War of Dawn

Chapter 25: Happiness and Anxiety

Whew... it's done. Hilda's thoughts signaled a rush of relief to spread throughout her sprained muscles, feeling as though a ten ton weight's been lifted off her shoulders. After twelve hours of nearly nonstop work, everything was in place for the New Year's dinner.

Hundreds of different dishes, drinks, desserts and appetizers were prepared, almost a thousand plates and silverware were cleaned and placed atop the frilly red cloths that cover the dining hall's long tables and the workers left every centimeter of the flooring and furniture polished to the nth degree.

Walking though the dining hall, Hilda sees her own reflection looking back at her from pretty much everywhere, congratulating her on a job well done. The tables are covered from end to end with what looks – and felt, during work – like every conceivable meal from every country, blending in a wave of powerful colors and scents. The light shining off the chandeliers reflect off the many golden goblets, glasses and steins, covering all in a blanket of glittering sparkles. It's the most beautiful dining table Hilda's ever seen.

And they finished it right on time, the last dish being ready about ten minutes before the other Scions are meant to come in. The moment said dish is placed in its proper spot, Hilda can hear Owen's loud sigh of relief echoing from the far side of the kitchen. Running his hands across his brow and blonde hair, sweaty as though he just did a massive sparring session, he looks to her with a satisfied smile as she gives him a thumbs' up.

That's the most tired Hilda's seen him since the battle in Bathurst, though she's not exactly feeling too spritely after all that either. No one is, really. That does not stop all Scions on kitchen duty from rushing out the split-second Greta tells them to get themselves cleaned up. Dozens of Haste glyphs being unleashed in unison fills the kitchen in crackling, booming sounds; no one wants to be late and miss their favorite piece of food, especially after the trouble it was to get it all set up. Hilda's ears buzz all the way to her room.

She shares in the others' sentiment, though, and for once is thankful of her limited wardrobe – no need to waste time choosing. Her old, favorite white gi and some black woolen pants will serve nicely. She feels it fits the situation, even, considering this gi is the first one she wore after joining the Corps.

Following a blazing-quick wash in the underground lake – just to clean off the sweat – she gets herself dressed, dries her hair with the help of a wind attuned Novitiate and bolts off back to the dining hall with a burst of violet electricity.

That smörgåstårta better still be there or someone's gonna pay... she quietly warns the universe.

Hilda arrives just as everyone else is settling in, an enormous mob of Scions invading the room like a roaring parade. The sound of their steps fills every nook and cranny of the dining hall, as chairs are dragged out with loud screeches signaling a symphony of chewing and clashing knives and forks against the plates. Though the Corps is maintaining its operations across the world, this is still the most people Hilda's ever seen gathered in one place.

So many Scions of different ranks, ages, nationalities, genders and classes join in the massive celebration, talking, laughing and cheering over the feast prepared for them like one huge family. Some have even seen fit to start playing instruments, the sound of guitars, flutes, violins, drums and more all but being lost amid the rousing dinner.

While regular dinners always had a tinge of normalcy, of the weighty responsibility placed on them, all that seems nonexistent today. Maybe it's the hope for what's to come next year or simply the nostalgia that comes from eating their favorite dishes but every single Scion here, old and young, has this spark in their eyes.