Chapter 964: Monster Meat

But Ragnora quickly crushed the thought and returned to the present."I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting. It’s hardly the welcome you deserve." She inclined her head. "I’ll make it up to you by holding a proper feast tonight. For you and your husband, Isabelle."

She turned to Brenda.

"Slice some meat from the Aether Devourers. The freshest portions. Have the kitchens prepare something worthy of our guests."

"Yes, Commander!" Brenda gestured to a few soldiers, who jogged off toward the worm carcasses with cleavers in hand.

Isabelle face turned green when she heard what she was going to have for lunch.

"We’re...We’re going to eat that? The worm?"

Ragnora looked at her with matter-of-fact gaze.

"Most definitely. The Aether Devourer may be ugly to look at, but its flesh is surprisingly delicious. When cooked at the proper temperature, it releases a pleasant aroma—almost sweet."

She was obviously a fan of the dish, seeing as to how her composed voice grew in volume.

"It’s so good in fact that you can put it over a grill without any seasoning at all, and the natural oils create a buttery texture that melts on the tongue. It’s considered a delicacy among the troops."

But then she noticed Isabelle’s expression.

"Ah. I apologize." A hint of self-consciousness crept into her voice. "I’m accustomed to eating whatever monsters emerge from the mines. I forget that outsiders might find it...unappetizing."

"No, no!" Isabelle shook her head frantically. "Commander, please don’t apologize! I was just surprised for a moment. I’ve never eaten anything like that before."

"But if you say it’s delicious, then I won’t hold back at all!"

"You don’t have to force yourself—"

"I’m not forcing anything! I want to eat what you eat, Commander. Whatever you serve, I’ll devour it gladly! I won’t have it any other way!"

Isabelle nodded with the stubborn conviction of a soldier receiving orders.

Ragnora regarded her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I see. And what about your husband?"

She glanced at Cassius, who was still staring at her over Isabelle’s hand with that same smitten, slightly dopey expression.

"He’ll eat anything! Even rotten fish!" Isabelle declared, tightening her chokehold. "We’re not really picky eaters, so treat us just like your other soldiers, Commander."

Ragnora nodded. "Then follow me. We’ll go to the mess hall nearby for lunch and discuss our plans for the future."

Isabelle beamed, already falling into step behind her.

Cassius, still entranced, was dragged along by the hand.

—

The mess hall they arrived at was a large, bustling structure located near one of the mining sectors.

The exterior was simple and functional—stone walls, a metal roof, heavy wooden doors.

But the moment they stepped inside, Isabelle was struck by the sheer energy of the place.

The hall was enormous, capable of seating hundreds of soldiers at once.

On one side, a long counter stretched across the wall, behind which several cooks in stained aprons worked feverishly over massive grills and bubbling pots.

The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat, savory spices, and something wild and gamey that Isabelle had never smelled before.

This was monster cuisine.

Just as Ragnora had said, the soldiers here didn’t waste anything. The monsters that attacked the mines were processed, their edible parts turned into rations and their valuable components harvested for other uses.

It was practical, efficient, and surprisingly delicious.

And there was an added incentive: the profits from monster parts were distributed equally among the soldiers.

It was a bonus system that encouraged everyone to fight harder, knowing they’d share in the spoils.

And right now, the mess hall was packed. Soldiers crowded around the counter, shouting orders at the staff behind it.

"More of the Stonehide steak!"

"I want the Manafang skewers!"

"Hey, is there any Gravemaw left? I heard it’s tender this season!"

The lunch lady, a formidable woman with arms like tree trunks and an expression that could curdle milk slammed her ladle against the counter.

"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!"

The noise died instantly.

"You think I can’t hear you yapping over there?! You’ll get your food when I’m good and ready! Now form a line and wait your turn like civilized people!"

The mighty warriors immediately fell silent and shuffled obediently into a queue.

No one dared anger the lunch lady. She controlled the food, after all. And if you angered the lunch lady, you might find yourself eating flavorless gruel for a week.

Or worse—she might spit in your food.

The hall itself was filled with tables, and those tables were filled with soldiers of every race.

Humans, beastkin, and ogres made up the bulk of the population—the three primary races of the Holyfield mines.

But others were present too. Dwarves, responsible for maintenance and ore-smelting, their stocky frames bent over technical schematics between bites.

Goblins, natural cave-dwellers who handled the explosives and mapped the deepest tunnels.

Harpies, who managed aerial defense and scouting, their wings folded neatly behind them as they perched on elevated seats.

Each race had been slotted perfectly into Ragnora’s grand design. Every strength was utilized. Every talent was recognized.

Currently, more than two hundred soldiers were crammed into the hall, chomping down their meals with the ferocious appetite of people who never knew when their next uninterrupted meal might come.

But strangely, most of them weren’t focused on their food.

They were focused on the table in the center of the room.

"Is that really them?" A soldier whispered to his neighbor. "The saviors Brenda brought in?"

"I heard the lady is an archmage! Going to become a Supreme Mage!"

"Really? She doesn’t look that old..."

"Age means nothing when you’re that powerful. I heard she tore apart a pack of dire wolves without even moving."

"No way."

"Way. The mages on scene couldn’t even detect her mana signature. That’s how advanced she is."

The male soldiers, meanwhile, were having a slightly different conversation.

"She’s so pretty, though. How can someone be that beautiful and that powerful?"

"The things I would give for a woman like that..."

"Keep dreaming, idiot. A woman like that wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot spear. You live in a hole."

"HEY!"

"You literally do. You’re a miner."

"That’s different!"

Laughter erupted from the table. The easy camaraderie of soldiers who faced death together every day.

The object of their attention was of course Ragnora, Isabelle and the rest of the party who had taken their seats.

—

Ragnora sat at one end on a specially reinforced chair built to accommodate her massive frame.

Even at her normal three and half metre height, she towered over everyone, and ordinary furniture simply couldn’t support her weight.

Isabelle sat to her right, while Cassius sat beside Isabelle.

He still hadn’t spoken a proper word and stared at with his hand resting on his chin like a poet gazing at his muse.

Isabelle, meanwhile, had been talking for twenty minutes straight.

"—and then! Then you didn’t even flinch, Commander! The rockslide came down the mountain, and everyone thought it was over, and you just—bam!—punched through the largest boulder like it was made of paper!"

"The bards sing that part for ten minutes when they tell the story! Ten whole minutes!"

She was narrating Ragnora’s own exploits back to her with the enthusiasm of a traveling performer.

Her hands moved constantly—chopping, punching, mimicking sword swings as she acted out each legendary battle in vivid detail.

"And when the Dread Howler pounced at you from behind—I read about this in Chronicles of the Crimson Shield, Chapter fourteen, page three hundred and twelve—you didn’t even turn around!"

"You just reached back and grabbed it by the throat and slammed it into the ground so hard the earth split open! The earth! Split open!"

While listening to Isabelle’s tales, Ragnora ate her meal in steady, measured bites.

Her table manners were surprisingly refined—knife in one hand, fork in the other, cutting the grilled worm meat into neat, precise pieces.

Compared to the soldiers around them, who were tearing into their food like barbarians at a feast, she looked almost elegant.

"—and then you charged directly into the Frostwyrm’s den, completely alone, with nothing but your broadsword and the determination to protect the eastern mines!"

Isabelle’s voice rose with excitement.

"The bards say the temperature dropped so low that even the air itself began to freeze, but you just kept walking forward! And when the wyrm finally emerged—"

She pantomimed a sword strike with her fork.

"—you cut it down in a single blow! Do you remember that, Commander?!"

Ragnora paused mid-chew. "...That was eleven years ago."

"I know! It’s one of my favorite stories!" Isabelle’s eyes were shining. "I must have heard it a hundred times! A hundred! And every time, the bards would add a new detail, and I’d spend weeks thinking about it!"

Ragnora blinked. "...I see."

She was learning, with increasing certainty, that Isabelle had not been exaggerating about her devotion. .

The woman wasn’t just a fan. She was a scholar. A historian. A cultist of Ragnora’s every achievement.

It was...overwhelming.

But Isabelle’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Ragnora found herself listening with something approaching warmth.

But her attention kept drifting to Cassius.

The way he was looking at her...

It was deeply unsettling.

Ragnora had faced the most powerful beings on the continent. She had locked eyes with dragons and ancient horrors without flinching.

She had stared down armies and watched them break against her will. She had never, not once felt intimidated by another being’s gaze.

But Cassius’s stare was different.

It wasn’t threatening. It wasn’t hostile.

It was...piercing.

It felt as if he was seeing through her armor. Past the muscle and bone. Past the walls she had built around herself. It was as if all her defenses meant nothing under that gaze.

She felt, absurdly, as if she were sitting there naked.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The sensation was unfamiliar—she, who had never been intimidated by anything, feeling like a small, vulnerable girl under someone’s gaze.

Brenda, seated across from them, noticed her commander’s discomfort. Clearing her throat, she turned to Isabelle.

"Anyway, Lady Isabelle—could you tell us more about your connection with Captain Julie?"

Isabel’s rambling came to an abrupt halt. "Huh?"

"Even though we authenticated the letters she sent, Captain Julie didn’t explain who you are or how you know each other."

Brenda leaned forward curiously.

"She simply said we could trust you completely wholeheartedly and could even share our deepest secrets with you."

Ragnora set down her fork, her attention shifting fully to the conversation.

"I would like to know that as well. Julie may be somewhat clumsy—"

A few nearby soldiers chuckled at the understatement.

"—but she’s a brilliant captain. Her judgment of character is excellent."

"If she wrote that letter saying she trusts you with her life...that’s not praise she gives lightly."

Isabelle’s heart raced. Julie had written that? Of course she had—they were family, in every way that mattered.

But now she had to explain how that trust had been earned, and the truth was far too complicated to tell.

Julie came to hunt down Cassius.

He defeated her.

Then he seduced her.

Now we’re all one big happy family!

...Yeah. That wasn’t going to work.

She glanced at Cassius for help, hoping against hope that he might snap out of his stupor and rescue her. But Cassius was completely useless, still gazing at Ragnora with that dopey expression.

Isabelle me’ntally sighed. ’Fine. I’ll handle this myself.’

She forced a warm smile.

"Well, Commander, I suppose I should start at the beginning. But it’s not really a story that starts with Julie—it starts with Joy and Lady Maria."