Chapter 4: Breakfast with the Demon Court

A ROUGH MORNING

Cael groaned as he sat up in bed, nursing what he was fairly certain were internal bruises, minor burns, and a new fear of intimacy.

He was still alive, which was an achievement in itself.

Ashara, the Demon Queen and his overwhelmingly powerful wife, strolled into the room humming cheerfully, already fully dressed in her royal battle attire.

“Rise and shine, husband. We have breakfast with the inner court.”

Cael turned pale. “Breakfast… with the what?”

Ashara tilted her head. “My generals, ministers, advisers… You’ll love them. They all hate you.”

“...Can’t I fake my own death again?”

She grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him out of bed. “Not before breakfast.”

ENTERING THE PIT

The Grand Hall of Infernal Accord was an intimidating place: obsidian pillars, chandeliers of glowing bone, lava fountains, and a long blackwood table that could seat a hundred.

As Ashara and Cael entered, conversation halted.

All eyes turned.

The Generals sat in a row:

* Draz, silent and stone-faced.

* Varka, cracking her knuckles with a grin.

* Thorne, sipping shadow from a goblet.

* Molg, already growling at his chair for squeaking.

The Advisers whispered amongst themselves:

* Nyssa raised an eyebrow.

* Vizier Krohl said, “Ah, the harbinger of destiny arrives…”

* Chronicler Sessh wrote furiously in his six-eyed ledger.

The Ministers flanked the table like eccentric ornaments:

* Guldor, sneering.

* Dreev, polishing his monocle.

* M'renn, holding a mop… on fire.

* Poxxi, wheezing with anticipation.

* Blightbell, petting a glowing fruit.

* Snurk, already crying tears of culinary pride over his feast.

“Why is he here?” Guldor hissed.

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“Because I invited my husband,” Ashara said, plopping into her throne with regal confidence.

“Also because I like looking at him.”

Cael gave a tiny wave. No one waved back.

THE IRIVELLE INCIDENT

Ashara clapped her hands. “Now, about that trollop Irivelle.”

Everyone stiffened.

“She mocked our marriage at the Demon Rulers’ Summit. Called Cael a ‘walking charity case.’”

Thorne frowned. “Technically not wrong…”

Ashara glared. “She also sent me a cursed singing letter. It recited bad poetry about my ‘questionable taste in men.’ It rhymed ‘withered flower’ with ‘wizard coward.’”

Cael looked around nervously. “It could’ve been worse... She could’ve called me a used teacup.”

Ashara slammed her fist on the table. BOOM. One of the goblets exploded.

“I’m declaring war.”

DEMONIC DIPLOMACY (CHAOS ENSUES)

Ministers began shouting.

Guldor: “War! Yes! We should have invaded yesterday!”

Dreev: “Objection! Diplomatic mockery is not a valid cause for war!”

Varka: “I’ll prepare the warbeasts!”

Nyssa: “Majesty, think carefully. This is unnecessary.”

Poxxi: “Can I plague her army a little?”

Blightbell: “What if we poison their crops? Just the children’s crops?”

Snurk: “Please don’t waste breakfast…”

Ashara stood again, power flaring. A few guards burst into flame and were flung into the far wall.

Sessh wrote calmly: “Third incident of breakfast combustion, likely tied to emotional instability. Queen still hot.”

Cael, panicked, dove under the table. Crawled across. Reached up and… grabbed Ashara’s hand.

THE QUEEN CALMS

Ashara blinked.

The lava in her eyes dimmed. Her clenched jaw loosened. She exhaled and sat down again, a faint glow of confusion on her cheeks.

Nyssa’s eyes narrowed slightly. Draz frowned thoughtfully.

Everyone went still.

Ashara sipped her tea, voice tight. “Fine. I’ll let the court speak. Anyone else wants to whine?”

THE COURT DEBATES

The room descended into more chaos: plans, excuses, appeasements.

Sessh muttered, “This is why peace treaties fail.”

Ashara finally turned to Cael.

Her voice was deceptively casual.

“Husband. You decide. Should I go to war with that smug, two-faced, cabbage-smelling she-lizard?”

Cael’s eyes widened. The room froze. He stood slowly, sweat beading down his temple.

He looked at Ashara, at the room of demons, and said in a small but clear voice:

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, my dear.”

SILENCE AND AFTERMATH

No one moved.

Ashara stared at him. A slow blush colored her cheeks. Her flames extinguished completely.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “...Fine. No war. For now.”

Half the court collapsed in relief.

Dreev began sobbing from joy. Snurk kissed his ladle. Poxxi coughed blood in celebration.

Nyssa leaned toward Draz. “That was... unexpected.”

Draz grunted. “Useful, though.”

EXIT (STAGE MARRIED)

Ashara stood and tugged Cael up by the arm. “Come, husband. I’m suddenly in the mood for a walk. Or a nap. Or you.”

Cael stumbled after her, barely waving at the stunned court.

“This was supposed to be breakfast,” he muttered.