The ruler's visit

The morning after the birthday chaos, *The Rusted Lantern Café* smelled of burnt sugar and regret. Silas scrubbed scorch marks off the counter—courtesy of Ember’s “festive” firecrackers—while Elara muttered curses at the sink, disentangling prophetic jellyfish from the drain. Stella’s paper crown lay trampled underfoot, its glitter clinging to the floorboards like stubborn stardust.

**Stella arrived early.**

That alone was suspicious.

Silas didn’t look up as the door creaked open. “You’re awake before noon. Did the sky fall?”

“Nope!” Stella chirped.

She didn’t climb his shoulder. Didn’t demand honey-drizzled scones. Instead, she hopped onto the creaky wooden stool behind the counter—the one where Silas tallied the day’s earnings—and slapped a ledger onto the counter.

“I’m doing *money* today,” she announced, clutching a quill twice the size of her hand.

Silas paused. “Since when?”

“Since *always*.”

He squinted. The kid was up to something.

But he let her stay.

**The First Customer** was a sleep-deprived monk buying starblossom tea. Stella scribbled in the ledger, her tongue poking out in concentration.

“That’ll be… *fiiiiive* Lumins!”

“It’s three,” Silas said, not turning from the espresso machine.

“*Five*,” Stella insisted. “Extra for… *sparkles*!”

The monk paid five.

By mid-morning, she’d overcharged six customers, undercharged two, and “accidentally” let a rogue mage skip payment entirely (“He looked *sad*, Uncle Si!”). Silas didn’t stop her. The clink of coins and her humming filled the café, almost normal.

Almost.

Then the door slammed open.

Two soldiers in Celestria’s starlit armor marched in, spears crackling with harmony magic. Behind them, **High Luminary Liora Starbinder** glided in, her robes woven from midnight and constellations.

Silas didn’t bow. Didn’t even look up.

“Morning,” he grunted, grinding coffee beans.

The lead soldier snarled. “You dare disrespect the High Luminary? **Bow.**”

The spear’s tip pressed against Silas’s temple.

Stella gasped. “Don’t do anything, Mister Soldier! He can kill you in *one move*!”

Silas kept grinding. “Stella. *Ledger.*”

“But—”

“*Now.*”

She scribbled furiously. *“Stupid spear man owes us… infinity Lumins.”*

Liora raised a hand. The soldier froze.

“Leave us,” she said, her voice colder than Elara’s ice sculptures. “And if you ever threaten him again, you’ll spend eternity polishing the Starwell’s depths.”

The soldiers fled.

**The Apology** came with a gift.

Liora placed a small velvet box on the counter. Inside lay a single starlight pearl—a tear from Lunira herself, capable of purifying any poison.

“For missing your celebration,” she said.

Silas snorted. “You didn’t miss much. Just Veyra setting the rug on fire.”

“And the Void Spire?”

The grinder stilled. “*Not here.*”

Stella kicked her legs, oblivious. “Mama, look! I’m doing *money*!”

Liora’s stern mask cracked. “So I see. Are you… *robbing* them?”

“*Entrepreneuring*,” Stella corrected.

They chatted—stiffly, awkwardly—about nothing. The weather. Zephyr’s skateboard obsession. The new batch of starblossoms blooming near the monastery. Liora’s fingers brushed the scar on Kael’s cheek when she mentioned him, a gesture so fleeting Silas almost missed it.

When she rose to leave, Stella clung to the counter. “I’m staying! Uncle Si’s teaching me to… to make *lightning cookies*!”

Liora arched a brow. “Is he?”

“She's *lying*,” Silas said.

“I’ll send guards to retrieve her by dusk.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll drag her back myself.”

The door closed. Silence fell, heavy and temporary.

**The Return of Chaos**

Stella lasted three seconds.

“BOOM!” She leapt onto Silas’s shoulder, nearly toppling the espresso machine. “I saved you! Now teach me *skyfall thingy*!”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No.”

She blew a raspberry in his ear. “You looooove me.”

He didn’t deny it.

By noon, the café was a circus. Magnus Gorunn arrived with a new lava-rock “paperweight,” setting the counter on fire. Terra Raine brought her half-healed blighted flower for “advice.” Even Smudge slunk in, depositing a stolen monk’s sandal at Silas’s feet.

Through it all, Stella stayed glued to his shoulder, a hurricane in pigtails. She “helped” brew coffee (spilling half), “fixed” the ledger (adding six extra zeros), and demanded stories about Fluffy the dragon (which Silas refused to tell).

Elara watched, smirking, as Silas scrubbed honey off the ceiling. “You’re soft.”

“Shut up.”

“Admit it. You’d burn the realm for those brats.”

He didn’t argue.

**The Truth Everyone Knew**

When parents came to collect their kids, they found Silas behind the counter, Stella snoring on his shoulder, honey crusted in her hair.

“She’s a menace,” Thalia said, peeling Terra off a shelf.

“Your menace,” Silas said.

Kael hoisted a drowsy Zephyr onto his back. “You’d have made a good father.”

“I’d have made a good *nap*.”

But as they left—Rurik hauling a magma-smeared Magnus, Veyra bribing Ember with fire candy—Silas adjusted Stella’s grip, ensuring she wouldn’t slip.

Elara snorted. “Soft.”

“*Shut up.*”

**The End of the Day**

Silas locked up alone. Stella’s ledger lay open, filled with doodles: a stick-figure Silas vaporizing a spear-wielding soldier, a dragon named *FLUFFY*, and a giant pearl labeled *MAMA’S SORRY*.

He didn’t burn it.

Outside, the Twin Moons watched as he carried Stella home, her head tucked under his chin. Liora’s guards trailed them, wise enough to keep their distance.

“Uncle Si?” Stella mumbled, half-asleep.

“What.”

“Tomorrow… can I do *money* again?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“...Fine.”

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