I prepared a large table in the manor's hall and took my seat.
"I hereby convene the reflection meeting for the First Great Tree Village Martial Arts Tournament."
One of the Civil Official Girls made the formal announcement, acting as the master of ceremonies.
Seated around the table were the representatives of each race, the Civil Official Girls from the Festival Executive Committee, and the High Ogre Maids who had handled the catering and logistics.
"First and foremost... thank you all for your hard work during the tournament."
Everyone voiced their mutual appreciation.
"The festival itself can be considered a success. However, there were certainly some hiccups. I hope we can reflect on those issues today and apply what we learn to next year’s festivities."
The meeting proceeded with brisk efficiency. Since we had already discussed most points during the preliminary wrap-up, there weren't many surprises. It felt more like a formal report for the sake of the record.
"Our failure to anticipate outside guests was a significant oversight. We really should have planned for it."
I had been too focused on the idea of a private event for the residents. That was my mistake.
"On the other hand, it was a good thing that Galf and the others from Howlin Village, as well as the Lamia race, joined in on short notice."
I had to agree with that. When it's just the villagers, we generally know each other's styles and strength levels, which makes it easy to predict the outcome before a fight even begins. Having participants whose true power was an unknown variable definitely added to the excitement.
Speaking of unknown power...
"By the way, those two are called 'Bulga of the Frenzied Feast' and 'Stifano of the Jet-black Spear,' right?"
Dos and the other dragons had mentioned those titles.
"It seems so," one of the Civil Official Girls replied. "Those names appeared in a collection of fairy tales the maids used to read to us when we were little. Perhaps they were named after the characters."
The other girls nodded in agreement.
"Fairy tales?"
"Yes. They are very famous stories in the Demon King's Territory. The characters are demons serving the Great Devil Gucci, and they do things like fight against imperial armies or kidnap princesses."
Those were certainly names I had heard before, but...
"It’s a long-running series with many volumes. However, almost every book ends the same way: with the characters being thoroughly punished by a dragon alongside the Great Devil Gucci."
Punished by a dragon, huh? Fairy tales are often based on historical facts. I made a mental note to ask the two of them about it next time we spoke.
"You don't think they might actually be the individuals from the stories?"
"The actual people? Surely not."
"Do you have a reason for doubting it?"
"Well, for one, Ms. Bulga and Ms. Stifano are very kind people. It's hard to imagine them doing the terrible things the characters in the stories do."
"...That's true. It's more natural to assume they were simply named after them."
"Exactly. Besides, it's quite common for famous people to take names from literature or folklore. It makes their reputation for strength or intimidation easy to understand."
"I see."
That made sense. That was the logical conclusion. Why had I assumed they were the literal characters from the stories?
Maybe because I felt they were stronger than they let on. And usually, when people adopt a namesake, they don't pick something completely opposite to their actual personality. Still, neither of them had actually won the tournament, so perhaps they weren't quite that powerful? Maybe it really was just a naming thing.
"We've gotten off track. Let's get back to the reflection... How was the food?"
At my question, one of the High Ogre Maids raised her hand.
"Everything was well-received, but the quality didn't differ much from the meals we serve daily. I feel we lacked items that provided a true 'festival' atmosphere."
She had a point. I had agonized over how to create food that felt like it belonged at a festival. To me, festivals meant food stalls, and the quintessential stall food was... apple candy.
Apples coated in a hard sugar glaze. However, my attempt with our standard sweet apples fell flat. It just didn't work. I realized I needed tart apples for the balance to be right. I decided then and there that I would grow some sour apple trees specifically for this purpose.
I had tried strawberry candy as a substitute, but using sweet strawberries also produced a lackluster result. I could have harvested them before they ripened, but it felt wrong to pick them early just to add sugar back in when they were perfectly capable of becoming sweet on their own.
While I was indecisive, one of the beastkin girls had made a simple suggestion.
"Wouldn't regular candy be fine?"
She was absolutely right. I had gone back to basics and made simple candies, using fruit juice for flavoring. They were a huge hit.
However, I felt a lingering sense of frustration, so I decided to challenge myself with cotton candy. Cotton candy is just sugar, after all. I had seen how the machines worked on TV, so I thought I could replicate it. First, I needed a container for the sugar...
A tin can? I didn't have one.
Since this was just a prototype, I substituted a bamboo tube. I bored numerous small holes into the sides. Next, I needed wire to hang it, but we didn't have that either. I asked Zabuton for some thick thread to use instead.
I tied the thread to the bamboo tube and looked up. I could see the sky.
"Sorry, little one."
I called out to one of Zabuton's children. I asked the spiderling to stretch a line from one point to another and hang the tube for me. It complied immediately.
I poured sugar into the hanging bamboo and set up a bonfire beneath it. The heat was supposed to melt the sugar inside. Once it started liquefying, I twisted the thread to make the tube spin. The centrifugal force would push the melted sugar toward the walls and out through the tiny holes. As the sugar strands hit the air, they would cool into fine threads. All I had to do was catch them on a stick and bunch them up.
That was the plan, at least. However, using a bonfire made temperature control impossible. The sugar that flew out didn't cool; it hit the open flames and caught fire. Total failure.
I recruited Lu to help me, and we tried again using her controlled magical fire. That worked, but I quickly realized why cotton candy machines are usually encased in large tubs. The sugar threads flew everywhere. Even though it was the middle of the day, I ended up having to take a bath to get the stickiness off.
I gave up on the idea for the festival after that. The only successful batch was eaten by Lu, who had also been covered in sugar and forced into the bath with me.
"This is amazing! It's like eating a cloud!"
Her praise was so high that I considered building a proper machine after the festival was over. But then, word of Lu's review reached Tia, Rusty, Hakuren, and Frau. A small crowd gathered, and I ended up covered in sugar again while making enough for everyone. I really wished they had waited until I built the proper machine.
In the end, the only "new" festival food was the candy. The rest of the menu consisted of arrangements made by the High Ogre Maids, but it still felt like an extension of our daily meals. It lacked that special festive spark. It felt more like a large-scale communal feeding.
"We were able to incorporate the ingredients Michael sent, but since we didn't have time to research the proper seasonings, the flavor was a step below our usual standards," the maid added.
I had to agree. It wasn't bad, but the seasoning was definitely a bit crude compared to what we usually ate.
"Normally, a festival is a rare day when people can eat their fill of delicious food. However, in this village, our daily meals are already excellent and plentiful, so the impact is lessened..."
She hit the nail on the head.
"That was due to my own lack of foresight and preparation. Also, I think I fixated too much on sweets."
"Oh, no. The candy was delicious, and the cotton candy—even if it didn't make it to the stalls—was fantastic. And what were those other things? Crepes? Just thinking about that thin bread wrapped around cream and fruit... It was a shame we couldn't produce enough cream to serve them at the festival."
"Ah, right. Thanks. But the people who didn't get to try them are starting to glare, so let's stop there."
"My apologies. Also, we should have been the ones to come up with new menu ideas and propose them to you. We are sorry."
The High Ogre Maid moved to bow, but I stopped her.
"This is a reflection meeting, so it's natural to point out flaws, but let's focus on solutions."
"Solutions, sir?"
"Yes. What would you consider to be food with a 'festival feel'?" I asked the group.
"I suppose dishes you can't eat every day," one person suggested.
"Maybe just making things really big? Size alone makes it feel special."
"In my hometown, we eat preserved foods from the previous year during New Year festivals."
"Harvest festivals usually feature dishes made from whatever was just picked."
"The seafood wasn't bad, was it? I thought the grilled whole Helketch looked quite flashy and festive."
Helketch... that was the squid.
"Oh, if we're talking about that, I think the Buburu simmered-in-shell had a better festival vibe," someone else chimed in.
The Buburu was the turban shell.
"Both of those were seasoned with soy sauce. It really highlights how incredible Ms. Flora’s work has been."
"Speaking of soy sauce, the grilled corn was excellent. We have it for dinner sometimes, but getting a whole cob to yourself feels like a treat."
"I'm telling you, bigger is better. It makes you feel like you've really had a feast."
The opinions kept coming.
"This might not be exactly about the 'feeling' of the food, but I think items that are easy to carry and eat are best. Most people took their food straight to the spectator stands."
That was a valid point.
"The dining area we set up nearby was barely used."
That was a shame, though we did manage to make use of the space in the latter half of the tournament by setting out the buffet there.
"To summarize... we want food that is large, portable, easy to eat, and features soy sauce?"
"I don't think we need to limit ourselves to soy sauce. We have other seasonings."
"Sure, but that smell is irresistible."
"I can't argue with that."
For the time being, the suggestions were recorded on paper.
"Let's wrap up the food discussion for today. I'll think of some new ideas, but it would be a huge help if all of you brainstormed as well. Even just rough ideas are fine. I'm counting on you."
I moved the meeting along to the next topic: the logistical issues of the tournament itself.
"Players didn't show up immediately when called." "It was a bit boring while waiting for the next match." "We should have scheduled specific blocks for recovery time."
We also discussed the unfairness of the "byes" that had occurred.
"Well, that can't be helped with an odd number of people." "We should probably try to recruit exactly the right number of participants next time."
And so it went. It was a long meeting. Still, these discussions are necessary. If we don't understand what worked and what didn't, we can't improve. Not that I had any intention of holding another tournament, mind you.
"I'm already looking forward to next year!" "I'll definitely win the next one!"
The mood in the room made it impossible for me to say otherwise. However, as the Village Head, I have a responsibility to be firm. I had to tell them clearly.
"Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Next year’s festival theme will be decided by a lottery again. It might not be a martial arts tournament at all."
Yes, I stood my ground. I did my best.
"In that case, why don't we just make the martial arts tournament its own separate event?"
"The tournament and a brand-new festival? Next year is going to be so lively!"
Everyone turned their sparkling, expectant eyes toward me.
...
"I—I'll take it under consideration."
I did my best... or at least, I think I did.