Evening arrived.
"To the marriage of Gienel and Mettora—cheers!"
With that toast, the wedding reception began.
The celebration spanned the first-floor hall and the courtyard of the Village Head’s Mansion. Tables were packed into every available space, groaning under the weight of massive quantities of food and alcohol. Aside from the seats of honor reserved for Gienel and Mettora, the seating was entirely open. Guests were free to sit where they liked or simply mingle while they ate. For the most part, it followed the same casual style as our usual village banquets.
The guest list had grown considerably with the addition of residents from the other villages who hadn't been able to attend the actual ceremony, but this was Mettora's big day, so the more, the merrier.
Since spring had only just begun, we were still facing a slight shortage of fresh ingredients, but the High Ogre Maids’ hard work ensured the menu was anything but inferior. The members of the Post-Age of Gods Dragon Race, who weren't accustomed to our village’s cuisine, were eating with a look of single-minded devotion.
The groom, Gienel, looked like he was quite interested in the food as well, but as the man of the hour, he rarely found a moment to actually eat. He was constantly surrounded by people offering their congratulations. I made a mental note to have a plate set aside for him to enjoy later.
In the center of the venue stood an enormous wedding cake—eight tiers high. The Fairy Queen and the children were already circling it in a state of high excitement. I was pretty sure they’d eaten their fill of the prototype cakes during the testing phase, but I suppose the real thing carried a special allure. I had previously instructed them that the bride and groom were to be the first to taste it, so they hadn't touched it yet, but the pressure was visible.
I pulled aside one of the Civil Official Girls managing the event and asked her to adjust the schedule so the cake could be served sooner rather than later.
I also spared a thought for the chickens. They usually had the run of the courtyard, but we’d herded them to the far edge for the reception. I’d have to give them some sort of reward once this was over—perhaps a generous serving of leafy greens.
Still, those chickens were remarkably obedient when the High Ogre Maids or the Beastman girls spoke to them. It was a bit frustrating; they rarely listened when I was the one asking them to move.
On a side note, Dos and the other dragons had insisted on covering the costs for both the wedding and the reception. I had initially told them it wasn't necessary, but they countered that one should never be stingy when it comes to a celebration. They told me to bill them without hesitation, so I intended to do exactly that. Though, knowing us, the final invoice would probably still be well below the standard market rate as a courtesy.
In a quiet corner of the bustling venue, Yoko and Niz were speaking with Dos. They were discussing that mysterious "Voice of God" from the ceremony.
As it turned out, when the Age of Gods Dragon Race gathered in significant numbers to roar, it functioned as an emergency signal to the heavens—a divine SOS. By extension, it was technically the "Roar of the Beginning of the End of the World." The ancient decree for the dragons not to gather unnecessarily was specifically intended to prevent such false alarms.
Unfortunately, by Dos’s generation, the lore had been watered down to a mere "don't gather for no reason." No one had mentioned that their blessing would trigger an apocalypse siren.
"At any rate, gathering in human form is perfectly fine," Yoko explained.
"But please, be extremely careful when you are in your dragon forms," Niz added.
The two of them looked exhausted. Apparently, they had been contacted by a Higher God—one even more powerful than the Fox or Snake Gods—and told to explain the situation since the dragons had clearly forgotten their own history.
Once they finished their lecture, I encouraged them to forget their stress and enjoy the feast.
Dos, for his part, didn't seem particularly bothered. Since he hadn't known, he figured there was no use crying over spilled milk. He’d just be more careful next time. He actually felt lucky to have heard the Voice of God. In his mind, the blame lay entirely with his ancestors for failing to pass down the instructions properly.
With that logic firmly in place, he went right back to enjoying his sake and food. He wasn't the type to sweat the small stuff. Come to think of it, Hakuren and Rusty were much the same. I suppose that's just how members of the Age of Gods Dragon Race are.
I wondered if it was really okay to be that casual about it. Yoko and Niz had mentioned that the gods were in a total panic when the alarm went off. Then again, the voice did offer a blessing to the newlyweds, so perhaps it had worked out in the end.
On another topic, there was the matter of the Ice Monster. He had been able to move freely while the Voice of God was sounding, even though almost everyone else had been frozen in place.
The reason? He was used to it.
As it happened, the Ice Monster had witnessed the dragons calling upon the gods many times before. Apparently, this occurred during their winter mahjong sessions. Dos, Giral, and Draim would "change the atmosphere" to establish a divine link whenever they were playing.
"They had the gods help them read their opponents' hand patterns based on the discarded tiles," the Ice Monster revealed.
"They’d ask for a divine analysis of whether a one-tile was safe against a three-five discard gap..."
"Or they'd be told that sometimes declaring riichi immediately upon reaching tenpai and pushing every tile without folding is a surprisingly strong strategy..."
I stared at them. What on earth were they consulting the gods about?
And if the Ice Monster had grown accustomed to the sensation, that meant they were doing this frequently. I hadn't noticed at the time, but had every one of their games been accompanied by a divine phenomenon like the one at the wedding?
"No, it was much more low-key," the Ice Monster explained. "They were in human form, and when they got stuck on a difficult discard, they’d just cry out, 'Oh God, help me!' and the other side would actually respond. I was shocked at first, but after a while, it just became casual chatter."
I see.
However, if they were talking to the gods that often, I wondered why the topic of the "Apocalypse Roar" had never come up. I suppose even the gods assumed the dragons knew their own traditions.
Wait a minute. If the Ice Monster was used to it, then Dos and the others should have been used to it too. Why were they frozen during the ceremony?
When I asked, Giral and Draim admitted they didn't know why they could hear the Voice of God so clearly that time, but they realized they’d probably messed something up, so they figured it was best to stay perfectly still and play dumb.
So this was the Age of Gods Dragon Race. I truly felt the weight of their heritage—and realized just how much they were like Hakuren’s side of the family.
"Hey! That’s uncalled for!" Hakuren protested, but I let the thought stand. The blood of their clan certainly ran thick.
As I chatted further with Dos, I learned that the catalyst for all this divine communication was actually the shrine in Village Five. The gods were so delighted by the sudden surge in faith that they had become much more responsive. Apparently, they found it easier to talk to the dragons than to the Saint, who had become somewhat harder to reach lately.
Dos was one thing, but I really wished the gods wouldn't respond to mahjong prayers so easily. Regardless, I decided I’d build an altar after the reception to offer a formal apology for all the noise we’d caused.
For now, though, I had to focus on the party.
It was time for the "first joint task." Gienel and Mettora stepped forward to perform the cake cutting on the eight-tiered masterpiece. Since no such custom existed in this world, I had been the one to suggest it. Mettora seemed genuinely touched by the idea of their first symbolic act of cooperation as a married couple.
Once the ceremonial cut was made, the High Ogre Maids took over, carving the cake into portions to be distributed to the guests. The Fairy Queen and the children were making a ruckus, arguing over which piece was larger or which one had more fruit.
I had worried that even eight tiers wouldn't be enough for the entire crowd, but then four more six-tiered cakes appeared. The maids had anticipated the demand. With the supply now seemingly endless, the children and the Fairy Queen were overjoyed at the prospect of second helpings.
I was glad they were happy, but in that moment, I really wished they’d spend a little more time celebrating the actual marriage.