Chapter 5: A Proper Tour (And a Cooking Side Quest)

A PEACEFUL MORNING...?

Cael opened his eyes slowly. No fire. No screaming. No medical potions shoved down his throat. For once, his body wasn’t aching all over.

That alone felt suspicious.

He sat up cautiously. Across from him, lounging like a lioness on a fainting couch, was Ashara, Demon Queen of the West and his unexpectedly affectionate wife.

She wore a casual robe, her hair loose, eyes half-lidded in boredom. Her tail curled around a bowl of grapes like it had rights to them.

“You’re awake,” she said, popping one into her mouth.

“I’m… not in pain,” Cael muttered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that tonight,” she purred.

Cael blinked. “Why do I feel both complimented and threatened?”

Ashara stretched like a cat, then stood. “Come. I’m giving you the proper tour of my castle. It’s been weeks and you haven’t even seen half of it.”

He blinked. “You mean the part that isn’t on fire or trying to kill me?”

“That’s the fun half.”

THE TOUR BEGINS

The Potions Lab was the first stop.

The room was packed with glowing, bubbling liquids and shelves labeled things like Do Not Sniff Twice, Maybe Don’t Touch That One, and Cael’s Future Cure???

A bottle exploded somewhere in the background. No one reacted.

Ashara picked up a vial and eyed him. “Want to drink this one?”

Cael stepped behind a steel cabinet. “Not even a little.”

Next was The Divination Room.

Floating crystal balls, talking mirrors, and one enormous blinking eyeball hovered ominously. The eyeball stared directly at Cael and intoned:

“...Your lifespan… keeps changing…”

Then it shuddered. “Actually, never mind. The future’s fuzzy. Something about soup.”

Cael backed out slowly. “I miss the potions room.”

At the Infirmary, Cael saw rows of demon soldiers wrapped in bandages. One had an ice pack on both horns.

He whispered, “Are these from war?”

The nurse scoffed. “No, they’re from Her Majesty’s breakfast meeting.”

Cael blanched. “...Yikes.”

The nurse looked at him solemnly. “Don’t marry royalty, son.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

They entered the Barracks, where a dozen warriors were sparring midair using blades, shadows, and fireballs.

Upon seeing Cael, all of them paused and gave quick, polite bows. One whispered to the other, “That’s the Queen’s husband?”

The other whispered back, “I thought he’d be taller.”

Ashara smirked. “They’re afraid of offending me. Or you. Or me because of you.”

Then came the Royal Garden.

It was gorgeous, blooming with otherworldly flora, until a vine with tiny teeth tried to wrap around Cael’s leg.

Ashara casually disintegrated it. “Don’t worry, the man-eaters aren’t supposed to be here.”

“...Supposed to?”

THE KITCHEN SCENE

They eventually arrived at the Royal Kitchen, which Cael had only seen briefly before.

Ashara yawned. “I’m hungry, and I’m tired of roasted bonefish again. Everything here tastes like fury and lava.”

Cael hesitated. “Want me to… cook something?”

The head chef dropped a cleaver.

Ashara tilted her head. “You can cook other than stew?”

“Well…yes…I also eat other foods”

Intrigued, she stepped back. “Go ahead.”

Cael rolled up his sleeves and made something simple: toasted bread with garlic butter, mushrooms sautéed with herbs, and soft scrambled eggs.

The kitchen staff stared in horrified reverence.

He plated it carefully and handed it to Ashara, who examined it like it might try to bite her.

She took a bite. Chewed. Then paused.

Silence.

Then she devoured the rest like a starving wyvern.

The staff gasped.

“This… is good,” Ashara muttered. “Like actually good. You didn’t even set anything on fire.”

One sous-chef sobbed quietly. “We’ve tried to recreate human food for years. Why does it taste better when he makes it?”

Ashara clapped her hands.

“From now on, Cael is Commander of the Royal Kitchen. You’ll teach the staff how to cook like this.”

Cael blinked. “I…I’m what now?”

“You made me happy without bloodshed. That’s practically a miracle.”

The kitchen staff bowed deeply. One chanted, “All hail the Chef-King!”

Cael sighed. “I just wanted to make toast.”

THE CALM BEFORE THE (NEXT) STORM

Later, back in their chambers, Ashara lay on the couch with her head resting gently on Cael’s lap.

She let out a long, tired sigh. Her tail flicked lazily.

“Your hands,” she muttered. “Keep them. They’re mine now.”

He chuckled and gently ran his fingers through her hair, giving her a soft head massage.

Ashara melted into his lap.

“Mm. You keep doing this, and I might get addicted.”

Cael smiled faintly. “Better than getting incinerated.”

They stayed quiet for a while.

He finally spoke. “I never thought I’d be useful to someone like you.”

Ashara cracked one eye open. “You’re useful.”

“You mean the cooking?”

“No. Well…yes. But mostly the… being you part.”

Cael blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet.”

She shrugged. “I’m a romantic.”

Then she sat up suddenly, tail flicking with renewed energy. “Now that I’m well fed and massaged… time to work off the energy.”

Cael blanched. “W-Wait, I just…!”

She picked him up easily. “No escaping, Chef-King.”

BATTLE IN THE BEDROOM

The scene faded with the door slamming shut.

From inside came muffled yelling, a magical shockwave, and then a defeated wheeze.

Cael (voice-over): “I cooked one meal. One. And now I’m going to die from love.”