The scent of burning butter and crushed flour drifted through the royal kitchen long before sunrise.
The massive stone fireplace, usually managed by half a dozen seasoned castle cooks, was occupied by a single, imposing figure. Alpha Max stood before the iron skillet, his sleeves rolled past his elbows, wearing a plain linen tunic dusted with white powder. His brow furrowed in deep concentration as he used a flat iron spatula to flip a lumpy circle of batter.
The pancake folded over itself, sticking to the grease with a sharp hiss.
"You flipped it too early, My Lord," Commander Caleb murmured from the stone archway, leaning against the doorframe with a tin mug of black tea. "The edges need to bubble first."
Max did not turn around, though his jaw tightened. "I have commanded three sepa
