The discovery of the hidden hero in the town hall basent was a complication.
A very interesting, and probably very dangerous, complication.
But it was a problem for future Ragnar.
Present Ragnar had a more pressing issue: a looming, full-scale mutiny in his own command staff over the quality of the snacks.
My throne room, a place of imposing crystal and strategic importance, was now filled with the low, rumbling snores of my victorious but exhausted army.
And the faint, but unmistakable, sll of unwashed Orc.
The looting operation had been a resounding success. We now owned a fleet of slightly dented pickup trucks, several dozen computers that were probably running on Windows 95, and enough toasters to equip a small nation with a diocre breakfast.
It was glorious.
But with victory ca the inevitable, soul-crushing reality of human resources.
I had summoned the instigators of the recent... disciplinary issue... to my throne room.
Chloe, my beautiful, fanatical shadow.
Layla, my sultry, manipulative Lilim.
And Izayoi, my impossibly expensive and perpetually bored Vampire Baron.
My "Fanatic Trio."
They knelt before , their heads bowed, a perfect picture of remorseful loyalty.
They had, during the Reign operation, taken my order to "neutralize all hostiles" a bit too literally. They had, in fact, vaporized an entire squad of local militia who had been in the process of surrendering.
It was a minor diplomatic incident, but it was the principle of the thing.
"You disobeyed a direct order," I began, my voice a low, dangerous purr. "You allowed your zeal to override your tactical judgnt. This is unacceptable."
Chloe looked up, her athyst eyes filled with a terrifying, unwavering devotion.
"They were a threat to you, my Lord," she said, her voice a quiet whisper of absolute conviction. "And any threat to you must be... erased. We offer our lives as penance for our failure to adhere to the letter of your command."
Layla and Izayoi nodded in solemn agreent.
They were ready to die. For . Because they had been too enthusiastic in their murdering.
I ran a hand over my face.
This was my life now.
Managing a death cult that worshiped my magnificent, demonic dick.
"Your lives are too valuable to be thrown away on a matter of paperwork," I said, my voice laced with a weary resignation. "But your actions must have consequences. A punishnt is required. One that fits the cri."
I looked at them, at their readiness to accept any brutal, violent fate I could devise.
And then, Takaharu, who had been quietly trying to figure out how to work a toaster, spoke up.
"IF THEY HAD NOT KILLED THE HUMANS," he roared, his voice shaking the entire Spire, "THE HUMANS COULD HAVE COOKED US DINNER. I AM VERY HUNGRY."
A terrible, beautiful, and utterly hilarious idea blood in my mind.
"That," I said, a slow, wicked smile spreading across my face, "is a brilliant idea."
I looked at my three kneeling fanatics.
"Your punishnt is this," I declared, my voice ringing with the authority of a king who had just co up with a truly masterful, passive-aggressive solution. "You will be excluded from the victory feast. And, for the next month, you three will be on dish duty. For the entire army."
The look of pure, unadulterated horror on their faces was more satisfying than any execution.
With the disciplinary eting concluded, the far more important eting could begin.
The dinner eting.
"We require a feast worthy of our station!" Saburo declared, striking a pose. "A banquet of champions!"
"I REQUIRE AT," Grak roared. "RAW. AND BLOODY."
"You are an uncivilized brute," Sarah sniffed, examining her nails. "I require sothing... delicate. Perhaps a nice coq au vin. With a truffle reduction."
The argunt raged for ten minutes.
It was exhausting.
"ENOUGH!" I roared, my voice cutting through the culinary chaos. "I will decide."
I thought for a mont. What did I want?
I didn’t need to eat. My vampiric nature sustained .
But then, a word, a mory, a ghost of a taste from a life I could no longer rember, flickered in my mind.
"We will have," I announced, the word feeling strange on my tongue, "curry and rice."
The feast was held by a riverside on the outskirts of our new territory.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of blood and fire. It was still uncomfortably bright.
I sat on a hastily conjured throne of black stone, watching my dysfunctional family of monsters and legends eat.
Yori, my wise and cunning old strategist, sat beside .
"You should join them, my Lord," he said, his voice a quiet, reedy sound. "It is good for a king to share a al with his people. It builds... camaraderie."
"Camaraderie is for people who aren’t planning on backstabbing each other for a promotion," I muttered, but I knew he was right.
With a sigh, I accepted a bowl of curry.
The sll was... familiar. A complex, fragrant cloud of spice and warmth.
I took a bite.
And the world seed to stop.
The taste exploded on my tongue. It was rich, savory, with a hint of sweetness and a slow, creeping heat.
It was... delicious.
And with the taste ca a flicker of sothing else.
A ghost of a mory.
A warm kitchen. The sound of a woman humming a tune I couldn’t quite place. A feeling of... safety. Of ho.
The mory was gone as quickly as it ca, leaving only a strange, hollow ache in my chest.
I looked at my army.
At the laughing, bickering, beautiful, chaotic ss of them.
This was my life now.
This was my ho.
This was my family.
And I was, for the first ti in a long ti, content.
The quiet, peaceful mont was, of course, too good to last.
A sudden, frantic flapping of leathery wings cut through the air.
A Giant Bat, one of my most trusted scouts, swooped down from the twilight sky.
It landed on the table in front of , a small, sealed ssage capsule tied to its leg.
Pixia, ever the efficient aide, took the capsule and opened it.
She read the small, rolled-up piece of parchnt.
Her tiny, academic face went pale.
"My Lord," she whispered, her voice trembling with a fear I had never heard from her before.
"It is a report from our northern scouts."
"It is about the human city."
"It is about Suzu."
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