I keep helping myself to dish after dish, savoring every bite.
Some of the young ladies watch me with open envy.
The typical party dress is corseted—hardly an outfit for serious eating.
Mine is a high-waisted design, cleverly cut so that nothing presses on my stomach.
"Big Sister Tiela! I shall keep you company."
"Why, hello, Lady Mira."
"I can't eat nearly as much as you, Lady Tiela, but two is better than one, as they say!"
"Ufufu. Thank you."
"Ehehe. The karaage is yummy."
Lady Mira is the King's third child and only daughter, after his two sons—a princess, in other words.
Only twelve, and utterly adorable. The King dotes on her as the very apple of his eye.
She stretches her little mouth as wide as it will go and stuffs in a great piece of karaage.
Even the way she chews is as darling as a little squirrel.
As for looks—truth be told, I could pass for her double: still short, a minimal little figure, chest showing only the faintest curve.
That's right. I stopped growing at twelve, the year my skill manifested.
We both have the golden hair and blue eyes so common in the royal line. Lady Mira wears hers gathered at shoulder length; mine falls long and straight down my back.
"Where does she put it all, in that little body?"
"They say her stomach is really a magic bag—and I'm starting to believe it."
As if! Of course it isn't!
What am I, some engineered creature—a chimera, a homunculus?
Playing both comic and straight man in my own head, I keep my meat-hand moving all the while.
Next: a full serving of this meat pasta, piled high on my plate.
For most adults, that alone would be dinner. Naturally, I munch on without a second thought.
I twirl the pasta neatly onto my fork and pop it into my mouth.
When it is all gone, I dab my lips with a paper napkin.
Around me, people are marveling that I still have room.
The truth is, there is a secret known only to my family, the royal family, and a handful of the high nobility.
This "Gluttony" of mine is no mere byname or title. It is, quite literally, the name of a skill.
Gluttony: converts any and all food into mana.
In short, everything I eat becomes mana.
My mana capacity runs on the high side, but for a ducal house it is really nothing special.
Yet I can stockpile past that maximum—as far past it as I can eat.
Spend it and it is gone, of course. But then I simply eat again.
And yes, all that stored mana has a purpose waiting for it.
At present, no nations are at war.
The demons and their Demon Lord have long since gone quiet.
But the monsters that roam the land remain a threat to any realm.
S-rank monsters go without saying—yet even lesser monsters, in a stampede or descending in a horde, are threat enough.
Disaster can strike at any hour.
Best to be prepared.
In peacetime, however, there is no call for anything so warlike.
So I—Tiela, all-purpose mage extraordinaire—put my mana to a rather different use.