Chapter 72: A Trippy Extension

They step off the main square and into a small building tucked between a cobbler’s shop and a shuttered bakery. Some kind of tavern, warm, packed with people winding down at the end of their day over a pint or a shared plate, the whole room lit gold by hanging lanterns and a fire crackling low in the corner hearth. The air smells of roasted onions and spilled ale, and somewhere near the back a beast-kin with a lute is playing it very badly.

The moment they step through the door, the whole room turns toward them, and a ragged chorus of greetings goes up, patrons raising mugs toward Lucien and Kamiko both, thanking them loudly, repeatedly, for the feast the day before, someone near the bar declaring it the best meal this village has had in a decade, another already comparing it favorably to his own late grandmother’s cooking.

Lucien takes it all in stride, nodding graciously, offering a small wave here and there like a man well used to adoring crowds, though the faint flush along his ears suggests he’s enjoying it rather more than he’d ever admit out loud.

The two of them thread their way slowly through the packed room, patrons reaching out to shake Lucien’s hand as he passes, murmuring compliments about his blessing from the Beast Mother, about his promises to enrich the whole region, about muscles that definitely weren’t there a few days ago.

Halfway across the room, a deep, rumbling groan rattles the glasses lined up along the bar.

Lucien turns toward the sound and finds Valgereth tucked into a corner booth, already two platters deep and working steadily through a full jug of mead, one boot propped up on the opposite bench like he’s staked a personal claim to the entire corner.

Val raises a single warning finger the moment he spots Lucien approaching. "You can go straight back to wherever you came from. I’m not done yet, and I’m not leaving until I am."

"Not here to drag you off your food, Val." Lucien chuckles, holding both hands up. "Kamiko and I are having dinner, that’s all."

Kamiko offers Val a warm, genuine smile. "You’re welcome to join us, of course, if you’d like the company."

Val slides one whole arm across the table, possessive, dragging both platters protectively closer to his chest. "I prefer to eat alone. Not a fan of sharing." He says, categorically, like a simple fact of natural law, not at all open to debate.

"Of course." Kamiko replies as she bites back a laugh, nodding along easily. "I fully understand and respect your decision."

Val nods once, satisfied, already returning his full attention to the plate in front of him.

"You’re ridiculous," Lucien says, shaking his head as they move on toward an empty table. "We’re heading back to the Ashlands soon. You might consider saving something for the road, for once in your life."

Val doesn’t even look up from his food to answer, already elbows deep in his second platter.

They settle into a small table in a dim, quiet corner of the tavern, tucked just far enough from the fire to catch its warmth.

Kamiko keeps hold of Lucien’s hand as they sit. "That’s actually part of why I wanted to talk to you tonight." she says, once they’ve settled, "I wanted to know what your plans are, going forward."

A server arrives a moment later with two mugs and a handful of shared bowls, some kind of spiced stew, flatbread still steaming, a dish of pickled vegetables neither of them ordered but that appears anyway, apparently a house habit.

Lucien leans back in his chair, settling into the familiar rhythm of laying out a plan.

"I’m thinking two days before I head back to the Ashlands. When I go, I’d like you to send a delegation along with me. Some of your most trusted people, smart ones. Enough to start immediate setup and planning on the trade route infrastructure. I’ll provide the bulk of the raw materials from our side. You provide the workers and the local knowledge. I’ll sit down with your delegation properly once we’re there, hammer out the finer details, and send everything back to you in writing."

"That sounds excellent," Kamiko says, already nodding. "I’ll be glad to send the delegation." She pauses, studying him over the rim of her mug. "Do you need to leave so soon? Really?"

Lucien considers that for a moment, turning over the promise he’d made to his own high council back home. No more than two weeks away, he’d promised them, before anyone knew what exactly their Demon Lord had wandered into.

"I could stay a few more days," he says slowly. "Since our business concluded rather faster than I’d expected." He glances at her, one eyebrow raised. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

Then the memory catches up with him. The vow, the oath, the entire miserable week still stretched out ahead of him. He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Whatever it is, it had better come with excellent entertainment. I need something to keep me from losing my mind while I’m grounded."

She leans across the table at that, slow and deliberate, cleavage spilling generously out of the loose neckline of her gown as she does.

"I can be quite entertaining." She says, low and warm, and dripping with invitation.

Lucien hitches hard, his own hand drifting toward her without any conscious permission from the rest of him, fingers already halfway to closing the distance, already carefully cupped into the exact shape of Kamiko’s breast.

The kitsune watches the whole slow slide of it with open, delighted anticipation.

A glint of light catches in the corner of his eye.

He squints toward the window, and finds Serenith hovering just outside it, upside down, grinning with pure, devilish delight, clearly waiting for the exact moment of his downfall.

Lucien yelps and yanks his hand back like Kamiko’s chest might actually scorch him on contact.

Kamiko bites back a laugh, watching him recover.

"More resolved than I honestly gave you credit for." she says, sighing, slightly disappointed.

Lucien gasps, glancing rapidly between Serenith, who’s now materialized properly, hovering just above Kamiko’s shoulder, still grinning, and Kamiko herself, pointing an accusing finger back and forth between the two of them, his whole face arranged into the picture of pure, wounded betrayal.

"Are you," he demands of Kamiko, "seriously working with her? Against me?"

Kamiko only smirks, sipping calmly from her mug, and thoroughly averts her gaze toward the fireplace instead of answering, failing to fight down an emerging grin.

"That’s entrapment," Lucien says, pouting hard now, turning his whole body away from both of them at once. "I’m surrounded by traitors. In my own team. On my own business trip."

Kamiko and Serenith both dissolve into matching fits of giggling behind him.

Kamiko reaches out and takes his hand again, gently, and he turns back toward her, pouting a little softer at her touch. "We’re only having a bit of fun at your expense," she says. "Consider it fair payment for all the fun you’ve had at Serenith’s expense over the past week."

Lucien rolls his eyes, though the corner of his mouth is already twitching. "Fine, whatever. Might as well settle for making you laugh since that’s the only sound I’m getting out of a woman for the next week apparently."

"That’s the spirit." Serenith chuckles, drifting a little higher. She glances toward the kitchen, considering. "I wonder if I can use a bit of celestial influence to convince them to make me something special back there." She points a warning finger down at Lucien. "Behave. I’ll be back shortly."

He blows a raspberry up at her as she floats off toward the kitchen door.

"I promise to look after him properly while you’re gone." Kamiko calls out, squeezing his hand.

"This next week," Lucien announces to the table at large, "is going to be an absolute exercise in torture."

"I would love to help distract you from your divine punishment, if you’ll let me," Kamiko says. "I have some business to attend to in a few of the nearby villages over the coming days, you’re more than welcome to join me. Meet a few more of the tribes, see a proper stretch of the tribelands beyond just this one village. I’ll personally do my very best to keep you entertained the whole time." She sighs wistfully. "With our clothes on, if that’s what it takes."

Lucien laughs warmly, some of the earlier pout melting off his face entirely. "I would be honored to join you."

Then she leans in close, lips brushing near his ear, and whispers something just for him.

His eyes go slowly, gradually wide. His face breaks into a grin so devilish it looks almost painful to hold.

Serenith returns just as the two of them finish their private exchange, glancing between them both with open, immediate suspicion, both of them wearing identical expressions of studied, far-too-innocent calm.

Before she can ask what exactly they’re plotting, a massive burp rings out from the far corner of the tavern, and the whole crowd erupts into cheers, launching into an increasingly elaborate drinking song composed in Val’s honor to commemorate his draconian eating habits.

"This is turning out to be, without question, the most interesting business trip I’ve ever taken." Lucien tips his glass back, grinning.

"The most interesting so far," Kamiko says, "you’ve got a long journey ahead of you yet, if you genuinely mean to conquer the whole continent."

"I’ll drink to that." Lucien chuckles, raising his glass toward her.

The next morning, Serenith watches from a low rooftop as a trio of carriages and a full dozen outriders and guards assemble in the square below, preparing for a week-long journey. Crates are loaded methodically into the third carriage, packed tight with gifts and trade goods Kamiko intends to spend generously across the villages ahead, smoothing the way for whatever business awaits.

Kamiko herself is seen off by her entire brothel staff and a good portion of the surrounding townsfolk, several of whom look genuinely, visibly saddened by her temporary departure, pressing small parting gifts of dried flowers and travel charms into her hands.

Lucien and Val come strutting up the road from the inn together, boots kicking up little clouds of morning dust, and the contrast between them is abundant.

Val looks dapper, immaculate, entirely ready for a long day of plush, well-provisioned travel, coat pressed, hair perfectly silver-grey and settled.

Lucien looks, by contrast, like he’s been pried out of bed with a crowbar and tossed straight out a third-floor window. His usual swagger is entirely gone, his hair slicked back in a way that reads less like styling and more like surrender, dark rings settled deep under both eyes.

Serenith watches him approach and feels a flicker of genuine worry cross her face, before steeling her resolve and setting her expression back into something bright and cheerful.

"Good morning!" she calls down, floating in to meet him.

"Morning." Val says, offering a small nod.

Lucien squints up at her, offers the flattest, most obviously fake smile he can manage, and trudges past her without a single word.

Serenith bites back a snicker, falling into step in the air beside him regardless. "You’re being dramatic."

Kamiko turns as they approach and has to bite back a laugh of her own at the sight of him.

The women of her brothel gasp collectively at the state of him, then flock over at once, cooing, offering sympathy, pressing hands to his forehead like they’re checking for fever.

Lucien turns away from all of it with real theatrical flourish, pushing gently through the small crowd of concerned hands.

"Leave me, please." He declares. "There’s nothing any of you can do for me now. It’s already too late." he swoons slightly as he steps into his carriage, "I am, for all practical purposes, a dead man walking." he turns to Serenith, eyes quivering, then back to the women, "Think of me fondly. For it seems, I’m not worthy of the divine’s mercy."

He sinks into the carriage, the door clicking closed softly behind him.

They gasp harder at that, demanding to know what’s wrong.

Is it a curse? Some enchantment gone terribly wrong? A side-effect of the Beast Mother’s blessing?

Kamiko, fighting back laughter of her own, finally puts them out of their misery.

"He’s been forced into celibacy for a full week," she says. "It’s only been forty-eight hours so far."

The women all burst into laughter at once.

Lucien pokes his head out of his carriage, sneering, one hand pressed dramatically to his own chest.

"You’re all mocking my suffering," he cries. "My death will be on every single one of your consciences!"