Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair) novel Chapter 1502

Spring Pavilion was full that day.

The restaurant wasn't very big to begin with, and it usually had some customers. The black-clad men that lady brought had taken up all the remaining seats.

Carissa, Violet, and Travis had to sit at a small table the owner had set up at the last minute, separate from the others.

The man's voice, soft and apologetic, reached Carissa's ear. It was warm and pleasant.

"These are my brothers-in-arms. We've been traveling since last night and haven't had a bite to eat. If it troubles you, I can have them wait outside and just pass them some bread each when we're done."

Violet paused, surprised, but quickly shook her head. "No need for that. Please, let them stay. They can sit where they like and order what they wish."

The man smiled kindly. "You are kind-hearted, miss. In that case, we'll order freely, and we'll take extra."

"Alright… That's fine," Violet replied, casting a glance at the sea of black. The men were dressed in a way that suggested some sort of organization, with embroidered characters on their sleeves, though they were so wrinkled and dirty that she couldn't make out the words.

After a moment of squinting, she thought she recognized words like "Shadow Guard" or "Lightning Guard" among the stains.

Despite their rough appearance, the men weren't rude. After confirming they had their places, they all stood up and thanked their host for the meal.

Some had graying hair, but their tanned faces didn't make them look all that old. There were a few, however, whose appearances were downright unsettling—strange, twisted faces that made them look like something out of a ghost story.

Carissa, Violet, and Travis exchanged a glance, feeling as though they had been roped into this meal without much choice. They had hoped to converse during the meal, to learn more about the strangers' identities and intentions. After all, there were 20 or more of them here, each one clearly skilled in martial arts. It would have been wise to inquire further, as there were risks in not knowing who they were.

Little did they know, as soon as the food was served, the group ate like a storm sweeping through the land—silent and swift. Not a single word was spoken, not even by the woman with them. It was as if they hadn't eaten in days.

The only time anyone spoke was when one of the men in black stabbed the last piece of meat with his fork, looked at another reaching for it, and said firmly, "Mine."

Other than that, not a single word was uttered.

There was one other instance: Travis had offered them wine, and the man had replied, "No wine while working."

Then, without another word, he returned to his meal.