Chapter 44: At the Banquet

A richly patterned carpet, intricate and bright with color, was spread across the floor of the tent. On top of it, dishes were set out on great platters, the food looking far too delicious.

I wanted to eat. Quickly.

That was what I was thinking as I pressed a blade against my right thumb.

A shallow cut, sharp and clean. Blood welled up, swelling like a bead and spilling out.

Rikan did the same, biting a blade into his finger to draw blood.

We both let our blood drip into a cup. The crimson fell into the milky-white liquor. It glowed red for an instant, but with a stir it vanished without a trace.

Rikan drank first, a single mouthful. Then I followed. The rest was downed in one go by the witness.

The taste pricked my tongue.

Honestly, it wasn’t good. But perhaps that was just because I still had the tongue of a child. I had never really understood the appeal of alcohol.

“The contract ritual is sealed! From this moment, Ratchet is our guest!”

The declaration rang out from the lion-man with four arms and a more magnificent mane than Rikan’s. He was the chieftain of the Leone clan himself. Cheers erupted, toasts raised, and the feast began.

Blood mingled into liquor, drunk by both parties, then the witness drained the remainder in one swallow.

That was how the Leone made contracts.

It seemed this ritual had concluded without trouble.

I sat frozen, face blank from the taste of the liquor, and then just as blankly gulped water to wash it down.

“What’s wrong, Ratchet?”

“…Nothing at all.”

Rikan’s words came with a sly grin as he watched me. I put on bravado in return. He only smiled and pushed a salad-filled plate toward me.

“They say it’s a flavor children like.”

“I’m an adult and a gentleman. Hardly suits my palate.”

…Please give me more, though. It’s delicious.

…And that’s your idea of a gentleman?

We traded such idiotic lines as I cast my eyes around.

There were other humans here besides me, but none seemed to have been bought for a higher price than I had.

The Tooth’s culture was a hierarchy of strength, and the seating reflected that.

The fact that Rikan, son of the chieftain, sat directly before me told me all I needed to know: I’d been purchased at a very high price. My seat was high up in the order—seventh from the top, right after Rikan. A single-digit rank. It sounded almost impressive. “Seventh seat in the order” had a nice ring to it.

Just as I had been warned beforehand, in this place the lower-ranked were not permitted to speak to those above. That was why no one addressed me. But the stares from below were intense. Especially from the ones at eighth, ninth, and tenth.

“…”

Too intimidating. I kept my mouth shut.

Turning my attention back to my plate, I reached over to scoop up Rudo, who was being fed scraps by the old man at Number Five. Since I wasn’t allowed to speak to him, I bowed silently in apology. He gave a small chuckle in return.

“Ratchet, what’s your dog’s name?”

And then he spoke to me. Since they’d spoken to me first, I could answer.

“Rudo. Rudolf.”

If you ask about the origin, there were a lot of name candidates.

“I see. This old man likes dogs. Mind if I borrow Lord Rudo for a bit?”

“If that’s the case, then please take good care of him for a short while.”

I released Rudo.

Thanks to selective breeding, the dog now perfectly understood human speech. He happily planted his paws on Five’s knee, rose up, and wagged his tail.

Please stop. I don’t want hair in the food.

I lifted my empty side plate protectively and figured I might as well get something to eat. As I scanned the area, more dishes were brought in. I was surprised. Humans were carrying them.

A girl with long hair loosely waved and tied to the side moved with a soft sort of presence. She was carrying food up to the high table when—

“Why are humans sitting up there?!”

She’d noticed me.

The sound vanished.

The woman who seemed to be in charge of the serving—also human—started to step forward in a panic, but the people around her held her back.

…Well, that explained it.

You must not speak from a lower seat to someone above.

Even if she was a newcomer who hadn’t been seated, to address Number Seven was unforgivable. One strike and it’s a red card. Worse, the exit wouldn’t be from the field but from life itself. No mercy there.

“…”

What to do? I froze for a moment and tried to think. No answer came. Seriously, what should I do?

Watching me stiffen, Number Ten—smiling, I think—gave that look. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read any change in his expression.

“Such insolence to speak to Ratchet-dono, how rude this woman is!”

He barked. The fellow was more insect than lion: a single huge compound eye in the center, a body of smooth chitin. Like a scarecrow in a field.

Why had he gotten so worked up? The reason was simple.

“I shall deal with her myself!”

There it was. I can’t see his face, but he was probably grinning. I could tell by looking at Number Eight, who was more human-like.

Number Ten planned to force me to intervene and use that as a pretext to demote her.

I scratched at my head. I inhaled and let out a long breath.

“—”

I stared at the canvas of the tent for three seconds.

Right. Will it take the bait? I hope it does. That would be nice.

“Rudeness, you say, but what did she do?”

I kept my eyes on Rikan but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What? You don’t know? It is forbidden for those below to speak to those above at a feast! Absolutely intolerable!”

My eyes went half-closed. Pathetic.

I saw Rikan’s lips move out of the corner of my vision. He’s an idiot, they said. So that was it—hooked, line, and sinker.

“Is it something to be atoned for with one’s life?”

Only then did I turn to face Number Ten properly.

“No, normally it would not amount to that. But this banquet is being held to welcome Lord Ratchet, and I thought it my duty to demonstrate that Lord Ratchet is someone who can kill. Also, a coward should not be placed above us, right?”

He swept his gaze across the crowd.

Yes! Yes! I heard those murmurs here and there. Number Nine and Eight were among them. The higher-ups seemed to have noticed, too. Could this really be allowed? Well, fine. It made things easy.

“Rikan, I’m sorry to sully your feast with blood.”

I spoke as if to Rikan, but loud enough that everyone could hear.

“No matter. What weapon do you have?”

“The one you kindly gave me a little while ago.”

I took out the automatic pistol they’d handed me for protection. The magazine was full.

Leaning on the power of the hound model that cloaked my lower body, I rose to my feet. Then I trained the muzzle—

“Eh!?”

—the direction of Number Ten.

“Too bad. I haven’t even heard your name yet…”

I shook my head, pitying.

“No, no, no! Why me? Why are you picking me!?” Number Ten screamed.

“There’s no why about it. You were the one who spoke to me before I said anything, weren’t you?” I answered him in a cold voice. “I asked Rikan, ‘Why is she rude?’ But for some reason, you answered, Number Ten. That’s how it is. Ah, sorry. Number Eight and Nine, could you demonstrate that you too are capable of killing? It would be troubling if those near the top could not do that. Why? Why is that? You two raised your voices earlier in agreement with Number Ten, didn’t you? You responded to the words of someone beneath you, yes? So you recognized that you had been addressed?”

“What are you doing?”

“Stand. Ready. Kill.”

Silence fell. My voice carried through it. I looked at Eight and Nine without emotion.

“What exactly are you doing? Stand up now. Or would you prefer I show you myself?”

I made my voice flat and low, letting the killing intent lie under the words.

—I can kill those beneath me who defy me, yes?

Several of the lower-ranked flinched. Eight and Nine rose slowly. Each of them trained their weapons on Number Ten.

“Enough of this, Ratchet.”

Number One, the clan chief, spoke up.

“That will do. …My apologies.”

I exhaled and bowed my head to him, then took my seat. Perhaps as a way to apologize for the trouble, the serving women portioned out food and brought it to us. Maybe it was thanks. My plate was heaped a little more than the others’.

It was something like meatballs in a sweet-and-sour sauce. They were delicious.

I let out a quiet breath of relief, keeping my face turned away from the crowd so the stares wouldn’t catch me.

I was saved. Good thing they hadn’t discovered I was a sniper specialist. The bluff had worked.