Dining Room

When he thought of royal meals, Kuuga pictured a vast hall with a long table lined with many chairs, but the room they were shown to resembled a perfectly ordinary, if well-appointed, dining room—it wasn’t all that large.

Ordinary, that is, except for the quality of the table and chairs, which looked both expensive and finely crafted. Around the room stood soldiers clad in armor a shade more luxurious than the guards at the castle gate, each standing watch with a wary air.

There was only a single chair—so this must be the king’s private dining room.

Uros was there as well, leaning against the wall, a book in hand. Kuuga, who’d thought of Uros as formality itself, felt a hint of incongruity in this relaxed pose. Yet every so often, Uros would shoot the soldiers a piercing look, as though wary or on guard about something.

As soon as Gadilas sat in the chair, a maid in something like a maid’s uniform appeared, pushing a service cart to the table.

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time Kuuga would actually see human food in this world. He watched intently as the dishes were set out, but quickly noticed that, mingling with the delicious aromas whetting his appetite, one peculiar scent stood out.

‘…What is that smell?’

It wasn’t exactly harsh or acrid, yet something about it set his whole body on edge. Kuuga even felt a light headache; his instincts told him this was a danger signal.

‘…!’

It was the main dish, the last plate to be set down—meat.

Every sense told Kuuga not to let anyone eat that meat. Panicking, he leapt onto the table and batted the plate to the floor with his paw.

“Hey—!”

“Aaaahhh!”

The plate clattered to the floor. Gadilas started to speak, but the maid’s shriek rang out, drowning him out. Immediately, the soldiers approached the table, ready to react.

“Your Majesty…!”

Sensing a flash of murderous intent, Kuuga glanced at the soldiers and saw hands poised on the hilts of their swords. He instinctively crouched low, bracing to defend himself.

Tension gripped the entire room.

“Enough.”

Gadilas’s deep, commanding voice rang out, bringing everyone to an abrupt halt.

Turning to Gadilas, Kuuga saw him glaring at the soldiers with a severity unseen until now. Those icy eyes sent the men pale and rigid with fear.

“What is the meaning of this? Do you even realize who you just aimed those swords at?”

“But, Your Majesty… Even if it is the Divine Beast—”

“You’ve been told it has intelligence. It understands human speech. If it knows the effect of its actions, there must be a reason for them. The Divine Beast wouldn’t act without purpose.”

Gadilas looked to Kuuga as if to say, Isn’t that so? Kuuga blinked in surprise. For all his earlier doubts, Gadilas was capable of such clear-headed judgment.

Kuuga nodded to him, then hopped off the table and knelt to sniff the fallen meat. That odd, dangerous scent was even stronger up close.

He pawed at the floor beside the meat and turned his face to Gadilas, shaking his head. Watching him with growing tension, Gadilas suddenly started and rose from his seat.

“You’re telling me not to eat that? …Poison?”

“Detain that woman.”

At Gadilas’s command, Uros instantly ordered the soldiers to seize the maid. The stunned soldiers hesitated, then pinned the serving maid to the ground. She struggled, protesting, her face gone deathly white, but was quickly overpowered and forced to the floor.

“N-no, please—I didn’t do anything!”

As Kuuga reeled at how swiftly things had escalated, Uros moved to carefully retrieve the meat and set it back on the plate.

“I’ll have this tested at once. And haul that woman to the cells—”

‘Wait—hold on! She’s not the culprit!’

Realizing they’d misidentified the maid, Kuuga panicked and stepped on Uros’s foot. Uros looked down, startled, but did not seem to understand what Kuuga was trying to convey. Gadilas was equally bewildered.

Left with no choice, Kuuga hurried to the captured maid, ignoring the nervous soldiers, and tapped his paw twice on the floor before her. Then, as before, he shook his head. Repeating the gesture made it clear to both Uros and Gadilas what he was trying to say.

“…You mean, she’s not the culprit?”

‘Exactly.’

“Eh…?”

Soldiers and maid alike stared at Kuuga in shock—Gadilas and Uros as well.

Kuuga knew for certain that the maid was innocent. He could tell just by looking at her face: her genuine shock at the accusation, and her earnest denial under restraint. Nothing about her reactions was staged.

She wasn’t someone Kuuga would call entirely trustworthy in general—her temperament was a bit tricky—but in this matter, she was blameless.

Gadilas and Uros approached, kneeling to Kuuga’s level.

“Can you say for sure?”

Kuuga nodded twice. The two men exchanged glances, then Uros asked,

“Is it because you can’t smell the poison on her?”

To this, Kuuga shook his head twice. Uros stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Do you have any evidence she’s not the culprit?”

Unfortunately, Kuuga did not. He shook his head again, leaving both Gadilas and Uros looking troubled. Perhaps they needed evidence or a concrete reason.

“Could it be… just intuition, then?”

After hesitating for a moment, Kuuga nodded once. The two men glanced at each other again.

“So, there’s no evidence, and while it’s nearly intuition, it’s more than just a hunch. Yet you’re certain… Is it some power unique to the Divine Beast?”

That was probably the closest approximation. Judging that he couldn’t get any clearer, Kuuga nodded twice.

If it was such an ability, Gadilas and Uros understood it would be hard to explain; they dropped the matter and stood, quietly discussing among themselves before ordering the maid’s release.

“If it wasn’t the server, maybe the cook. Was the food tested?”

“We’ve arranged for that already… Let me check.”

“I leave it to you.”

“Yes. And what about your meal, Your Majesty?”

“I don’t need it now. Bring a freshly made meal to my quarters later.”

“…Shall we test it in the room?”

“No need. If the Divine Beast can tell, that should be enough. Let’s go.”

Kuuga’s stomach growled, but he understood that no one would have much appetite with attempted poisoning fresh in their minds. He obediently followed Gadilas out of the room.

To think, on the very day he was chosen king, someone had already tried to kill him—so much for peace, Kuuga thought, sighing.

Looking up at Gadilas, he was struck by how unchanged the man’s expression was—cold as ever, as though surviving an attempt on his life were nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, he looked almost lost in thought.

Could he possibly be used to this? Kuuga recalled how, in novels, kings were often targets for assassination, but perhaps for royalty in general, such threats were a familiar part of life.

It seemed there were plenty who weren’t satisfied with Kuuga’s choice of king. That likely played a part as well.

Kuuga wondered if Gadilas bore any grudge for being chosen. He didn’t seem as if he did, but remembering the complicated look on his face during the ceremony, Kuuga was sure he hadn’t exactly been happy.

That thought left Kuuga feeling sad, and with his head lowered, he followed Gadilas back to the bedchamber.