamber and began the long walk through the Temple’s stone corridors. Even while walking, Jiro’s stomach gave another quiet protest. He cleared his throat to shut it down.
“Rudolf-san. Why the formal summons to the lunch hall? Is this how everyone in the Temple takes their meals, together in one place? Or is today something special?”
Rudolf walked a half-step ahead, considering the question with careful neutrality.
“You misunderstand slightly, Sage-sama. The regular knights and servants do not eat in the formal hall. Not on ordinary days, and not today. That space is reserved for specific company or significant occasions. This afternoon it will be only you, Captain of the Temple guard, Vice Captain Tsunade, and His Holiness the Pope. Possibly one or two other people. I was given to understand there may be a first formal matter to address. A test of sorts, though the details were not shared with me.”
“A test?”
“I truly do not know more than that, Sage-sama.” Rudolf glanced back with a small, apologetic smile. “You will be told soon enough.”
They turned a final corner. A pair of tall double doors reinforced with pale metal stood at the end of the corridor. Even though Jiro had already explored most of the Temple’s buildings' inner corridors, he never got to explore till this point yesterday.
Rudolf stopped, turned back, reached out, and adjusted the high collar of Jiro’s robe with a quick, professional tug so that it sat straight against his neck. The gesture was efficient, almost brotherly.
“There. Now it’s presentable, Sage-sama.” He turned again. As he opened the door, he silently stepped aside to let Jiro and his slave pass by him. “Please, Sage-sama.”
Jiro entered, Ruby a half-step behind him.
The hall in front was large without being cavernous, an intentional space meant for conversation rather than eating lunch, some would say. At the center of it, a long dining table, with dark, polished wood occupied the center. High-backed chairs lined both sides. Servants in muted uniforms stood motionless behind several of the seats, hands folded, eyes lowered. Already seated were Tsunade, the Pope in his plain white robes, and a middle-aged man in elaborate noble attire whose posture suggested he considered the entire room an extension of his own importance. A few chairs remained empty at that table.
Tsunade looked up as they entered. The shadows under her eyes had lightened since the gate; she offered Jiro a small, steady smile. He returned it almost without thinking. Just by seeing her, his pain from hunger seemed to dull a little.
“Sage-sama. Please take the seat reserved for you, there, at the far side of the table.”
Jiro moved to the indicated chair. It sat slightly apart from the others, with empty places on either side as though the arrangement itself was making a point. He settled into it, the wood smooth and cool beneath his hands, then glanced back and gave a small, natural gesture for Ruby to take the seat beside him.
But she seemed to be hesitant to sit down there.
The bold, sharp-tongued girl from that morning seemed to shrink under the weight of the formal setting. Her hands twisted once in the fabric of her simple dress. Her eyes flicked toward the Pope, then toward the nobleman, then down to the floor. The reluctance was obvious yet sudden for Jiro to see at first glance.
The Pope cleared his throat, a soft, deliberate sound that immediately drew every gaze in the room.
Beside him, the nobleman leaned forward with a thin, knowing smile.
“It seems our new Sage is remarkably kind. Allowing a mere slave to sit at the same table as those of upper rank. Perhaps it would be wise for His Holiness to begin the young Sage’s education in etiquette without further delay. Some lessons are best learned early.”
The words landed cleanly in Jiro’s heart. He felt heat rise along the back of his neck. He had not even considered the unspoken rules of status. In Doldia, a hungry person sat and ate; the idea that a human being could be too low to share a table had never been part of the world he understood. Realising that now, Ruby’s sudden nervousness made perfect sense in his mind. She had known the rule. But he had not.
He looked at her still standing beside the chair, shoulders slightly hunched, waiting for the correction that everyone else in the room clearly expected. But then something stubborn and familiar settled in his chest. He really felt like doing something that went fully against his philosophy.
Jiro reached out, closed his fingers gently but firmly around Ruby’s wrist, and guided her down into the empty chair beside him before anyone at the table could voice a further objection.