Chapter 425: The Way Centaurs Party

Luca’s eyes widened in surprise.

Before he could react, the other centaurs followed suit, bowing their heads in unison.

"THANK YOU FOR SAVING OUR GRANDMOTHERS AND MOTHERS!" They shouted together.

The elders watched with fond gazes, as though they had known this was coming all along.

Riley slowly lifted her head, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"I’m not good at this." She continued, her words coming faster now, as if she was afraid she’d lose her nerve. "Speeches. Feelings. Gratitude. I’d much rather swing my sword around and let my blade do the talking. But—"

She swallowed hard. "But you deserve to hear this. You deserve to know what you’ve done for us."

Another centaur stepped forward, her voice trembling.

"My mother used to outrun me when I was a child. She was the fastest in the village. But as the years went on, I watched her slow down. Then I outpaced her. Then I had to help her walk." She wiped at her eyes. "I never wanted to pass her. Not like that."

Another centaur added: "My grandmother used to take me on walks every single day. It was the highlight of my childhood. But six years ago, she had an accident, and we never went on those walks again."

She looked at Luca with shining eyes.

"But starting tomorrow, we can walk together again. Thank you, Hero. Thank you so much!"

One by one, they shared their stories.

Some were brief, a few halting sentences before emotion overcame them. Others were longer, more detailed, painting pictures of relationships that had been altered by injury and time.

But every story carried the same thread: loss, and now restoration.

Riley spoke again, her voice stronger now.

"Every single one of us has a story like that. And for so long, we thought our mothers and grandmothers would be confined to their homes for the rest of their lives."

She met Luca’s eyes. "For a centaur, that’s basically a death sentence. We’re meant to roam. To gallop. To feel the wind in our faces and the earth trembling beneath our hooves. Fate took that away from them once but..."

She smiled, a small, rueful thing.

"...but then you gave it back. You gave them back their lives."

She bowed her head again. "So thank you, Hero. From all of us. For everything."

"THANK YOU, HERO!" The chorus rose from thirty throats, sincere and unified.

And then, the little ponies decided they wanted in.

"Me too! Me too! Nella wants to thank the Evil Hero!"

She skidded to a halt beside Riley and bowed so dramatically that she nearly tipped over.

"Thank you for fixing my grandma’s legs! Even though you’re evil! And you tricked us into thinking you died! And you made Auntie Riley drink—"

"NELLA!"

"—a very refreshing beverage!" Nella finished, her eyes twinkling. "You’re still evil. But you’re the good kind of evil. The...The helpful kind. Is that a thing? I’m making it a thing."

Luca finally found his voice.

"So." He said slowly, looking at the assembled young warriors and little ponies. "Does this mean you won’t be challenging me anymore?"

Riley looked up. And despite the tears still drying on her cheeks, a familiar competitive fire flickered to life.

"Not at all!"

Luca’s face fell. "What?"

"Absolutely not. I’m going to challenge you every single day if I have to."

"But you just—the gratitude—the heartfelt speech—"

"My gratitude and my need to defeat you are completely separate things." Riley crossed her arms, her smirk firmly back in place. "I’m eternally thankful for what you’ve done for my mother. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life."

"But I will also work every single day to become strong enough to beat you. Those two facts have nothing to do with each other."

"She’s right!" Another young centaur chimed in. "We’ll regain our commander’s honor someday."

"Don’t underestimate centaur stubbornness!"

"We can be grateful and competitive. It’s called multitasking!"

Luca stared at them. Then he started laughing.

"You know what? I can respect that." He settled back onto Sigrid’s back, his earlier dismay replaced by genuine amusement. "Alright. Challenge me whenever you want. I’ll be waiting."

"You’d better be!"

Before the conversation could continue, a new wave of centaurs descended upon them.

The elders and the middle-aged warriors surrounded Luca and Sigrid in a tide of enthusiasm.

"Enough of this sappy nonsense!" Filda declared. "I’ve cried more today than I have in the past decade! My tear ducts are exhausted!"

"Let’s celebrate properly!"

"You haven’t experienced a real centaur celebration, Hero. We’re going to fix that!"

"A party! We’re throwing you the biggest party this village has ever seen!"

Luca held up both hands. "Wait, wait. A party? For me? There’s really no need—"

"Nonsense!" Agnes stepped forward, her expression bright. "Luca—is it alright if I call you Luca?"

"Of course."

"Luca, then. We should have thrown you a celebration the moment you arrived. You’re our honored guest. But after what you’ve done today—"

She gestured at the elders around her, at their restored legs and tear-streaked faces.

"We’re going to give you the biggest party this village has ever seen! No arguments."

"But I don’t—"

"Even if you don’t need one." Another elder interrupted with a grin. "WE definitely do. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper celebration. Too much gloom. Too much worry. The children need this. The mothers need this. We need this!"

She winked at Luca. "We’re using your name as an excuse to drink ourselves silly. Don’t take it personally."

Luca opened his mouth to protest again, then paused.

He thought about the charging ports he needed to explain, the maintenance schedules for the prosthetics, the technical details that would ensure the devices kept working properly for years to come.

Then he looked at the faces around him.

The hope. The joy. The desperate, almost giddy need for celebration.

"The prosthetics can wait until tomorrow." He said. And then, raising his voice: "Alright! Let’s party!"

The cheer that went up could probably be heard in the next territory.

"HERO! HERO! HERO!"

"EVIL HERO, YOU’RE THE BEST!"

"LET’S GO!"

And just like that, the entire gathering swept back toward the village, carrying Luca and Sigrid along in a tide of celebration.

—

Later that night, the village was beautifully lit.

Lanterns hung from every available surface, casting warm golden light across the garden surrounding Poppy’s castle.

Streamers and flags decorated the area, fluttering gently in the evening breeze.

Large tables had been set up, laden with food, and a massive bonfire blazed in the center of the gathering, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky.

Luca learned more about centaur culture in those first few hours than he had in his entire visit.

As he sat among the elders, they bombarded him with stories about their heritage—tales of ancient battles, legendary heroes, and the traditions that had shaped their people for generations.

"Back in my day." One elder declared. "I single-handedly defeated a mountain troll! It took three days of continuous battle, but I emerged victorious!"

"Oh, please!" Another interrupted. "You exaggerated that story so much over the years that even you probably believe it now! It was a baby troll, and you tripped over a rock and accidentally knocked it unconscious!"

"That’s a lie! A complete fabrication!"

Luca listened with a smile, occasionally asking questions that set off new rounds of storytelling.

He learned about the Great Migration, when the centaurs had traveled across the continent to find their current home.

He learned about the First Queen, who had supposedly tamed the very stars themselves with her purification magic.

He learned about the Shattered Alliance, when the races of the continent had briefly turned against one another before the common threat of humanity had reunited them.

Sigrid remained by his side throughout, serving as his seat and his guide in equal measure.

She occasionally leaned in to whisper context—"That battle was actually much smaller than she’s making it sound"—or to correct particularly egregious exaggerations—"There were only three basilisks, Aunt Susie, not thirty."

And then the food arrived.

The fragrance hit Luca before the platters came into view, a complex symphony of herbs, spices and slow-cooked vegetables that made his mouth water instantly.

"What is that smell?" He asked, craning his neck.

"That..." Sigrid proudly puffed out her chest. "...is proper centaur cooking!"

The platters were enormous and they kept coming.

Steaming pots of hearty vegetable stew. Roasted root vegetables glazed with honey and herbs. Fresh bread still warm from the ovens. Platters of braised pork and roasted poultry.

Luca noticed something curious as he surveyed the spread.

"It’s mostly vegetarian...I expected more meat for warriors."

Sigrid nodded.

"We’re not fully vegetarian like the elves. But we do prefer fruits and vegetables. Especially fruits."

A dreamy expression crossed her face. "There’s nothing quite like a perfectly ripe peach, still warm from the sun, the juice running down your chin..."

Luca nodded. It seemed the centaurs shared more than just their lower bodies with their equine cousins. The preference for fruits and plants was practically instinctual.

He didn’t ask if any centaurs occasionally just bent down and ate grass straight from the ground. He was curious, but he valued his life.

Instead, he threw himself into the feast with enthusiasm. Every dish he tried earned genuine praise.

"This stew—the vegetables are so tender they’re practically melting!"

"And the broth has this depth of flavor that just keeps unfolding. What’s the herb I’m tasting?! Is that rosemary? Thyme? Something native to this region?"

The chef, who happened to be Claudia beamed with pride.

"It’s a local herb called silver-thyme. It only grows in the highlands. I’ve been perfecting that recipe for twenty years."

"Twenty years well spent. This is incredible!"

"And this bread." He said a moment later, tearing off another piece. "The crust has this perfect crackle to it, but the inside is so soft it’s almost like eating a cloud. How do you achieve that texture?"

One of the other mothers practically glowed.

"It’s the way we knead the dough. You have to work it just enough to develop it, but not so much that it gets tough. My grandmother taught me. She learned it from her grandmother."

"Your great-grandmother’s technique is still producing results centuries later. That’s not just cooking—that’s legacy!"

The mothers exchanged glances. Their tails swished with barely contained satisfaction.

Sigrid watched this behavior with a mixture of amusement and confusion.

The mothers were certainly...enthusiastic about impressing Luca. But she supposed that was natural. He was an honored guest, after all.