CHAPTER 512: THE PEACEMAKER

Chapter 512 – The Peacemaker

He smiled to himself as he took his seat at the head of the long dining table. Cool white cloth. Gem-studded plates. Ambient charm lights above. Food arranged in that "formal but edible" way Lullaby always said was too pretty to bite.

It was too quiet.

Too formal.

This wasn’t like the last housewarming.

This?

This felt like a divine summit wrapped in wine glasses.

Then came the soft chime of silver bells. The side doors opened without fanfare, and Lyra appeared with three servant maids trailing behind her—each dressed in the new custom uniforms Lullaby insisted were "cute enough to disarm envy." Powder-pink blouses, starched skirts, lace-trimmed aprons, and silk ribbons in their hair. Very... goddess friendly.

No sound except the smooth shuffle of polished shoes and the gentle clink of porcelain.

Lyra bowed lightly, her voice graceful and calm. "First drink. Per request—tea and milk."

No real wine.

No alcohol.

No infernal spiced blood-marrow tonic.

No charred wyvern ribs. No murder-roasted basilisk tail.

Just soft, sweet, safe.

Keep it vegan. Keep it celestial. Keep it polite.

Porcelain cups were placed before each guest with the precision of a ritual.

Steam curled into the quiet air—floral, nutty, a touch of honey and vanilla.

Lux watched as even Sira took the cup without complaint. That alone was eerie.

The goddesses, of course, accepted theirs without blinking.

Lyra stepped back, bowed again, and disappeared with her crew of perfectionist maids.

The air was still warm from the tea steam.

But the tension?

Still frozen.

They sipped.

But no one spoke.

The appetizers weren’t out yet. It was the perfect window.

Normally this would be when people start murmuring. Commenting on décor. Asking polite questions.

But now?

Silence.

Lux exhaled slowly through his nose. His fingers gently tapped the table twice.

He needed to loosen it. Soften it.

Ice-breaker.

That was SOP.

Always break the ice before someone breaks the table.

Lux opened his mouth, but Naomi beat him to it.

"I... uh, this is going to sound stupid," she said, looking across the table at Solara, "but is it true that celestial cities float?"

Solara turned toward her, lips lifting in a small, amused smile. "Yes. Most of them do. Though not all. Some are built across bridges of light, or grown from starvine trees."

Naomi blinked. "What’s a starvine?"

"Celestial flora," Celestaria said calmly. "They root themselves in atmosphere rather than soil. Fed by solar rhythm and virtue resonance."

Rava gave a quiet hum from beside Naomi. "That sounds... beautiful."

Selena nodded once, eyes gleaming. "It is. And extremely dangerous if you try to cut it down."

Mira, surprisingly, leaned forward slightly. "Do you... do you live together? Or separately?"

The question was softer than usual for her. She didn’t even flare her aura like she usually did. Her eyes—usually so smug and sharp—were respectfully curious now. A little wide. Almost reverent.

Goddesses had good PR in the mortal realm, after all.

Celestaria nodded. "Each of us governs different domains. Our palaces are separate. But the Council meets in the Center of All Radiance."

"Sounds expensive," Lux muttered without thinking.

Selena’s lips twitched. "It is. But we don’t pay taxes."

"Lucky," Naomi said dryly.

Mira tilted her head. "Do you ever... visit the mortal world? Not in official capacity, but... you know. Just to see it?"

Solara looked thoughtful. "Rarely. The veil is thinner now than it used to be, but we are... watched. Our steps matter."

Lux spoke softly, "They don’t get to just walk around. Every action gets read a hundred different ways. A single smile becomes a prophecy. A gesture turns into worship."

Selena nodded. "It’s exhausting."

Rava leaned forward slightly. "But you do visit sometimes."

"Yes," Celestaria admitted. "When it’s important."

Mira glanced toward Lux for half a second. Then away. Then cleared her throat. "And how did you meet... him?"

Ah. There it was.

The question that everyone danced around.

How they knew him.

Celestaria didn’t flinch. "Lux handled a dispute involving divine domains and the infernal vault allocations. The solution he presented saved an entire quadrant from dimensional collapse."

Naomi blinked. "Wait, what?"

Solara added, "He’s been on several negotiation panels. Most infernals... growl. He calculates."

Selena gave a lazy smile. "And flirts."

Lullaby nodded sleepily. "He’s very flirty."

Lux raised a hand. "Okay. Accurate. But let’s not turn this into a roast."

Naomi looked at him, wide-eyed. "You saved a quadrant?"

Lux shrugged. "Yes."

Rava stared. "Quadrant. Like, how big?"

"Big enough," Celestaria said simply.

Mira leaned back slowly. "Huh."

She wasn’t smirking now. If anything, she looked slightly overwhelmed.

Lux tilted his head. "Still think I’m just a sugar daddy?"

Mira snorted. "You’re my expensive sugar baby."

"Change my status from daddy to baby, huh?" he teased. "I’ll bill you later."

Sira hadn’t spoken.

She still hadn’t touched her drink.

Lux’s eyes flicked to her. She was quiet. Too quiet. Her seat was the furthest from the goddesses, just as he expected. She didn’t even look at them unless she had to.

Lullaby glanced over at her and tilted her head. "Sira? Don’t you want to ask something?"

Sira raised her eyes slowly. Her expression was unreadable. "No."

"You sure?" Naomi asked, tone gentle.

"I’ve already spoken with them before," Sira said flatly. "More than once."

The goddesses didn’t respond.

That said enough.

Lux cleared his throat. "Sira helped me handle one of the Pride incidents. Celestaria and Solara were on the other side. We had also met before. In the summits."

Selena added, "And we didn’t agree much at some points."

"We rarely do," Sira said, not quite a smile. "But at least now we’re not throwing sanctified daggers."

Selena looked amused. "Progress."

Lullaby offered a puff pastry to Sira across the table. "Have a snack. It helps."

Sira stared at it.

Then, surprisingly, took it.

Lux let out a slow breath.

The tension dipped. Slightly.

He could work with this.

He poured himself a glass of milk and smiled.

Time to steer the ship. Time to keep the dinner warm and the history cold.

And maybe—just maybe—let his women see that even goddesses could laugh.