Before the banter could continue, the rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps filled the parlor. From the shadows of a side hallway erged a line of humanoid maid puppets, their movents fluid yet unnervingly precise.
Their porcelain faces were expressionless, but their glowing, sapphire-like eyes radiated an unsettling intelligence. Each puppet carried an ornate silver platter, the aromas wafting from the dishes stirring an audible murmur of excitent among the bastioneers.
"Dinner is served," one of the puppets announced, her voice a harmonious blend of chanical precision and musical cadence. She gestured with a fluid motion toward the grand dining table, which had been set with a regal ticulousness.
The table was a marvel in itself, crafted from dark mahogany polished to a mirror-like sheen. Golden candlesticks with intricate carvings of mythical creatures stood proudly at its center, their candles flickering with an ethereal blue fla. Crystal goblets sparkled under the light of the chandelier—an artifact in its own right, its prismatic crystals refracting soft rainbows throughout the room.
And the dishes themselves were no less extravagant. A roasted beast adorned with sprigs of fresh herbs occupied the table's center, its skin glazed to perfection. Surrounding it were an array of sides—steaming bowls of velvety soup, golden pastries filled with mysterious, savory fillings, and an assortnt of fruits that shimred as though they were plucked from a dream.
Even without tasting the food, I already know that it would taste nothing but divine. After all, my instinct was one of the things that I always trusted from the depth of my heart.
For an aspiring chef like , now I have another goal in my mind as I want to learn how to make all of these delicacies, and possibly putting an effort on gathering better ingredients to feed my bastioneers so that I could live in my muscle-servant fantasy.
Maybe I could also ask Kuzunoha later to introduce to her chef.
Viviane gestured toward the table with a faint smile. "Kuzunoha's eccentricity at its finest," she said, her tone betraying a mixture of amusent and exasperation. "Everything here, down to the chandelier, is an artifact from her collection. Handle nothing without permission."
"I... can't tell if this is a feast or a museum exhibit," Lydia remarked, eyeing the gleaming goblets with a mix of awe and suspicion.
"Whatever it is, it slls amazing," Yora added, already moving toward her seat. "Let's dig in before we faint from hunger."
As I led the group to the table, my bastioneers followed in their usual disciplined manner, evident in their composed yet eager movents. Verina and Lupina took their places near , while the eleven Vivianes—each an echo of the original—spread out among the bastioneers, their varied presences creating an oddly harmonious atmosphere.
As we settled in, the initial hesitation gave way to unabashed enjoynt. The bastioneers, whose lives had been shaped by constant vigilance and survival, approached the al with a sense of wonder. Yora was the first to break the unspoken decorum, tearing into a piece of the roasted beast with fervor.
"This... this is incredible," she mumbled between bites, her expression one of pure bliss. "What even is this at? It's like it lts in your mouth! Oh! But of course, Lady Narcissus' cooking is better!"
"Don't lie, Yora," I chuckled. "Even I admit that this feast is levels above mine."
"These are only good because of the exotic ingredients," Erika said while having worse table manners than Yora. "If our radiant one could procure these ingredients, she will surely bless us with an even greater delicacy!"
Lydia, ever the tactician, delicately sampled a bowl of shimring soup, her eyes widening as she tasted it. "There's a complexity here," she mused. "It's almost like... the broth adapts to your preferences."
Naosi leaned over to examine her plate, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Adaptable food? That's either genius or borderline terrifying."
Lupina, cradled in Verina's arms as usual, managed to look both bemused and pleased as Verina force fed huge bites of a flaky pastry into her mouth. "Oy! Don't shove it all at once, hmph!!!"
Verina emotionlessly chuckled, holding up another piece. "Eat with your own hands then." Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire
"But I don't have a—hmph!!"
"Exactly."
As the bastioneers devoured their als with gusto, the Vivianes began a more subdued but no less animated discussion.
"You encountered her too?" the child-like Viviane asked, her orange hair glowing softly in the firelight as she leaned forward, her legs swinging beneath her chair.
The battle-scarred Viviane nodded, her tone grim. "She hunted us like prey. Every fragnt we entered, she was there, waiting. The Holy Witch doesn't just chase—she stalks. She knows exactly how to exploit the cracks in your mind."
The stately Viviane tapped her chin thoughtfully. "It's peculiar. Her attacks felt less like calculated ambushes and more... obsessive. She didn't just want to destroy us—she wanted us to suffer."
Another Viviane, her deanor scholarly and reserved, added, "She was particularly relentless in my fragnt. If not for the insights provided by Erika, I doubt we would have escaped intact."
The ntion of Erika drew the attention of the entire table. All eyes turned to the owl-like bastioneer, who flushed deeply under the scrutiny.
"It wasn't... it wasn't that special," Erika mumbled, fidgeting with her goblet. "I just... had a feeling. Like I knew where she'd strike next."
The child-like Viviane bead. "A feeling that saved us more than once! Don't downplay it."
Even the scarred Viviane gave a rare nod of approval. "She's right. Your instincts were dead-on every ti. Whatever it is you're tapping into, it's remarkable."
I watched Erika closely, my mind turning over the implications of her sudden insights. This wasn't the first ti she had demonstrated an uncanny ability to predict danger, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. But now wasn't the ti to press her. For now, her contributions had kept us alive, and that was enough.
Interrogating her right now would only sour the scene, after all.
But just as the conversation began to lull, the atmosphere shifted.
Everyone felt it, the room grew colder, the once-cozy fire in the hearth dimming to a sickly green flicker. The air itself seed to shudder as a low, resonant hum filled the space, vibrating through the very walls.
A chill ran down my spine, and I rose from my seat, every instinct screaming a warning.
The chandelier above dimd, its prismatic light fading until only a dull glow remained. Then, with a deafening crash, the massive double doors at the far end of the hall were flung open, slamming against the walls with enough force to splinter the wood.
From the shadows beyond stepped the manifestation of nightmare.
The Holy Witch.
Her spiraling twin-tails twisted with unnatural fluidity, her black sclera gleaming as her grin stretched impossibly wide. In her hands, she held a bundle of black roses, their petals dripping with a dark, viscous substance that hissed as it hit the floor.
"Did you miss ?" she purred, her voice echoing with a discordant symphony of tones. "Oh, how fun it is to chase after my runaway fiance…! This place is great…! Why are those lowlives hanging around with her…? Ah, I'm so jealous…!"
Before anyone could react, she threw sothing onto the table with a sickening thud.
It was the severed head of the Drowned Revenant.
The head rolled to a stop amidst the plates and goblets, its eyes still burning with defiance despite its condition. Black ichor dripped from the severed neck, pooling among the remnants of our al.
"She is one hell of a nutjob…" the Revenant coughed out her black ichor blood onto the table of food, staining this joyful occasion with dread. "Master…"
A sense of impending doom overwheld all of us, relentless in its pursuit for our demise.
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