Banquet

"Right — others are back too. For now, I'm done at this end."

Some minutes after Salman had been swinging the pan and Merea had been mucking about with the younger twin — 〈Ice King〉 Miina — into Star-Tree Castle's kitchen, in lazy voices, came several more Demon Lords.

Oh, Merea, — noticing their master, hands raised in greeting — and they walked over to a costume-chest in one corner of the kitchen.

Inside it sat aprons of the same white cloth Salman was wearing; on long-familiar motion, they each donned one.

"Pretty handy, having multiple Demon Lords with real cooking ability."

"Sal alone is unreasonably far past us. — Mind, this one is, in his way, dexterous on Marisa's level."

One of the Demon Lords saying it, pointing at the sand-coloured-haired young man swinging the pan over the formula-fire.

"Coincidence. I wasn't bad at it before either. — Mind, took the opening to read up on cookery for the first time in a while. Found an interesting old-bookshop in Lemuse."

Salman, eyes still on the pan, answered flatly.

"Being in a country-shaped place like this lets me read calmly. For me, that alone is no small piece of luck."

— at the next line, Salman threw a brief side-glance at Merea.

"Mind — for now, while no one else is on it, I can run kitchen duty — but I'm 〈Sword (Emelie)〉 attachment, on paper. Getting the magic-fists into finer use is the role-fit. Once another Demon Lord more suited to it joins, kitchen duty I'd prefer handed off."

"Right."

Merea returned a nod to Salman's line.

"Magic-fists are, on their own, fairly awkward as an ability. There isn't a clean formula the way there is in your formula-side stuff."

"Oh?"

"Failed Seven Imperial, some quarters call it — and missed-the-mark to such a degree that it sailed off in a wild direction at the end. Whoever made it, I doubt even they knew what they'd ended up with. Going further into details isn't for here, but — truly, an ability as readable as a 〈Seven Imperial Weapon〉 would have been so much easier."

Salman, rolling his sleeve up, looked at the strange tattoo-like patterning carved into both his forearms with a wry smile.

"Right — anyway. About time we 〈Sword (Emelie)〉 lot moved, too."

"— Yes. Shaw is back; he might have picked up information at the trading destinations. After that — once 〈Knowledge (Razlas)〉's lot, gathering Demon-Lord-related rumour, comes back with something — that's where we are."

Merea answered with a thoughtful expression.

"Have to bet on them."

"At today's banquet, I'd like to firm up the next big-move plan. Splitting wide all at once is a problem on our end, but staying un-moved indefinitely won't do. Fundamentally, the side trying to do the long-odds thing is us."

To Merea's line, Salman shrugged in agreement.

Merea, seeing it, smiled back, and continued. The next expression carried something faintly rainy mixed in.

"Mind — as the one with final say on the move-shape, until I can be near-certain that whoever I send out will come back safe — I'm scared. Yes."

A line let out small, while gently stroking the head of Miina, who was kicking and squirming against his knee.

The Demon Lords who had come to join Salman's prep, on hearing Merea, clapped his shoulder on their way to their stations and threw small smiles up.

"For the go-where-Demon-Lords-are expedition, first time, in one body — yes."

"Yes. Once headcount grows, we can split a little wider. — Headcount-grows equals Demon-Lord-count-grows, though, so whether to be glad of it or sad of it — tough call."

"Worry about that on top, the mind won't hold."

"Hah — truly."

Salman snorted; Merea, taking it, laughed too.

The topic ended there.

"Right. Off, then. Seasoning and prep, mostly done — rest, on the playbook. I'll head to the dining hall."

"Acknowledged."

Salman, finally putting down the pan, peeling the apron from his waist, sighing —

Sand-coloured eyes turned to Merea, one hand lifting the elder twin — 〈Water King〉 Riina, who had been latched to his hip — by the scruff of her neck —

"Merea — you take Miina. These two, kept here, are nothing but in the way."

"Rude!" "Rude—!"

"Acknowledged."

"Ah!"

Merea tucked the younger twin Miina under his arm.

"Right — see you a bit later."

The two of them tossed a line back to the Demon Lords still in the kitchen and headed for the dining hall.

From behind them, the now-familiar lazy yo and uh of the Demon Lords' replies came back.

"Mind — just thinking — cooking is mostly the men is, in itself, a bit of a problem…"

"Pray that the next Demon Lord landing here is a woman, very skilled at cooking."

To Merea's line, Salman's shoulders, dejectedly, dropped.

---

That day's dusk.

Across Lemuse's streets — when night-only dinner specialists and the smaller opera houses began to light up — Demon Lords were walking the corridors of Star-Tree Castle in a coordinated stride.

Third floor to second, second to first; out of separate rooms, Demon Lords kept slotting in.

They were headed somewhere.

The ones coming directly from outside the castle joined in too; a bouncy hurry filled Star-Tree Castle.

The destination —

"Right. Banquet, first one in a few days — commencing."

"Light, oi."

"It's not the first time. Ceremony — done, at this point. I dislike stiff formality myself."

"Mn — true."

The dining hall.

Like the library, with its many girandoles and chandeliers.

Location: first floor, back room.

Not the throne hall's poison-shaded register — instead, sane white-stone décor.

But the long table and furnishings carry fairly flashy carving, and the carpet covering the floor is on flashy patterning too; compared with the rooms second-floor-and-up used for sleeping, the dining hall reads markedly more gleaming.

Down the long table's two sides, twenty-or-so Demon Lords were now seated in a row.

In front of each, plates of brown-roasted meats, throwing off a savoury scent.

Meat-juice gleaming the way one might call gold-coloured, leaking from the cut-faces of the meat — stirring the Demon Lords' stomachs, slowly.

Hardly lavish — but, with leaf-vegetables and grains alongside the meat, the table was, in colour, fairly rich.

"Right. Squad-by-squad information-exchange, we'd like to do — but —"

The voices about to drive silverware into the food were now-now-now-pierced by a voice.

A clean, well-carrying voice. — Merea's voice.

Merea, separate from the Demon Lords lining the long sides, sat alone at the short end where every face was visible. The highest seat, in standard parlance.

But the Merea seated there looked the least able to wait of anyone — both hands on silverware, fidgeting.

And —

"Let us eat first!"

A cheer went up.

In the same beat, every Demon Lord, having said their personal grace, drove silverware into the savoury cloud.

---

"Ah — Red-Phosphor Great Serpent (Carlnecca), surprisingly tasty."

"I fetched it!"

"Got it, got it. Elma — admirable—"

"A-are you mocking me?!"

"Eh? You wanted praise, no?"

"— A bit."

"Took her no time to admit that…"

"Oh — this mutton too — pretty good."

"I fetched that, you know!"

"Got it, got it. Shaw is — grasping—"

"Why does the praise alone go off on me?!"

"Eh? You're pleased, no?"

"— Yes, I'll not deny it. — On top, I'm pulling the cost out of the pocket-money of every man who put fork to it, so factually accurate."

"Eh?!"

"Hah! I bought this as a trade good, you see!"

"Tell us first!"

"〈Wallet (Listale)〉's head is I."

"Who! Who handed him that authority!"

"You did."

The synced Demon-Lord chorus rang.

The dining hall, as always — noisy. — But by no means unpleasantly noisy.

About twenty minutes into the meal, a few began to finish.

But — those who had finished early did not, by any means, hurry the still-eating; they simply waited, on light chatter.

The slow-eaters, equally, were not flustered.

That was because Merea, their head, was the slowest eater of all.

"I have lived, a very poor life, you see. So — when, on occasion, I'm given, tasty food, I have come, to take it slowly, savouring it well, as I eat."

"Cut the thousand-yard-stare delivery — it's getting bittersweet on this end."

Three seats deeper, Salman, mutton-juice dripping in mid-air on its way to his mouth, paused before chewing and threw the line at Merea on a pained note.

"Chewing well is good, you know? As a maid, also, I encourage it."

Marisa, on Merea's left, spine cleanly straight, twirling leaf-vegetables onto silverware, threaded the line in addition.

"Phew — eaten, eaten."

"Elma — chew a touch more."

"Eu—?! B-but — if we're attacked mid-meal —"

Across from Marisa, Elma, on Marisa's sudden sharp point landing, paused her hand on her stomach and gave a small body-jolt of surprise.

"Hah… mercenary habits, as ever, won't shake off, will they."

Marisa, calling Elma without honorifics — at that moment, less maid than same-generation friend; the rigidity dropped.

The cool flat-eyed gaze remained her speciality, but among that gaze a few sub-modes had visibly developed; she was now, comparatively, putting more emotional range out in front.

"Mu… M-my upbringing wasn't as good as Marisa's."

"Mine wasn't great either, you know."

"Th-then —! …Ah — what's the difference, then…"

"Stop with the slow-tear-up."

A final Salman sigh closed the round; what remained was Elma, eyes damp, going mm-mm in low groans.

"Mind — you've been out monster-culling fairly often lately. Could we protect one and use it for something, instead?"

To Elma, who had reached out a hand of deep contemplation toward the gulf in womanly grade, Salman, changing topic, threw the line.

"A-ah — yeah, I'd thought about that. This time, though, was a Lemusan-citizen cull request. The serpent had already eaten through significant livestock by then; couldn't help it."

"Right, that part's a wash. But — going forward — on a requested job whose measure is borderline, taking it in might net more than killing it."

"Noel exists too."

The line came in from Merea.

Merea, cheek-stuffing meat in rodent fashion, threaded the next.

"Speaking of — what is Noel up to?"

Salman, head tilted, asked.

"Free-roaming."

"That's — very alarming."

"It's fine. I've drilled into him don't be seen by people. Considered moving his sleeping spot to the back-court of Star-Tree Castle, but he's been growing fast lately. I'd be cramping him with such a move, so the free-roam route."

"Noel's growth is abnormal, isn't it. Is that really just an ordinary land dragon?"

"Mn — on land dragons, I'm not particularly versed either, so 〈Knowledge (Razlas)〉 is digging into that as well —"

So saying, Merea kept chewing and turned his eye to Lilium, 〈Knowledge〉's head.

Lilium, on practised hand, had been cutting meat in an orderly fashion; on Merea's line and gaze, she paused, leaned slightly, and answered.

"Not yet known. Bandwidth doesn't reach. The other Demon Lords on the squad are on it; nothing back."

"Right. Mind, not a priority-now item, so we can leave it for the foreseeable."

Merea, swallowing, nodded.

"At any rate — the surrounding geography, including the latest situation, the Lemusan soldiery have briefed me on; with that as base, we've defined how far Noel can wander."

"And when we need him?"

"〈Dragon-Cry〉."

"Dragon-Cry?"

"A vocalisation derived from dragon-tongue. Dragons use them as group-signals, varying by group. The exact tonal pattern differs per group, kinds run wide, so this one's only viable between me and Noel — but for I need you moments, this covers it."

"Right."

"Mind — Noel does seem to have spare time. Even if not another dragon, I'd like to make him a friend or two."

"What kind of non-dragon could even be a dragon's friend. An ordinary beast would freeze stiff out of fear. — Worst case, faint flat at the cry."

"Mn… griffin?"

Merea, pulling fantasy-creature inventory from his previous-life head, threaded the first name to surface.

To which Salman —

"Ah… well. If one is there. — Just barely possible."

— answered after a thought-stretched pause.

"They exist?"

Catching the nuance in Salman's tone, Merea asked back. The eye carried a clear spark of curiosity.

"They exist. Counted in the rare-species column."

"Mhm."

"Compared to Land Dragons (Reirnote), they get washed out. — Mind, the situation of keeping a Land Dragon is itself the strange thing here…"

Watching Salman put his head in his hands in entertainment, Merea threaded the line.

"Then — going forward, if we run into a beast-type race like that, let's also factor in taking them in. Strictly not-by-force — when, that is, they happen to be strays."

"Right. Mind — at that point, the castle holds not just human strays but every kind of stray, and Demon Lord Castle really will start fitting on as the right ominous label."

"〈Star-Tree Castle〉, I'll force through."

To Merea's firm declaration, Salman returned a wry smile and a shrug.

"In any case — if it does come to that, offloading the management isn't an option, so — set up a dedicated squad."

"〈Beast of the Demon Lord〉, perhaps?"

"There — now it lands as full-on alarming."

"Hah… mind, the word Demon Lord itself is alarming, so can't be helped."

"True enough."

"In time — that single word's meaning, I'll do something about."

While that exchange ran, Merea's plate had quietly thinned.

Noticing it, Merea cut the conversation, packed the rest into his mouth in one go.

Jaw working, well-chewed, swallowed.

Hands clasped — gochisō-sama deshita — and Merea took in the faces of the seated Demon Lords in a sweep.

"Right. Well — that side of the business, let's open from here."

Returning the room to order, a nod.

To Merea's nod, the Demon Lords, in unison, turned serious eyes on him.

The chatter, in a beat, stopped.

"— Sorry to keep you. Right — let's hear the reports."

And so, finally, 〈Demon Lord Alliance (Mea-Nesaia)〉's full council began. </parameter> </invoke>