The Night at Stony Fortress (1)
After concluding their in-depth discussion on the future plans for rebuilding the Demon Lord Castle, Neromeltia hosted a banquet to celebrate the residents of Caboni Forest joining her domain. During the talks, the matter of Artis’s secret organization, Utopia, was wrapped up without much fuss: “I have my suspicions, so pick any one member and investigate their background.” With that important item regarding Artis settled, Neromeltia stepped onto the podium to declare the start of the banquet. Watching her people mingle without the slightest awkwardness, she finally relaxed and began to enjoy the feast herself.
The banquet was lavish, filled with drinks and dishes from Under Barkus and Caboni Forest alike. It became a joyful gathering where the various races mingled with lively harmony. The leaders and key figures of each group took their seats at the table prepared on the training ground’s podium, looking down upon the energetic residents filling the space below.
Nella had already devoured half of a massive roasted Big Boar. Even for an Orc of her size, the amount she had consumed was considerable—more than twice the average Orc’s meal—and yet she continued to wield her fork and knife with undiminished vigor, as though there were still room left in her stomach. She used the wine beside her merely as a means to wash the food down smoothly, eating with such appetite that it seemed almost secondary to the meal itself.
Even so, her table manners remained impeccable. She ate with restraint and cleanliness, never once appearing gluttonous or unsightly. On the contrary, the sight of her eating so neatly and thoroughly gave onlookers a strangely pleasant feeling.
In contrast, Oun, seated beside her, had stacked several barrels of liquor next to him and piled three whole roasted Big Boars before him. His hands glistened with grease as he tore into the meat with both hands, stuffing it endlessly into his mouth and pouring entire barrels of drink straight down his throat. He resembled nothing so much as a gigantic beast. He ripped chunks of meat larger than a kite shield with his massive hands and swallowed them whole, bones and all, the crunch of thick bones echoing loudly. Every time he lifted a barrel, it was emptied in one go and sent rolling across the floor, so a dedicated attendant had been assigned just to clear them away.
“Kuhahahaha! You eat pretty well yourself!”
“…If not on a day like this, when else could I eat to my heart’s content?”
“Exactly! Eating well and moving well is how you build stronger muscles! Your brother, that dried-up bookworm Veryberry, is nothing compared to you! You’ll become a great warrior with magnificent muscles!! Come to our Ogre training grounds anytime! I’ll personally help you build some fine muscles!”
“My brother is not a dried-up bookworm. And besides, I’m a woman, so I don’t want huge muscles.”
Oun laughed heartily, genuinely pleased by Nella’s healthy appetite. Yet despite his sincere praise, Nella paid it no mind, focusing entirely on the rare opportunity to eat her fill of delicious food. She did not welcome a single word of his compliments.
The two of them ate so impressively that residents passing by could not help but turn and stare in admiration. Across from Nella sat Veryberry and, next to him, Artis. Both upheld strict etiquette, demonstrating precisely what it meant to be gentlemen. They cut their food into appropriate sizes, savored each bite cleanly, occasionally enjoyed wine, and engaged in pleasant conversation—the very picture of perfect table manners. Though their portions differed due to the racial differences between Orc and Goblin, their meals were so elegant that no observer would ever notice the disparity.
“Ohohohoho! Baron Veryberry Beck Begrit must feel both great joy and great worry, having such a beautiful younger sister.”
“I am deeply honored that you would rate this still-lacking child so highly, Lord Artis! Keh keh keh!”
The two men conversed amicably while maintaining perfect gentlemanly decorum. However, Artis’s gaze upon Nella missed none of her physical charms. The more he took in her beauty, the stickier his stare became—something Veryberry failed to notice. To him, Artis was simply a rare guest who possessed manners and etiquette on par with his own, someone he could treat without reserve. Only the host of the castle and the eccentric artist who coveted his sister’s beauty existed in that moment.
“The banquet is proceeding smoothly.”
“Indeed.”
At the far end of the table on the podium sat Crawford and Moka. They ate quietly, occasionally exchanging brief, soft words while observing the hall. Their very gazes seemed tranquil, as though even silence suited them perfectly.
“Haaah! It’s so delicious!!”
Lusteria, cheeks puffed out with food, was wholly absorbed in savoring the banquet dishes. Her expression was pure happiness; every ounce of her attention was devoted to the meal, and no one dared interrupt her with conversation.
After cleanly finishing the blackberry salad and Big Boar sirloin steak before her, Lusteria waited for the attendant to clear her empty plate and bring the next course. She glanced around—and suddenly froze.
“…Huh?”
Her master, who had been beside her, was nowhere to be seen. As confusion turned to dismay, she realized Beatrice, who had been seated on the master’s other side, had also vanished. Her thoughts ground to a halt. While she had been lost in the food, the two of them had disappeared without a word. A wave of anxiety struck her so hard her hands trembled. What if her master had called for her, but she had been too absorbed in eating to hear? What if her master had grown tired of her and preferred to spend time only with Beatrice? What if something urgent had happened and she had been too foolish to notice and follow?
All manner of anxious imaginings pierced her heart like harpoons.
“Her Majesty said she was stepping away with the maid for a short rest.”
“Well, it has always been customary for lovers passing an inn to say, ‘Shall we rest a while?’ Ohohohoho.”
Veryberry kindly dispelled her doubts the moment he noticed her expression, while Artis chuckled mischievously. Both statements were entirely accurate. It was true that they had left the banquet hall saying they were going to rest briefly, and it was equally true that “rest” carried another meaning.
Lusteria quickly rinsed her mouth with water, wiped her lips with a napkin, and rose from her seat.
“I’ll go rest for a bit too!”
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried away. Veryberry and Artis watched her retreating figure, then burst into hearty laughter, even leaning on each other’s shoulders and wiping tears from their eyes.
“At three hundred and fifty years old, I’m practically a child compared to them, yet I find myself thinking this is their prime. Is that irreverent? Keh keh keh keh!!”
“What does age matter? If you live youthfully, you’re young; if you live childishly, you’re a child! If you devote yourself with loyalty, even a commoner becomes a noble; if you live like a pig, even a noble becomes a beast, no?”
“Lord Artis, your insight is truly remarkable! This humble one has received a great lesson!”
“Not at all! In that spirit, shall we drink a little more youthfully ourselves? Ohohohoho!”
“Keh keh keh! Excellent!! Bring more beer here!! Tonight I shall revel as I did in my younger days!!”
Throughout it all, Oun remained focused solely on swallowing food and pouring liquor. Yet Nella, who had been eating diligently beside him and had been grouped together with him in others’ eyes as “those who eat well,” reacted differently. Her fork and knife had stopped moving. Her face was flushed crimson.
She had heard and understood every word of the conversation, though she had neither participated nor shown it.
Lusteria was heading toward the VIP room in the inner castle of Stony Fortress. With most people gathered at the banquet hall, only a few soldiers guarded the main gate and stairs, and even the corridors were empty. Her footsteps echoed quietly yet clearly down the long hallway.
The VIP room lay at the very end of the exclusive floor reserved for guests. Aside from Oun of the Ogre village, no one else visited the castle as a VIP, and even he never stayed overnight, always returning to his own home after business. Thus, though there were many guest rooms, only one VIP room existed—to maintain the castle’s dignity. The Demon Lord, occupying the highest position in Hemonigent, would surely use it.
Lusteria now stood before the massive, heavy door of the VIP room, over six hundred mentols tall. Crafted from fine pine wood with a fresh, pleasant scent, the door was so heavy that any movement would likely produce a loud creak from the hinges; she could not bring herself to touch it carelessly.
After a moment’s hesitation, Lusteria carefully approached and pressed her ear to the door. Her pointed ears twitched cutely. She could detect familiar voices inside, but the thick pine wood muffled the sound so thoroughly that even with her ear fully pressed against it, she could only catch faint murmurs, enough to confirm someone was within.
To see inside, she would have to open the door at least a little. Just as she reached for it, she considered casting a soundproofing spell but quickly abandoned the idea—Neromeltia and Beatrice would surely detect even the slightest trace of magic. Instead, she began to push the door open slowly and carefully, using all her strength.
Fortunately, the hinges remained silent until she had created a narrow gap through which she could peer. The moment the gap appeared, voices spilled out.
“Hnnngh…!!”
“Does it feel good…? Haa… Tell me…”
“…Yes… Master…! It feels too good… Kkht…!! Haa… I can’t hold back… Hngh…!!”
The lewd, intertwined moans of two women. Forcing her trembling gaze through the narrow opening, Lusteria witnessed exactly the scene she had feared—and anticipated. On the enormous bed, two women had become one, lost in the joy of flesh. Beatrice, legs spread wide in a manner utterly unlike her usual composed self. Neromeltia, head buried between those soft thighs, savoring the maid’s body. Both were completely naked, immersed in passionate lovemaking. Lusteria’s violet eyes trembled violently as she watched her master and the maid in the midst of their ripe, carnal act.
Squelch…! Squelch…!!
“You’re already so wet… Your insides… are squeezing my tongue so tightly it tingles…?”
“…Hngh…!! …Haa… Yes… I’m a shameless maid who gets excited for you without any shame…! Haaht…!! P-Please… grant me your mercy…!!”
Even from the sounds alone, Lusteria could tell Beatrice’s womanhood was a mess of love juices. She could imagine how the maid’s insides convulsed with unbearable pleasure, endlessly spilling nectar. She could picture her master’s tongue thrusting into that lewd passage, tasting the maid’s wanton fluids and turning her into a slave to pleasure.
Unable to endure the cruelly mounting waves of sensation, Beatrice threw her head back, her body writhing in nothing more than coquettish spasms meant only to please her master. Beatrice’s magically engineered artificial mind flickered repeatedly, overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Even Lusteria, merely an observer, could see that Beatrice—normally capable of shutting off all sensation with sheer will—was deliberately choosing to experience every bit of it vividly.
Yet that choice was not truly “her own.” Addicted to the love and joy her most precious, most revered master bestowed upon her, Beatrice accepted even this moment—when excessive pleasure left her barely able to breathe—as an irrefutable bliss. The overwhelming orgasms her master gave her were so addictive that even if they became pain, she would want to feel that affection-filled pleasure forever, for a day, a month, a year, an eternity.
Lusteria understood this all too well.
“Aaaaaah…!!! Hngh… Hic… Uuugh…!! Hngh…!!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Beatrice clutched Neromeltia’s horns with both hands, her body shaking violently. In response, Neromeltia lifted her hands from the maid’s luscious thighs—hands that had been savoring the soft skin—and seized Beatrice’s breasts, squeezing them hard enough to distort their beautiful shape. Even under her master’s somewhat sadistic touch, Beatrice only cried out in pleasure, sobbing with a smile of joy on her lips even as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Lusteria suddenly felt Beatrice’s expression looked strangely unfamiliar. Had the ever-stoic, self-controlled Beatrice ever smiled so honestly with her emotions? It was the pure manifestation of affection, the fruit of an intense love powerful enough to unravel even her true nature. Startled by this new side of Beatrice, Lusteria’s gaze wavered—until she noticed the trail of discarded clothing strewn across the VIP room floor from the door to the bed: apron, blouse, skirt, and undergarments. Beatrice must have been unable to wait even the short distance to the bed after the door closed, shedding her clothes as she went. The long, wet trail from the foot of the massive bed to its center—built for an Ogre over six hundred mentols tall—proved she had already been thoroughly soaked before removing her clothes.
These raw traces spoke louder than anything of Beatrice’s fervent devotion to her master. Lusteria now saw the lovemaking between master and maid in a different light. As a succubus born open to such matters and naturally easygoing herself, Lusteria had once invited Beatrice to share her master’s bed without the slightest discomfort. Yet the sight of Beatrice pouring her entire heart into loving their master now pained her deeply.
Questioning the inexplicable ache in her chest, Lusteria looked inward. She confronted herself, carefully untangling the complicated emotions one by one. Then she slipped a hand beneath her own underwear and confirmed what she already suspected: her own womanhood was drenched. Watching her master and Beatrice’s passionate union had left her burning hot and slick, sticky fluids stretching in glistening threads between her fingers.
If this were the usual Lusteria, she would have immediately burst in and begged to join. But the Lusteria of now could not take even a single step into the VIP room. She quietly turned her head and walked away down the corridor, her eyes damp with unshed tears.
It was jealousy.