Chapter 18: The Duel in the Courtyard

ROYAL KITCHEN

The smell of roasted peppers and charred meat filled the kitchen as Cael guided Prince Vaedranis through the day’s lesson. The young demon prince stood stiffly at the counter, carefully slicing through demonroot with precise, practiced cuts. His notes from the previous sessions were stacked neatly beside him, each line of writing sharp and deliberate.

“Not too thin,” Cael murmured, leaning over. “If it’s paper-thin, it dissolves in the broth. You want a bite to survive the simmer.”

Vaedranis adjusted instantly, his expression calm, though his brows knit as he concentrated. “Understood.”

It was strange, Cael thought. The prince wasn’t flashy like Ashara, or loud like Grenda, or a complete disaster like Veydran. He was quiet. Serious. Meticulous. And unlike most demons, when he asked a question, it wasn’t to challenge Cael’s authority—it was because he genuinely wanted to understand.

Before Cael could dwell on that, the kitchen doors slammed open.

“SMELLS LIKE FOOD!” Princess Grenda stormed inside like a thunderclap, tusks gleaming, muscles straining under her armor. She sniffed the air greedily. “Cael, feed me before I eat your entire pantry!”

Vaedranis’ knife froze mid-slice. “...Grenda.”

Grenda grinned at him, showing all four tusks. “Well, well, look who’s finally acting like a real demon instead of a marble statue.”

Her booming laugh echoed through the kitchen. Vaedranis glanced down at the cutting board, then spoke so softly Cael almost missed it.

“You… look happiest when you eat.”

Grenda blinked, then roared with laughter, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “Hah! Maybe you are a demon after all!” She shoved a half-finished skewer into her mouth.

Cael, stunned, glanced between the two. The words had been awkward, quiet—but real. Not lustful. Not boastful. Just… genuine. He didn’t say a thing, but filed the moment away.

WHISPERS AROUND THE CASTLE

The castle halls buzzed with whispers.

Two advisers leaned close in a torchlit corridor. “If the heir of Obsidian Gulf and Brimrock Peaks linger here because of a human chef…”

“Mm. His value may be more than the kitchen.”

Elsewhere, generals lounged against the walls. “Fragile thing should’ve broken already. But he keeps surviving. Maybe there’s more to him than stew.”

In a side chamber, Nyssa and Draz shared a private grin. “He isn’t just food. He’s attracting influence.”

Meanwhile, in another corridor, Cael carried a basket of spices toward the courtyard. He paused mid-step, sneezing violently.

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“…Why do I feel like someone’s talking about me again?” His hands trembled. “…Oh no. Not good.”

UNWANTED GUEST….AGAIN

The ground shook.

“ASHARA!”

Prince Veydran stormed into the castle, cape flaring, hair glimmering with faint flame. His voice boomed: “My eternal beloved! I have returned to win your heart anew!”

Every demon in earshot groaned.

Veydran’s eyes darted around. They landed on Vaedranis, standing quietly beside Cael, and his face twisted. “Another rival?! Another prince trying to steal Ashara from me?!”

Then his gaze found Grenda. His expression darkened, memory dawning.

“You…” he spat. “I remember you. The brute who humiliated me in combat!” His voice dripped venom. “Look at you, wide nose, tusked grin, an overgrown beast masquerading as a princess!”

Grenda’s fists clenched. “Say that again.”

But before she could lunge, Vaedranis moved. His quiet voice rang louder than ever before:

“Insult me if you wish. But if you insult her again, I’ll tear out your tongue.”

The hall froze. Even Grenda blinked, tusks parting in surprise.

Ashara, lounging on her throne, smirked, eyes gleaming with delight. “Settle this in the courtyard. Entertain us.”

THE ONE-SIDED FIGHT

The courtyard erupted with noise. Ministers placed bets. Soldiers jeered. Generals bellowed odds. Servants peeked from balconies.

Cael stood pale as death beside Ashara, clutching his spice basket. He leaned toward Vaedranis’ entourage. “H-he’ll be fine, right? Veydran looks like an idiot, but he’s strong…”

One soldier scratched his cheek. “The prince rarely fights. Only when he must.”

Another added nervously, “And this is the first time we’ve seen him this angry…”

Cael’s knees wobbled. “That’s… not reassuring.”

The duel began.

Veydran was loud, dramatic, hurling fireballs with names like “Inferno of Passion!” and “Ashara’s Burning Desire Slash!” He struck exaggerated poses, cape billowing.

Vaedranis said nothing. He dodged with silent precision, his counters clean and efficient. A single strike of his blade sent shockwaves rippling. Compared to Veydran’s flailing, he looked like a calm executioner dismantling a jester.

Grenda howled with laughter at every hit Vaedranis landed. “That’s it! Break him, Vaedranis!”

Ashara clapped gleefully. “Oh, this is better than a feast.”

Finally, with one swift strike, Vaedranis knocked Veydran straight into the courtyard fountain. Water splashed high as the prince sputtered, then gasped, “I… I let him win!” before fainting dramatically.

The court roared with laughter. Bets were paid.

Grenda strode forward and slammed a hand onto Vaedranis’ back. “Didn’t know you had fire in you!” she bellowed, almost knocking him off balance. He only gave a faint nod, but his eyes flicked toward her with a softness no one missed.

Cael clutched his spice basket, heart still racing. Watching them, he thought quietly:

For someone so quiet… he really cares about her. Not like Veydran’s ridiculous obsession, but real care. Almost human.

His gaze shifted to the unconscious Veydran floating face-down in the fountain.

…I can’t believe I’m surviving this place. But maybe… maybe I can actually help someone here, too.