Chapter 90 - How To Feed A Dragon

 Meanwhile, in an underground interrogation cell.

“Hey, can’t you give me something else to eat?” Girgantia grumbled to Tania, as he begrudgingly picked up the paper bag placed beside him with his tail. It was true that the dragon hadn’t been eating well.

“Of all the possible things to eat, dog food? What the heck?” Girgantia shook the bag of pet feed—labeled ‘A special meal for pet dogs without appetite!’—above his head, but Tania didn’t even bother to spare a look towards the dragon, as she irritably flipped the page of the book she was reading. She wondered just how many days it had been since she’d been forced to stay at the interrogation cell and babysit due to her being the only one capable of keeping Girgantia under control.

“I want to go to Her Majesty’s palace!” Tania had pleaded.

“No can do. It is His Majesty’s order.” Kane had firmly refused.

Tania flipped another page, as she asked, “If you dislike it, would you prefer cat food instead?”

“I don’t eat things like that! I want a proper meal! Stop reading erotica, and bring me the good stuff!”

“Ero-erotica?! This is nothing like that! I’m j-ju-just carrying out an in-ins-inspection under His Majesty’s orders!”

“Then why are you rereading the same page ten times over? Let’s see. His rough breath blew against her chest as irrepressible desire burned in his lower…”

 

“Shut your mouth! Stop reading!”

“Then give me food! Food!”

“What do you want to eat! Do you want a human to chow on or something? Is that it?”

“Who’d want to eat yucky things like your kind? Bring me some fried chicken! Boneless! With spice! Plus salt! And don’t forget the soda!”

Their bickering voices rang throughout the underground interrogation cell.

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The banquet hall was—contradictory to its name—full of crying and howling instead of laughter and music.

“I beg your forgiveness! Spare my life, please!”

“I’m sorry! The leader had us play hooky! We were told there wouldn’t be any events for a while!”

One man had triggered the start of this ruthless blame game.

 

“He’s the one at fault, Your Majesty!” The imperial art troupe members hurriedly pointed fingers at one another, until they felt a cold gaze descend upon them. They immediately fell silent.

“A special treat for a dragon, you say,” Estian murmured, causing several troupe members to faint on the spot. They had expected severe punishment, but their fear grew exponentially, when their previously undetermined fates seemed to now be set in stone as ‘dragon treats’. “I’m not quite sure what the captured dragon prefers,” he continued. “I wonder if it prefers its meat soft, or a bit stringy?” Had Girgantia been beside Estian, he would’ve loudly protested, “I don’t eat humans, I tell you!”

Cecile giggled in a light, ringing voice. “Oh, you silly thing. We’re going to feed them to the dragon whole, so how could we possibly discern the quality of their meat? The beast would have to get a taste of them first.” Her words sounded both logical and terrifyingly chilling to everyone present. ‘Her Majesty’s uttering terrifying things like it’s nothing now?’ The troupe members that had managed to retain their senses immediately grabbed and pinched at their arms, legs, and bellies. Even they couldn’t tell whether they’d be classified as tender or tough meat.

“Giving the dragon a taste would be the surest method, of course,” Estian agreed. This statement was enough to make everyone recall the rumors that had surrounded the emperor but had recently fallen by the wayside: of how he was a blood-soaked demon of the battlefield, and that he would wander among corpses in the dead of night drinking blood. “But you can also tell by just dicing them up.”

‘Dice us up? How?’ Everyone’s eyes locked on to the black steel blade that hung from Estian’s belt. Before their eyes was the sword that was speculated to have diced up the largest number of people on the continent.

“I’m sure I taste unappetizing, Your Majesty! I am such a drunkard that wine flows through my veins!” The troupe leader crawled forward to howl of his disagreeable taste, but Estian gazed at him apathetically and replied, “Meat should be braised in wine for flavor.” His statement drew unanimous nods. Indeed, meat had to be braised in wine to bring out its finest flavors. The troupe leader paused, then cried out, “I also smoke! Twenty smokes a day without fail!” Contrary to his expectations, Estian simply responded, “Is that right? That saves us the effort of adding a smoky flavor.”

‘… Is that how it works?’ Out of excuses, the troupe leader fell on his knees, trembling. It was then that Estian leaned over and whispered in Cecile’s ear. Naturally, no one else could hear the exchange. Cecile remained silent for a moment before reaching out to embrace his neck, exclaiming, “Your Majesty, I think I know a bit about what dragons prefer.” Everyone stared nervously at the empress, who suddenly rejoined the conversation.

“I see. So, what sort of meat does my empress judge fit for a dragon?”

“The way I see it…” Cecile’s gaze locked on to Yuliana, as a smile bloomed on her face. “The dragon seemed to like pretty things.”

A deafening silence, more chilling than before, blanketed the banquet hall.

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