monarch of mirth - Advent, of the end

The Monarch of Mirth

Act I: Opening Night

Chapter 1: The Laughing Throne Opens

Solus Mirthveil stood behind the polished mahogany bar, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he surveyed his new domain. The Laughing Throne was finally open. Warm golden light from floating lanterns bathed the tavern's eclectic interior—stone walls etched with ever-shifting runes, sturdy oak tables that seemed to have grown from the floor itself, and a ceiling that opened to a tapestry of night sky filled with unfamiliar constellations. A gentle crackle from the fireplace mingled with the scent of spiced ale and sweetbread, creating an atmosphere at once inviting and otherworldly.

On this first night, the tavern was nearly empty, save for the echoes of distant laughter that lingered in the rafters. Solus exhaled slowly, his breath carrying a faint mist of emerald energy. It had taken eons of wandering and wit to weave this sanctuary between worlds. Here, beneath the banner bearing a golden jester's crown—the sigil of mirth and sovereignty—he would welcome weary souls from any realm in need of respite. Tonight was the beginning.

He ran a hand through his silver-streaked midnight hair, anticipation fluttering in his chest. In his long life he had known countless titles—trickster, sage, sometimes even god—but "bartender" was a new one. It felt refreshingly humble. On the wall behind him hung a large oval mirror that did not reflect the room; instead, it shimmered with scenes of far-off worlds, each a potential door. Solus watched as nebulae of color swirled within the mirror's depths. Any moment now, a traveler might step through.

A faint chime rang—a soundless vibration in the air that Solus somehow heard in his soul. The first guest approaches. Solus straightened the lapels of his deep green coat and smoothed the black silk vest beneath. He wanted to make a good first impression.

With a gentle creak, the heavy tavern door—carved from ancient wood of the World Tree—swung open. A young woman stepped hesitantly across the threshold. She wore a high school uniform, which looked a bit dissonant amid the tavern's medieval décor, and her long orange hair cascaded down her back held by floral hairpins. She blinked, warm brown eyes wide in wonder and confusion.

Orihime Inoue had, moments ago, been walking home under the moonlight of Karakura Town. Now she found herself in a place that defied explanation. The last thing she remembered was a shimmering distortion in the air and a sudden urge to take a different path—through an alley that somehow led her here. Wrapping her arms around herself nervously, Orihime took in the tavern's fantastical interior. This isn't the shopping district… she thought. Her heart pounded, torn between fear and curiosity.

Solus emerged from behind the bar with a graceful, unhurried stride. His presence was immediately soothing—tall and elegant, with eyes like molten gold that radiated kindness and a touch of mischief. He bowed slightly. "Welcome to The Laughing Throne," he greeted, voice melodious and warm. "Please, come in. You must be weary from your journey."

Orihime tilted her head. "Ah… H-hello," she managed softly, offering a small polite bow of her own. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure how I got here…" She glanced back at the still-open door. Through it she did not see the alley from which she came, but a swirling haze of stars as if the door now hung in space itself. Her breath caught. Kurosaki-kun… Tatsuki… The faces of her friends flickered in her mind. Had she stepped through some kind of portal? Her experiences with the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo had taught her that strange portals did exist, but this cozy tavern was far from the eerie domain of Hollows.

"You are safe here," Solus assured, noticing the flicker of anxiety in her eyes. Gently, he guided her toward a seat at the bar. "This place finds those who need it. Perhaps your heart sought something and the Throne answered."

Orihime relaxed her shoulders slightly at his reassurance. There was a serenity about him that put her at ease, as if nothing bad could happen under his watch. She allowed herself to sit on the barstool. It was surprisingly comfortable, cushioned with velvet. "Thank you… Um, my name is Orihime. Inoue Orihime," she introduced herself, trying to maintain politeness despite her confusion. Her voice was soft and lilting, with an earnest sincerity.

"A beautiful name," Solus said, smiling. As he straightened, Orihime noticed how he moved with effortless grace. There was something unusual about his aura—like a spiritual pressure, but gentle and inviting rather than overwhelming. She felt no malice or ill intent, only a whimsical kind of power that danced at the edge of perception. "I am Solus Mirthveil, the proprietor of this establishment." He swept an arm in a welcoming gesture. "Please consider this tavern a sanctuary for as long as you require."

Orihime managed a genuine smile in return. "Thank you, Solus." Her eyes darted around again, taking in details. Fairy lights flickered along wooden beams. A suit of armor stood in one corner, but when she focused on it, she thought she saw it shift position slightly, as if alive. She giggled nervously. Perhaps it was a trick of the light.

Solus leaned on the counter from behind the bar, bringing himself closer to her eye level. "You seem surprised, but not frightened. You have seen strange things before, haven't you?"

Orihime nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y-yes. I have friends who are Shinigami—um, Soul Reapers," she corrected for clarity, unsure if he would know the term. "And I've been to another world before. Though," she added with a thoughtful pout, "nothing quite like this." A hint of excitement crept into her voice. The initial shock was wearing off, replaced by her natural curiosity and wonder. "This place is… it's beautiful."

Her eyes shone as she traced the patterns dancing across the walls. A rune winked at her as it changed shape, almost as if greeting her in silent humor. In spite of the mystery, Orihime felt welcome.

Solus chuckled, the sound like a low musical note. "I am glad it pleases you. The Laughing Throne is meant to inspire joy and comfort." He reached beneath the bar and produced a delicate porcelain cup. With a snap of his fingers, a steaming liquid filled it, emanating a fragrant aroma of honey and flowers. He set it before her. "Here. A house specialty: Ambrosial Bloom Tea. It calms the nerves and delights the taste buds."

Orihime peered at the cup—the liquid was a soft pink, tiny motes of light dancing upon its surface. She cupped it in both hands and took a cautious sip. Her face lit up. "It's delicious!" she exclaimed, blinking in surprise. The taste was like drinking a melody, sweet notes blossoming on her tongue, and it made her feel safe. Warmth spread through her, easing the last of her fears. "I feel… at home."

As she sipped again, Solus watched her with gentle satisfaction. Orihime's presence, the first customer of his tavern, made this long-sought dream real. In her he sensed a deep well of emotions—courage and kindness, tinged with sorrow and longing. There was an almost ethereal quality to her soul. Behind her cheerful demeanor, he glimpsed the shadow of loneliness and a fierce devotion to those she cared for.

"May I ask," Orihime began after a moment, "what is this place, truly? Are we… in another world?"

Solus considered how to answer. How to distill an eternity of cosmic wandering into something coherent? He decided on simplicity. "The Laughing Throne sits at the crossroads of many worlds. It is a tavern between realities. Those in need sometimes stumble through a door like yours, finding themselves here. It might be fate, or just the tavern's own way of gathering stories."

Orihime absorbed that, her brow furrowing adorably in thought. "Between realities… like Garganta?" She recalled the void between worlds Hollows used. But the tavern felt nothing like that cold emptiness. It was alive and brimming with warmth.

"Perhaps superficially similar," Solus allowed, "in that it's a space linking worlds. But fear not, this is a place of life, not emptiness. Think of it as a safe haven where paths that normally never cross can meet." He tapped the oak counter with a ringed finger and for a brief instant, the wood glowed, showing an image of countless roads converging at a cozy inn on a hill. Then the image faded as quickly as it came.

Orihime's mouth formed a small 'o' of wonder. She had so many questions, but before she could ask another, a boisterous voice rang out from the doorway.

"Helloooo? Is this where the party is? I smelled something yummy!" came the high-pitched, eager call.

Both Solus and Orihime turned toward the entrance. There, half silhouetted by the cosmic swirl beyond the threshold, was a petite young woman in an unusual attire. She wore a short white dress with a blue corset-like design and thigh-high boots, accented by various ribbons. Most notably, a pair of thick, black twin-tails cascaded behind her, tied with white bows, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with boundless energy. She looked around excitedly until her gaze landed on Solus behind the bar—specifically on the drink he had just conjured.

Without hesitation, the newcomer bounded inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. "Oh wow, it's so nice in here!" she declared, spinning around once to take in the sights. "Hi hi! I'm Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth!" She announced this as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a bubbly young woman to proclaim herself a goddess upon entering a tavern.

Orihime nearly spilled her tea in surprise at the word goddess. She watched as the girl—Hestia—skipped toward them. Hestia's ample chest bounced with each enthusiastic step, barely constrained by her dress, and Orihime couldn't help but notice the peculiar blue ribbon tied under the girl's bust, emphasizing her figure in a rather unique fashion. Orihime felt a slight heat on her cheeks at Hestia's uninhibited demeanor.

Solus gave a courteous bow of his head. "Welcome, Lady Hestia."

Hestia beamed and plopped herself onto a barstool on the opposite side of Orihime. "Just Hestia is fine! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how boring it was in the Upper Realm tonight." She leaned forward eagerly, eyes fixed on Solus's face, then darting to Orihime as she realized someone else was there. "Ooh, hello! New friend?" she asked Orihime with unabashed friendliness.

Orihime found Hestia's energy infectious and smiled back. "Hello, Hestia. I'm Orihime." She offered a polite little wave.

Hestia returned it with a waggle of her fingers. "Nice to meet you, Orihime! I love your hair, it's such a pretty color." Without waiting, Hestia swiveled back to Solus and sniffed the air. "Something smells amazing. Did I hear something about tea? Or maybe you have wine? Or… wait, is that barley bread I smell?" She leaned so far over the counter that it looked like she might topple across it in her excitement.

Solus chuckled, charmed by the goddess's exuberance. "I have many offerings. And yes, freshly baked barley bread, if you desire." He gestured to a platter on the bar that hadn't been there moments before, laden with a loaf of crusty bread and a dish of butter.

Hestia's eyes widened. "Ooh! Yes please!" She tore off a piece without ceremony and munched happily. "Mmmmh! So good!" she spoke through a full mouth, then had the decency to swallow before laughing at herself. "Sorry, I haven't eaten since forever. Offering food from my followers has been sparse lately…"

At that her cheerful expression dimmed just a touch. Orihime noticed Hestia's momentary melancholy flicker across her face—a hint of loneliness perhaps. It was gone in a flash as Hestia turned to Orihime again. "Are you from a different world too? You don't look like anyone from Orario."

Orihime nodded, finding Hestia's straightforward nature comforting. "I think so. I'm from a place called Japan… on Earth. I stepped through a door and ended up here."

Hestia tilted her head, chewing another bite of bread. "Earth? Not familiar, but I'm from Heaven originally. Well, Heaven and Orario down below. I came through a strange door in the basement of my shrine. I was chasing my friend Hermes—he likes to play tricks—and poof! Instead of finding him, I found this place." She gestured around.

"A happy accident, it seems," Solus said. He poured Hestia a cup of the same Ambrosial Bloom Tea. "Here, try this."

Hestia took the cup eagerly and sipped. Her blue eyes lit up even brighter, if that was possible. "By my hearth, this is divine!" she exclaimed. Then she laughed, a bright bell-like sound. "And I would know divine things, being a goddess and all!"

Orihime giggled softly into her hand. Solus watched the two young women begin to chat, Hestia peppering Orihime with questions about Earth and giggling at Orihime's explanation of high school ("So you're like an adventurer in training? Fighting monsters called math tests, ha!"). In turn, Orihime was fascinated to hear that Hestia was a real goddess who ran a Familia of adventurers in a city built around a giant Dungeon.

As the conversation flowed, Solus found himself quietly delighted. This was exactly the sort of connection he hoped his tavern would foster—people from distant worlds breaking bread together, sharing stories and laughter.

He moved around them, tending to the fire and ensuring the tavern remained comfortable. The enchanted fireplace responded to his will, flames dancing higher when he desired more warmth. Shadows flickered playfully along the walls, almost forming faces and scenes of their own before dissolving into the dim corners. The tavern itself was alive with gentle mirth.

After a while, the initial wonder gave way to a deeper comfort. Hestia had finished nearly half the loaf of bread, and Orihime had relaxed enough to show off a silly trick: she placed two olives on her fingertips and held them up like eyes, crossing her eyes to make Hestia burst into laughter. The goddess clapped, thoroughly amused. Solus couldn't help but chuckle as well, appreciating Orihime's spontaneous creativity.

Then, quite without warning, Orihime's expression grew distant. She gazed into her teacup, swirling the remaining liquid. Hestia noticed and tilted her head. "Hey, what's wrong? You look sad all of a sudden."

Orihime bit her lip. "Ah, sorry. I was just thinking… my friends must be worried about me. I kind of… disappeared on them." She remembered walking home with Tatsuki after late practice, then the odd detour that led here. By now, Tatsuki must be frantically searching, and Kurosaki-kun… Ichigo…

Solus stepped closer, resting his palms gently on the bar. His golden eyes softened. "If you wish to return, I can try to send you back the way you came."

Orihime felt a pang in her heart at the thought. She did want to go back—her friends were everything to her. Yet, a part of her hesitated. This tavern was so peaceful, so magical; a world away from the battles and burdens she knew. And then there was Solus's gaze, full of understanding. In that moment, Orihime realized how tired she truly was—tired of being protected all the time, of feeling like a burden when her friends fought to save her. Here, for once, she wasn't the girl to be rescued or the healer to be guarded. She was just… herself.

"I… I do want to go home," she said softly. "But maybe… not just yet?" Her cheeks colored slightly at her own boldness. "I mean, if it's okay, I'd like to stay a little while. This place, it feels…" She searched for the word.

"Safe?" Solus offered kindly.

Orihime nodded, a strand of her orange hair falling over her face. "Mm. Safe. And happy. Like I can breathe." She gave a small, embarrassed laugh. "Sorry if that sounds weird."

Hestia reached over and patted Orihime's shoulder reassuringly. "Not weird at all! I only just got here and I already love it. It's like a mini-vacation from all my worries. I left my kids—err, my Familia—back home for the evening, and normally I'd be anxious about them, but here I just know they're fine and I can relax." Her expression turned a bit dreamy as she twirled a finger along the rim of her teacup. "Maybe it's some kind of magic. Or maybe it's just you, Solus."

At that, Hestia fixed the tavern keeper with a playful grin. "You have a really soothing vibe, you know. And handsome, too!" She winked dramatically.

Orihime gasped lightly at Hestia's blunt flirtation, and her own face warmed in agreement that she was too shy to voice. Solus chuckled, inclining his head in a gracious nod. "You honor me, Hestia. My goal is indeed to bring comfort and joy to all who visit."

He then lifted one finger as if remembering something important. "Ah, and since you both are our inaugural guests, allow me to give a small token." From the air itself, he plucked two objects, one after the other—a glowing silver feather and a tiny carved wooden charm on a red string. He offered the feather to Orihime. It was delicate, etched with patterns that seemed to shift between the shape of a smiling face and a teardrop. "This is a feather from the wings of mirth. Keep it with you; it will guide you back here whenever you need, no matter where you are."

Orihime accepted it reverently, feeling a gentle pulse of warmth from the feather. "Thank you… I'll treasure it." She carefully tucked it into her hair beside her hairpins, where it shimmered briefly then vanished from sight (yet she still felt it present).

To Hestia, Solus gave the wooden charm. It bore the stylized image of a hearth with dancing flames. "For the goddess of hearth, a hearth-charm. It will glow warm when you think of this tavern, and you'll find the door appear nearby."

Hestia squealed in delight and tied the red string around her wrist like a bracelet. "It's so cute! Thanks, Solus. You really think of everything." She wiggled her wrist, admiring the charm.

Solus felt a spark of pure contentment in his ancient heart as he looked at the two of them—so different, yet both already dear in their own ways. This was what he had hoped for when he crafted the Laughing Throne: a family forged not by blood or duty, but by shared moments of happiness and understanding.

Before any of them could speak further, a new sound interrupted the quiet. It was the heavy thud of boots just outside the door, and then the door itself slowly groaned open once more. A brisk breeze swept in, causing the lantern lights to flicker. Silhouetted in the doorway was a figure clad in armor, a flowing cloak trailing behind. For a heartbeat, the figure stood still, her presence emanating a regal seriousness that contrasted sharply with the cozy tavern atmosphere. Then she stepped forward, revealing herself in the firelight.

A young woman with hair as luminous and golden as the sun itself, dressed in a blue and silver armor dress, with a gleaming sword sheathed at her side. Her emerald-green eyes scanned the room, wary and piercing. She carried herself with a poise that spoke of nobility and battle-hardship in equal measure.

Orihime and Hestia both turned, intrigued by the newcomer's aura of dignity and strength. Solus recognized at once the distinct energy of a heroic spirit, though this was no mere ghost—she was fully present, flesh and blood. He offered a welcoming smile, careful to appear non-threatening as the knightly woman's gaze fell on him.

"Welcome," he greeted gently, as the door drifted closed behind her. "Please, be at ease. You are among friends here."

The blonde knight's eyes narrowed just a fraction. She did not move from her spot. One hand rested lightly near the pommel of her sword, not quite gripping it, but ready. "What is this place?" she asked, voice crisp and commanding, yet holding a note of caution. "I was… in battle, and then a doorway of light appeared. I mean no intrusion, but I followed— and now I find myself in this tavern." Her eyes flicked to Orihime and Hestia, then back to Solus. "Identify yourself. Are you the master of this domain?"

Hestia raised her eyebrows at Orihime with a small impressed grin, as if to say she's intense! Orihime simply watched with fascination, sensing no ill-will from the knight, only confusion similar to what she herself had felt.

Solus gave a slow nod, keeping his posture relaxed, hands visible and open. "I am. My name is Solus Mirthveil, and this is The Laughing Throne, a gathering place between worlds. You are not here by accident, brave knight—this place found you because it was needed. Please, won't you join us? You have my word no harm will come to you here." He placed a gentle emphasis on the promise, and in that moment allowed a brief glimmer of his power to show: a comforting aura washing through the air like a soft sigh, a warmth that brushed the knight's battle-hardened spirit.

The woman's tense shoulders eased slightly. She stepped further in, letting the warmth of the fire touch her pale cheeks. "Your words… carry truth," she murmured, almost to herself. Solus's sincerity and the uncanny tranquility of the tavern were convincing. Still, habits learned on the battlefield died hard. She surveyed the tavern once more before finally inclining her head in a small bow of respect. "My name is Artoria Pendragon," she introduced, voice softer now but still formal. "Some know me as Saber. I will accept your hospitality, Solus Mirthveil, for a short while."

At the name Pendragon, Hestia nearly jumped off her stool. "Pendragon? As in King Arthur?!" she blurted out, eyes sparkling with excitement. She leaned across Orihime, whispering not-so-quietly, "Orihime, that's King Arthur from another world, I swear! But she's a woman! How cool is that?!"

Orihime, who did not recognize the name, simply smiled politely at the armored woman. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Artoria. I'm Orihime, and this is Hestia. Would you like to sit with us?"

Artoria blinked, clearly not used to such casual warmth, and took a moment before nodding. "Well met," she replied courteously, moving towards them. As she approached the bar, Solus swiftly fetched another cup and poured fresh tea from the ornate pot that had refilled itself.

Before he could offer it, Artoria's eyes locked onto the bread loaf—or what remained of it after Hestia's indulgence. Despite herself, her composure faltered as a distinct rumble sounded from her stomach. She froze, a blush of embarrassment tinting her cheeks. "Ah… pardon me," she said, mortified that such a sound had escaped a king.

Hestia burst into laughter that she tried and failed to stifle, and even Orihime covered her mouth, eyes dancing with amusement. Artoria looked to the floor, unsure how to handle being laughed at for something so mundane.

Solus, hiding a grin, smoothly slid the platter of bread toward Artoria. "Please, help yourself. All of you must be hungry after crossing worlds. I can have more food prepared at once." He clapped his hands lightly and, from the kitchen door behind the bar, a waft of new aromas emerged—savory stew, grilled meats, fresh fruits—summoned by the tavern's magic culinary spirits.

Artoria's eyes widened at the feast appearing, but first she gratefully took a piece of bread. "Thank you," she said quietly before taking a bite. Immediately, a small sigh of delight left her lips, though she tried to hide it. The simple bread seemed to melt in her mouth, rich and filling.

Within minutes, the three women were seated side by side at the bar, each with a bowl of hearty stew and a plate of assorted foods. The earlier tension had dissolved in the face of good food and Solus's gentle hospitality. Artoria ate with surprising gusto once given permission—spooning stew with elegance but clear hunger, alternating with bites of fruit. Orihime savored a piece of strange purple fruit that tasted like a mix of strawberry and plum, while Hestia eagerly sampled everything, proclaiming it all "heavenly," which coming from a goddess carried extra weight.

Solus watched over them like a content host, chiming in now and then but mostly letting the guests share their tales. As they dined, conversation blossomed. Orihime found herself talking about her friends and how they fought evil spirits, explaining her own power to heal and shield others (though she bashfully downplayed her contributions). Hestia proudly recounted how her one-and-only child—her Familia member named Bell—had recently defeated a fearsome Minotaur in the Dungeon; she punctuated the tale with such enthusiastic gestures that she nearly knocked over her stew bowl, drawing giggles. Artoria listened intently, occasionally asking polite questions. In turn, she offered that she was indeed King Arthur in her world, albeit summoned into a war far from her original time when fate diverted her here. She spoke of loyal knights and sacred swords, of duty and the heavy weight of leadership. Though her tone remained measured, the others could sense the sorrow woven through her words when she mentioned her kingdom's fate.

Finally, encouraged by all these stories, Orihime shared a glimpse of her own world—describing modern Japan's peaceful daily life which sounded like paradise to those from war-torn or ancient worlds. She spoke of school, of sweet bean pastries, of fireworks by the river in summer. Her eyes shone as she talked about her friends back home. But she carefully omitted any mention of Ichigo or her deeper feelings, not yet ready to bare that to this new circle.

Throughout all this, Solus ensured cups stayed filled and dishes kept coming—each suited to the eater's taste. His tavern bustled with energy, and more figures indeed had begun to arrive, drawn by the lively company. A pair of dwarf brothers from some distant mountain realm showed up, greeting everyone boisterously before settling at the bar for ale. A solemn elf mage from yet another world took a corner seat to observe quietly, sipping spiced wine and occasionally jotting notes on a scroll. Two burly warriors, each from entirely separate universes, discovered a shared love of a game akin to chess and huddled over a board near the hearth.

It was as if the tavern had become the nexus of a grand convention of divinities and adventurers. Divine FOMO was in full swing—no one wanting to miss out on the mirth rumored to be found here. Hestia commented in amazement that this felt like a divine banquet on Olympus, except everyone was remarkably well-behaved by comparison (no drunken Zeus throwing thunderbolts in a corner).

But the peace was, inevitably, tested. With so many different egos and backgrounds under one roof, a minor conflict sparked in the afternoon. It began over something trivial: a loud growl from the dwarf brothers about a spilled pint, which splashed onto the elf mage's ancient tome. Heated words in different tongues escalated—the dwarves misunderstanding the elf's cold glare as an attack, the elf muttering an incantation of drying but the dwarves thinking it a curse. Voices rose.

Before Solus or the heroines could intervene, one of the dwarves slammed his tankard down, rising to his full (albeit short) height. "Ye pointy-eared sneak, was that a spell ye cast on me?!" he bellowed.

The elf stood as well, clutching his damp book, eyes flashing. "Had I cast a spell, Master Dwarf, you would know it," he hissed, irritation evident.

"Hey now, calm down—" Orihime began, standing from the table, hands slightly raised in a placating gesture.

Others in the tavern turned to watch; the two chess-playing warriors paused their game, tension building.

The second dwarf hopped off his stool, trying to grab his brother's arm. "Oi, Bofri, let it go, it was an accident!"

But Bofri was too riled. "No one messes with me book or me beer!" he spat, misunderstanding the situation entirely. He reached for a throwing axe at his belt, eyes on the elf.

Solus acted swiftly. He muttered a subtle word and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Bofri's axe became a fluffy bouquet of daisies in his hand. The dwarf blinked in confusion, anger momentarily replaced with bafflement as he stared at the harmless flowers.

A ripple of laughter coursed through several onlookers. The absurdity defused some of the tension. But Bofri's face turned beet red, embarrassment fueling his temper further. With a roar, he hurled the bouquet at the elf. "Mockin' me, eh?! Fight me fair!" he demanded.

The bouquet smacked the elf's chest tamely, petals scattering. The elf, affronted by the insult (if not the impact), began to chant in a low, dangerous tone—his fingertips crackling with tiny arcs of arcane energy. It looked like he was preparing a spell after all.

Before the conflict could ignite further, a sharp crack echoed through the hall—louder than thunder, yet not painful to the ear. It was the unmistakable sound of Solus clapping his hands together, augmented by magic. In that clap was authority, soaked in calm yet unquestionable power.

All movement halted. The very air seemed to momentarily crystallize; motes of dust hung suspended in the shafts of afternoon light. Bofri and the elf found themselves quite literally frozen mid-motion, eyes wide, jaws slack, as if time around them had paused.

Every patron felt it: a gentle compulsion to stillness and peace. Even Hestia's restless foot-tapping ceased. Shion, who had half-risen to perhaps physically separate the quarreling parties, blinked in surprise to find her body relaxing instead.

Solus stepped forward into the center of the room, his expression kind but firm. "This is a house of laughter and solace," he spoke, his voice resonating in the silence. "Not of violence. All grievances here are solved with words or good-natured contests—never with wrath."

He reached out both hands, palms outward. Tendrils of greenish light, playful and gentle, emanated and touched Bofri and the elf. Their rigid stances eased as the spell holding them dissipated. Both looked chagrined, as if waking from a bad dream to realize their folly.

The elf bowed first, an elegant bend at the waist. "My apologies, Master Dwarf. I overreacted in protecting my tome."

Bofri coughed and stared at his boots, shuffling. "Ahh, sorry for blowin' me top. I thought ye tried to hex me. And, uh, sorry fer your book."

Solus smiled and gave a gracious nod as both parties sheepishly returned to their seats. A crisis averted with minimal harm—and a touch of humor. The daisies still lay scattered on the floor, and with a snap, Solus transformed them into tiny firefly-like sprites that danced upward, eliciting cheers from a few watching spirits in the rafters.

As chatter gradually resumed, Hestia sighed in relief. "Phew! Nice save. For a second I thought we'd have a full-on godly brawl like an uproarious divine party."

Li Xue observed Solus as he returned behind the bar, noticing how the lines of concentration on his brow smoothed out. "His cultivation… is profound," she murmured appreciatively, using her world's term for spiritual attainment. She made a mental note of the technique he used—some fusion of power and gentle intent to pacify conflict. It spoke of millennia of wisdom.

Artoria looked around the tavern and nodded. "This could have turned far uglier anywhere else. I've seen royal banquets descend into chaos over less. But here… it's as if even strife is compelled to wear a smiling face."

Orihime picked up a stray daisy sprite that had landed on the table in front of her. It tickled her palm before floating off to join the others. She smiled softly. "I'm glad. Everyone here… it feels like we're becoming friends, even if we're all so different. I didn't want to see anyone get hurt."

Her words garnered gentle smiles from the others. In that moment of unity, Shion raised her tankard of juice (Solus had tactfully only served her non-alcoholic drinks after she nearly started on the dwarves' ale). "I'd like to make a toast!" she declared.

The table lifted their cups in curiosity. Shion's golden eyes shimmered with genuine emotion. "To Solus, for bringing us all together and feeding us such wonderful food. And to new friends—may we share many more meals and laughs and maybe a few fights together rather than against each other!"

Hestia giggled and clinked her teacup against Shion's mug. "Hear hear! Cheers!"

"Cheers," Artoria echoed, a small but sincere smile on her face as she raised her own glass of spring water.

Orihime joined, her heart swelling with warmth. Li Xue raised her porcelain cup with a graceful nod, eyes closed in contentment.

From behind the bar, Solus took up his own cup of tea and bowed his head appreciatively as they all drank in unison. Moments like this were the lifeblood of his tavern.

As the day wore on, the crowd eventually thinned slightly. Many of the morning's curious newcomers departed to spread word or attend to their own affairs with promises to return. By late afternoon, the tavern was mostly filled just with familiar faces again—the five women who had gathered around Solus from such distant corners of existence, and a few others quietly chatting or napping by the hearth.

Sunset approached, the skylight now painting the tavern in hues of amber and rose. Solus took a moment to rest, leaning on the bar and watching his core group interact more informally. Hestia was teaching Orihime a jaunty tavern song (despite only learning it herself an hour ago from a wandering bard—her divine memory made the lyrics stick). Orihime giggled through the unfamiliar verses, occasionally clapping off beat but enjoying herself thoroughly. Artoria was out of her armor now, having finally let herself relax; she sat with Li Xue by the window, the two quietly comparing philosophies of leadership—King Arthur and Immortal Sage finding shared ground in the burdens they carried. Shion was happily polishing the last plate clean from dinner, which she volunteered to do claiming experience as an assistant chef; she hummed an orcish lullaby while stacking dishes, occasionally sneaking glances at Solus as if ensuring she was being helpful.

Solus felt a pang of emotion seeing how quickly these strangers had formed a camaraderie. Less than a day together and yet it was as though they had known each other much longer. He sensed bonds of friendship—and perhaps the budding seeds of deeper attachment—taking root. It both gladdened and unsettled him. To bring joy was his mission, but could he sustain it if attachments grew too deep? His gaze lingered on each of them: the gentle human, the exuberant goddess, the valiant knight, the devoted ogress, and the wise immortal. All drawn to him and this hearth he'd lit. Did they realize, he wondered, how precious they already were to him in return?

Lost in thought, Solus almost missed when Li Xue turned from her conversation and looked at him, her jade eyes studying his face with perceptive calm. "Solus," she said softly, beckoning him over to join them by the window. Her tone was courteous but carried a note of concern. The others quieted, sensing something serious in her voice.

Solus approached. "Yes, Lady Li Xue?"

She inclined her head slightly. "Forgive me if this is forward, but I wished to thank you again for intervening earlier. And to ask: do you maintain a barrier around this sanctuary? I ask because…" She paused, choosing her words. "While you diffused that conflict, I felt a tremor. A quiver in the boundary of reality here. It was brief, but I have long experience noticing the subtle shifts of realms."

Artoria's brows knitted. She hadn't noticed, but she trusted Li Xue's mystical attunement. "Is there cause for worry?" the knight asked, looking between Li Xue and Solus.

Solus's face remained serene, but inwardly he recalled his own concerns from the night before. He would not lie to these people. "The tavern is warded by very strong magic," he explained. "However, you are correct, Li Xue. Such an outpouring of power even for a moment—" he sighed quietly, "—it can create ripples. I noticed it as well. The walls between worlds are thinner in this nexus by design. That is how travelers pass through. But a shock or misuse of power here could, in theory, cause a… tear."

Orihime set down her teacup, eyes widening. "A tear? Like a rip between worlds? That sounds dangerous."

Hestia pursed her lips, trying to imagine it. "It'd be like if the gate to heaven got stuck open—yikes, lots of things that shouldn't mix would mix."

Shion approached, drying her hands on her apron. "If it's dangerous, maybe we should have some rules? I mean, like a sign." She pointed to an empty wall near the door. "At my lord's place we have rules like 'Don't anger the dragon' and stuff—maybe here something like 'No fighting or you'll break the universe'?" She grinned, half-joking to lift the mood.

Solus chuckled softly. "Not a bad idea." With a wave of his hand, golden script began to etch itself on a polished wooden plaque by the door. It read:

Welcome to The Laughing Throne

1. Check your weapons and wrath at the door.

2. Any quarrels must be settled by contests of wit or will, not violence.

3. Respect the house and your fellow guests, for all are under the tavern's protection.

4. Drink, laugh, and learn freely.

5. By entering, you agree: what happens at the Throne, stays at the Throne (mostly).

A collective laugh arose as everyone read the humorous yet pointed rules. "That last one, oho!" Hestia cackled. "I like number five. Though I'll definitely be telling my kids something about this place when I get back, I can't possibly keep this all secret."

Solus smiled, the levity returning. "The intent is more that troubles from outside remain outside, and what troubles or joys are born here do not upset the realms beyond." He tapped the plaque and the letters glowed once, sealing the enchantment in place.

Li Xue nodded approvingly. "Wise. Those rules carry power in themselves, set by the master of the house. They will help anchor the balance."

The afternoon drifted into a pleasant evening. Some guests left, others came and went, but the core group stayed together, enjoying one another's company. None felt any hurry to depart—each finding something they needed here: companionship, understanding, or simply a respite from their burdens.

As twilight fell and the first stars appeared through the skylight, Solus began lighting the lanterns for the evening rush (if one would come). Orihime had just started to hum the tune Hestia taught her while arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers Solus had brought out, when the door opened yet again, admitting a new face—a tall, elegant woman with impossibly long scarlet hair and piercing eyes like molten silver. She wore ornate crimson armor and moved with a predatory grace as she took in the tavern scene.

Hestia's breath hitched. She recognized that imposing beauty at once. "Freya…" she whispered under her breath, instinctively tensing.

The others looked curiously. Solus straightened, sensing an immediate intensity from the newcomer. This goddess—he could tell she was a goddess by the overwhelming aura of allure and authority—radiated power and desire in equal measure. And by the sudden protective step Hestia took in front of Orihime, he surmised this might be a complicated guest.

But that encounter, charged with divine obsession and challenge, would mark another chapter of this tale. For now, Solus greeted the new arrival with the same courtesy and charm, even as he braced himself internally. The day of Divine FOMO was not quite over, and The Laughing Throne's greatest trials—and triumphs—still lay ahead, entwined with the fates of all who had gathered under its mirthful roof. The warm laughter and newfound kinship of the morning and afternoon would soon face tests as twilight deepened, heralding the next act in this unfolding multiversal tapestry.

Interlude I: Whispers in the Void

In the quiet after midnight, The Laughing Throne fell into a gentle hush. Orihime, Hestia, and Artoria had retired to cozy guest rooms upstairs—rooms that had materialized just when Solus beckoned the staircase to reveal them. Now only the soft crackle of dying embers and the distant tick-tock of an unseen clock kept company with the tavern keeper.

Solus stood at the center of the empty tavern hall, a dishrag in hand as he slowly polished the surface of a table already gleaming. It was a contented, meditative gesture rather than one of necessity. He felt the echoes of laughter from earlier still dancing in the air. The first night had been beyond his expectations—three extraordinary souls under his roof, sharing freely of themselves. A small smile graced his lips.

Yet, with joy often came a pang of caution. As an ancient being, Solus knew well that when a bright star flares into existence, it draws many eyes—some benevolent, some covetous. He could not shake a feeling that in welcoming such remarkable guests, he had also kindled a beacon in the multiverse.

He walked to the great oval mirror on the wall, which now shimmered faintly with a silver-blue light. Solus placed a hand upon its frame, and the surface rippled at his touch, responding to his unspoken command. Within the mirror's depths, visions began to flicker—glimpses of far-flung realms and the ones who might soon find their way to the Throne.

In one vision, he saw a tranquil night under twin moons. A woman sat in meditation by a pond lotus garden, her long robes of white and gold arranged in perfect elegance. Though her eyes were closed, Solus sensed they hid immeasurable loneliness. As a gentle breeze rustled the bamboo around her, a faint sound of laughter echoed across the water, like a pebble dropped in a still lake. The woman's dark lashes fluttered open. She gazed at the moon's reflection in the pond, but for an instant, she saw instead the reflection of a tavern's lantern light. Intrigued, the celestial cultivator—Li Xue, as Solus somehow knew her name—rose to her feet, the night mist coiling around her. The vision faded as she took a step towards the unknown call, determination and curiosity alight in her eyes.

Another ripple in the mirror revealed a far more chaotic scene: a bustling dining hall filled with an assortment of orcs, goblins, and lizardfolk feasting noisily. At the center stood a towering woman with vibrant purple hair and horn-like protrusions on her forehead. She wore an apron over a warrior's attire and wielded a ladle as if it were a weapon commanding respect. This was Shion, an ogre-turned-kijin chef of sorts, and she was fiercely scolding a group of trembling goblins who dared to complain about her latest stew concoction. As Shion turned in a huff, her ladle accidentally sliced through the very fabric of reality behind her—a nearly invisible tear, just a few inches long, opening into a void sparkling with stars. Through that crack wafted the savory aroma of the Laughing Throne's kitchen, a far more delectable scent than Shion's own stew. Shion sniffed, her violet eyes widening as she caught the scent. "Is someone else cooking?" she murmured to herself, stepping closer to the anomaly with curiosity, completely forgetting her irritated lecture. The goblins exchanged confused glances. Before Shion could poke the strange opening further, the vision blurred and dissolved.

The mirror's surface swirled once more, showing brief fragments of other reactions across realities: in quick succession, Solus glimpsed disparate reactions across existence: high above Orario, a red-haired trickster god paused mid-flight, feeling a cosmic ripple and grinning to himself in mischief; in a secret laboratory beneath a modern city, a white-robed figure with glasses peered at instruments spiking with unknown energy, his eyes narrowed in intrigue; and atop a throne of skulls in a forsaken realm, a shadowed being clenched a bone armrest, disturbed as cracks formed in the gloom from a sudden surge of joy penetrating his dark domain.

Then all images faded back into the mirror's usual starry sheen. Solus removed his hand, the connection severed. He closed his eyes, processing what he had seen. A mirthful spark danced at the edge of his awareness—likely more guests, drawn by need or sheer curiosity, would soon arrive. Perhaps as soon as the next day. Perhaps even powerful beings who normally stayed isolated in their own territories.

Solus breathed in deeply. He felt excitement for the new stories that would walk through his door, but also a tremor of apprehension. Every new soul would bring their own desires, their own longings. Could the tavern truly accommodate them all without conflict? He thought of Orihime's gentle resilience, Hestia's earnest affection, Artoria's noble sorrow. Already he cared for them, in the protective way a guardian might. How would they mingle with those yet to come?

For a moment, Solus allowed himself vulnerability. His hand, steady during battle or revelry, trembled just slightly as he rested it on the back of a chair. "Let this not become a curse," he whispered to the silent room, the words nearly lost under the crackle of the hearth. In ancient days, he had seen joy turn to tragedy when too many desires collided. The very idea of a Cult of Mirth flickered darkly in his mind—devotion twisted into obsession—though he quickly pushed the thought away. That path was not fated, not if he could help it.

A gentle chiming drifted down from above: the old clock declaring the hour. Solus straightened and banished his doubts with a soft chuckle to himself. "One step at a time," he murmured. This night, at least, had been pure and good.

As he moved to bank the fire for the night, Solus cast one last glance toward the stairs where his guests slept soundly in their dreams. With a tender smile, he whispered an incantation under his breath, ancient and melodious. A subtle wave of protective energy swept through the tavern, reinforcing its walls and the space around it—no unwelcome entity would find this place tonight.

Outside, beyond the tavern's door, the infinite tapestry of stars shimmered on. In the stillness, if one listened closely, there was the faintest echo of laughter carried on the cosmic winds—laughter from tonight's fellowship, lingering in the void as a beacon. And far away in their own realms, those who heard that echo found themselves drawn, ever so gently, toward its source.

Solus dimmed the lanterns with a thought, and The Laughing Throne surrendered itself to the peaceful dark. Tomorrow would bring a new dawn and with it, new visitors. For now, all was quiet and right in this little pocket between worlds.

The Monarch of Mirth closed his eyes, and for the first time in centuries—perhaps millennia—he felt a sense of home as he kept watch through the night, the guardian of laughter and solace at the crossroads of creation.

Act II: Divine FOMO

Chapter 2: The Gods Come Thirsty

Morning light that did not belong to any single sun filtered through the tavern's enchanted skylight, rousing Orihime with its gentle glow. She stirred in her four-poster bed, momentarily disoriented by the luxurious feather pillows and the unfamiliar wooden ceiling overhead. Then memory flooded back: The Laughing Throne, Solus's kind eyes, Hestia's laughter, Artoria's noble presence. It had not been a dream after all.

Orihime sat up and stretched. A soft lavender quilt slipped from her shoulders. She realized she was dressed in a simple cotton nightgown she didn't recall putting on. Did the tavern… change my clothes for me? she wondered with mild embarrassment, hoping it had been some delicate magic and not poor Solus having to do it. Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

A gentle knock came at her door. "Miss Orihime? Are you awake?" It was Artoria's voice, polite and composed even through the wooden door.

"Yes! I'm up," Orihime called back. She swung her feet onto the warm rug and hurried to open the door. Artoria stood there in full armor already, looking as put-together as if she had not just emerged from sleep. Orihime marveled—did the King of Knights even relax?

Artoria offered a small smile. "Good morning. I was about to go downstairs. Lady Hestia is already in the main hall—apparently drawn by the smell of breakfast."

At that cue, Orihime's stomach rumbled. She realized she hadn't eaten since the feast last night—though that had been plentiful, the memory of fresh bread and stew made her mouth water anew. "I'll join you. Just a moment!" She hastily brushed her hair with a carved ivory comb she found on the bedside table (another considerate provision of the tavern, no doubt), and tied it back with her hairpins, including the silver feather Solus had gifted her. She changed quickly back into her school uniform—neatly laundered and folded at the foot of her bed.

When Orihime and Artoria descended the staircase together, they found Hestia at the bar counter, perched on a stool and cheerfully swinging her legs. The goddess was devouring what looked like a stack of blueberry pancakes drizzled with honey. "Morning, you two!" Hestia chirped, waving her fork. "You've gotta try these, they're to die for! Solus called them pancakes—like little flat cakes for breakfast. Who knew!"

On cue, Solus emerged from the kitchen door, carrying two more plates stacked high with the fluffy treats. He wore a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the gracious innkeeper. "Good morning, Orihime, Artoria," he greeted warmly. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you," Artoria responded, inclining her head. "This place… it grants a peace I have not felt in a long time." There was a faint amazement in her voice, as if she too was surprised by how deeply she'd rested.

Orihime nodded in agreement and added, "I had wonderful dreams. Thank you for the lovely room, Solus."

He smiled, setting the plates before the two newcomers at the bar. "It's my pleasure. Consider it a small reward for making the grand opening night so special." He gestured to the pancakes. "Please, enjoy. And there's tea or juice as you prefer."

As Orihime took her first bite, her eyes practically sparkled. "Mmm! They're so fluffy!" She savored the burst of berry sweetness. Beside her, Artoria was already cutting into her stack with composed efficiency, but the way her eyes softened and nearly closed at the taste was a dead giveaway to her bliss.

Hestia giggled, watching Artoria. "It's good, right? I've never had this on Earth or in Orario. I could get used to mortal world food if it's this great every morning."

Artoria swallowed and cleared her throat gently, trying to resume a dignified posture despite a drop of syrup on the corner of her mouth. "It is excellent," she admitted. Then, noticing Hestia's mischievous look at the syrup, Artoria flushed and wiped her lip with a napkin.

Solus leaned on the counter, contentment evident as he watched his guests relish the meal. "I have many recipes collected from various worlds. The tavern enjoys providing a hearty breakfast."

Orihime was about to ask how a tavern could "enjoy" anything when suddenly the front door swung open with a bang, startling them. A figure practically fell into the tavern, drawn in as if propelled by a whirlwind.

"I smell it! Where is it?!" came a frantic, feminine voice. Over by the door, a tall woman with lilac-purple hair—wild and flowing past her waist—was sniffing the air like a bloodhound. A single black horn jutted from the side of her forehead, and her golden eyes were alight with desperation. She wore an armored vest over a white blouse now wrinkled from apparent travel, and in her hand she clutched a massive sword that gleamed with an ominous violet aura. Despite her fearsome entrance, her current expression was one of near-tearful yearning.

All eyes at the bar turned toward the newcomer. Solus straightened, recognizing her from his mirror's vision—Shion, the ogress from another realm. He quickly stepped forward, raising a hand in a calming gesture. "Welcome to The Laughing Throne," he said gently. "Please, be at ease—"

But Shion's nose led her unerringly not to Solus, but to Artoria's plate. In a flash, the tall woman was at Artoria's side, looming over the seated knight. Artoria's hand instinctively went to her invisible sword, unsure if this was an attack. Orihime squeaked in surprise.

Shion inhaled deeply over Artoria's breakfast, eyes wide. "That smell… that fluffy round thing… I must have it!" she declared.

Artoria blinked in astonishment as this stranger leaned over her, eyeing the pancakes. "Pardon me—" Artoria began, slightly indignant at the intrusion.

Solus quickly grabbed a spare plate and, with a subtle wave of his fingers, a fresh stack of pancakes manifested upon it, steaming hot. "Miss Shion, perhaps you would like your own serving?" he offered, his tone kindly but with enough volume to draw Shion's attention.

"Own… serving?" Shion turned and finally fully registered the surroundings. She saw Solus behind the bar with the plate of pancakes held out invitingly. She also noticed the others now: Hestia watching with open-mouthed amusement, Orihime peering nervously yet kindly at her, and Artoria beside her, who though startled, was eyeing Shion with measured caution. Shion realized she might have come off as threatening. At once, she stood straight and gave an apologetic bow—one so deep it was almost comical given her tall stature. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. It's just—" She peeked up, blushing slightly in embarrassment, "—I haven't eaten anything decent in days. I've been wandering some weird space between worlds, and suddenly I smelled the best scent ever. I just followed my nose and… ended up here." She looked around curiously now, taking in the tavern's homely interior and the friendly faces.

Solus' face lit with understanding. "No offense taken at all. We're glad you found us. Here, please, eat." He set the pancakes on a table and pulled out a chair.

Shion needed no further invitation. She practically bounded to the table and sat down, her sword clanging as she propped it against the chair. In seconds, she devoured a whole pancake in one bite, eyes shimmering with happiness. "Sho good!" she mumbled through a mouthful, then had the grace to swallow before laughing. "I mean—so good! By my ancestors, this is heavenly compared to my cooking!"

Hestia hopped off her stool and came over, grinning widely. "Hi there! I'm Hestia. And I can totally relate—Solus's cooking is amazing." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Honestly, I usually burn everything except potatoes."

Shion laughed, a booming cheerful sound that rattled the plates. "You cook too? I'm Shion! I'm sort of a chef for my lord's army, but they… um… complain a lot about it." She sweatdropped slightly, scratching her cheek. "I try my best, but maybe I put too much love into the food, and it kind of, well, becomes special."

Orihime, who had come to stand by Hestia, offered a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Shion. I'm Orihime. If you ever want to trade recipes, I know a few interesting ones." She recalled her own rather unique culinary tastes (like red bean paste on fish pancakes) and thought Shion might appreciate them.

Shion's eyes lit up. "Oh! You like to cook too, Orihime? That's wonderful!" She clapped her hands together eagerly. "Maybe later we can make something for everyone together! I'd love to learn new recipes and show you mine."

Behind Orihime, Artoria carefully relaxed her defensive stance, convinced now that this ogress meant no harm—at least not intentionally. She stood and gave a polite nod. "I am Artoria Pendragon. Well met, Lady Shion. I apologize for my initial wariness. We've had… many surprises."

Shion waved a hand, nearly dropping her fork in doing so. "No need to apologize! I basically barged in, haha. Nice to meet all of you." She then eyed Artoria more closely—particularly her armor and sword hilt. "Pendragon? That sounds familiar. Are you a warrior?"

Artoria's lips twitched in faint amusement. "You could say that. In my homeland I was a knight… and a king."

Shion's jaw dropped, a bit of syrup dribbling down her chin. "A king?! So cool!" Immediately she swallowed and thumped a fist to her chest in salute. "You have my respect! I was the leader of my own warrior clan once, before we joined my lord Rimuru's alliance. So I know something of leadership too—though I was more like a bodyguard."

As Shion and Artoria engaged in a newfound camaraderie over battle tales, Hestia tugged on Orihime's sleeve and whispered, "She's so tall! And that horn… Do you think she's part unicorn?" Orihime stifled a giggle at the absurd but innocent question.

Meanwhile, Solus quietly observed the lively interactions with a satisfied heart. Each new arrival brought unique energy, yet the warmth of the tavern seemed to weave them together in harmony. He had a feeling even more would come soon—his mirror's glimpses were rarely wrong.

Sure enough, as Shion finished her fifth pancake (outpacing even Artoria's appetite, which was an impressive feat), another presence made itself known. This time, the tavern door opened without drama—indeed, it was a gentle, almost ceremonial opening. A cool breeze wafted in, carrying the scent of jasmine and morning dew.

On the threshold stood a woman of ethereal beauty and bearing. She appeared perhaps in her mid-twenties, yet an ageless aura clung to her like morning mist. Clad in flowing robes of white trimmed with gold filigree, she held a jade staff topped with a ring of golden leaves. Her black hair was long and pinned up with silver ornaments shaped like blossoms, and a delicate sheer veil hung around her shoulders. Her eyes, a deep sage green, surveyed the tavern with composed curiosity.

Shion, mouth full, paused and hastily gulped down her bite upon seeing the newcomer. Even boisterous Hestia fell silent, sensing a certain gravitas about this stranger. Orihime felt as if a revered shrine maiden or princess had entered. Artoria, ever sensitive to aura, recognized in this woman the grace of a ruler and the power of someone who had communed with the heavens.

Solus stepped forward, offering a respectful bow. "Welcome, honored traveler. Please, be at ease in this humble tavern."

The woman gave a small smile and inclined her head in return. When she spoke, her voice was soft, each word precise and elegant. "Greetings. I am Li Xue of the Azure Immortal Peak." She stepped inside fully, the door closing gently behind her as if even it dared not make a sound in her presence. "I have heard laughter carried on the winds of the void, and followed it to this place. Is it true that here one may find companionship… and perhaps enlightenment, among those not of one's world?"

Her question carried a genuine, if guarded, hope. Solus noticed how her fingers lightly gripped her staff, knuckles just barely tense. Though outwardly serene, Li Xue was clearly bracing herself for the unknown.

He gave her his warmest smile. "It is true, Lady Li Xue. The Laughing Throne welcomes all who seek fellowship and solace. We share food, drink, stories… and perhaps wisdom too, as fate allows."

Li Xue exhaled softly, as if she had been holding her breath. She allowed a bit more warmth into her smile. "Then I humbly accept your hospitality."

Solus gestured to the others. "May I introduce our current guests? Here we have Hestia, goddess of the hearth; Orihime Inoue from a realm called Earth; Artoria Pendragon, a knight and monarch from distant lands; and Shion of the Jura Tempest Federation."

Each woman nodded or greeted Li Xue in turn. Hestia gave a little energetic wave. Orihime bowed politely. Artoria placed a hand over her heart in a knightly salute. Shion grinned, a spot of syrup still on her cheek.

Li Xue's eyes alighted on each with interest. "Well met. I am honored to be among such distinguished company." She moved with gliding steps to join them at the larger table that Solus began to rapidly set with fresh tea and delicate rice cakes that he knew would appeal to her palate.

As they all gathered around—now five remarkable women plus Solus at the head of the table—it truly felt like a pantheon of personalities. Over the next hour, the tavern was filled with a cacophony of conversation and laughter. Stories were exchanged more freely as morning turned to midday:

• Li Xue spoke of cultivation and the thousand-year journey she undertook to ascend to immortality, recounting battles with demons and debates with sages. She did so with humble modesty, though the sheer feats left Orihime and Hestia gawking in awe. Shion animatedly described the unique creatures of her world—spirits, demons, even talking wolves—often going on tangents about her beloved lord and his exploits until Hestia teased that Shion sounded like a proud mother bragging about her child. That jab made Shion sputter indignantly, which only caused everyone to laugh more. Hestia bragged in turn about her Familia's recent growth, prompting Artoria to ask curious questions about what it meant for a goddess to live among mortals. Li Xue listened intently to Hestia's answers, relating it to her own experiences guiding mortal cultivators toward enlightenment. Feeling the warm acceptance, Artoria recounted more personal tales of her Knights of the Round Table and even shared a rare lighthearted anecdote: how one of her knights would tease her with dreadful puns during feasts, proving that even the solemn King Arthur had endured a bit of courtly humor. Orihime giggled, imagining the regal Artoria groaning at a pun, the image delightfully humanizing.

Finally, encouraged by all these stories, Orihime spoke of modern Japan's peaceful daily life which sounded like paradise to those from war-torn or ancient worlds. She described school exams and summer festivals, her eyes shining as she mentioned her dear friends from home. Though she omitted her deepest secrets, the glimpse of a normal life fascinated her listeners, and Li Xue in particular seemed charmed by the idea of festival fireworks painting the night sky.