He walked over to the extinguished fire pit.
With a flick of his wrist, a burst of dark, controlled mana ignited the logs, bathing the camp in warm, orange light once more.
He didn't return to his command tent.
He didn't order the knights to disperse.
He sat down on the dirt, right next to Seraphina's log, ignoring the fact that his expensive leather trousers were getting dusty.
"Give me the stick," Kaelus grunted.
Seraphina handed him the stick with the marshmallow.
The Archduke of the North, the Reaper of the Vanguard, held the stick over the open flames, meticulously, silently roasting a marshmallow to a perfect, golden brown.
At the same time, three massive knights watched him with a mixture of smug satisfaction and lingering judgment.
"Here," Kaelus muttered, handing the perfectly roasted confection back to her.
Seraphina took it, smiling a bright, genuine smile. "Thank you, Papa Duke!"
Kaelus didn't look at the knights.
