Sometime after noon, once Miss Talia has had a tour of the house and my wife has finished a long training session with my future saint, I take them to see the circle.
Alana gasps as I lead them into the spare bedroom where my circle is. I understand her reaction. The room has been completely transformed since she last saw it during the shuba summoning. Then, the room was dark and foreboding, with a disturbing drawing of the Dark Lord on the ground surrounded by bladed weapons, some of them still covered in dried blood.
The wooden floor has been replaced by white stone, in which are carved fantastical drawings that wouldn’t be out of place in a storybook. The single window in the room has been blocked, both to hide the room from any prying eyes, though I doubt anyone would dare trespass with our reputation, and to safeguard the effect of the colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
With them all lit, it’s almost as if we’ve walked into the Myriad Zone, the strange area of Quest shadowed by the Grand Hall where colors are twisted and inverted.
Placed around the circle are three tables, specially designed with one stout leg and a circular top. The first has scenes of water monsters and elementals carved into its leg, painted in shades of green and blue, while the top has been covered in dark blue scales, glued to it expertly and worked until they are smooth as glass.
Atop it are over two dozen glasses. A purchase that made me wince at the price for the first time in a while. They’re a custom order, with clear, thin stems but golden glass for the bowls. On each of them is the outline of an open tome, paying homage to my crest, in dark purple. Something so pointlessly lavish can only be found in the homes of high nobles. I admit, it felt good ordering them.
I originally planned to set them out with a sweet wine, as the lueorale have a fondness for sweet things. Geneva took it a bit further. She stacked them up, balancing the glasses on each other’s thin rims, to build a pyramid. A very delicate pyramid that she proceeded to pour wine into.
Miraculously, they stayed in place while being filled and the effect is stunning. Behind them are the less visually stunning tall jugs of milk, water, and juices.
The next table is made from wood with a wonderful cherry undertone. Its leg has flames carved along its single leg, the motif enhanced with red and yellow paint. Atop it is the warm food. Platters of sausage, on their own, wrapped in buttery blankets of golden bread, and smaller pieces speared on spits with other ingredients.
Bowls of warm cheese somehow made syrupy sprinkled with spices surrounded by pieces of crunchy bread. Bits of chicken covered in flour and dipped in hot oil until crunchy. Large pieces of beef and pork smothered in savory and spicy sauces.
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Soups and stews. Even cookies, as they’re best warm. Last, a large bowl of honey, sourced all the way from Rosentheim hives. The lueorale are supposed to be really fond of it.
The third table, made of black stone and crafted by Bell, contains the food made better with a little chill. Small sandwiches, shaved ice, which I never considered a food, drizzled with fruit juice made into a thick syrup, slices of raw fish, another thing I never thought I’d be eating, drizzled with a variety of sauces, and, my personal favorite, a cold creamy dessert made from milk in varying flavors. In the center of the table is a bowl of ice, to be used at other’s discretion.
Large, comfy chairs are placed together, a pair facing each other and a group of three arranged in a half circle. Heroic paintings and fine tapestries hang from the walls, with a few smatterings of manabeast skulls.
They clash with everything else but Kierra smiles seeing them. That’d be reward enough but it’s important to be authentic. This circle, this room, is meant to represent me and what I have to offer. Kierra is very much a part of my life. My future companion needs to know and accept her.
“This is…” Alana trails off but her expression says it all. Her eyes linger on the food.
“How colorful,” Kierra says more simply.
Miss Talia is absorbed in examining the circle. My wife taps her shoulder and she looks at her before turning to me. “The room is very nice, Lou. I can tell you put a lot of effort into decorating.”
Her compliments are so dry, anyone else might think she’s being sarcastic but I know she’s trying her best. Amazing how someone with a face like a block of ice can still be cute. “Thanks. Now, if everyone will make themselves comfortable—”
“A moment, my summoner.”
I turn as Geneva enters the room, followed by Bell in her rarely used virtue from, a woman of black stone with a crown of horns. The don in a guise of a thrall smiles sweetly, tail swinging in amusement. “Such an occasion should be enjoyed to the fullest. I’ve prepared a few outfits to match the extravagance of your circle with the aid of mistress.”
I turn to Kierra, who in turn looks toward Alana and Miss Talia. “A gift to welcome you to the house.”
“Thank you,” Miss Talia responds softly and immediately. It feels almost reflexive.
“No need to thank me, lily. I enjoy dressing you.”
“Do you want to dress me too?” Alana grumbles. She looks at the food longingly. “Is it necessary?”
“The being my summoner wants to contract admires beautiful things. That includes beautiful clothing. Don’t you want to be as helpful as possible?”
That breaks Alana’s longing stare, her eyes moving away from the tables with a sigh. “I suppose.”
“They’re fine the way they are,” I say with a frown. Really, I’d be hard-pressed to find better options. Saints, they could be smeared with dirt and dressed in rags and they’d still be unrivaled beauties. Combined with myself and my succubi, well. There’s almost too much to admire.
“Stop being sappy,” Alana says with a flush. “If putting on a dress increases your chances of success, we’ll do it. Besides, I feel underdressed anyway. I’ve attended banquets thrown by my father that don’t feel as lavish as this.”
“Ah, well, if you insist…”
“I’ve also prepared something for you, my summoner.”
Eh?