A Feast For Someone Who'd Rather Be Anywhere Else

Morning greeted me like a frying pan to the face. Bright sunlight slashed across the room, right through the one pathetic excuse for a curtain covering the window. I groaned and buried my head under the pillow. Unfortunately, the pillow smelled faintly like socks and something vaguely swamp-adjacent.

Right. The humble inn. The Slumbering yvern. Still missing a “W.” Still reeking of damp tragedy.

And then there was Glorb.

The gelkin hovered in the corner like an ominous jellyfish, slow and steady, watching me with what I assumed were eyes but could just as easily have been bubbles. It made a cheerful blorp noise, which I think was its way of saying “Good morning, roommate who will never get his sock back.”

I swung my legs off the bed and stared down at my single remaining sock. The other was currently inside Glorb, slowly dissolving into what I assume was an alternate dimension of lint.

“Fine, keep it,” I muttered. “Hope it gives you indigestion.”

Breakfast sounded like a good plan—until I realized I had no money. No coins, no credit card, not even a single loyalty stamp for a free coffee. My grand fortune consisted of a frayed cloak and a wooden sword that was about as threatening as a breadstick.

I was still trying to figure out whether hunger or pride would win when a knock sounded at the door.

Elara slipped inside, sunlight catching on her silver hair like something out of a JRPG splash screen. She was holding a small basket covered with a cloth.

“You didn’t eat last night, did you?” she asked, setting the basket on the bed. She lifted the cloth to reveal bread, cheese, and something that looked suspiciously like dried meat.

“Is this… a bribe?” I asked, picking up a piece of bread.

“A courtesy,” she corrected. “You’ll need your strength for today.”

“Right. Because of the big fancy hero feast?”

She nodded once. “But before that, I thought it wise to show you the city.”

“Field trip? Do I get a name tag and a buddy system?”

Elara didn’t smile, but her eyes softened like she wanted to. “No name tags.”

***

We stepped out into a day buzzing with life. The capital of Valeria spread out like a living painting. The cobblestone streets gleamed in the sun, lined with buildings carved from pale stone, their windows glowing with colored glass. The people moved in currents, vendors shouting over each other as children played hopscotch.

As we walked, Elara slipped into guide mode. “That is the Mage’s Tower,” she said, gesturing toward a needle-thin spire stabbing the sky. “Only certified arcanists may enter.”

“Certified, huh? Like a magical driver’s license?”

She ignored that and pointed to a sprawling plaza where adventurers gathered in noisy clusters. “The Adventurer’s Guild—contracts, requests, and occasionally chaos.”

We turned down a narrower street where lanterns swayed in the breeze. Taverns leaned shoulder-to-shoulder with weapon shops and strange little stalls selling talismans.

“This is Dragon’s Row,” Elara said, slowing her pace. “Named for the dragon that once roosted near the city gates centuries ago. When it was slain, its bones were used to build this district. Some say its spirit still lingers.”

“That’s… cool,” I admitted. “So what’s the vibe? Adventurer nightlife? Dungeon Delvers Anonymous?”

“A place where fortunes are made and lives are lost,” she said quietly. “For someone in your position, it may hold both allies—and trouble.”

I smirked. “Sounds like every group project I’ve ever been in.”

She gave me a look like she didn’t get the reference but was too polite to say anything.

As we moved, I decided to poke at something that had been on my mind. “So, uh… this whole summoner thing. Have you always been doing this?”

Her step faltered, just for a heartbeat. “Not always.”

I tilted my head. “What, you started as an intern and worked your way up to magical HR?”

For the first time, she actually laughed—soft, short, like it escaped without permission. It surprised me. It was… nice.

“I wasn’t born to these duties,” she said after a pause. “I… came here from another world. Long ago.”

I nearly tripped over my own shoes. “Wait—you mean you were summoned? Like me?”

She nodded, eyes distant now. “It is a complicated story.”

Before I could ask anything else, her voice turned brisk again. “We should return. The feast preparations should be nearly complete.”

Just like that, the wall went back up. But the crack I’d seen behind it? Yeah, that was staying in my head for later.

***

By the time I got back to my room, Glorb was hanging from the ceiling beam like a sentient chandelier, humming to itself. Half my cloak fringe dangled from his gooey insides. The sock that was once inside him was gone.

“You’re a menace,” I told him. Then I pulled out the ridiculous princely outfit the tailor saddled me with yesterday—gold-trimmed coat, boots shiny enough to see your existential dread in, and a sash that screamed “look at me, I’m important!”

I hated it. But I put it on. I even strapped on the wooden sword because hey, I wasn’t taking any chances.

***

The royal feast was… exactly as intimidating as I’d imagined.

The dining hall was massive enough to make my old school gym look like a broom closet. Chandeliers spilled golden light over tables groaning under food that probably cost more than my entire apartment lease. Nobles glittered in silks and jewels, their conversations weaving like spiderwebs.

And then there was me.

I tugged at the ridiculous white-and-gold outfit I had put on. Bells on my boots jingled every time I took a step, like I was secretly moonlighting as a Christmas elf. My wooden starter sword hung awkwardly at my hip.

The only thing worse than the outfit was the attention. Heads turned as I walked in—hundreds of eyes sizing me up, whispering like I was the newest gossip column headline. Hero, savior, chosen one… fraud? Probably that last one too.

At the head of the table, King Edyrias rose to greet me. He was dressed in deep crimson and black, his silver crown glinting like frozen fire. His smile was wise, regal… but his eyes. They didn’t look at me like I was a guest. They looked at me like I was a dagger he’d pulled from a sheath, wondering how sharp I was before he put me to use.

“Welcome, Hero,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “Tonight, all of Valeria honors you.”

“Uh… thanks,” I managed. “Glad to be here.”

He gestured for me to sit at his right hand. Oh good, the pressure seat. Fantastic.

As I slid into my chair, Elara gave me an encouraging nod from a little further down the table. She was still in her summoner robes, serene as ever, but her eyes softened for a fraction of a second when they met mine. I filed that away in the “Things I Don’t Understand Yet” folder.

Then I saw her.

The clumsy fruit-basket girl, now in a dress of pure silk. Her hair, usually tied back, spilled over her shoulders like soft waves. She was seated near the end of the table, clearly trying—and failing—not to stand out. The second our eyes met, her face went crimson. She almost knocked over her goblet in panic, catching it just in time. A few nobles glanced her way with mild disdain, but no one said anything.

What was she doing here? A servant? A noble’s daughter? Something about her didn’t add up.

I barely had time to puzzle it out before the feast began. Platters of roasted meats and jewel-colored fruits lined the table, steaming bowls of spiced grains, crystal decanters pouring wine the color of rubies. My stomach rumbled so loudly I prayed no one heard.

As I shoveled food into my mouth at a socially acceptable pace (I think), nobles took turns trying to chat with me. “What glorious battles have you fought, Hero?” one asked.

“Oh, you know,” I said casually, “the usual. Demonic… uh… pigeons.” They laughed politely. Definitely didn’t believe that one.

Then the King stood, lifting his goblet high. The hall fell silent. His voice rang out within the hall:

“To the Hero…erm, pardon me, but what is your name young Hero?”

“Itsuki Takaya,” I answered.

“To the Hero, Itsuki Takaya,” he declared. “May his strength bring an end to the shadow threatening our lands. May his name live forever in the annals of Valeria!”

Everyone cheered. Goblets clinked. I raised mine and tried not to look like I was internally screaming.

And then—

BOOM.

The doors at the far end of the hall slammed open with a force that rattled the chandeliers. A rush of cold air swept through, snuffing out several candles. Gasps rippled across the table as armed, masked men in black leathers stormed inside, blades flashing in the candlelight.

“Down with the false king!” one shouted.

Chaos erupted. Nobles panicked and scattered. Guards surged forward, steel ringing against steel. I froze, my wooden sword feeling like the biggest joke in history.

For real? I didn’t even get to finish dessert.