Standing among the clouds, Hill wore a smile and nursed a head full of complaints.
The Undead's heartfelt sincerity was sometimes more than anyone could bear.
How could they sing a simple "Happy Birthday" in so many strange tunes?
Sometimes he hated being so polite... Mainly because Edna would notice if he plugged his ears.
His upbringing would not let him do something so rude when others could see.
Edna, on the other hand, had been fairly lucky.
The Undead had started singing when her White Dragon appeared on the horizon. By the time she flew close, they had reined in their excitement... and anyone whose sense of pitch was hopeless had been ordered to stop improvising.
Hill thought managing those families was more exhausting than organizing a national war.
Fortunately, Sanda King still commanded respect. In Black Rose, the family closest to Hill, those who did not want to answer to her later shut their mouths, however reluctantly.
So although the singing was still dreadful, it was just about bearable.
As for the beautiful goddess standing on the White Dragon's back, her face alight with surprise and her eyes full of emotion, she could probably tune it out herself.
Hill suddenly felt he could even put up with Song of the Little Bear, which those people had specially rehearsed for him back then!
After all, most of its singers had studied music, and the accompaniment had been turned all the way up. Even with more than ten thousand people singing, it had sounded pleasant... or at least listenable.
However many thoughts ran through his mind, as the architect, he could only smile and welcome the new Goddess of Magic as she slid from her White Dragon's back onto the cloud-wreathed platform before the floating island.
And behind her came