As Serapis spoke, Thayva’s tail curled around to her front. She gripped it lightly near its tip, her fingers toying with one of the gem-encrusted golden bands she always wore—an heirloom that had been passed down for generations from female to female on her mother’s side.
	She snorted when he mentioned the king and his fears. “With how things have been going, it wouldn’t surprise me if it started up again.” She gave a deep sigh, and stroked the scales of her tail as he continued. An odd smile spread over her long mouth. “We’ll find a way to manage. We [i]always[/i] do.”
	[b]“This matter can be saved for another time.”[/b]
	Thayva gave a sharp nod, and her tail whipped back around, creating an “S” shape behind her. She turned her back to Serapis, went back to her desk, and moved a few scrolls around as she searched for one in particular, making more of a mess than tidying her previous one.
	Finding the scroll she wanted, she grabbed it and placed it in the waist of her skirt so half of it stuck out near her side. She glanced back at her desk, giving the mess an irritated sigh, then went to make sure her and Serapis’ son, Arjun, had already left his room.

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	A young halfling boy walked close to the walls of the dining hall, doing his best to remain unnoticed by most of the other boys. No older than seven, maybe eight, the child was short even for his race, making it easy for the untrained eye to think him younger. His hair stuck up messily from his head, no matter how hard he tried or the female staff complained, making him look almost like a porcupine. A freshly healed cut ran over his face from jaw to earlobe, creating a line against his tan skin. He kept his head bent, making himself look as small as he could.
	One of the newer arrivals, the child silently made his way toward the breakfast table. He stopped near the table with his back against the wall, waiting for the line to clear out a bit more.
	Though he had lived among all the others for nearly a month now, his family lost to a raid according to the men who brought him to the orphanage, the child still had yet to speak to anyone, regardless of how much others pressed him. From his name to his true age, the child remained a mystery hidden behind a silent tongue.
	He waited. And he watched. A brawl almost broke out between a lisardman and dracon over a stolen piece of meat. Girls giggled and boys guffawed. They slapped each other encouragingly on the back, shook hands as the more experienced orphans spoke to newcomers. Though a couple others still kept to themselves, they all sat together, the staff patrolling the tables and cushions often making any standing alone socialize with the others.
	Yet, he remained beneath their radar. Neither child nor adult looked his way, or even spared him a quick glance. Which suited the boy just fine. It was far better than the cruel names and words often shot his way by the older kids when the various staff turned their backs or turned out the lights. He still smelled like sweaty undergarments from being locked in the laundry room the night before. That, or the scent still clogged his nose, tainting everything with the foul stench. Though he knew his tormenters, he would not speak even to say their names to the kindly human who found him, which, he suspected, was one reason they chose [i]him[/i] to pick on.
	Finally, most of the orphans had gotten their food. He slunk from the wall, needing to put forth little effort to remain mostly unnoticed as he got his plate and turned to head to the spot he had claimed as his: a little alcove tucked between a broom closet and the kitchen, where he could still hear when the staff called an end to breakfast.

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	[b]“Nick, are you still working on those food spells?”[/b]
	The tallest of the elven girls, Ilyrana, nearly choked on another mouthful of water for the second time that morning as the boy continued.
	Kia cast Nick a glare cold enough to put out the flames of even the mightiest dragon.
	Nick’s eyes widened, and he swallowed before looking to Aurelian with narrowed eyes. “I [i]told[/i] you to keep quiet about that.”[/i] He sighed, then glanced over his shoulder in the direction the boy had come. “Greentail again?” He smirked. “Don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him soon. I’ll make sure of it.”
	Kia huffed, then turned her frustrations to biting into a soft, juicy pear.
	“Which one’s Greentail?” the middle height elf, Laya, looked over the crowd.
	“The one who just got in trouble.” Nick nodded toward the lizardman.
	“Got it.” 
	“What, you going to cover him in pastry vomit?” Ilyrana teased quietly, smiling.
	Laya glared at her. “I’ll cover [i]you[/i] in it if--” Her words cut off as the dwarf girl, Laura, and her friend sat near them. She turned in her seat so her back faced the table and front turned toward the stalky dwarf, glad to have someone else to talk to. “Laura! Good morning!”
	Ilyrana laughed, turned long enough to wave at Laura, then went back to her plate of food.