The main dining hall of the Kurogane Fortress was nothing like the silent, suffocating dining rooms of the capital nobles.
It was loud, warm, and smelled absolutely incredible.
A massive hearth roared at the end of the hall, casting a bright orange glow over the long, low wooden tables. Dozens of high-ranking guards and fortress staff sat together, laughing and clanking their clay cups of plum wine.
Our table sat slightly elevated at the head of the room, but there were no physical barriers separating Akira from his people.
"I explicitly asked for the belly cut to be seared on a cedar plank," Yuki complained loudly.
The twelve-year-old cat-boy was sitting cross-legged on his silk cushion, glaring down at a massive, perfectly roasted salmon sitting on a porcelain platter.
"It is roasted with wild herbs, you ungrateful furball," Commander Tomoe grunted, taking a massive bite out of a roasted boar leg. "Eat it or I'll give it to the hounds."
