I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me - Chapter 665: Kastorian Feast after the Ceremony of Heir (4)

Chapter 665: Kastorian Feast after the Ceremony of Heir (4)

“A remarkable gathering,” he said pleasantly. “The Hero of Light, my dear sister, the young heir and our distinguished guest from Tenebria.” His gaze settled on Nathan last and stayed there a beat longer than the others. “May I join you?”

The silence that followed Takehiko’s question had its own texture.

Haruka’s expression carried the particular stillness of someone buying themselves a half second to compose an appropriate response to something they hadn’t fully prepared for. Ryuuki’s hand had shifted almost imperceptibly toward his hip — not reaching for the sword, simply knowing where it was, the automatic spatial awareness of someone whose body had logged a potential variable.

Nathan stabbed a piece of something resembling tuna with his chopstick and ate it.

Takehiko waited with the patient ease of someone entirely comfortable inside a silence that was working in his favor.

“Of course, Onii-sama,” Haruka said, her voice landing with composed warmth that cost her something to produce. “Please.”

Takehiko smiled — warm, genuine-seeming, carrying no visible acknowledgment that the pause had existed — and settled into the seat on Ryuuki’s row with the comfortable ease of a man who had never in his life sat down anywhere and felt he didn’t belong there. His two armored samurai repositioned behind him with the practiced synchrony of men who had performed this particular choreography enough times to do it without thought — flanking him at precise angles, visors down, hands loose at their sides.

Present. Immovable. Not threatening unless required to be.

“So.” Takehiko’s orange eyes moved to Nathan with the direct attention of someone who had been waiting to get to this specific point since he walked into the feast hall. “You must be the Hero of Darkness, the one the Demonic Kingdom Tenebria summoned.”

Nathan did not answer that dumb question.

He examined the next piece on his plate with mild interest and ate it with the same unceremonious chopstick stab he’d applied to the previous one.

The armored samurai behind Takehiko — the one who had earlier offered to take Rena by force shifted his weight forward.

“The Prince addressed you,” he said, his voice flat and cold through the helmet’s interior.

Nathan did not look at him either.

The silence lasted approximately two seconds.

His hand moved toward his blade dangerously.

Takehiko raised one hand however at time.

“Yoshiteru.” The single word, quietly delivered, stopped the movement completely. “It’s fine.”

“My Prince—”

“It’s fine,” Takehiko repeated. He returned his attention to Nathan with a smile.. “I apologize for Yoshiteru’s behavior. He is from the Akamine House — extraordinary loyalty, somewhat heated blood. An old combination.”

“Akamine House?” Ryuuki said, the name catching something in his expression.

He turned to Haruka. She had been looking at the samurai since Takehiko named him — a fixed, slightly pale attention, as though something she had suspected from a distance had just been confirmed at close range.

She pulled herself from it and answered in a voice that was steady with effort.

“One of the three prominent samurai clans,” she said. “Akamine, Arashiyama, and Suiren. They were the first houses sworn to the crown — over a thousand years ago, when Kastoria was still being built into what it became. Their loyalty to the throne is the oldest institutional loyalty in the kingdom.”

Ryuuki absorbed this.

Loyalty to the throne.

He looked at Yoshiteru standing behind Takehiko like a statue, and then at Takehiko sitting with his pleasant expression, and then at the implication that connected those two things into a single clear picture.

Not loyalty to the throne in the abstract. Loyalty to Takehiko specifically. Which meant the three most ancient and militarily significant samurai houses in Kastoria had already made their choice about which claimant represented the legitimate crown.

He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Haruka’s hands had closed on her lap beneath the table — quiet, invisible, the tension moving somewhere it wouldn’t show. She had thought this might be the case. Had run the possibility through her mind enough times that it had become familiar. But thinking a thing and seeing the physical evidence of it sitting across a feast table from you wearing a courteous smile — those were categorically different experiences.

Her brother’s support was not merely political and rhetorical. It had armor and blades and a thousand years of institutional weight behind it.

Ryuuki felt the shift in her and reached beneath the table without looking, finding her hand and closing over it.

Haruka’s hands unclenched slightly.

Takehiko, who had watched his younger sister’s expression with a peripheral attention allowed his smile to broaden by a fraction.

Then his orange eyes moved back to Nathan.

Nathan was eating.

He had worked his way through several more pieces during the preceding conversation with the focused tranquility of someone who had found the food acceptable and was giving it his full professional attention. The sushi-adjacent items on his section of the table were being dispatched with the same unceremonious chopstick stab he’d applied from the beginning, his posture easy, his expression carrying the complete and genuine absence of investment in Akamine Houses and samurai clan allegiances and the thousand-year institutional architecture of Kastorian succession politics.

One might have wondered if he had been listening at all.

He had been listening to every word. He simply didn’t care.

Three ancient samurai clans in flashy armor with impressive historical pedigrees.

It was all the same for him.

They were wearing matching armor. They had a long history. They had chosen a prince.

He stabbed another piece of food.

Takehiko studied him with the particular attention of someone encountering a variable that wasn’t responding to any of the inputs they had prepared for, and finding this interesting rather than frustrating.

Takehiko studied Nathan for a long moment.

No reaction. No visible interest. No political antenna rotating toward the implications of what was happening at this table. Just a man eating sushi with mild contentment, as though the feast hall’s layered tensions were ambient noise he had decided wasn’t worth processing.

Which raised an interesting possibility.

Maybe he genuinely didn’t care who ended up on Kastoria’s throne.

If that was true — if the Lord Commander of Tenebria was purely transactional, here for Kaguya’s army and nothing beyond it — then he wasn’t an obstacle. He was simply a variable that could be moved around or left alone depending on which approach cost less.

Takehiko leaned forward slightly.

“You are quite hard to read, Lord Commander of Tenebria,” he said, feeling his way forward with the careful patience of a man who had conducted enough negotiations to know when standard approaches had failed and a different angle was needed.

Nathan glanced at him with the flat expression.

“What do you want,” he said. Not a question. A shortcut offered in place of twenty minutes of maneuvering they could both apparently see coming.

“You miserable—” Yoshiteru’s voice came through his helmet like gravel, something in him having finally reached a threshold. “Show respect to the Prince when he speaks to—”

Nathan picked up another piece of sushi, ate it, and pointed his chopstick at Yoshiteru calmly.

“The next time that trash threatens me,” he said, “I will kill him.”

The table went completely still.

Nathan’s pressure was entirely shut down. No magic, no ambient power, no pressure, Aphrodite’s passive charm to bare minimum. He had closed all of it off deliberately hours ago to avoid the specific kind of painful interactions that tended to result from it at social gatherings. He looked, at a glance, like a very god like handsome man in foreign clothing eating his dinner.

The threat landed with full weight regardless.

There was something in the absolute evenness of his voice — the complete absence of heat or performance — that communicated the statement’s sincerity more effectively than any display of power would have.

Yoshiteru’s hand went to his hilt.

Takehiko turned toward him with a look that was not loud and did not need to be. The frost in it was immediate and complete.

“Yoshiteru.”

The hand released the hilt.

Yoshiteru stood rigid behind his Prince, and even through the helmet’s concealment the tension in his frame communicated everything about what he was suppressing — jaw locked, breath controlled, the particular stillness of a man holding himself in place through discipline alone when every instinct was pointed in a different direction.

“I apologize again for his behavior,” Takehiko said, turning back to Nathan with a lightness in his tone that acknowledged nothing of what had just almost happened. “He takes his role seriously. As for my proposal—” He settled back with the ease of someone shifting smoothly from one topic to the next. “I would like to offer you a place within my group.”

“Onii-sama—!” Haruka’s voice came out before she could fully contain it.

“Be calm, Haruka,” Takehiko said, glancing at her briefly. “I am simply inviting the Lord Commander to consider leaving Tenebria. Whatever Demons can offer him, I can exceed. Substantially.”

Haruka didn’t believe a syllable of the framing and her expression made no particular effort to conceal this. The real calculation was visible enough — pulling Nathan away from Kaguya’s alliance, removing Tenebria’s military weight from the equation, stripping Haruka of one of the few external forces capable of matching what Takehiko was assembling.

He didn’t wait for her to articulate any of this.

His orange eyes went back to Nathan.

“What do you say, Lord Commander? Money, territory, women, power — name what you want and I will provide it. Whatever form your ambitions take, I can give them a better foundation than a kingdom of Demons ever could.”

He smiled with the full warmth of a man making a genuinely attractive offer.

Haruka and Ryuuki both went still.

The fear was simple and specific.

Nathan had been here three days, had shown no particular investment in Kastoria’s internal politics, had made no statements of loyalty beyond the transactional alliance with Kaguya. He was leaving tomorrow. He had already demonstrated that he operated entirely outside normal political deference.

What was stopping him from saying yes?

Nathan turned and looked at Takehiko directly.

A beat passed.

“Not interested,” he said.

Haruka exhaled.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Nathan continued, returning his attention to his plate. “Tenebria suits me. And Kastoria’s internal affairs are not my concern.”

“I see.” Takehiko sighed with the gracious disappointment of a man who had expected this answer and had asked anyway because not asking would have been a waste of a useful moment. “A shame.”

He reached for his wine cup.

Inwardly, he was smiling with considerably more satisfaction than the expression on his face suggested.

The recruitment had failed. That was a minor loss, easily absorbed. But Nathan had given him something considerably more valuable than his allegiance in that single short answer.

“Kastoria’s internal affairs are not my concern.”

Said plainly. Meant completely. The Lord Commander of Tenebria had just declared, in front of witnesses, that he had no stake in who sat on Kastoria’s throne. He was here for an army, he was leaving tomorrow, and whatever happened afterward was not his problem.

Which meant Tenebria was not a threat to Takehiko’s plans.

The potentially most dangerous foreign variable in the room had just removed himself from the board.

Takehiko lifted his wine cup and drank.

The feast continued warmly around them, and the evening was going, from his perspective, extremely well.