Chapter 97: The Dining Hall and Some Breakfast

Chapter 96: The Dining Hall and Some Breakfast

The morning light spilled softly across the pack compound, filtered by the frosty branches above and the occasional snowflake drifting down from the slate-colored sky. Sophia walked beside Lysander, who gently rolled Brynhild’s wheelchair over the smooth pathway that led toward the dining hall. The sound of boots crunching on the light dusting of snow was steady and rhythmic, and Sophia’s thoughts wandered as she tried to keep up.

At first, she hadn’t noticed it, the way streams of people seemed to be moving in the same direction as them. But by the time they’d passed the third building, she was certain. Warriors and hunters in dark leather cloaks, women with children bundled up in furs, even elders leaning on carved walking sticks, all of them headed toward the same destination. It was a sight unlike anything she’d seen here before. She frowned and tilted her head, her breath misting in the cool air.

"Why is everyone headed the same way?" she asked, her voice carrying a curious lilt. "All the times I’ve gone to collect food from the kitchen, I haven’t seen this many people... not even close."

Brynhild smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of her dark hair from her face. She adjusted her cloak over herself. "That’s because this isn’t an ordinary day. During the festival, the pack eats together," she explained. Her voice had a calm, steady cadence. "It’s tradition. The dining hall fills with people for every meal of the day breakfast, lunch, dinner. While people eat together in the dining hall, some still prefer to collect their food and eat elsewhere like in their home or where they feel is best. Majority of us eat in the dining hall though. It’s part of what binds us. Part of what makes the pack feel like home."

Sophia blinked at her. "All of you... together? For every meal?"

Lysander chuckled softly behind the wheelchair, the sound low but warm. "Something like that but also not at once."

"I don’t understand." Sophia told him.

"It’s like how as you are done eating and leave the dining table, someone else takes your place or a group. So it is not at once but it’s also crowded."

Brynhild’s lips curved upward. "There will be lots of noise, laughter, discussions, and elbows brushing yours...you’ll get used to it."

Sophia hugged her arms loosely around herself as they walked, the corners of her mouth quirking. Something about what Brynhild and Lysander described filled her with curiosity. She wondered if perhaps at some point she had experienced something like that.

They reached the long, timbered building close to the middle of the courtyard. Funny how the structure had always been there but she hadn’t bothered to walk in but instead went to the kitchen. Just from the outside, the dining hall was impressive, massive wooden beams carved with protective runes, sloping eaves heavy with snow, and two great wolf statues standing guard at the double doors. Lanterns hung in a row, their golden glow spilling onto the snow, making it glisten like crushed diamonds.

Lysander pushed open the heavy door with his shoulder, and a wash of sound hit them immediately...laughter, clinking cups, the low hum of dozens upon dozens of conversations weaving together. Sophia stepped inside and froze for a heartbeat.

The dining hall was enormous, far larger than she’d imagined. Vaulted ceilings arched overhead, supported by thick wooden beams carved with spirals and runes that pulsed faintly with the same pale magic she’d seen at the shrine. Long benches and heavy wooden tables filled the space from end to end, arranged in rows that left only narrow paths between them. The air was warm from the heat of so many bodies and the roaring fire pits built along the walls, each one lined with polished stones that reflected the flames. The scent of roasting meat, fresh bread, and spiced herbs wrapped around her like a blanket.

Here and there, banners of deep green and silver hung from the rafters, displaying Nightshade’s crest...a wolf with a crescent moon above it. Children darted between benches, elders chuckled over steaming cups, and warriors clasped arms across tables. Families sat shoulder to shoulder with friends. Some glanced up as Brynhild passed, nodding respectfully or murmuring greetings to their captain. A few even offered small smiles to Sophia, brief nods of acknowledgment, though most returned quickly to their meals and a majority ignored her but she didn’t mind though.

Sophia’s gaze flicked to Brynhild, then to Lysander. "It’s huge," she murmured, taking it all in. "I didn’t think..."

"I told you," Brynhild said softly, a note of pride in her voice. "This hall is one if the first buildings we erected when we settled here. This was where I had taken my oath along with many others."

Sophia trailed her fingers along the back of a bench as they moved past. The wood was smooth from years of use, its carvings worn soft but still distinct. She felt a flicker of awe, then quickly tucked it away.

Lysander guided the wheelchair toward a long table near the center that was free of people, then straightened. "Let’s get some food, okay? Sophia?" he said calling out to her.

They wove through the crowd toward the serving tables lining the far wall. The scent grew stronger with each step, rich and mouthwatering. Sophia’s eyes widened when she saw the spread. This wasn’t like the quiet kitchen visits she’d made before. Here, great platters of food were laid out in rows, each one manned by an apprentice or chef ready to serve.

Steam rose from a cauldron of thick stew studded with chunks of venison and root vegetables. Next to it were platters of roasted fowl, glistening with fat and brushed with honeyed herbs. There were baskets of fresh bread, crusty loaves torn open to reveal soft, steaming centers and bowls of wild berries preserved in syrup. Clay jugs of goat’s milk and spiced tea sat at intervals, alongside slabs of smoked fish, bowls of grain porridge, and wedges of pale cheese.

Sophia inhaled deeply, her stomach tightening at the smell. She glanced sidelong at Lysander. "This is... a lot."

Lysander smiled faintly. "Festival days always are. Take your time." He nodded toward the array. "Brynhild needs something balanced, so I’ll start with her."

She watched as he efficiently selected a plate for Brynhild, a mix of lightly seasoned meat, roasted vegetables, and a slice of bread. For himself, he chose something heartier, adding stew and a wedge of cheese. Sophia, meanwhile, lingered, eyeing the options like a bird unsure where to land. The scents blurred together, making her dizzy with hunger and memory.

Finally, she picked a plate and let her instincts guide her, a small portion of stew, a slice of the sweet bread, a handful of berries, and a bit of smoked fish. She added a few fruits for later, balancing them carefully in her hands.

One of the apprentice chefs, a boy with dark curls and flour on his apron, stepped forward to help. "I can carry the captain’s plate," he offered quickly, bowing his head slightly toward Brynhild across the hall.

"Thank you," Lysander said simply, handing him the plate.

They returned to the table together, weaving through the bustling crowd. Brynhild’s wheelchair was parked neatly at the end of the bench. She glanced up as the boy approached and set her food down gently.

"Thank you," she said warmly, her voice softening. "You were a huge help."

The boy’s cheeks flushed pink. "Of course, Captain," he murmured before hurrying back to the serving line.

Lysander set down the jug and cup of water he’d been carrying, and Sophia placed the other cups and fruit on the table. For a moment, the three of them simply breathed in the warm scents, the noise of the hall swirling around them like a living thing. Sophia slid onto the bench opposite Brynhild as Lysander settled beside her.

"This is..." Sophia began, then trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. Too good. Or maybe so good. Or maybe even better than what she normally ate, she wasn’t sure what could describe it best.

Brynhild gave a small nod, as if understanding anyway. "Eat," she said simply.

Sophia obeyed. The first spoonful of stew was so rich and hearty it nearly made her sigh out loud. She chewed slowly, savoring the spices, the tender meat. Around them, the hall rang with laughter and clinking cups, the kind of sound that settled deep in one’s bones.

Lysander sipped his water, glancing toward the far end of the hall. "This will be busier tonight," he murmured. "Dinner’s always the loudest."

Brynhild raised a brow at him. "You make it sound like a battle."

He smiled faintly. "Sometimes it is."

Sophia swallowed a mouthful of bread, glancing between them. Their banter was quiet, but there was something comforting in it, the way Brynhild teased, the way Lysander’s eyes softened when he looked at her.

She reached for another bite, but before she could bring it to her lips, a shadow fell across the table.