With the lunch rush subsiding and the evening guests coming and going, the sun finally dipped into the horizon. A different kind of tension now sat inside the restaurant. Because of that, Ludwig didn't just let Finka and Bilo work in the kitchen, he was also there.
The rhythm settled in naturally. Ludwig moved without needing to think about it, hands working in tandem with Finka and Bilo as if they had trained together for years instead of months. Ingredients were passed without words. A pinch of spice appeared exactly when needed.
In the dining hall, chairs were straightened, tables wiped down until the wood gleamed under the rune-lights. Valerie coordinated the flow with small gestures, redirecting Zhark when he lingered too long in one spot, letting Vilera handle the corners where attention to detail mattered more than speed.
Ludwig wiped his hands on a cloth and inhaled once.
Then,
The restaurant whispered to him that customers were at the door. One of them was a woman Ludwig was familiar with. A name that the restaurant emphasized a little bit too much.
Ilea Spears, or Lilith.
But those who stood behind her? He didn't know at all.
When the door opened and the soft chime of the bell spread through the restaurant, Ilea walked in her usual stride, careless and relaxed, yet seemed to be ready to pounce.
Behind him trot four people dressed in what looked like armor made of bone that he hadn't seen before amongst those who walked from Elos. They were two women and two men. One woman was as big as one of the men amongst the four, while the other two had quite a slender build, just like Ilea.
The group felt like Ilea, but weaker. That only told him one thing. A group of not-so-Ilea-clones. The corps of battle medic. The Medic Sentinel.
Ilea and the four walked to the bar in silence, like a ghost hovering through the hall. Their eyes didn't wander, their line was straight. That told him they were disciplined.
"Chef." Ilea smirked as she came face to face with him in front of the bar. "Let me introduce you to the first ready batch of the Medic Sentinel. Their names are Nathan, Lorelai, Luke, and Celeste. All of them are battle medic."
Ludwig looked at the four, nodding his head in reciprocity. A smile also appeared in his face, one part due to his instinct told him to do so as a business owner, while the other part was because he was satisfied that he had guessed their identity correctly.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Ludwig, the proud owner of this establishment. I assume you all have been briefed about this place."
One of the members of the group, the man with brown hair, Nathan, nodded. "We have. We are prepared for something mind blowing walking here. But aside from your… Employees, I assume? it doesn't look different from any other restaurant in Ravenhall."
Ludwig bursted into a series of chuckles at the answer. Ilea too did the same. The current state of the restaurant was indeed far from 'extraordinary.' No denizens of Tempest—the main indicator that the restaurant was odd—were present.
Raon the troublemaker was also nowhere to be seen. While the only person that could send every single denizen from Elos—Kashi—was also not here.
If they considered having a demon waiter and waitress was normal, it seemed like they truly lived up to the spirit of Ilea.
"Guys." Ludwig stifled his chuckle and forced some words out. "From what I know, Elos also doesn't have that many demons. So why do you think having a demon employee is normal?"
Nathan opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again, clearly reconsidering his life choices.
Lorelai was the one who answered instead. The taller woman rolled her shoulder slightly, bone plates shifting with a dull, organic sound. "We are briefed for something… more. Then again, If you've spent enough time around Lilith, your definition of 'normal' gets… flexible."
"That's a polite way to put it." Luke added, glancing briefly at Ilea. "You see this armor? This armor is made with her bone. She cut her head just to give our smith the material. After seeing such things, you stop questioning aesthetics."
Celeste nodded, arms crossed, eyes sharp but amused. "Demons serving food barely register after that."
Valerie, who had come to the bar with a stack of glasses, raised an eyebrow. "Barely?"
Ludwig looked at Ilea with pointed eyes. But instead of an answer, she just grinned wider. "See? Told you they were ready."
Ludwig shook his head, still smiling. "I see I underestimated your standards."
Nathan coughed lightly. "To be fair, Chef, our briefing mostly focused on the rules. Neutral ground. Don't start fights. Don't heal hostile actions unless invited."
"That part." Ludwig said pleasantly, "Is very important."
"Understood," Celeste replied immediately. No hesitation.
Ludwig gestured toward the dining area as he nodded. "Take a seat. Dinner service is about to start, and I'd rather your first impression involve food instead of explanations."
However, instead of walking away, Ilea dropped onto a stool like it belonged to her. "I'll take whatever you recommend. Something hearty. I just came back from a long talk. You guys, sit behind. This bar is full when it's night."
Ludwig raised one of his eyebrows at her words. "You guys can sit here if you want. And Ilea, the meeting involved Claire, I guess?"
"Yes, with Claire." Ilea answered simply. "And no, they can't sit here. From what I know, Claire is going to have another talk with you."
That made Ludwig sighed. Another talk with Claire was like a mother calling the full name of their kid. It spells trouble. And after a few days of trouble-heavy routine, another one was what he wanted to avoid the most.
"I want to close the restaurant now." Ludwig said jokingly.
Ilea snorted. "Too late. You're already in too deep."
Ludwig clicked his tongue and waved a hand. "Figures."
The group of Medic Sentinel walked to a table of four just behind where Ilea stood. The chairs scraped and thud, finally they were all seated.
Ludwig turned toward the kitchen just when Valerie arrived on their table, explaining what the restaurant had and ready to take their order.
"Give Ilea one of each." Ludwig instructed calmly. No, not because he was thankful that she had helped yesterday nor because he wanted to upsell. That much food was simply her usual order.
She and Lee Han were two of the biggest eaters in the restaurant currently.
Just as he moved to help the preparation for Ilea's meal, the restaurant whispered again. This time, it was louder. Not urgent. Just… numerous.
The door opened, and a different presence flowed in.
Several figures stepped through, their silhouettes framed briefly by the dying light outside. Scaled body, broad shoulders, tusk that curved back instead of forward, eyes reflecting the rune-lights in colors no human possessed. Denizens of Tempest, arriving in a loose group, talking among themselves in low voices that carried unfamiliar rhythms.
Conversation in the dining hall dipped for a breath before resuming again, as if this was simply how evenings went now.
The Medic Sentinels did not move. But the restaurant said otherwise.
Their attention sharpened.
Nathan's gaze followed the way a dragonewt's tail swayed as he walked. Lorelai's shoulders tensed, not in fear, but readiness. Luke's fingers tapped once against the bone plating at his side before he caught himself. Celeste's eyes tracked everything. How Tempest's people spread out, how they chose seats, how they instinctively avoided blocking lines of movement.
Professionals.
Curious professionals.
Ilea noticed too. Her grin widened as she leaned on the counter. "Don't stare too hard. They are too kind for their build. They'll get self-conscious if you guys keep doing that."
Celeste blinked once and looked away immediately. Nathan cleared his throat and forced his posture to loosen.
Ludwig let out a quiet chuckle as he returned to his usual station. "First lesson. If someone looks dangerous here, it doesn't mean they are. And if someone looks harmless…"
He took his lukewarm glass of black coffee and sipped it.
"…you don't assume anything."
"Yes, Chef." Luke muttered under his breath, half-amused, half-serious.
Valerie was already moving from their seats, guiding the Tempest guests to larger tables, adjusting place settings with smiles and small talks. Vilera followed with pitchers, calm as ever. Zhark hovered near the edge of the hall, pretending not to watch while watching very carefully.
The kitchen heat climbed.
Orders began to queue.
Ludwig tied his apron tighter, feeling the restaurant settle into its true rhythm at last. He spared one last glance at the Medic Sentinels before walking back to the kitchen.
Good, he thought. They'll learn quickly.
He had some doubts when Claire and Ilea offered their name as the overseer for the trade they had with Konoha.
At first, he thought they would be more hindrance than help.
When the time came for him to personally deliver regeneration-tier potions to the front line of Konoha, he didn't need spectators, nor idealists with half-baked courage. Heck, he didn't even need escorts. Even if he needed them, he would need escorts who understood restraint, who knew when not to intervene, who wouldn't panic if shinobi tactics turned ugly. Freshly formed units—no matter how talented—tended to complicate things.
And they were green. Wet behind the ear. That much was obvious.
Too disciplined. Too careful with their stances. He had seen their kind too many times before. Knights freshly graduated from the academy, mages grown in the glass house they called Magic Tower, and nobles who thought the world was their right to conquer.
Their brand of caution came from training halls, not battlefields littered with tricks, seals, friends ready to backstab the moment they thought it was the best. Against a real ninja squad he knew from canon, raw healing ability wouldn't matter if they couldn't survive the opening move.
That had been his concern.
But watching how they observed Tempest's people, how they didn't reach for weapons, how their tension sharpened into assessment instead of fear, made something shift in him.
They didn't overreact. Instead, they noticed patterns, lines of movement, and intent.
They also listened rather than letting their mouth speak first.
Of course, his worry didn't just vanish because of that. That would be foolish. But it still thinned, just enough to let cautious optimism breathe.
If they kept learning like this, kept watching instead of assuming, then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't become liabilities when it mattered most.
And when they grow enough, then maybe, they could be the overseer that the trade needed the most as well as the enforcer.
As Ludwig thought so, the sound of the bell rang again as the door opened wider for the next wave of patrons.
Dinner had officially begun.
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