Captain Itsuki Hiroto had nearly convinced himself that diplomacy was quieter work than dragon‑slaying when the commission of ministers, envoys, and generals reconvened for a celebratory banquet in the Summit Pavilion. Long oak tables groaned under platters of roasted pheasant, crystal decanters of spiced wine, and ornate centerpieces of fire‑lotus blossoms—silent witnesses to an uneasy truce between humans and demons.
Hiroto, still in his low‑profile baker's disguise (now complete with flour‑smeared apron for authenticity), hovered near the head table, overseeing logistics: seating charts, serving schedules, and discreet sneeze‑guards for the orbs of power. Lady Virelya stood by his side, keeping a vigilant eye on the crowd. Sera darted between tables with her "just‑in‑case" satchel, brimming with potions labeled "Emergency Knockout," "Silent Alarm," and "Tea‑Time Tranquilizer."
"Everything looks perfect," Virelya murmured, her gaze sweeping the assembled leaders. "Now we just need to survive the speeches."
Hiroto let out a relieved breath. "If I can avoid any more magical mishaps—and unintentional heroics—I might actually get a bite to eat."
Sera grinned. "I packed extra dumplings for you. You deserve a feast."
The pavilion's lanterns glowed amber as Chancellor Beltram rose to deliver a congratulatory address. Diplomats murmured approval; generals nodded politely; even the Demon King's envoy—an imp‑like figure in midnight blue—looked suitably impressed. Hiroto tapped his spoon against his plate, trying not to think of his rapidly cooling rice.
Suddenly, from the far corner of the hall, a belligerent clang rang out—a chair toppling over with such force that it sent shockwaves across the polished floor. Heads snapped toward the noise: a robed figure lay atop the chair's splintered remains, face obscured by a hood, blood seeping into the polished oak.
Gasps and shrieks erupted. The banquet descended into chaos: servants dropped trays, ambassadors ducked under tables, and nobles leapt to their feet in alarm.
Hiroto's instincts kicked in. He dashed forward, weaving through overturned chairs, and skidded to a halt beside the hooded figure. The robed assassin's hand flickered toward a concealed dagger hidden beneath the cloak. Hiroto's reaction was instinctual—he reached out and yanked the chair's leg, sending the entire chair frame whipping back like a club.
THWACK!
The assassin's hood flew off, revealing a stunned face—one eye swollen shut, the dagger clattering harmlessly to the floor. The assassin crumpled in a heap, unconscious but breathing. Hiroto blinked as nobles gaped.
"Captain Hiroto saved us—again!" someone shouted. A ripple of relieved applause swept the pavilion.
Hiroto, cheeks flaming, rose from his crouch. Virelya and Sera flanked him.
Virelya surveyed the scene. "That… was a chair," she said, incredulous. "You just used a chair as a weapon."
Hiroto held up the chair leg. "I thought it might gently subdue him." He winced. "Sorry about the concussion."
Flanked by two royal guards, the assassin was dragged before the head table. Chancellor Beltram peered at the hooded figure as servants cleared away debris and reset tables. Once the assassin's hood was flung back, a collective gasp reverberated.
It was Ambassador Korvax, the esteemed human envoy—supposed champion of peace, known for his eloquent oratory and fairness. His second eye now blinked bloodily.
Sera clapped her hand over her mouth. "He looked like he was trying to kill Elder Magister Lisette!"
Hiroto stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Excellency… I didn't realize—"
Korvax rasped from the floor, voice unsteady. "I came to... persuade peace. Then… then I heard murmurings—demon agents, secret negotiations… I had to stop this farce." He lurched upward, only to be gently caught by a guard. "It's a trap! They'll betray us!"
Before Hiroto could react, demon guards surged forward, spear‑tipped halberds gleaming in the lantern light. The demons eyed Korvax with cold suspicion.
"Attempted regicide!" hissed the demon envoy, stepping forward. "He nearly struck our Magister!"
Magister Lisette Falnore, arms crossed, stalked to the center. "Ambassador Korvax," she said icily. "Your assault on peace talks is… impressive in its stupidity."
Hiroto cleared his throat. "If I may, he never actually hit anyone with the dagger—it was the chair." He raised the chair leg with a wry shrug.
Nobles and envoys laughed—nervously, then genuinely. The tension cracked, replaced by incredulous amusement that a weapon so unlikely had subdued an assassin.
Chancellor Beltram pounded his gavel. "By unanimous decree, Ambassador Korvax is detained—pending investigation—and Captain Hiroto is hereby commended for swift action in preserving the summit's safety."
The pavilion erupted in polite applause. Korvax glared at Hiroto, one eyebrow raised. "A chair?" he groaned.
Hiroto gave a sheepish grin. "Chair tactics—ancient and reliable. Also my emergency weapon of choice."
With the assassin detained, the pavilion's order was restored. Envoys returned to their seats; lanterns flickered back to their steady glow; the music of a lone harpist resumed. Sera handed Hiroto a steaming dumpling. "You earned this."
He sank into a chair, accepting the dumpling gratefully. "Thanks. Best. Feast. Ever."
Virelya collapsed into the seat beside him. "Well. Crisis averted."
Magister Lisette approached, quill in hand. "Captain, you may want to document this in your logistics report. 'One attempted assassin subdued by ordinary chair—method proven effective.'"
Hiroto groaned. "I'll add it to the list. Right after 'do not bring pasty disguises to summits.'"
Across the hall, Chancellor Beltram rose once more. "Let us resume our accord signing. Let this day be remembered not for bloodshed or betrayal, but for the unity we preserve—even by the most mundane means." He gestured to Hiroto. "And for the courage of a clerk who wields both pens and… chairs."
As the signing resumed, Hiroto watched Korvax being led away under guard, Sera laughing beside him, and Virelya taking careful notes.
He leaned back, mind spinning. If I can save a summit with a chair, maybe there's hope for world peace yet…
Yet, in the shadows beyond the pavilion's glow, a cloaked figure watched—eyes glinting in the darkness. The assassin had left behind a single, bloodied dagger, its blade inscribed with a rune that pulsed faintly.
And somewhere in the night, that rune's glow whispered of deeper conspiracies, waiting for the right moment to strike—when the hero least expected it.
Because in a world where clerks trip into heroics, chairs become weapons, and peace hangs by a thread, destiny always finds a new way to test the Silent Savior.