**Kitsune Vulpine's Log, Supplemental**
**Discovery recording**
**35 days after Rothgard's Fall**
Steam and silk chase away the road's dust.
Kitsune Vulpine lingered beneath the shower's warm cascade until the water ran clear and her fur lay sleek against her skin. The shampoo, conditioner, and body wash left her coat impossibly soft, carrying a faint floral-citrus scent that made her feel truly clean for the first time in longer than she cared to remember. She stepped from the stall, tails heavy with moisture, and reached for the hairdryer. The warm air moved through each luxurious tail in slow, deliberate strokes until every strand fluffed and gleamed like living flame.
The toothbrush and paste proved delightful, their minty foam leaving her teeth polished and smooth. The mouthwash, however, earned a wrinkled nose. The pamphlet claimed its burning sensation came from antiseptic properties that healed gums and banished foul breath, yet she found the sharp sting unpleasant. Still, when she rinsed and exhaled, the breath that followed was pleasantly fresh, exactly as promised.
Refreshed, she dressed in a fresh white kimono trimmed with gold, the royal mage seal gleaming at her wrist. The aroma of breakfast drew her from the bedroom into the main area of the suite. Morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side, bathing the central gathering space in soft gold and painting the valley beyond in gentle hues.
Cedric already sat before the large screen, fingers tapping its surface as he scrolled through news feeds and information channels. Miriel emerged from her own suite a moment later, her voice bright with exaggerated delight. "Cedric, you must see the bathing chamber! The lotions are divine—silkier than anything in the royal palace. I feel as though I have been reborn. And the towels! They warm themselves the moment you touch them. No more shivering after a bath."
Cedric glanced up with a superior smirk, refusing to be outdone. "Reborn? Hardly impressive. This screen alone shows an overhead view of the entire valley as if seen from the sky itself—every road, every building, every training ground laid out like a living map. I have already learned of their trade routes and defensive positions. Knowledge is power, Miriel—not scented creams and self-warming towels."
Miriel's ears flicked in irritation. She crossed her arms, her posture stiffening with annoyance. "Knowledge? Please. While you stare at your sky-map, I discovered a device that dries hair without a single knot and another that heats water to the perfect temperature with a single touch. Practical luxuries that actually improve one's day, not idle scrolling through pictures from the clouds."
Cedric's smirk sharpened. "Clouds? You mean the sky itself. This view is clearer than any scouting spell I have ever cast. Meanwhile, you waste time on lotions and heated towels. Typical—always chasing comfort while the real advantages slip past you." Miriel opened her mouth for a retort, but Kitsune swept past them without a word, pointedly ignoring both fools. She crossed to the dining table near the kitchen and took her seat. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, setting silver utensils and placing before her a full plate of eggs, sausage, and toast. A tall glass held an orange-colored liquid; a smaller cup steamed with a black, aromatic beverage.
The assistant cook bowed politely. "The orange liquid is called orange juice, Grand Mage. It comes from a bright orange fruit known as citrus. The black liquid is coffee—a popular stimulating drink, though most find it bitter. Cream and sugar may be added to taste." Kitsune thanked the servant with a gracious nod and began to eat. The flavors were rich and unfamiliar, yet satisfying. She preferred her coffee heavy with cream and sugar until it became sweet and easy to drink.
Alistair Greymoor emerged from his bedroom dressed impeccably, every line of his attire precise. He received the same meal and beverages. He took his coffee with only a dash of cream and sugar, finding the slight bitterness invigorating. Kitsune watched him sip and smiled faintly; his preference left the drink a touch too bitter for her own taste.
They spoke quietly while they ate, planning the day's diplomacy. Both agreed at once that the apprentices would be barred from the talks. "They will observe the town instead," Kitsune said, voice cool. "And they will not embarrass me again." Alistair inclined his head in perfect understanding. Precisely at 0800hrs—according to the numbers displayed on the screen—a crisp knock sounded at the door. Major Lucas Grant stood outside, uniform sharp and posture alert, ready to escort them to the next round of negotiations.
Kitsune rose, tails swaying once in quiet anticipation. The fox was clean, fed, and ready. Now the true hunt began.