“Those gazes keep getting more and more intense,” Lila said, as the two walked out of Congress. “I’m not sure what to describe the feeling accompanying them, but I get a chilly feeling every time these people look at me.”

           “You heard me?”

           Lila smiled. “Listening while eating is a very important skill for socialising. I didn’t want you to notice, but it seems that you’ve helped me nip some issues in the bud, right? Thank you.”

           “It was just me posturing,” Gemini replied. “You’re a Scholar. None of the people staring at you intensely can conceivably hurt you at all.”

           “It’s the thought that counts.” Her eyes twinkled, and for a moment, the Constellation was forced to turn away from her smile. What would Lila think if she knew that Gemini treated her personal strength as an afterthought? To discount a cultivator’s strength unilaterally was the height of disrespect anywhere in the Five Lands, and it should also hold true in Ars Fortress back then.

           “Look, it’s that food stand I was telling you about,” said Gemini, having spotted a convenient topic-changer. “The one with the pizza.”

           Lila turned to look at a cart, where a long line of people was standing peacefully. Most of them looked low-level civil servants, with only a few people high up in the corporate ladder present in-line. A delicious smell of fresh-baked bread and meat wafted into Gemini’s nose, and in silent concert, the two walked towards the stand.

           Congress was mostly surrounded by other, equally intimidating buildings, but what set it apart from the rest was that there was a square about a hundred metres long at its entrance. Greenery like trees and shrubs decorated the perimeter of Congress Square, which meant that when lunch time came by, this place was full of mats and people eating on them.

           It was times like this that food stands often made it a point to come over and sell whatever they’d made for the day. Their prices here were higher than if one had encountered them elsewhere, but for popular foods like pizzas, it was unlikely that one could find them in a place that was not outside Congress.

           For this reason, the Congress Square was also a popular stop for food connoisseurs in Ark City. The stands here were also cheaper than the canteen inside Congress and the other nearby buildings to boot, and more importantly, whenever chefs came up with a new dish, Congress Square was their go-to place. There were always willing scape— enthusiasts that were more than happy to offer their stomachs as a testing ground.

           That said, it wasn’t as bad as it could be. To operate a food cart in the first place, you had to have some level of cooking skill. Soured taste buds were the biggest thing that ever occurred after a taste test, but getting to try out a new invention had its appeal.

           “Pizza, eh?” Someone ahead in the queue asked. “Whose idea was it?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

           “Legend had it that a chef was selling stuff here where a young lady walked out of Congress and passed him a book of recipes,” said his partner, a woman with folded wings on her back. “The chef shared it with the Association of Cooks for a hefty price…”

           “That sounds like a story right out of legend,” Gemini commented idly. “Just with a different twist.”

           “Story?” Lila asked.

           “Yeah. The one where an old man gives a kid some super cultivation manual, guaranteed to get him to become a Paragon in twenty years,” Gemini answered.

           “Your tribe has to have a very lively culture to come up with this,” Lila replied. “Most of the demon tribes just use the same mantra and then get them to spar with each other.”

           Gemini forced out a smile. He’d somewhat forgotten that Lila was not part of the Five Lands, but since she’d rationalised it away herself, the Constellation chose not to bring up anything. The line shrank as the two continued to comment on the others’ conversations — quietly, that is — and before they knew it, it was their turn to order food.

           “Hawaiian for me,” Gemini said, his eyes on the crispy-golden crust. “Hmm. You look familiar, chef…have we met?”

           He glanced at the chef’s hair, where a streak of brilliant silver dashed through a field of black. “You remind me of Campmaster Magnus, other than the fact that you’re too young.”

           “I’m…related to him,” said the young man. “This chef gig is just something I do when I’m not on the frontlines. But I haven’t seen him for ages now…if you know him, do you know where he’s at now?”

           Gemini stared thoughtfully at the young man. “He’s not in Ark City, that much I can tell you.”

           “Not in Ark City?” The chef repeated. “Where is he now?”

           “I wish I could tell you that, boy, but that’s not something I’m free to tell you about.” Gemini sighed. The teenager looked like he could be his nephew or his son, but no matter what relationship he had with tell the Campmaster, it wasn’t something he could tell anyone.

           The teenage boy nodded. “Is he safe, at least?”

           “Alive and well,” Gemini replied. “They’re…watching something and hoping it doesn’t look at us, that is all.”

           Confusion flashed across the boy’s face for a moment, but Gemini made no attempt to clear it up. It was the closest method he had to informing the kid that Magnus was doing something that wasn’t too dangerous. Whether he understood the implied message or nor was another question, however.

           “Your pizzas are done,” said the teenager. His hands moved with a practiced gait, retrieving and storing two discs of golden-brown crust into a box, which he handed over to Gemini. The Constellation flipped a few coins at him.

           “Keep the change.” He nodded politely at the chef, who had an odd look on his face, and then led Lila to a small, unused patch of lush grass. That boy seemed familiar — and it wasn’t just because he looked like Campmaster Magnus.

           A few more food carts rolled into Congress Square, each of them helmed by a teenager.

           “Nalus!” A rabbit-eared girl called out. “Finish up, and we’ll move on to the next district!”

           “Alright, give me a moment.”

   Nalus, eh? Gemini committed that name to memory, and then looked up at the sky. The next encounter with the primal demons would bring a new enemy…just like how he met someone new today. He shook his head, and opened the pizza box.