Chapter 30. Love & Games Part 3: Decuplets

Chapter 30. Decuplets

I barely managed to brush off the memory of Hela after our chilling encounter.

Still, the haunting image of Galette's death drove me back to my quest for Big Mom, and I hurried toward the Queen's Chamber. However, I found no sign of her there. Instead, several servants who had been tidying up quickly updated me on the current happenings at the Chateau.

"Didn't Galette tell you?" a frantic female servant asked, her voice edged with panic.

"Tell me what?" I asked, confusion clear on my face.

"About the banquets," she rushed on. "The visitors... the wedding!"

"Slow down," I said, gesturing for her to calm down. "What wedding are we talking about?"

She took a shaky breath. "Your sister Lola's. She's to be married to the Giant Prince!"

I stared at her, processing the news. "A wedding with the giants? That's a good thing, right?"

The servant nodded quickly, her chest heaving as if her heart might burst. Her breaths came in sharp gasps.

"Then why are you in a state of shock?" I asked.

"Is she always like this?" I asked the other servants gathering behind her - they looked equally distressed.

"Someone get her to the infirmary!" I shouted as the first servant collapsed, writhing on the floor in shock.

One of the remaining servants managed to explain before they all fell to the same fate. "If you didn't know about the visitors, you must have missed dinner, which means the Queen will be in a TERRIBLE MOOD AND TRAMPLE ON US!"

"Ah, damn it!" I understood their shock, the thought of a furious Big Mom making me shudder as well. The guards to the Queen's Chamber quickly gathered the servants and rushed them to the infirmary.

"I was really hoping she'd be in a good mood for what I need to tell her," Once again, I cursed the universe for this fate.

It would be a tsunami of fury once Big Mom discovered that Galette was dead. In the meantime, I needed to prepare for the banquet.

While at it, I made a mental note to find some strong armor that would fit discreetly beneath my garments.

---

Counter, one of the quintuplets, took another gulp from his huge mug, greedily consuming the contents without caring for the orange liquid dripping from his lips. The scene was vividly chaotic, perfectly capturing the quintuplets' boisterous nature. The hall was alive with laughter, music, the clinking of mugs, and the warm glow of chandeliers overhead. The air was rich with the scent of a feast - roasted meats, freshly baked sweets, and the unmistakable tang of fermented fruit juice.

As Counter continued to drink, his Adam's apple bobbed dramatically. His gulping was loud and unrestrained, drawing amused yet slightly wary glances from those around the table. After what felt like an eternity of noisy swallowing, he finally slammed his mug down on the table with a force that made everyone jump. The impact sent a splash of the remaining liquid flying, much to everyone's dismay. Droplets of the orange juice landed on the faces and clothes of those nearest to him.

"Hic," he hiccuped, his eyes glassy as he looked around at us. There was a momentary silence, the kind that stretches on just a bit too long, filled with the anticipation of what would happen next.

"Really, Counter?" I asked, wiping the sticky liquid from my extremely expensive clothes. The quintuplets were known for their wild mannerisms, but this was a particularly inopportune time for such behavior in front of Mama's most important guests.

"What?" he replied, looking around the table in a stupor, his expression one of genuine confusion. "The mango juice is sweet."

"It's orange juice," I corrected, giving him a look of someone who knew better. The liquid was indeed sweet, but its effects were far from innocent. I knew it held a secret that only a few of us were privy to.

Since when did orange (or mango) juice give anyone a drunken stupor? Some mischievous siblings had dared to lace nearly all the party drinks with alcohol - and an undeniable great amount of it. If not for how it affected my chances of having fun throughout the entire evening, I would have been on the culprits' side wholeheartedly. Sometimes, Mama's parties did require a significant change of pace. Juice alone could get... suffocating.

"Oh-ho-ho," Cadenza croaked, his mouth chomping at his mug as he nibbled on it - literally. "This watermelon is delicious."

"Discovered any new mushrooms by any chance?" I asked, amused by Cadenza's antics while glancing at a very nervous Gala. Despite Gala's huge size, he looked like a meek mouse stuck in a chair, glancing around nervously as if everyone were a predator about to pounce on him.

"No, really." Gala replied nervously.

Caballeta, in a drunken stupor that far surpassed everyone else in the room, leaned back in his chair, precariously balancing on its rear legs while lazily spinning a fork in his fingers.

"For God's sake," I muttered a prayer, pitying him before the inevitable happened.

In a second, Caballeta lost all of his balance and crashed to the floor, eliciting a wave of giggles from the ladies surrounding us. The ones closest to him rushed to help, but their efforts only led to more chaos as Caballeta's flailing hands accidentally brushed against some rather inappropriate places, resulting in a flurry of indignant kicks to his face.

Opera, meanwhile, stood up and began speaking in gibberish. From his gestures and exaggerated movements - puffing out his chest, raising his mug, and tilting it back to down its contents in one go - I could only assume he was bragging about his superior drinking abilities. However, his confidence quickly faltered as the mug of juice became heavier in his hands. He wobbled on his feet and, with a comically exaggerated motion, toppled backward into his chair, spilling the remaining liquid everywhere. The table erupted in laughter that nearly matched the soothing music playing softly in the background, which had a calming effect on the dance floor.

"You guys look like you're having a blast," I remarked, enjoying the sight of everyone's drunken antics except for a few abstainers and strong-willed individuals who, like me, were stuck here with the self-appointed duty of keeping the giants sober. "I've got to say, this must be some strong stuff if it's managed to knock out these five after just a few mugs." I gestured toward the quintuplets.

Turning to Zucato, the Minister of Alcohol, I asked, "What powerful blend did you bring this time, Zucato?"

With a dismissive shrug, he denied any involvement. "I had nothing to do with this. But I'm loving it!"

"Yeah, sure," I said lightly, but his serious stare made me reconsider. "Oh."

With Zucato cleared of suspicion, all sober eyes turned to the ten little devils scattered all around the party hall. Out of the ten decuplets, only three were present at the current table, bringing in more juice to the refreshments table. Their exact names were anyone's guess, especially since they were all dressed identically today. For the boys, it could be Newichi, Newji, Newsan, or Newgo. For the girl, it could be, Akimeg, Allmeg, Harumeg, or Fuyumeg. No one could tell who was who, except for Newshi and Nutmeg, who were notably taller than the others.

Regardless, it was clear that the alcohol in the juices was the decuplets' mischievous doing. Noticing our suspicious expressions, they tried to escape with excuses about heading back to the kitchen for more drinks, only to be halted by a slightly, no - considerably drunk Charlotte Mozart. "Don't you dare leave."

"Now that I think about it," I said, analysing the three decuplets among us, "the ten of you have been busy making sure everyone's properly dehydrated throughout the evening."

"Anything you can - hic - say about what's happening with this table?" Mozart inquired, her voice echoing with a sly grin. The decuplet girl turned to face her older sister, her expression shifting to one of playful mischief.

"The fun is just getting started," the three of them replied in eerie unison, their voices intertwining with a melodramatic flair.

"No, the fun started hours ago," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "It's on the dance floor where everyone is mingling. But we can't join them because we're stuck here manning this table, making sure none of the giants get drunk from the juice!"

"It's more fun here," Zucato mumbled, his tone nonchalant as he took measured sips from his glass, barely masking his amusement.

"Come on, guys," I said, a hint of desperation in my voice. "You can't be pulling stunts like this at such a precariously important event."

"You need to tell the trolls to quit it before the giants think they're being poisoned, and it turns into an all-out war in Whole Cake," I added sternly, trying to keep the situation under control. Even with the few giants present, a war as such was one we could easily lose.

"Okay, fine," the girl among the three said, stepping forward with a dramatic flair, raising her hand as if about to seal a grand bargain. "We'll tell the trolls to stop, under one condition."

"Oh, come on," I sighed, feeling the weight of the day bearing down on me despite the massages easing my shoulders. "Haven't I made enough deals today?"

She looked at me, her gaze steady and patient.

"Okay, fine. What do you want in return?" I asked.

I braced myself for their inevitable, outrageous demand. The decuplets were known for their extortion, and their antics were already keeping me from enjoying the party.

"We'll keep the trolls from mixing the juice with alcohol if you promise to get drunk on behalf of everyone else," she declared, her voice taking on an authoritative edge.

"What!?" I exclaimed, disbelief etched on my face.

"That's a terrible idea," Mozart and Zucato protested in unison, their voices filled with genuine concern. "What about the rest of us?"

"I agree with them," I said, aligning with Mozart and Zucato. "But for completely different, sober, reasons."

The girl adjusted her headphones with a flourish, her two brothers mirroring her actions. "The trolls demand you get drunk, or everyone else will," she said, her tone carrying an air of finality.

"If the giants get drunk, it could get messy," one of the 'New's' said, his excitement barely contained.

"Especially the small mean one," the other 'New' added, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"We could be looking at a war here," the girl said, her expression serious as she nodded.

"Come on, guys," I tried to reason, my patience fraying. "My day was rough. Can't you tell the trolls to postpone this for another time?"

She pressed her headphone again, the other seven decuplets still listening intently from the dance hall, none acting inconspicuous. Their whispered conversations were barely audible but charged with anticipation.

Whether the 'trolls' were real or not was anyone's guess, as no one had ever seen such creatures. It seemed "troll" was just the decuplets' way of dodging blame and shifting the spotlight every time they were caught doing something mischievous.

"The trolls say they've been trying to get you drunk for years but have never succeeded," she said, her voice calm but with a hint of smug satisfaction. "Tonight, they have a dose from Elbaf, and they think they'll finally succeed. It's an opportunity they're not going to miss."

"Might explain why the quintuplets are already knocked out," I mumbled, realization dawning on me that the brew was from Elbaf.

"You've been trying to get me drunk for years!?" I gave them a harsh stare, incredulous. "My juice's always tasted weird."

"The trolls have," she corrected sharply, a smirk tugging at her lips. "THE TROLLS, brother," she emphasized.

"Okay, fine," I conceded, feeling the weight of inevitability. "Bring all the rum you can find. Just keep it away from the juice."

Rattling into her mouthpiece with exaggerated urgency about the 'opportune' moment, she added with a flourish, "Bring all the best we've got!"

---

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