And so: banquet time.
“The alcohol is DELICIOUS~♪”
Sonya was throwing back elf liquor at a frightening clip.
A distilled spirit from fermented tubers… shochu-adjacent, basically.
“Still, Sir Tatsuya, you are a wicked man. Had you SAID you came to trade vegetables from the start…”
The elf queen glared at me over her cup of shochu.
“You people attacked US, though…?”
Well — relitigating it now just restarts the war, so I’ll leave it there.
That aside — exactly as Arisa predicted, the instant the queen tasted a carrot, her attitude softened wholesale.
Turns out the elves are swamped exporting enchanted weapons and crafts, and farming simply doesn’t get the labor hours.
Demand for magic-imbued goods runs high in every country, and labor flows toward profit. The way of all economies.
Add that they sit next to the Forest of No Return, making fresh-vegetable logistics a nightmare.
In short: they’re import-dependent for food, and stable food security has quietly been the settlement’s one weak point.
And with the palm-top rabbits factored into THAT — no wonder they were on hair-trigger war footing with Sonya’s crew.
“Well — water under the bridge. Tonight we enjoy this supreme produce and good liquor, and nothing else!”
The queen was in high spirits. Personally though, drinking with only vegetables as the accompaniment is… a little bleak.
Fortunately, I’d brought smoked meat from the cabin as drinking snacks, and nursed my shochu along with it.
“But HOW do you produce vegetables of this caliber?”
“Trade secret.”
I’ve checked with Maria — as far as anyone knows, I’m the only person in this world holding farmer-class skills.
We were in a literal war an hour ago. No need to show my hand.
“Mm — though having tasted this… the desire for secrecy explains itself.”
The queen has clearly imprinted on the cherry tomatoes — she’s been popping them nonstop.
And pounding shochu between handfuls.
They’re cherry tomatoes as sweet as strawberries, mind you. Does that ACTUALLY pair with liquor…? I had my doubts.
“By the way, Queen? Try dipping the vegetable sticks in this.”
“What is it?”
Just try it, just try it — I heaped mayonnaise onto a small plate.
Then arranged carrot and cucumber sticks alongside and slid it over.
”…Hmm?”
Head tilted, the elf queen speared the mayo with a stick tip and carried it to her mouth.
”…What in the world IS this?”
Crunch crunch crunch crunch — the queen began ferrying sticks mouthward at a ferocious pace, chasing them with shochu.
“I can only call it the work of forest spirits… What IS this flavor? Is something this delicious even PERMITTED to exist?”
Next visit, I should bring vegetable dressing too.
Something tells me it would be exceptionally well received.
“You’re overreacting.”
I said it laughing; the queen shook her head with a dead-serious face.
“Flavor of this order… I cannot believe it the work of human hands.”
Then she moved her gaze to Sonya’s crew.
“Though with carrots like these — small wonder even THOSE creatures grew tame… hm.”
“I’ll also make sure they knock off the stealing. Firmly.”
The queen chuckled.
“No — no need.”
“Meaning?”
“Once you’ve known… THIS taste… who could ever go back to eating OUR carrots… hm?”
Well — praise laid on this thick never feels bad, I’ll admit.
“Truly though, these vegetables are exquisite.”
Draining her nth-something cup of shochu, the queen was working through the mayo-cucumbers.
…She reeks of booze, this one.
“Anyway, we should probably head hom—”
It was dusk, and today’s mission was diplomacy. Mission accomplished.
Fine-grained pricing can be delegated to Arisa… but if we linger, night falls and the road home closes.
“Head home? With… everyone asleep?”
Sonya and the palm-top rabbits were passed out, blind drunk.
The tiny gangsters, sure, expected — but Maria and Arisa were ALSO out cold in the same condition.
“Oh, wonderful…”
The queen chuckled at my reaction.
“Tell me, Sir Tatsuya?”
“What?”
“You are strong, yes?”
“Apparently so, for reasons unclear to me.”
Then, with a sultry, liquor-laced exhale, the queen said:
“Strong in THAT arena too… so I’ve heard. From all three of them?”
Oi oi — drunk or not, exactly how much are those three broadcasting…
As I stood there deflating, I noticed: ten elves had quietly formed a circle around me.
“Hold on — attacking me now that my escort’s passed out drunk?”
A surprise rematch, seriously…? I grabbed my hoe.
The queen shook her head.
“Are you aware the elf race has no men?”
“Eh? Really?”
“We continue our line by receiving seed from other races.”
And the ten elves around me — plus the queen, cheeks rosy with drink — were all eyeing me with unmistakable intent.
—Oi oi. This pattern… surely not?
“We seek the seed of exceptional men — you’re staying the night!”
I KNEW IT!
I slumped my shoulders, thoroughly worn down.
“But — come on, I only just MET all of you today?”
“TEN of the elves’ finest beauties? Are you saying you HATE the idea?”
All of them, in unison, turned sorrowful, brimming eyes on me — faces one breath from actual tears.
To which — I answered with my most honest feelings:
“No. I don’t hate this at all.”
And from there, various things… truly a great VARIETY of things happened.
Part of my initial terror was the headcount, admittedly — but the real problem lay elsewhere.
Without Skill: Emperor of the Night, I might genuinely not have survived.
And I don’t just mean the violence of numbers — individually, elf physical capability is legitimately elite.
I won. Barely. On points.
—Conclusion: elves are ero-lves.