Banquet at Stony Fortress
The party arrived at the banquet hall of Stony Fortress and took their seats as the servants guided them. The Ogres’ massive frames made their designated chairs obvious at a glance, so they sat without needing directions. The others followed the servants to their assigned places. There was no single long table as one might expect in any castle; instead, ordinary tables had been pushed together, their tablecloths revealing gaps at regular intervals. Still, in a world short on resources, even this arrangement was a splendid feast.
“Welcome to Stony Fortress, the castle of the Orcs. Though it may seem humble for receiving the Goddess of Luina, we have done our utmost. Please forgive any shortcomings.”
“Not at all. This is the finest banquet hall I could ask for—one that brings me nothing but joy. I am truly satisfied, so think nothing of it.”
Neromeltia sat at the head of the table, with Lusteria and Beatrice on either side. Across from them sat Oun and Moka, while Veryberry took the seat at the opposite end. As the servants bustled about bringing out the dishes, Neromeltia’s gaze fell on the empty chair beside Veryberry.
Feeling the Demon Lord’s questioning look, Veryberry gave an awkward smile and explained.
“That is my younger sister’s seat. She was working in the workshop—quite unladylike, I know—and got rather sweaty in her work clothes. I told her to wash up quickly and put on a pretty dress, but it seems she is running late. My apologies.”
“So you have a sister. If there are other family members, feel free to invite them as well.”
“My only remaining blood relative is my sister. I am grateful for your words. I worry she may offend Your Majesty’s eyes with her many shortcomings, but as she holds the important post of chief engineer of Stony Fortress, I summoned her to pay her respects.”
Neromeltia found both the castle and Veryberry quite to her liking. The Orcs’ way of life, which she had observed on the way to the banquet hall, matched exactly what she had expected from meeting their lord. If his noble bearing was no false mask, then the people under such a ruler could not be unhappy. Just as she had anticipated, the Orcs showed no signs of hardship in their daily lives. Their complexions were healthy, and everyone moved with lively purpose as they carried out their duties. They wore the contented smiles of those who found fulfillment and satisfaction in their work.
The fortress defenses were impressively solid, and the sight of children playing freely revealed how accustomed the people were to safety. Even the lofty lord Veryberry received casual hugs from the children, and he returned them with equal warmth before exchanging friendly greetings. It was nothing less than an ideal little nation.
Recalling these peaceful scenes one by one, Neromeltia smiled with quiet pleasure, savoring the warmth that filled her heart.
“Tomato salad with mayonnaise sauce.”
“Potato stew with root vegetables, Big Boar tenderloin, and assorted herbs.”
“Three-year-aged blackberry wine.”
The appetizers were carried out with impeccable etiquette by the servants. A vibrant salad of fresh vegetables, a steaming stew fragrant with herbs, and blackberry wine with its sweet aroma completed a flawless banquet. Even if no further courses appeared, the meal would already be considered excellent.
“Do you happen to have sugarcane?”
“Oho! As expected, Your Majesty sees through everything! Indeed, we lack wheat and cannot even serve bread with the appetizers—a shameful state of affairs. However, discovering and successfully cultivating sugarcane in Caboni Forest is the pride of Stony Fortress.”
Neromeltia could not help but admire Stony Fortress’s capabilities once more. Even with sugarcane available, mass cultivation was no easy task, and extracting and refining sugar required considerable skill and experience. This achievement spoke volumes about Veryberry’s resourcefulness and wisdom.
Meanwhile, Lusteria, who had been wondering how Neromeltia knew about sugarcane, sparkled with curiosity and looked at her. Meeting those pure, shining violet eyes, Neromeltia smiled gently and kindly answered the unspoken question.
“Mayonnaise contains sugar, dear.”
“Aah! So that’s how you knew! I thought you had looked at Lord Veryberry’s complexion and guessed, ‘Hmm, he seems to consume quite a lot of sugar.’”
“Lust, that was rather rude.”
“Keh keh keh!!! It is quite all right! So my face looks that prosperous and radiant! How delightful!! Keh keh keh keh!!”
Lusteria’s utterly absurd remark made her belatedly realize her mistake, and she glanced nervously at Veryberry. Beatrice merely sighed quietly. The broad-minded and hearty Veryberry simply laughed it off with a genuine, hearty chuckle rather than a polite facade, and the atmosphere around the table grew even warmer. Though one person wore a slightly sour expression, the overall mood remained harmonious.
“How is anyone supposed to eat with portions this small? No wonder Orcs are nothing but runty little whelps.”
Moka shook his head vigorously in silent warning, but Oun’s grumbling still burst out, shattering the mood. Interrupting the flow of conversation with such tactless remarks was terribly rude, yet because the offender was Oun, everyone simply accepted the situation and let it pass lightly. That did not mean they were overlooking it, however.
“Chieftain, to fill a great warrior like yourself, we would need to roast at least five buffaloes the size of you. That would ruin our poor Orc coffers, so please show some generosity. The main course and dessert are still to come, so endure a little longer.”
“Uwah ha ha ha ha!!! You know your stuff!!! Indeed!! For the greatest and most magnificent warrior among us—the mighty Ogre warrior—such pitiful portions are far too little!!!”
Veryberry’s words were clearly a veiled insult, comparing Oun to a gluttonous beast, but the innocent Ogre failed to catch the sarcasm. He took the remark as genuine praise and recognition, laughing heartily in satisfaction. Moka, the intellectual of the Ogre tribe, understood everything but chose not to intervene, lowering his head and feigning ignorance to avoid causing a scene.
“How strange. You say Orcs are runty little whelps, yet they seem at least half a head taller than I. Does that mean I am even smaller than a whelp?”
“Urk…!!!”
“Keh keh keh!! Quite right, Your Majesty!! Chief Oun is the strongest and greatest warrior of all, so please forgive him with your generous heart!!”
“Ugh…!!!”
Even the tactless Oun finally realized the mocking tone in Neromeltia’s casual remark. Understanding he had made a grave mistake, he began to panic, swallowing dry air as though suffering from indigestion despite having eaten nothing. When Veryberry cheerfully echoed Oun’s own words to match the Demon Lord’s rhythm, cold sweat poured down the Ogre’s face and his complexion turned ashen.
“Indeed. The strongest and greatest. Since those are the words of the great warrior Oun, this Demon Lord, who is even smaller than a whelp, shall quietly nibble at these pitiful portions.”
“I deserve death!!!!!”
Thud!!!
Regretting every word that had left his mouth in the presence of the Demon Lord, Oun’s mind went blank. He leapt to his feet, slammed his forehead against the floor, and offered a fervent apology. The impact shook the castle floor as though it might crack, sending ripples through the potato stew on the table. Amid the commotion, Lusteria continued to smile happily while enjoying the rich flavor of the mayonnaise on her salad, while Beatrice—her precise sensors having anticipated the shock—had already quietly lifted both Neromeltia’s and her own stew bowls.
“O great warrior Oun, strongest and most magnificent of all. This Stony Fortress is too fragile to withstand your strength, so please show mercy. Everything will collapse at this rate. Keh keh keh!!”
“O great warrior Oun, strongest and most magnificent of all. This stew, which is but a handful to you, is a precious feast to me, so please show mercy. Do not overturn it.”
Neromeltia repeated Veryberry’s teasing words almost verbatim. Oun could not even lift his head, trembling violently as sweat streamed down his face. Then, suddenly, he recalled the perfect person to resolve this dangerous situation. He raised his head slightly and looked pleadingly at that individual.
The intellectual who was usually mocked as a bookworm but whose competence was acknowledged and who was trusted with the village’s administration. The troubleshooter Oun relied on deeply whenever problems arose. The wisest and most knowledgeable sage in the village.
Internal Affairs Director, Moka.
“I am neither strong nor great, so I suppose I am not an Ogre.”
“Keh keh keh!! For a talent like you to not be a great Ogre! Then will you become an Orc instead?”
“I shall do so, my lord.”
“At last I have obtained the talent I have long coveted!! How delightful!! Keh keh keh keh!!!”
Moka spoke nonchalantly while chewing his salad. He casually declared he would abandon being an Ogre and become an Orc instead. Oun looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment, his large eyes brimming with moisture. Seeing the Ogre’s resigned, tear-streaked face, Moka sighed and continued.
“How about you stop teasing him and forgive him now? He may be ignorant and thoughtless, but he is a kind and righteous chieftain.”
Even as the chieftain Oun groveled before the Demon Lord, Moka calmly sipped his stew and spoke without hesitation. Neromeltia had only intended to lightly scold the arrogant Oun, but even taking that into account, Moka’s boldness was remarkable. His fearless attitude—casually insulting his own chieftain before seamlessly offering praise—was nothing short of daring. Neromeltia, who rather liked such a confident talent, smiled faintly and addressed Oun as Moka had requested.
“I do not know how you view the Orcs, but to me they are capable and precious subjects. I shall forgive you this once, but you must never again look down on others so carelessly.”
“I shall serve you with my very life!!!”
“Your stew will grow cold. Sit down.”
Oun rose unsteadily, still dazed, and carefully returned to his seat. Obeying the Demon Lord’s command, he began to eat quietly. Given his usual temperament, he would likely have lifted the entire bowl and poured the stew straight into his massive mouth, but now he timidly picked at it with a spoon—an utterly comical sight. While he was still nibbling at the meager appetizer, the servants noticed the Demon Lord’s empty bowl and began bringing out the next course.
“Rosemary white rabbit barbecue.”
“Big Boar smoked barbecue.”
The main courses appeared in earnest. When the rosemary-scented rabbit barbecue and the enormous smoked Big Boar were placed on the table, the mouthwatering aroma of meat made Oun’s hunger reach its peak, and his stomach let out a loud rumble. Clutching the tiny spoon that looked ridiculous in his huge hand, he began to eat the appetizer with frantic, noisy motions, desperate to finish it quickly.
Because the white rabbit barbecues were of moderate size, one was placed before each guest. The Big Boar smoked barbecue, however, was so massive it occupied the very center of the table. The rosemary-scented, perfectly crisp rabbit barbecue was almost beautiful to behold. The Big Boar, infused with the smoky aroma of burning firewood and dripping with savory juices, looked so appetizing it made one’s stomach churn with anticipation.
Just as two Orc servants approached with knives and forks to carve the Big Boar and serve it, the great doors of the banquet hall swung open with a thunderous noise.
Thud!!
“Brother!! There’s still meat left, right!?”