To say that Eliza was gleefully stuffing her face with casserole and pudding would have been an understatement. The way she was grinning, shovelling things into her face, only taking pauses to rinse everything down with cola and laughing was nothing short of amazing.

By the time everyone else had eaten one portion, she had gone through seven, and ultimately Aclysia cooked up a second quick meal for her, then a third. At the end, John distracted her from completely emptying their fridge by carrying her to the couch, cuddling her and feeding her little pieces of chocolate. The entire time, she was giggling like a high school girl in love for the first time. A very crazy high school girl, but a high school girl regardless.

Her reactions were so absolutely adorable that Rave and Aclysia soon joined in feeding her chocolate. This made Sylph envious, so John soon had two cute, short girls in his lap, which got fed chocolate as long as they kept giggling and fidgeting.

The rest of the harem soon found themselves involved in idle talk. A movie was put on in the background. Something out of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Nobody really paid attention. Halfway through the movie, Rave realized this and put on some music instead. That bass hammered through the room as she drove it all the way up. Then, when people started complaining, she put it back down to loud and then sensible levels. Handling of the laptop that controlled the large flat screen was handed to Lydia, for security reasons.

“Ya don’t need to be such party poopers!” Rave complained afterwards.

“I happen to like having functional ears,” John retorted, then pointed at the floor. “Also, that.” Sunken into a hill of goo, Undine continued to quiver as she recovered from the fit of laughter she had just gone through. It turned out that, to tickle a slime girl, the second-best way was to subject her to heavy bass at an absurd volume for several seconds. Having her whole body vibrate was, apparently, quite tickling.

The actual best was, of course, fizzy tablets, but Undine had asked not to be subjected to those without warning. A fair request, people didn’t like being subjected to surprise tickle attacks that lasted for several minutes without any way to stop them, usually. Such a shame, given how hard it was to hear her beautiful laughter otherwise.

‘I should give Undine some sort of appreciation day soon…’ John thought, then realized that he had the same urge for all the girls. ‘Ah, big harem problems, I want to have a day alone with each of the girls, but that would be like two weeks gone… I’ll find the time though. Maybe if I scatter it across several weekends?’

“Aclysia, can ya bring me something to drink?” Rave asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Like, a beer or something like that?”

“I have none currently in the fridge,” Aclysia remarked, although that was only a minor setback. “I can set out to the storage area, if you desire.”

The storage area was about 90% of Aclysia’s own segment of the Palace. While John had given each and every one of the girls their own apartment, most of them were, by now, too heavily modified to be called living spaces anymore. Aclysia’s apartment was basically a kitchen and a table, in case she had guests, attached to several rooms in which she hoarded cleaning utensils, food, drink and other household or luxury articles. Over time, she had gotten John to put cooling chambers in there. Then a smoking room. Then… well, there was a lot there now.

Almost everything a man could want to eat, Aclysia had stocked up in some fashion. Every item was bought with her monthly pay that John gave the weaponized maid. As that was quite a bit of money and Aclysia was very careful about balancing his diet, only the best things were kept there. As she usually finalized her cooking plan a week in advance, she moved over everything to John’s fridge during Sunday nights.

And, of course, she had a chamber full of alcoholic beverages, should the need arise. “The only thing I have stocked up in this kitchen is vodka and orange juice,” the weaponized maid specified further. Not the biggest surprise, those two things combined into John’s favourite drink. “Would that drink satisfy you, or do you crave a cold beer specifically?”

Rave put her hands together in a praying motion and asked, with a sweet smile, “I’d really like a beer, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“I will oblige,” Aclysia said, rising from the couch. “As I am already making the trip – does anybody else require something in the way of beverages?” There were several people raising their hand and orders were made. Before Aclysia could leave, John tapped Sylph and Eliza on the shoulders. Reluctantly, they got off. Well, Sylph just began to rise like a balloon, Eliza actually got off.

“I am going to tag along, just in case you need the extra inventory space,” he said as he got up. It was very unlikely to be needed. Before Aclysia could make the decision whether she wanted to insist he relaxed or just take the opportunity to be alone with him for a few minutes, he just led the way. Mainly, he wanted to stretch his legs a little bit. Behind him, Eliza began cussing wildly at Salamander, the two of them getting into a verbal playfight.

“Maybe you should actually grow out your hair, you skinhead incineration chamber slut!” That was the last he heard before the door closed and reduced every sound to nothing.

John was about to say something to Aclysia when his eyes noticed something odd. It was a flare in the air, the shimmering outline, leaning against the wall opposite from him. It was only on the Abyssal Layer of his sight. He narrowed his eyes, and the shimmering turned into a tabard and a set of crusader armour, as Observe peeled away at what True Sight 9 had already spotted. Aclysia was left confused, until she inspected his thoughts. Because she was only informed of the figure from his sight, she also knew there was no reason to take any defensive measures.

“Hey, Konrad,” John said raising his hand in a nonchalant salute. “Deus Vult.”

“DEUS VULT!” he shouted back.

“DEUS VULT?” another voice screamed, a second knight peeking around one of the heavily decorated corners. Now that John had peered through the first illusion, others of the same kind were dismantled in less than a second.

“DEUS VULT!” Konrad Kamradsrat, leader of Lydia’s bodyguards, confirmed.

“…deus vuuuuuuult?!” it came drawn out from somewhere fairly far away.

“”DEUS VUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULT!”” the two present knights screamed. “WE MUST RETAKE OUR INVISIBILITY!” Konrad added and raised a gauntleted hand in front of his eyes, like a child subscribing to the ‘can’t see me if I can’t see you’ idea.

John drily chuckled at the overacting roleplay. “Interesting that I can see you lot now. I was wondering if Lydia came without you again.”

“The first time was a great besmirching on the Knights of Teuton’s honour; I insisted that our Deus given empress take us with her this time. So we Vult it!” he cleared his throat. “On a more serious note, our numbers are recovering well and many of the armours lost or damaged are being repaired. Some have even been recovered from the battlefield.”

“Ah, that’s good.” John hummed, tapped the crusader-impersonator on the shoulder and then moved on. “You continue doing a good job!”

“We will, DEUS VULT!” To the echoes of the other knights mimicking the battle cry, John walked down the corridor. He had more of a passing relationship with Konrad and his people. Friendly, yes, but they didn’t really know each other. John was maybe open to changing that in the future, but for now a professional niceness would do.

Aclysia’s segment was the third closest to John’s own, being two doors over. Contrary to expectation, the closest wasn’t Rave’s, it was Eliza’s. Because it was much more likely that the blood mage would need some emergency attention. Rave’s was in between instead. Of course, both went largely unused. John had visited Rave’s place once or twice, it was basically a merchandise paradise, but he couldn’t recall ever going into Eliza’s place. ‘Wonder what she has in there,’ he thought, once they had passed the door.

Pulling a key out of her Inventory, Aclysia opened the door. Due to the not insignificant amount of sweets and food stored, the door was just about the only one in the Palace that was locked. It wouldn’t stop an invader, but the way it was broken would at least show whether it was Sylph or Eliza.

They went inside, passed through the small living room, turned right, walked through a normal looking door, and then found themselves in a thin corridor. Several doors were symmetrically spread across the walls. Orderly tags left of the doors reported on contents and the temperature within. The alcohol chamber was third on the left side. The contents were kept at 6 degrees Celsius.

Gripping the thick handle of the insulated door, Aclysia squeezed, then pushed it open. Behind lay the promised land of the indulging alcoholic. Heavy shelves, lined with bottles and cans, sorted horizontally by type and vertically by alcoholic content. At the back wall were crates, pallets and barrels. Just the metal, party variety. John did have to wonder whether she kept wooden barrels with stuff still aging in another room. Definitely not a thing he’d put past her.

Aclysia pulled the bottles off the shelves, put them into her inventory, while John took one of the cartons of canned beer and put that into his own. He preferred to have too much over too little. Even though they couldn’t get completely hammered just yet, it was likely that the drinking would continue once the program of the day had concluded.

Before they left, Aclysia made sure to write down which brands she had to stock up on and pulled the bottles second in row to the front so everything looked neat and orderly again. Then they made a quick visit to where she stored the fruit juices, grabbed what was needed and then went back to John’s apartment.

The last thing he expected when returning was another guy to be in the room. Almost as well dressed as John, he sat on the couch next to Lydia, a walking cane, leaning against the table, in front of him. “Yo, buddy,” Maximillian greeted, running a hand through his dark brown hair. It had grown quite a bit since they last met, now reaching down to the vacationing king’s chin in a stylized dishevelled way. “I heard you brought beer?”

“Oh my God,” John gasped in only half-faked surprise. “What have you done to your hair, that’s atrocious! You look like Keanu Reeves, except not at all breath-taking.”

Lydia nodded triumphantly. “As I told you, this style does not fit your facial structure.”

“It’s fashion in Hollywood right now,” he defended himself, grabbing his cane and getting up. Fluidly, John took the hand that was offered to him afterwards and the two shook hands in a proper greeting between friends. “You aren’t done sassing me yet, are you?”

“I’m never done berating you,” John laughed. “I was just going to say that you strike me more as a trendsetter than a follower. You getting the fashionable haircut feels just wrong.”

“…True enough.” Maximillian took that compliment, even if it meant that he had to give up the argument. “Well, what would look better on me?” he turned to Lydia, John listening with one ear as he walked towards the open kitchen. Once there, he pulled the carton out of his inventory with one hand, and put it down on the floor like it was weightless.

“Short,” was Lydia’s very basic and straightforward retort. “You have an objectively handsome head structure, framing it with hair is not doing you any favours.”

John was reminded that those two had been a couple once, but his jealousy was kept in check by the absolute certainty that Lydia was fervently in love with him and that Maximillian was over her for a long time. Now they were friends with history. If that ever changed, John would know pretty quickly by a change in the moderate distance between them. Also, the Gamer was certain he would have to fuck up tremendously to lose Lydia at this point, and at that point he might deserve it.

There was, however, another thing he was quite angry about, regarding the vacationing king of Austria.

“So, I should just get his haircut?” Maximillian asked, nodding towards the owner of the Palace.

“It’s not a bad style!” John insisted, now running a hand through his own, lighter brown hair. It was a few steps above a buzzcut, long enough to part around his fingers and just barely enough to grab, but not enough to reliable hold. It hadn’t grown in months, thanks to the same magical shampoo that kept his body hair from growing.

“…I wouldn’t go quite that short, I like to have something that my stylists can work with,” Maximillian said, then grabbed a strand of his hair. “But point taken, I guess I am getting rid of this. Anyway,” he took the beer John offered him, only to put it in the air next to him, still closed. It proceeded to gently fall to the table, its gravity diminished to non-harming acceleration. “A bit late in the conversation, but happy birthday, buddy.”

“Thanks,” John leaned against the dinner table. Maximillian still hadn’t sat down, so they were talking with the couch in between them. That was, until he slowly stepped around and towards the Gamer. “I was actually surprised you hadn’t dropped me a text yet. Somewhat assumed you had forgotten.”

“I wish I had forgotten,” Maximillian joked, but actually looked rather nervous. “See, I resolved to give you a very simple and personal gift… you get to punch me in the face.”

John had to think about those words. “You sure?” When he finally had resolved that he heard correctly, he wanted to double check. Maximillian nodded, so John pushed himself off the table. “You know I am not holding back?”

“See, when I originally resolved to make that gift, I hadn’t realized that you would get taller and broader,” Maximillian continued to joke, but it was quite clear now that he knew this was going to hurt. “Just try to remember I didn’t know she was your mother, okay?”

“Well, when you did find out, it didn’t stop you,” John answered, equally non-serious in his tone, but rolling his right shoulder to warm it up.

Maximillian giggled. “The damage was already done, so I was like ‘might as well enjoy it’.”

“Not like this is going to stop you in the future, is it?” John wondered, letting that little bit of anger he had bubble up. It was still a mere echo of the initial seething hot rage he had felt, but it was going to be quite satisfying.

“Hey, your mother is an attractive lady and she has been calling me. Who am I to refuse the invi-“ The king didn’t get to finish that sentence, as John swung at his (at that moment) annoyingly handsome face. The king had chosen his standing position wisely. Not a single piece of furniture was between him and his way to the floor. He just slammed down and groaned in pain. Not too long though, as John immediately called Undine over.

“Whew,” he made a satisfied noise, looking at his motherfucker of a friend rolling his jaw. “We can make a deal that you have to gift me this every year, whenever you did as much as mention that you’re still sleeping with my mom.”

“I tshink nexsht yeahr might kill me,” Maximillian responded, something quite clearly swelling rapidly.

“Was that actually necessary?” Lydia asked from the background, as Undine arrived on the scene and applied the green-tinted heeling slime to the bruised cheek. “All you did was temporarily hurt him for something that your mother already scolded you for that you shouldn’t be mad at.”

“Look, this wasn’t about logic,” John retorted, grabbing a beer for himself now. His mood was even better now than before, and he hadn’t even known that was possible. At the trip back to the couch, he helped the healed Maximillian up and they sat down together. “This was all about a friend punching a friend in the face.”

“You are correct, that does not sound logical at all,” Lydia stated, raising an eyebrow.

“I get it,” Rave stated.

“This is why I like men more than women,” Metra added, putting her feet on the table. Until Aclysia gave her the death glare and she put them back down. “Way easier in the way they handle their problems. Just punch each other. Gilgamesh did the same with Enkidu. They punched each other until they became friends… or so I have heard, that was even before my time.”

“Well, violence does solve some problems,” John said.

Then he, Maximillian and everyone else toasted.