The Feast Of Knights

The Highland Boar was seven meters tall. Seven. And the moment they dragged it into the central camp zone with a combination of pulling, flying, and good old-fashioned shoving, the spectators started gathering like moths to divine flame.

Word spread faster than an enchanted whisper rune and before long, Zarvana showed up with the full gang, all eight of her husbands in tow, looking more curious than proud peacocks during mating season.

Even her commander Seyna came along, looking battle-hardened but undeniably intrigued, trailing behind her husband Kezren who had the expression of a man wondering whether they'd be eating or surviving an experiment.

They weren't alone either. A handful of their guards tagged along, their hands resting near their blades… not out of suspicion, but because they were clearly ready to defend the sacred honor of good food if needed.

Shimmer and Runner, acting as if this whole event was just some afterschool festival, bolted off with a skip in their steps to go find Vienna. They didn't want to miss the stew part. That was Vienna's domain, and Shimmer was already ranting about how she'd lose her tastebuds in regret if she wasn't there for the "mighty dunking of the meat."

Meanwhile, Chrysanthemum — or rather, Peccavi, not that anyone dared say her real name out loud unless they were ready to get lightly vaporized — stayed behind to guide the wide-eyed tourists through the buffet-scale butchery show.

The skinning was almost a performance. No axes, no carving knives, no industrial tools. These maniacs were jumping like proper Ascender acrobats. Sword in hand, each leap was a precision cut that would put master chefs and serial killers both to shame.

Thin lines of flesh split clean like paper under a quill and with every elegant swoop, a new sheet of Highland Boar hide would flutter down like a curtain call at a theater. No one knew where the skins went. One second it was there, next it was vanished, like a magician's silk handkerchief.

Veyn whispered, "Are... are they teleporting it?"

Seyna gave him a confused shrug like even she wasn't ready for this level of culinary martial arts.

"Don't worry," Peccavi said with a smirk as they looked on, "we're not going to use that hide for ourselves. We don't wear carcass couture. We're not cave folk, after all."

She didn't say it to mock the Fallen Bridge people directly, but the silent shade was cast with finesse.

Then came the cooking.

And this, this was where things escalated from impressive to surreal. The boar was raised partially into the air by a setup of Heat Mystic Circles. Peccavi began explaining the structure as if giving a lecture.

"Each of our 200 Insignia Mages, yes, I rule them, don't look so stunned, can use any Mystic Circle. They're all Circlemancers. Spellcasters are adorable and all, but we prefer our circles mystic, personalized, and hand-forged by Master."

By "Master," she obviously meant Vastarael. And she wasn't just fanboying; she was dead serious. Apparently, because Vastarael himself made every single Mystic Circle they used, they were super-charged. Lower energy usage, insane effects, and enough efficiency to make a mage jealous.

"As long as he's the source, we'll never burn meat again," she added with pride.

As Peccavi dropped that information, a new presence quietly slid into view; Chainless, also known as Arletta. She didn't speak, but her appearance alone had a sharpness to it, like she was wrapped in silence instead of cloth. Raika, tilted her head and asked,

"Does she not speak?"

Peccavi nodded, gesturing casually.

"She's mute. Don't worry, she hears everything though. She leads the Assassins of Insignia. Two hundred strong."

"Wait, so you've got Mages and Assassins?" Seyna raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, and don't forget the Paladins. That's Obsidian's crew. Ferris, if you haven't heard her real name screamed in combat."

Seyna squinted. "But... why call them all Knights if they're clearly three different classes?"

Peccavi shrugged.

"Insignia Knights just sounds cool, okay? It gives the drama we need. Plus, we're all part of the same family. Master trained some of them, forged weapons for all of us, even makes lunch for us sometimes. We're loyal. Not like cult loyal just... 'we'll murder a mountain for him' type of loyal."

Back to the boar, things had escalated.

It wasn't just roasting. They were frying parts of the meat at the top with concentrated Heat Circles, while at the bottom there was a stew happening. A massive stew.

A cauldron so huge it looked like a hot tub for titans, five meters long and four meters wide. And at least six Insignia Mages were hovering around it with Flight Circles, tossing herbs, chunks of boar and even some floating vegetables into the broth with comedic precision. One guy had a ladle so big it could be mistaken for a war banner. Another mage was stirring like he was rowing a ship.

The scent rolled through the camp like a divine fog, making people stop what they were doing, stare at the sky, and whisper, "Is this heaven?"

In the background, a couple of the knights were whining like children at a banquet.

"When's Master gonna cook again?" One muttered.

"Yeah, remember that stew he made last time? I almost exploded. Almost. And I still ate a third bowl."

"I almost did," someone else said. "The mages had to restrain me."

This was apparently a very real thing. Vastarael's cooking was so good it bypassed the body's satiety settings and people just kept eating even if their souls were begging them to stop.

Zarvana was absolutely floored. Her expression was somewhere between disbelief and 'should I divorce all eight of my husbands and marry this food wizard instead?'

Raika whispered under her breath, "...He can fight, lead, make Mystic Circles, and cook like that?"

Veyn, mouth slightly agape, added, "We're lucky he hasn't declared himself King of the Isles."

Seyna simply stared and muttered, "...and we thought we were the advanced ones."

Meanwhile, Shimmer and Runner were already dragging Vienna by the arm toward the stew pool. Shimmer shouted,

"Save me some of the first dip! The fatty part!" Runner added, "I want the ribs! Like last time! With the garlic spice!"

Vienna, being the designated meat manager with Fool's Copy in her inventory, gave them a grin.

"Alright, alright. Just don't lick the ladle again like last time."

They were ready. The stew was boiling.

And somewhere in the shadows, Vastarael was watching it all with a distant smile and a soft sigh.

"Seriously, they need to take it down a notch. Now I have to kill any wandering Krepsunas."

He noticed about a few Sunderer Ranked Krepsunas who liked like black locusts of about three meters tall, who were attracted by the scene of the food and the noise they made.

"Well, time to get to work."

°°°°°°°

Vienna, the Insignia Assassin who rarely wielded her dagger, and instead, ruled this realm with nothing but a ladle and a flick of her tired, delicate fingers.

She was an oddity among the knights. Not by lack of power, but by design.

A Pinnacle Tether flowed through her veins, Copy Aspect, one of the rarest known across Spheraphase.

Where others honed a single blade, mastered a single element, or wielded one codex of magic, she… could take what already existed and make it better for herself.

But not by sorcery, not by Circlemancy because she couldn't wield even a First Star Circle. No matter how strong her energy was, her soul had no conduit for spells. She could no more summon a flicker of fire than she could fly.

And yet, Vastarael Richinaria, the Prince of Beauty himself, looked upon her not with pity but recognition. And so, he bestowed upon her the Divine Artifact Fool's Copy, a living talisman of replication that mocked the word "duplicate."

When Vienna used it, the copied version wasn't just as good as the original. It was superior, improved and impowered by her Tether and her intent.

For instance, she could take a rusted sword and forge it anew if she used her Pinnacle Tether. In her Essentia Form, she can bend Essentia and Ascender level Artifacts and at Ascender Form, even Divine-level enchantments bent to her will, so long as the original is in her possession.

In short, she can use an artifact and make it work four times better as long as she possesses it.

But perhaps her most absurd gift wasn't the Tether or the Artifact.

It was her Boon, Cooking Master.

With it, she could create culinary masterpieces from anything. Rotten roots? Still delicious. Monster marrow? Turned to silky stew. She could boil rocks and somehow make them edible, though she never did, of course. Every time she stirred a pot or seared a cut of meat, it was as though the essence of life responded, adjusting itself, correcting her mistakes, seasoning the moment.

Even with mismatched ingredients, broken pans, or a fire that burned too hot, the meal would always be perfect.

Yet the world, cruel in its symmetry, did not allow her a perfect life like all Boons and Banes.

Her Bane, Extreme Fatigue, was an invisible chain. Every movement she made drained her. Every battle, no matter how brief, left her limbs heavy and her breath shallow. No matter how powerful her body, how sharp her assassin skills became, she could never fight to her full potential. Her body betrayed her ambition. And so, she stopped trying to keep up.

Not out of shame but out of purpose. She became the heart of the Insignia Knights instead.

While Ferris commanded, Arletta killed in silence, and Peccavi scorched lands with laughter on her lips, Vienna fed them. She stitched their exhaustion back together with stews, broths, desserts, and silence.

She didn't speak often. She didn't need to. When an exhausted warrior stumbled into her kitchen, helmet still on, blood soaking their arms, Vienna would wordlessly hand them a bowl of stew and a warm cloth, then sit beside them and listen.

And they all respected her. Not as a peer, but as something holier.

Ferris bowed to her after every meal.

Arletta, who bowed to no one but Vastarael, inclined her head to Vienna.

Even Peccavi declared that if Vienna ever fell, she'd wage war on death itself to bring her back.

It wasn't just the food. It was her presence.

Her soft amber eyes always looked half-sleepy, but they saw everything. The quiver in a knight's hand. The dried blood on a their collar. The silence that meant trauma.

And then there were the little ones.

To them, Vienna was a miracle in an apron, a big sister with a sleepy voice and magical cookies. Vastarael, in his absolute trust, had allowed her to be close to them not as a guardian, but as a friend. The three could often be found curled in her kitchen's corner, a pot bubbling nearby while Runner stirred food and Shimmer braided Vienna's hair.

She never chastised them for the mess. She just smiled that small, weary smile of hers and said, "Let's clean it together."

The girls loved her fiercely and she loved them in turn.

She was born of the Spire but she didn't share their Bane and Boom, Just like Arletta and Peccavi. And for that, she was free of the Boon and Bane tied to the Obsidian Runic Spire. If it were to fall, she would not die. If it were restored, she would not revive. She was not part of the Spire's design.

She was the fourth most respected among them, behind Ferris, Arletta, and Peccavi. Not because she fought but because they fought better when she was nearby.

And today, to everyone's shock, she wasn't feeling so good.