Reborn as a Dark Lord (A cozy-adjacent isekai)

Food arrived in waves. Platters of roasted meats glazed with honey, bowls of steaming root vegetables, and bread so fresh it still released wisps of steam when torn open. Drinks flowed freely from pitcher to mug, and the ferrokin ale carried a distinctive metallic tang. The festival area was filled with laughter, punctuated by the occasional clink of tankards meeting in spontaneous toasts.

Roland had taken a seat at our table sometime during the meal, squeezing in beside Old Man Guslan and Caden. Roland expressed his pleasure each time fresh dishes were set before us. He reached across, speared a piece of ham with his fork, and gingerly transferred it to his dish.

"How is everything, Roland?" I asked the town steward.

"It is all wonderful, friend Varix."

"I agree," Shellen called over the din.

At the end of the table, Mira's shoulder brushed against Alic's as she gestured with her fork toward the dancers whirling past. He tilted his head closer, following the arc of her knife as she traced the soaring architecture above them, their words lost in the music and revelry.

Though it was a festival, I couldn't help but wonder how the ferrokin prepped and cooked their food. I caught the attention of one of the servers, who carried a platter of roasted vegetables. The ferrokin woman paused.

"Excuse me," I said. "I run a tavern aboveground. Would it be possible to see your kitchen? I'd love to learn how ferrokin prepare food differently from us surface dwellers."

Her crystalline eyes brightened, and she set down her tray. "You are Varix Vel'Naris! The one who restored the Earthheart!"

"That's me," I admitted. "I couldn't have done it without Triolux."

"You're modest. Of course, you may visit our kitchen! You are most welcome. Please, follow me." She turned to Seraphina with an expectant look.

Seraphina laughed and nudged my shoulder. "You should be enjoying the party, not working."

"This is fun for me," I said.

"I know it is." She squeezed my hand. "Go on, then. I'll keep Penelope company."

The server led me through the crowd toward a wide archway. We passed through into a space that stole my breath away.

The kitchen stretched out before me, easily three times the size of mine at The Shadow's Respite. At least a dozen ferrokin moved between stations with efficiency. The walls gleamed like polished metal, so clean they reflected the workers' movements. Not a speck of dust or grime marred any surface.

The cooking stations were different. Instead of traditional stoves, crystalline platforms hummed with energy. Ferrokin placed pots directly on these surfaces, and the food cooked without a visible flame.

Preparation tables carved from single blocks of stone lined one wall. Their surfaces bore intricate channels and depressions, each serving a specific purpose. A ferrokin chopped vegetables in one section while juices drained through tiny grooves into collection vessels below.

The ceiling featured a network of copper pipes that ended in adjustable nozzles. Steam vented through some, while others dripped various liquids into waiting containers. The entire system operated without pumps or visible machinery, and it did so quietly.

Storage areas built into the walls opened and closed at a touch. Inside, I glimpsed ingredients hanging freely inside, devoid of any shelf or hook. They all appeared to be perfectly preserved. No ice, no salt, just that strange shimmer that seemed to keep everything fresh.

The worker's efficiency amazed me. The ferrokin chefs and prep cooks moved like dancers, never colliding despite the crowded space. Each knew exactly where to be and when.

In one corner, a few wooden boxes bore the unmistakable crest of Crownforge.

"This is amazing."

"Why, thank you, Varix Vel'Naris," an older ferrokin with silver hair said. "You are known to us, and you are always welcome. We would be honored to share cooking tips and recipes with you."

"Really?"

The older one nodded. "Of course. Think nothing of it. You never need an invite. Triolux spoke of a wonderful recipe you have for something called chicken wings."

"Yeah. Happy to show you that one. It's one of my most popular recipes."

"I look forward to it."

"Tell you what; I'll bring you a batch the next time I visit."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The older cook nodded and thanked me.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"I am Argentis."

We clasped hands, and then I left to get back to the festivities before Seraphina came and dragged me out.

Throughout the evening, there were bouts of ferrokin breaking into their traditional dances. They moved with surprising grace for beings of their peculiar making. Their feet created rhythmic patterns against the stone floor. Ferrokin songs followed, melodies that seemed to vibrate through the very foundations of the building, deep, resonant tones that made my chest hum.

Kieran, ever the showman, joined in without hesitation. He contributed verses to their songs, and his rich baritone wove in with their voices. What impressed me most was how he picked up their complex harmonies as he went. He was able to find the intricate patterns on the fly. He swung the lute around from his back and added the instrument's chords to the songs.

Penelope had become caught up in the spectacle and clapped along with the festivities.

Seraphina's arm wove through mine, her fingers lacing between my own. The warmth of her palm pressed against mine as we sat, and the festival swirled around our pocket of stillness. My shoulders finally released months of tension, each muscle unwinding as exhaustion crept through my bones. The idea of running two taverns pressed at the edges of my thoughts. Staff schedules, supply orders, and endless details, but for now, they remained distant concerns.

The orcs surged to their feet in unison, chairs scraping against wood. Grondak had somehow slipped in among them. When had that happened? His jaw jutted forward, tusks catching the light, while his olive-green brow furrowed deep above those curious eyes.

Urzan bellowed something in Orcish, a bark that was loud enough to command attention. They placed their hands on weapons and marched toward the center of the festive area, where a gaggle of ferrokin and human children danced and sang together.

"Whoa, whoa, what's happening here?" I called out, moving towards them.

Lady Churl grabbed my hand and tugged vigorously. "Take a seat. Reckon you're in for a treat."

The orcs formed a circle, facing toward the middle, and drew their swords. The ferrokin and humans quickly cleared the way, with more than a few bearing fearful looks.

Moktar stood opposite Urzan as they joined a circle that was made of eight orcs. They snapped to rigid attention and held for at least a minute. A deep rumbling began at opposite points of the circle, then spread counterclockwise until they were all humming the same tune.

I leaned over and whispered in Lady Churl's ear, "What are they doing?"

"Reckon this'll be a new one on ya, eh? Sit tight, boss. This's a treat. Vraruk-Chor, the Dance of Blades. Few humans ever get t' see it."

Although unsure, I trusted Churl's assurance. The orcs began their ritual, their movements synchronized and powerful. They swept toward the center and clashed swords high overhead. The blows rang loud enough to set my ears ringing. Their chant had turned to a song in their guttural language. The song held a sing-song quality, and it appeared they were calling to each other and answering back. Grondak no longer looked nervous. He moved in perfect unity with his father and the other orcs.

They rushed forward and struck at one another, voices growing louder, then retreated and raised their weapons upright, edges pointed outward. The ritual proceeded as they wove through complex formations, culminating in the crash of steel. Then the orcs glided backward, spun to face the opposite direction, and engaged once more. Not a single warrior suffered a wound, which was remarkable in itself. This continued until they abruptly sheathed their blades and plunged into the circle's heart, launching into a flurry of fists, elbows, and boots. Grondak was the last to jump in and did pretty well for himself. He and his father went at it at one point and both got in solid blows. An instant later, they halted simultaneously. The orcs assisted one another to their feet and brushed dirt from their comrades' shoulders and backs.

Now laughing, the troop sauntered back to their table, laughing and poking each other. Urzan put his hand over his son's shoulder as they walked back. The two looked like a father and son who had just bonded over fishing, not beating the crap out of each other.

"That was… unique. Orcs are so weird," I said.

"Reckon it was something," Lady Churl said and turned back to her plate of food.

Now that the orc brawl was over, I settled back in and tried some marinated mushrooms. They had a slight green tint, but I had been assured they were safe to eat. I tried a nibble and found it delicious. It had been marinated in a slightly sour and garlicky sauce.

"I need to get this recipe."

"Yeah. Right tasty if I do say so meself." Lady Churl's plate was covered in a rainbow of small and large mushrooms. She savored each one with a meaty lip smack.

Roland, booming laughter, left the table to go chat with the orcs. They gripped his fist and spoke to each other, but I couldn't make out the words.

People streamed through the portal in both directions. Some clutched bundles of leftover food to their chests, nodding at the ferrokin who waved as the residents of Everspring returned home. Others emerged with packages of bread, fruit, and in some cases trinkets and handmade leather goods, which they deposited on a side table that groaned under the growing pile. The ferrokin had arranged themselves in a receiving line, each one clasping hands with the gift-bearers and bowing their metallic heads.

Mira and Alic left to join in the dancing. Shell had appeared at some point. She dragged Caden by his good hand off his seat, finger pointed toward the dancing.

I spotted a newcomer arriving from around a building with several people in tow. The four figures approached our table with measured steps. Two of them wore heavy traveling cloaks despite the warm underground atmosphere, their hoods pulled low enough to shadow their faces. The third walked between them, shorter, and wrapped in a plain brown robe that looked as if it had been borrowed from someone twice their size.

Triolux guided them to the empty seats across from us.

"Please, sit," Triolux said. "Food and drink are plentiful."

I nodded at them in greeting, then froze. Something about the way the middle figure moved, and the slight tilt of their head—

The tallest figure pushed back his hood. King Alister's pale face emerged, a slight smile playing at his lips. Beside him, Princess Elowen peeked out from behind her hood, enough to reveal her delicate features framed by golden hair. The third figure remained covered for a moment longer before Kara's dark hair spilled free.

Beside me, Seraphina gasped.

"Your Majesty!" I exclaimed.

"Easy, Varix," the king said in a subdued tone. "I would like to enjoy the atmosphere for a few moments. Will you humor me?"