As Thorian faced the ultimatum, a hushed expectancy fell over the room. Every gaze was locked on him, understanding that his next words would be the fulcrum between bloody conflict and peaceful revelry. The footsoldiers, acutely aware, held their breath; they knew their fates hung precariously on the edge of his decision.

Thorian’s eyes, cool and calculating, swept over the assembly before resting on Elder Oom. The goblin elder’s eyes were alight with a mystical golden glow, his visage pale and tense. A silent acknowledgment passed between them - the gravity of their situation was clear.

In his mind, Thorian noted, Her strength is as I suspected.

Maintaining his composure, Thorian turned towards Nalia, a sly chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, considering your generous proposal, let's indulge in the feast,” he declared. With a flourish, he picked up a goblet of wine, raising it towards the lady in green. “To your health.”

Nalia returned his toast with a knowing smile. “Your wisdom does you credit,” she responded, then signaled to her attendants. “Let music fill the air, and see that our guests want for nothing.”

At her command, the previously hesitant musicians began a symphony of flutes and violins. The tension eased as melodies wove through the room.

Turning his attention back to the table, Thorian dismissed the men seated with them. “Gentlemen, I'm afraid this table is reserved. Please find yourselves some other seats.” They scuttled away hastily, plates in hand, as Thorian beckoned his own party to join him.

As his comrades settled around him, Elder Oom took a seat beside Thorian. Leaning in, the elder began, “My lord, she—”

“Not now,” Thorian interjected softly, cutting him off. “We'll discuss it later.”

As servants bustled about, lavishing their table with an array of sumptuous dishes and brimming goblets of wine, Zogarth leaned towards Thorian, a hint of bewilderment in his tone. “My lord, forgive my frankness, but why do we celebrate and dine with our foes? I stand ready to fight at your side until my last breath.”

Thorian's response came with a light-hearted chuckle. “Celebrate, you say? This is no celebration. It’s a display of dominance. Our enemies are feeding and serving us of their own accord. Tell me, when have you ever witnessed such a great humiliation?”

Forlune, unable to contain himself, erupted into laughter. “You’re just something else, my King. Our enemies scurry about, tending to our every desire, while we relax in leisure.” He demonstrated his point by devouring half a roasted pig in a single bite, speaking through a mouthful, “This is delicious. We should take some for the road.”

Watching Forlune's voracious appetite, Thorian's laughter joined in. “Indeed, we should.” He offered a goblet to Forlune. “Try the wine. Let’s see if it pleases your palate.”

Forlune accepted the goblet, draining it in one hearty swig. “Not bad,” he approved, smacking his lips. “It leaves a sweet note at the end.”

Thorian, amused, took a sip of his own wine. “Pleased to hear it.”

Meanwhile, Zogarth, clearly out of his element, scanned the room, his discomfort growing. Unable to stifle his unease any longer, he turned to Thorian. “My lord, what is our next move? Surely, we’re not just here to indulge ourselves?”

Thorian exhaled, a hint of amusement in his voice. “If that girl is as transparent as she seems, a ‘private meeting’ is likely in the offing, once she thinks the wine has dulled my senses,” he mused with a chuckle. “But fret not about negotiations; I won’t be outmaneuvered by a novice. As for the rest of you, enjoy the merriment, but stay vigilant. As long they’re still nervous around you, things should be fine. The moment that nervousness wanes and confidence takes its place, be ready for anything.”

With a strategy in place, Zogarth's tension eased, allowing him to finally partake in the feast. Thorian’s smile widened at the sight. “That’s the spirit.”

The evening progressed with a constant stream of servants attending to Thorian's table, replenishing their feast with unending fervor.

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Locksley's food shortages... and yet here, such abundance, Thorian pondered with a wry smile, sipping his wine. The minutes flew by, and soon, a bevy of scantily clad women approached, their movements calculated to allure.

A blonde-haired beauty with captivating blue eyes sidled up to Thorian, offering a plate of grapes. “Monster King, allow this humble servant to attend to you.”

Should I play the fool here? No, I am with my men, I need to keep some level of dignity.

Thorian, ever mindful of his image in front of his men, decided against indulging in the temptation. “My men will appreciate your company more,” he said, directing her towards Forlune, whose laughter rang out at the sight.

As Zogarth, Forlune, and Elder Oom reveled in the feast, Thorian remained vigilant, his gaze subtly sweeping across the room. He noted the varying expressions of the footsoldiers—some laced with fear and apprehension, others marred by disdain.

Yet, Thorian's interest lay not in their sentiments but in gauging their strength. Utilizing his Elemental Sight, he assessed the power levels of those around him. Ragnor and Soren, whom they had encountered earlier, were the strongest in the room, but even their robust mana paled in comparison to Zogarth's or even the pre-evolution Forlune.

They're on par with Ventus. Impressive for mere humans, he mused silently.

A handful of others also possessed above-average mana, akin to a kobold post-first advancement. The rest, however, were inconsequential in terms of power.

As expected, this organization's strength is top-heavy. This imbalance likely stems from the rewards of the Soul Reaver quest, Thorian deduced.

Engrossed in his analysis, Thorian's attention shifted as a young girl approached him, her voice a hushed whisper. “The queen requests your presence in private.”

The queen, huh?

Thorian's contemplative gaze lingered on the young girl as he nodded in agreement. “Certainly,” he replied with a casual air. Rising from his seat, he gave Forlune a playful tap on the shoulder, his chuckle mingling with the mirth of the feast. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” he advised with a smile, then followed the girl toward the secluded chamber.

Crossing the threshold, Thorian was immediately struck by the opulence surrounding him. The room was a testament to luxury, with plush carpets underfoot and silk curtains draping elegantly from every corner. The walls were adorned with large, intricate paintings, each telling a story of grandeur. Amidst this splendor, vases and art pieces claimed their own spaces, exuding an air of wealth and finesse.

Extravagant indeed, Thorian thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. Though in fairness, my own past life wasn’t devoid of such luxury.

He navigated through the silk curtains, each swathe revealing more of the lavish interior, until he finally saw Nalia. She sat at a small table, poised and waiting, her demeanor as commanding as her surroundings.

“Why don’t you join me for some tea?” She offered with a smile.

Thorian's response to Nalia's tea invitation was laced with casual indifference. “Wine suits me better,” he replied, effortlessly picking up a goblet and filling it with the rich liquid from a nearby decanter. As he settled across from her, his smile was polite yet insincere, a mask for the undercurrent of tension between them. “So, what is it you wish to discuss?”

Nalia, unfazed by his directness, returned his smile. “There’s no need to rush, dear Monster King,” she said, her voice smooth. With a soft exhale, she leaned forward slightly. “I've been curious about your nature. It’s intriguing to see a domain, typically human, thriving under monster rule. Your subjects not only speak but also possess formidable strength.”

Thorian raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he sipped his wine. “And your point is?”

Her chuckle was light, almost playful. “I had a peculiar notion. Imagine if a human, already versed in our world's systems and perhaps experienced, were to reincarnate in a monster’s body. That would explain all these anomalies, don’t you think?”

Thorian’s reaction was immediate—a chuckle that crescendoed into full laughter. “Amusing theory,” he said, amusement clear in his tone. “But it seems you’ve been overly influenced by human legends. Reincarnation? That’s a fanciful stretch, even for a tale.”

Nalia's demeanor shifted, her patience waning as she dismissed the facade of pleasantries. “Let's not play this game,” she said, her eyes rolling slightly. “The letter I sent you was written in a language only known to humans, and yet, here you are.”

Thorian's gaze momentarily hardened, a flash of coldness passing through his eyes. He quickly masked it with a laugh and an exaggerated clap. “Bravo, what an astute observation,” he said, his laughter tapering off into a look of casual indifference. “So, what's your plan now, grand detective?”

Nalia's smile widened as she rose from her chair with an elegant poise. “You see, I, too, have traveled back in time,” she revealed, stepping closer to Thorian. “We are alike, you and I—chosen ones, outliers in the fabric of time.”

As she reached out, placing her hand gently on Thorian’s left cheek, her smile held a tinge of madness. “Imagine the possibilities if we combined our strengths. If it’s the two of us, we could dominate this world. I could make you its king.”