Rowan smiled to himself, his back still turned to the children as he stirred the pot. He didn't need to look to know they were bonding. Their little conversations, Lilly's innocent curiosity, Alexia's musings, Darius's military stories, Alex's pragmatic observations, and Lucia's sweet, sensory comments were the music of a family forming.
It was a more satisfying sound than anything he could imagine. Only thing that could make it sweeter was if their mothers were here.
He turned off the heat, the fragrance of the simmering soup intensifying. It was time.
"Alright, my little chefs and critics," Rowan announced, his voice a low, excited rumble. "The simmering is complete. The flavors have married and settled."
He quickly ladled the rich, red soup into six deep, ceramic bowls. The steam rose in fragrant plumes, promising warmth and comfort. He garnished each with a few of Lucia's perfectly torn basil leaves and a tiny swirl of olive oil.
Next, he grabbed a thick, linen mitt and opened the heavy iron door of the oven. A wave of dry, hot, smoky air rushed out, carrying the glorious smell of baked grain. He used the wooden paddle to slide the two golden-brown loaves out and placed them on a cooling rack on the counter.
"A meal that will satisfy your tummies," Rowan declared, admiring his work. The bread was spectacular. A deep mahogany crust, slightly cracked, with a golden sheen from Alexia's oil, and the precise, professional marks of Alex's knife.
Lilly rushed forward, craning her neck. "It's so brown, Daddy! Can I eat it now?"
"Let it cool, little one," Rowan chuckled. He sliced one of the loaves down the center. The crust cracked audibly, and the soft, white steam poured out, revealing the airy, perfectly baked crumb inside.
Alexia's eyes widened, her professional facade momentarily dropping. "The cell structure is excellent, Father. The second rise gave it perfect aeration. And the crust… the Maillard reaction is flawless."
Rowan looked at her with a confused look as even he didn't know what in the world she was talking about. He learned cooking as a hobby, not a science.
Alex, forgetting his exhaustion, peered closer. "It's heavier than most bread, but the crumb is open. High-quality flour, minimal fillers. Bakery would charge extra for bread of such high quality."
Rowan laughed. He needs to teach this one not to think about money so much. "The soup and the bread are hotter than the oven. You stand back while Daddy carries our treasure to the table."
He lined up the six heavy bowls of soup on a thick wooden tray, placing a hot iron pan beneath the freshly cut loaf of bread. He stacked the tray carefully, his muscular arms handling the weight with ease.
"This is a job for your handsome and strong father!" Rowan said, giving a final, exaggerated grunt as he carried the full load to the dining table. The children followed closely behind, their noses twitching at the collision of basil, tomato, and fresh bread.
Once everything was safely on the mahogany table, Rowan pulled out the chairs for the children.
"Now, we wait five minutes for the soup to cool, but the bread is safe to touch," he instructed. He tore off six thick, warm chunks of the bread and placed one next to each bowl.
Lilly immediately buttered her bread with a generous slab of homemade butter and took a huge bite. Her eyes closed in bliss. "Daddy, this is the best bread ever! It's crunchy, but it's so soft inside!"
As the children tried the bread, the soup had cooled down a bit.
Lucia dipped a small corner of her bread into the edge of the steaming soup, then cautiously brought it to her mouth. Her ruby eyes grew wide with surprise. "Warm, sweet, and sun smell, Daddy. Good."
Alexia dipped her bread with more restraint, tasting the flavors deliberately. "The basil and the tomato are perfectly balanced. It's a clean, concentrated flavor. No unnecessary additives. It's… comforting in its simplicity." She had never used that word for food before.
Alex slowly chewed his bread, his expression thoughtful. He took a sip of the cooling soup. "I wish mom could cook like this. All she cares about is getting sustenance." He then took a second, larger spoonful, almost crying.
Darius didn't bother with butter or dipping. He tore into the bread and spooned the soup directly. "Maximum flavor, maximum efficiency! This will fuel me for a full day! It's better than any victory stew I've tasted, Father!"
Rowan watched them eat, his own bowl cooling slightly. The sight of his children, all five, gathered around the food he had grown and prepared, eating heartily, was the greatest reward. He took a deep spoonful of the soup.
The flavor was rich, earthy, and clean. The perfect essence of a sun-warmed tomato, amplified by the fragrant basil and the foundation of sweet onion and garlic. He tore a piece of his own bread, the crust giving way with a satisfying snap.
He had won the first battle. Not against his enemies, but against the long, lonely silence of his retirement. He was no longer just Rowan Blacksun, retired Magic Knight. He was Dad. And he was now truly at home.
.....
After a hearty lunch, the kids seemed full as they lay in their chairs with a content expression. Darius even patted his stomach, which looked more than satisfied.
Lucia and Lilly were the most satisfied as they had fallen asleep directly. It seems they really had used all of breakfast's energy on the farm. He hadn't even made them do much but he guessed that going from the cool inside to the hot outside twice might have been too much.
That's when he decided that he would handle the rest of the task himself. He still had to water the plants twice more as the scorching weather was harsh on them.
He put his finger on his lips to let the awake kids know not to make a noise. He carefully picked up the two sleeping princesses and took them to his room. The other 3 followed while tiptoeing carefully to make no noise.
Rowan carefully put the two on the same pillows. Somehow by instinct, Lilly put her arms around her precious youngest sister and cuddled her softly in her arms. It was like watching a kid protecting a precious yet fragile treasure.
Then again. That is what Lucia had become for all of them in less than a day. Arton smiled as he guided the other kids onto the bed, as they at least seemed to maintain some space from each other.
Should I get another bed or expand mine? But I'm not good at woodwork. Should I call over dad, or is it too early?
Rowan got engrossed in his thoughts very quickly. He has always been someone quick to make decisions but these are things he has to be careful about. Every time one of his women abandoned him, his parents were also saddened.
His family had always been eager for him to have a wife and see the next generation sprout. But each time they were betrayed. Though his parents would be excited to see their grandchildren, he needs to know how to present the situation in the best way he can.
He was planning to go to the town nearby, where his parents ran a business so it would be fine anyway. Maybe a week from today is good for the trip.
With that all decided, he got back to his farm and started running around, watering everything again. Earlier was a demonstration for the kids so he hadn't had time to water everything. This time he would get all his bushes, plants and trees.
Working on this expansive farm was surely exhausting but Rowan found every drop of sweat to be perfectly worth it. The bounty he received from his hard work was worth more than any medal that the kingdom ever gave him.
While thinking about the value of medals, Rowan realised that he had no money on him. His earnings from his military days were drying up. He had spent a lot building the farm and its defenses. Magical structure costs an arm, a leg, and some organs too.
It was exponentially more expensive when you installed it across a whole multi-acre farm. He also doesn't sell any of his crops personally, usually only sending some to friends and family as gifts. Though his parents' business was to indeed sell his less magical and simpler crops, he usually let them keep the money.
His younger brother and sister were both studying in the capital, where everything was many times more expensive than in his region. Should I sell some of my produce to the bigwigs? In this drought, they sure would pay a pretty penny.
The problem was that he never kept any contact information except for some war buddies and the general. He did have an emergency hotline with the royals but that seems like overkill.
After thinking about it for a while, he decided that he would ask his parents when they go into town. They should know some merchants from the capital with connections. His father's woodwork and his mother's soap were always in demand by those pesky nobles.
Once that was out of the way, he thought about dinner and how long he should let the kids nap. Ofcoursem he couldn't forget about that but he already had an idea.
The strawberries that Lilly and Lucia picked weren't going to waste.
…
Unbeknownst to the silly Rowan, there was a flurry of work being done by Elara Voss and her newly formed team as they worked on creating the background and history of their fake merchant group.
They were also busy contacting merchants under the royal family's thumb to corroborate their story and help them find a natural way to meet Rowan.
This wasn't some sloppy job, either; they were sweating every single detail. They were writing up fake accounting books, inventing believable, but impossible to track, shipping lanes, and creating a whole roster of imaginary employees.
The whole point was to make a background so solid and real that even the most suspicious government official wouldn't immediately find a loophole. They even spent time picking a name for the group that sounded both legitimate and totally harmless.
Phoenix Trading Group is what they named it. It was common to name your trading company extravagantly or based on mythical creatures so no one would bat an eye.
At the same time, the team was heavily into a strategic outreach campaign. Their main targets were the well-established merchant houses known to be completely controlled by the royal family. Meaning they were cooperative, usually in debt, and easy to lean on or convince.
Elara personally handled these touchy negotiations, using a mix of subtle threats and "win-win" promises to get them on board.
The immediate goal was two-fold: first, to have these real businesses confirm the fake group's existence and history when the official questions started; and second, and more importantly, to help them set up a totally natural and unforced way to run into Rowan.
The meeting had to look like a simple, everyday business chance encounter to keep Rowan's usual suspicion from kicking in, which would then let Elara and her team start the real long-term plan. The stage was being carefully, calculatingly, and inevitably set, all while the person they were targeting was completely clueless.
It was going to take a couple of days, but they were sure they could get everything settled and fully planned in under a week.
In the tightly regulated, magically dampened atmosphere of her private apartment within the Iron Citadel, Major Elara Voss was at work. The General had given her the field, and she was preparing to enter the lion's den with nothing but her acting and a forged company.
Rowan Blacksun had been her subject of study for eight years, a fixed point of data she had never been allowed to approach; now, she was stepping onto his stage.
Elara stood before a full-length, highly polished obsidian mirror. It was a tool of her trade, enchanted not for vanity, but for perfect, unflinching self-critique. She was currently wearing a simple, high-necked dark green velvet dress.
The perfect balance between noble-adjacent wealth and practical merchant sobriety. She had also deliberately left off all her military medals, replacing them with a single, authentic looking gold pendant shaped like a stylized falcon.
Her hair, usually the defining feature of her severity, was not in its severe ponytail. Instead, it was swept up and held with a simple silver clip, framing her icy blue eyes and allowing a few artful, soft tendrils to brush her neck.
She began the exercise in silence, letting Major Elara Voss, the Falcon of Military Intelligence, bleed away.