Despite being the brightest star in the sky, the shadows cast over my fair kingdom still remained.
As a result, I had little time to wait for the residents of this disappointing town to lean from their windows while casting garlands of flowers upon me. My eyes were already turned towards the next stop on my journey.
Yes … even if all it did was make me grimace.
My fist clenched tightly to my chest as I willed my bravery to not falter now.
The most difficult of challenges still lay ahead.
Even as a noble princess with a heart as unbending as it was pure, there were still obstacles which even I struggled to climb. And when I did, I was not stronger for it. I was weaker. Much weaker. So weak that my knees trembled just to consider vaulting such a barrier again, no matter how many times I leapt across it.
I gulped.
And then … I read the sign ahead.
“The Drunken Boar.”
It was … such a horribly inn-like name.
Dire omens around.
Were this not simply the first establishment we’d passed to also possess a stables, then nothing about its existence would have earned a speck of my time, much less my custom.
Why, this one didn’t even attempt to hide the nature of its clientele! Neither the faint odour of some food overly seasoned with pepper emanating from within, nor the sounds of raucous laughter did anything but repel every fibre of my being.
But I was no mere maiden cowering in her bedroom.
No … I was a princess destined to save her kingdom from the throes of calamity!
And while that didn’t make staying in common inns any less tragic, it did mean I had little excuse to falter … especially when I had my loyal handmaiden by my side, whose encouragement I could rely upon even when the nights were darkest!
“Oh boy, you’re gonna hate it here,” she said, her cheerful tone at terrible odds with her words. “The rooms here look tiny. You can practically see the windows squished next to each other. Good thing you brought your own magic bed, huh?”
I couldn’t nod fast enough.
“Yes, it is. Once again, my wisdom and foresight lights the way. Without the Winter Queen’s bed, we’d have no escape from the hardened stacks of linen we’d otherwise be treated to. I have no doubt the duvets in Stermondt are practically shaved from the mountains.”
Coppelia leaned very close to me, her smile overtaking my peripheral vision.
I leaned an equal distance away, rolling my eyes as I sensed the words to come.
“Hey, hey, hey, speaking about that bed~”
“Oh? Are you referring to my bed, by any chance? The one I personally negotiated from the Winter Queen for my personal use?”
“That’s the one! You might not remember–”
“I remember.”
“But on a beach in Trierport, we made a bet–”
“I said I remember. And I stand by my words. A sister gallivanting in conspiracy is absurd beyond measure. The Holy Church will face the full wrath of my tax inspectors for this.”
“Maybe you should tax them a fresh pillow for you as well, since I get to have the nicer one tonight. I think that’s the reward, right? Wasn’t it? Hey, hey, wasn’t that the reward?~”
I let out a silent groan. And yet I couldn’t even be annoyed.
It was my own fallacy to gamble against someone whose intuition for the ridiculous was honed in the land of oddballs and falling pianos.
Indeed, far from a punishment, this was a lesson. One which I would take to heart. Never again would I wager in matters of the weird against Coppelia.
Thus, I regally nodded, never once shying away from my own fault.
“That … That was the reward, yes … although out of curiosity, which one is the nicer pillow to you?”
“The one which isn’t already squished on one side.”
I clicked my tongue. That was indeed the nicer pillow.
“Very well, a wager is a wager. You may consider this a reward for your studious loyalty thus far. For ceaselessly throwing yourself before the foul intentions of our foes, you shall enjoy the nicer pillow. For one night only.”
Coppelia clapped her hands together. The way she rubbed them with glee was only a fraction of the concern her mischievous smile elicited from me.
“What about double or nothing?”
“Excuse me?”
“Double or nothing. Basically we bet again to double the rewards or double the nothing. If I win again, I get the nicer pillow for two nights. If you win, you get … eh, double of whatever I last bet.”
“Hm? Is your clockwork memory not infallible?”
“Sure it is! Most of the time. But it’s not like it’s infinite. I don’t see the point in clogging it by remembering things which aren’t important.”
My mouth widened in indignation.
That my own loyal handmaiden felt so assured in victory that she could toss away the memory of waging her own tea cup, gifted also by the Winter Queen, was nothing short of an insult!
Why, against such a challenge, I could only … hmm?
“Oho … ohoho … very good, Coppelia. You very almost ensnared me there.”
“Booooooooo~”
Cute. But not enough.
I offered her a smile, my indignation temporarily overridden by the amusement I had in her half-hearted attempt at goading me.
Little did she know, I was a paragon of wisdom trained through the machinations of treasonous nobility and the pranks of my eldest brother. It would take subterfuge beyond the imagination to successfully lure me into any ploy.
“Do enjoy the nicer pillow tonight. It shall be the last time. Far from doubling the stakes, I’d like to assure you that I’ve no intention of engaging in any further wagers against you. At all.”
“... Reeeaaaally?”
“Really. Your knowledge regarding all things ridiculous outweighs mine. And besides, it’s simply inappropriate for a princess to bet against her own handmaiden. No, instead, I must bet on the hygiene standards of the establishment ahead.”
I sniffed again, subjecting myself to the odour of something deeply peppery.
Already my low expectations were sinking beneath the ground. If they couldn’t even do seasoning correctly, how could they do the Béarnaise sauce?
“Come, let’s arrange for a room and whatever blight against modern gastronomy techniques awaits.”
“Yay~”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I approached the entrance of The Drunken Boar.
The moment I opened the door, I was struck by a waft of regret.
Regret … and also heat.
Not warmth, per say. There was a fireplace crackling, yet it was neither large nor merry enough to fill the common room with more than a mild ambience.
No, the heat came from something else entirely.
“Wooooooooooooooo!”
“That’s 2 silver crowns for me!”
“Only 5 bowls between them … that’s gotta be a bottom record.”
“You’re both lousy! You said you could handle a hundred each!”
I held my hand to my mouth. And then to my nose instead.
It wasn’t enough.
In a common room crowded with peasants whose cheeks were scarlet from inebriation, the most red thing present was the contents of a cauldron.
Within was the harshest shade of crimson I had ever seen. Were my roses to blossom with this colour, I would wonder which of the servants’ blood they’d drunk in order to grow to such a frightening shade.
Bubbles upon the surface added to the malice of whatever liquefied evil this was. Doubtless some witch’s brew, given its ability to boil over despite not being placed upon any fire.
Yet it wasn’t just highly concerning concoction which drew the eye.
It was the two peasants strewn upon the floor, liquid death seeping from their lips as they held the instruments to their own murders within their hands.
Spoons still laden with the ominous brew.
The crowd traded coins, the whooping and cheering a disturbance far worse than the aroma from the cauldron. I rolled my eyes at what counted as entertainment. If they wished to toss away their coins, then that was fine. So long as they kept enough to pay their due and lawful tax afterwards, of course.
I swept the scene from my mind, if not quite my ears, then led the way to a table furthest from the hollering. We both pulled chairs from several tables away. The least sticky of those present.
Seeing us dragging the furnishings, a barmaid tiptoed around the crowd to greet us as we sat down. In her arms was a tray laden with cups and bowls.
“Welcome, welcome!” said a barmaid, eyes twinkling at the first non-louts to grace this establishment in its history. “Welcome to The Drunken Boar! How can I help you?”
I peered down at the tray.
Cups filled with liquid of various discolourations. And bowls of two highly contrasting colours.
One a brown sludge which I had never once in my life consumed, yet for some reason carried a familiar aroma of salt and sadness.
The other, death.
Just death.
A picture of the cauldron it came from, the red liquid boiled over before Coppelia’s starry eyes, lashing a spot on the table where it spat.
I leaned slightly further away.
“If … If possible, I’d like lodging for two in a room furthest from the commotion. And before that, a meal which is at least halfway seasoned. I certainly hope you have something less alarming than … whatever’s assailing my nose.”
The barmaid laughed.
I saw no humour in what awaited on her tray. Only sadness or death.
“Well, as you can see, we have a fine selection of all the homely comforts available.”
“So I see.” I peered down at the homely comforts in question. Food served to princesses awaiting the guillotine. “By any chance, do you have chateaubriand? Preferably with pommes soufflées or toasted walnuts sourced from the surrounding highlands?”
“No. We have spicy death stew and non-spicy death stew. Which would you like?”
“I would prefer to live, thank you.”
The barmaid giggled. Not at me, of course. I’d told no joke.
Instead, it was at the way my loyal handmaiden was practically hopping at the food being offered.
“What’s the spicy death stew?” she asked, eyes twinkling as she looked between the bubbling red bowl and the figures lying strewn upon the floor. “And how come it’s killed two guys? That’s amazing!”
“Oh?” The barmaid turned around. “Ah, that’s just the usual scene these days. They took part in the famous Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge.”
“The … The Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge?!”
“That’s right! You haven’t heard about it?”
“Nope, otherwise I would’ve come here earlier! I thought I smelled something fun!”
Fun.
Another definition I needed to impart on Coppelia. I looked at the crowd surrounding the two men failing to be helped on the floor. A great boil popped atop the red brew’s surface, sending liquid over the edge. The droplets singed one of the men’s hair at once.
“You’re not the only one,” said the barmaid cheerfully. “See all these patrons? Believe it or not, most of them are sober. They’re just here for the show.”
“Understood! Tell me more!”
“Our Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge is where you try to beat the record for spicy death stews eaten in one sitting. It’s our signature dish made with snow chillies from the nearby peaks. As the name suggests, it’s extremely spicy. Enough to burn the surrounding snow away. It’s mostly medicinal. No one sane actually eats it … or so we thought. Now it’s our number one attraction. People from all over compete to take first place. If it’s your first time, you get your first bowl free just for trying!”
Coppelia instantly perked up. As did I.
Not needing to pay for Coppelia’s portion would save 90% of my costs.
“Me, me, me! I’ll take a spicy death bowl!”
“Wonderful! A new challenger! … And yourself? Will you be taking it on, too?”
“No, thank you.”
“Sure? As I said, the first bowl is free.”
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before I shook my head.
There was much I would do for the sake of my kingdom. There was more I would do to safeguard my taste buds.
“I’m certain. The cost in consuming this isn’t measured in crowns, but permanent injury. It’s not worth the damage to my delicate palate, carefully maintained with dishes perfectly balanced with all 16 flavour profiles just for the sake of a free meal.”
The barmaid blinked.
And then, she laughed as she slid a pair of differently coloured bowls onto the table. The sound of sizzling filled the air at once. The red stew in Coppelia’s bowl lashed angrily as it was disturbed by the sudden movement.
“Got it, one regular and one spicy. Enjoy!”
The barmaid was still in the process of leaving us as Coppelia dragged her bowl towards her. I leaned over and peered at the contents.
Despite the trials of my noble journey, I’d become no less accustomed to the horrors which sought to befoul my palate … mostly because I was strangely unable to remember them.
And yet this …
Were I to consume this, the regret would doubtless haunt me into my nightmares.
Without waiting, Coppelia lifted the bowl to meet her smile. And ignoring the spoon provided, she took a generous gulp from the edge.
The expression she wore as she brought it back down was one of utmost satisfaction.
“Mmmmh~ just the right amount of tanginess.”
“T-Tanginess … ?”
“It’s braised beef with hints of fresh cardamom and lemon rind.”
I stared in shock at the red sludge.
“But … wasn’t it spicy?”
“Oh yeah. It’s super spicy. Definitely the kind of thing you’d cry from. Like being hit by a thousand onions covered in chilies.”
“I … I see. Well, the addition of cardamom and lemon rind is unexpected. But even so, it looks utterly dreadful. The colour balance is tilted entirely towards death.”
“Yep, but it’s one of those things which tastes better than it looks.”
Coppelia broke into a playful smile as she pushed the bowl towards me.
“Hey, want to make that double or nothing, after all? Last chance! I bet you can’t eat a single spoonful of this without tearing up. If I win, I get two nights with the nicer pillow. If you win, you get … well, you can just have the pillow back early.”
“Please, as I said already, I won’t be entertaining bets against you any longer. Especially bets which threaten to draw tears from my royal eyes. There are few occasions where I’m permitted to shed tears. And all of them involve the sight of the first shipment of soap being exported to a foreign nation.”
“Half a spoonful!”
“No.”
“A quarter!”
“No.”
“A tenth!”
“No.”
“A single, tiniest dab on the edge of your tongue, barely even felt!”
“Done.”
I brought the bowl of red sludge towards me.
“Eh–?! Hang on! I thought you said no more betting!”
Coppelia looked stunned. As she should do.
After all, she’d fallen into my clever trap!
“Ohohoho!” I instantly raised my hand to the edge of my lips, barely covering my smile. “N-Naturally, I was merely lulling you into a false sense of security! Why, I knew the only way for you to offer an acceptable wager was to make the prospect of a bet against me so remote that you had to gift me victory on a silver plate … or a wooden bowl, as the case now is!”
Indeed!
This was without a doubt all planned … and until the day Coppelia could read my mind, that would forever be the case!
A dab of a spoon!
Even with how truly awful it appeared, that only constituted the merest contact! By all definition, I wasn’t even eating anything!
Ohohohoho! How unfortunate for Coppelia that she would learn the truth of a princess’s wiles to the detriment of losing the nicer pillow!
Why, she was so stunned that she didn’t even look aggrieved … merely concerned!
“Ehhh … I dunno, it’s really hot, you know?”
I smiled as I gave the bowl of red sludge a cursory stir.
“It’s needless to frighten me now. What is the difference between red sludge and brown sludge other than the colour? I was already consigned to disappointment. Supplementing the taste of salt and sadness with a drop of spice is hardly going to make things worse. In fact, it might even rescue a morsel of flavour.”
“When I say it’s really hot, I’m actually kidding. It’s super, ridiculously hot. Didn’t you just say your palate is carefully balanced with all 16 colours of the rainbow?”
“With all 16 flavour profiles, yes.”
“Okay. Because I think your journey might end if you eat this.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Please, it’s a dab of a spoon. There’s no need to be dramatic.”
“I dunno … Isn’t a dab of death still death?”
“Compared to the afternoon scones in some of my tea parties I’ve suffered through, this is trivial. Now watch and observe a princess consuming fare well below her accepted standards for the sake of the kingdom.”
“Don’t you just want the nicer pillow back?”
“As I said–the sake of the kingdom. How well I sleep dictates how well I engage in the subtleties of diplomacy.”
Waving away Coppelia’s concerns for her own self-induced loss, I lifted a tiny spoonful of red sludge and brought it towards me.
It smoked before my eyes.
A tiny dollop that was nevertheless reminiscent of a splodge of molten lava rolling down an exploding volcano.
Somewhat concerning, yes. But irrelevant. Speed was everything. Just as a candle’s flame cannot hurt a swiping finger, nor can overly spiced food burn if it was downed with minimal fanfare.
Thus–
I shot the spoon into my mouth, then just as swiftly gulped … even if in truth, there was so little there that scarcely anything could be consumed.
A few seconds passed.
Coppelia blinked at me.
“Sooooooooooooooooooooo … how is it?”
I gave it a moment’s thought.
“Hmm. It’s fine.”
“Huh? … Really?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I really thought it was spicy. You know, because of the flames spouting from it. You sure you’re okay? Or are you doing that thing again?”
“Thing? What thing?”
“That thing where you eat brown sludge and then all of a sudden your eyes go hazy. Like this.”
Suddenly, Coppelia became stock still, her eyes turning glassy as she stared at some faraway object. It was the most abject, pitiful expression I’d ever seen. And certainly not the type of thing I could ever shame myself in doing.
“Coppelia, I have no recollection of what you’re referring to.”
“I know. And that’s amazing.”
I offered her the look of puzzlement she deserved, before returning the bowl of red sludge back towards her.
“Yes, well … in any event, I believe I’ve won this wager, no?”
Coppelia pretended to pout. Yet despite the way her cheeks puffed out, I could see the clear bemusement in her eyes, as though I’d achieved some grand feat.
In truth, it really wasn’t so bad at all.
Yes, it was astringent in taste and I would never touch it again, but the quantity was so fine that it was practically impossible to suffer.
“My bad, then~ I had no idea a dab of a spoon would be so easy for you. Fine, I lose! You get the nicer pillow back.”
“Excellent. Let this be a lesson that a princess isn’t so easily bested.”
“Ahaha~ I’ll keep that in mind for our next bet.”
I practically scoffed.
“Optimistic for revenge, I see. Well, I won’t fault you for the ambition. Now, what did you do with my food?”
“Your what?”
“My food. The one the barmaid brought me.”
Coppelia tilted her head slightly, a perplexed expression on her face.
“The brown sludge? It’s right here.”
“Where?”
“Here.” Coppelia’s eyes blinked at me. Her very bright eyes. How strange. I didn’t remember her eyes being that bright. Or everything else being that dark. “Right here. I’m pointing at it … hellooooo?”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
Thwunk.
The next moment, blackness met me as my forehead promptly struck the table.
And so–
I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, came to experience my first taste of commoner food (spicy edition).
The next day, I did not remember a thing.
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Despite being the brightest star in the sky, the shadows cast over my fair kingdom still remained.
As a result, I had little time to wait for the residents of this disappointing town to lean from their windows while casting garlands of flowers upon me. My eyes were already turned towards the next stop on my journey.
Yes … even if all it did was make me grimace.
My fist clenched tightly to my chest as I willed my bravery to not falter now.
The most difficult of challenges still lay ahead.
Even as a noble princess with a heart as unbending as it was pure, there were still obstacles which even I struggled to climb. And when I did, I was not stronger for it. I was weaker. Much weaker. So weak that my knees trembled just to consider vaulting such a barrier again, no matter how many times I leapt across it.
I gulped.
And then … I read the sign ahead.
“The Drunken Boar.”
It was … such a horribly inn-like name.
Dire omens around.
Were this not simply the first establishment we’d passed to also possess a stables, then nothing about its existence would have earned a speck of my time, much less my custom.
Why, this one didn’t even attempt to hide the nature of its clientele! Neither the faint odour of some food overly seasoned with pepper emanating from within, nor the sounds of raucous laughter did anything but repel every fibre of my being.
But I was no mere maiden cowering in her bedroom.
No … I was a princess destined to save her kingdom from the throes of calamity!
And while that didn’t make staying in common inns any less tragic, it did mean I had little excuse to falter … especially when I had my loyal handmaiden by my side, whose encouragement I could rely upon even when the nights were darkest!
“Oh boy, you’re gonna hate it here,” she said, her cheerful tone at terrible odds with her words. “The rooms here look tiny. You can practically see the windows squished next to each other. Good thing you brought your own magic bed, huh?”
I couldn’t nod fast enough.
“Yes, it is. Once again, my wisdom and foresight lights the way. Without the Winter Queen’s bed, we’d have no escape from the hardened stacks of linen we’d otherwise be treated to. I have no doubt the duvets in Stermondt are practically shaved from the mountains.”
Coppelia leaned very close to me, her smile overtaking my peripheral vision.
I leaned an equal distance away, rolling my eyes as I sensed the words to come.
“Hey, hey, hey, speaking about that bed~”
“Oh? Are you referring to my bed, by any chance? The one I personally negotiated from the Winter Queen for my personal use?”
“That’s the one! You might not remember–”
“I remember.”
“But on a beach in Trierport, we made a bet–”
“I said I remember. And I stand by my words. A sister gallivanting in conspiracy is absurd beyond measure. The Holy Church will face the full wrath of my tax inspectors for this.”
“Maybe you should tax them a fresh pillow for you as well, since I get to have the nicer one tonight. I think that’s the reward, right? Wasn’t it? Hey, hey, wasn’t that the reward?~”
I let out a silent groan. And yet I couldn’t even be annoyed.
It was my own fallacy to gamble against someone whose intuition for the ridiculous was honed in the land of oddballs and falling pianos.
Indeed, far from a punishment, this was a lesson. One which I would take to heart. Never again would I wager in matters of the weird against Coppelia.
Thus, I regally nodded, never once shying away from my own fault.
“That … That was the reward, yes … although out of curiosity, which one is the nicer pillow to you?”
“The one which isn’t already squished on one side.”
I clicked my tongue. That was indeed the nicer pillow.
“Very well, a wager is a wager. You may consider this a reward for your studious loyalty thus far. For ceaselessly throwing yourself before the foul intentions of our foes, you shall enjoy the nicer pillow. For one night only.”
Coppelia clapped her hands together. The way she rubbed them with glee was only a fraction of the concern her mischievous smile elicited from me.
“What about double or nothing?”
“Excuse me?”
“Double or nothing. Basically we bet again to double the rewards or double the nothing. If I win again, I get the nicer pillow for two nights. If you win, you get … eh, double of whatever I last bet.”
“Hm? Is your clockwork memory not infallible?”
“Sure it is! Most of the time. But it’s not like it’s infinite. I don’t see the point in clogging it by remembering things which aren’t important.”
My mouth widened in indignation.
That my own loyal handmaiden felt so assured in victory that she could toss away the memory of waging her own tea cup, gifted also by the Winter Queen, was nothing short of an insult!
Why, against such a challenge, I could only … hmm?
“Oho … ohoho … very good, Coppelia. You very almost ensnared me there.”
“Booooooooo~”
Cute. But not enough.
I offered her a smile, my indignation temporarily overridden by the amusement I had in her half-hearted attempt at goading me.
Little did she know, I was a paragon of wisdom trained through the machinations of treasonous nobility and the pranks of my eldest brother. It would take subterfuge beyond the imagination to successfully lure me into any ploy.
“Do enjoy the nicer pillow tonight. It shall be the last time. Far from doubling the stakes, I’d like to assure you that I’ve no intention of engaging in any further wagers against you. At all.”
“... Reeeaaaally?”
“Really. Your knowledge regarding all things ridiculous outweighs mine. And besides, it’s simply inappropriate for a princess to bet against her own handmaiden. No, instead, I must bet on the hygiene standards of the establishment ahead.”
I sniffed again, subjecting myself to the odour of something deeply peppery.
Already my low expectations were sinking beneath the ground. If they couldn’t even do seasoning correctly, how could they do the Béarnaise sauce?
“Come, let’s arrange for a room and whatever blight against modern gastronomy techniques awaits.”
“Yay~”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I approached the entrance of The Drunken Boar.
The moment I opened the door, I was struck by a waft of regret.
Regret … and also heat.
Not warmth, per say. There was a fireplace crackling, yet it was neither large nor merry enough to fill the common room with more than a mild ambience.
No, the heat came from something else entirely.
“Wooooooooooooooo!”
“That’s 2 silver crowns for me!”
“Only 5 bowls between them … that’s gotta be a bottom record.”
“You’re both lousy! You said you could handle a hundred each!”
I held my hand to my mouth. And then to my nose instead.
It wasn’t enough.
In a common room crowded with peasants whose cheeks were scarlet from inebriation, the most red thing present was the contents of a cauldron.
Within was the harshest shade of crimson I had ever seen. Were my roses to blossom with this colour, I would wonder which of the servants’ blood they’d drunk in order to grow to such a frightening shade.
Bubbles upon the surface added to the malice of whatever liquefied evil this was. Doubtless some witch’s brew, given its ability to boil over despite not being placed upon any fire.
Yet it wasn’t just highly concerning concoction which drew the eye.
It was the two peasants strewn upon the floor, liquid death seeping from their lips as they held the instruments to their own murders within their hands.
Spoons still laden with the ominous brew.
The crowd traded coins, the whooping and cheering a disturbance far worse than the aroma from the cauldron. I rolled my eyes at what counted as entertainment. If they wished to toss away their coins, then that was fine. So long as they kept enough to pay their due and lawful tax afterwards, of course.
I swept the scene from my mind, if not quite my ears, then led the way to a table furthest from the hollering. We both pulled chairs from several tables away. The least sticky of those present.
Seeing us dragging the furnishings, a barmaid tiptoed around the crowd to greet us as we sat down. In her arms was a tray laden with cups and bowls.
“Welcome, welcome!” said a barmaid, eyes twinkling at the first non-louts to grace this establishment in its history. “Welcome to The Drunken Boar! How can I help you?”
I peered down at the tray.
Cups filled with liquid of various discolourations. And bowls of two highly contrasting colours.
One a brown sludge which I had never once in my life consumed, yet for some reason carried a familiar aroma of salt and sadness.
The other, death.
Just death.
A picture of the cauldron it came from, the red liquid boiled over before Coppelia’s starry eyes, lashing a spot on the table where it spat.
I leaned slightly further away.
“If … If possible, I’d like lodging for two in a room furthest from the commotion. And before that, a meal which is at least halfway seasoned. I certainly hope you have something less alarming than … whatever’s assailing my nose.”
The barmaid laughed.
I saw no humour in what awaited on her tray. Only sadness or death.
“Well, as you can see, we have a fine selection of all the homely comforts available.”
“So I see.” I peered down at the homely comforts in question. Food served to princesses awaiting the guillotine. “By any chance, do you have chateaubriand? Preferably with pommes soufflées or toasted walnuts sourced from the surrounding highlands?”
“No. We have spicy death stew and non-spicy death stew. Which would you like?”
“I would prefer to live, thank you.”
The barmaid giggled. Not at me, of course. I’d told no joke.
Instead, it was at the way my loyal handmaiden was practically hopping at the food being offered.
“What’s the spicy death stew?” she asked, eyes twinkling as she looked between the bubbling red bowl and the figures lying strewn upon the floor. “And how come it’s killed two guys? That’s amazing!”
“Oh?” The barmaid turned around. “Ah, that’s just the usual scene these days. They took part in the famous Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge.”
“The … The Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge?!”
“That’s right! You haven’t heard about it?”
“Nope, otherwise I would’ve come here earlier! I thought I smelled something fun!”
Fun.
Another definition I needed to impart on Coppelia. I looked at the crowd surrounding the two men failing to be helped on the floor. A great boil popped atop the red brew’s surface, sending liquid over the edge. The droplets singed one of the men’s hair at once.
“You’re not the only one,” said the barmaid cheerfully. “See all these patrons? Believe it or not, most of them are sober. They’re just here for the show.”
“Understood! Tell me more!”
“Our Spicy Death Cauldron Challenge is where you try to beat the record for spicy death stews eaten in one sitting. It’s our signature dish made with snow chillies from the nearby peaks. As the name suggests, it’s extremely spicy. Enough to burn the surrounding snow away. It’s mostly medicinal. No one sane actually eats it … or so we thought. Now it’s our number one attraction. People from all over compete to take first place. If it’s your first time, you get your first bowl free just for trying!”
Coppelia instantly perked up. As did I.
Not needing to pay for Coppelia’s portion would save 90% of my costs.
“Me, me, me! I’ll take a spicy death bowl!”
“Wonderful! A new challenger! … And yourself? Will you be taking it on, too?”
“No, thank you.”
“Sure? As I said, the first bowl is free.”
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before I shook my head.
There was much I would do for the sake of my kingdom. There was more I would do to safeguard my taste buds.
“I’m certain. The cost in consuming this isn’t measured in crowns, but permanent injury. It’s not worth the damage to my delicate palate, carefully maintained with dishes perfectly balanced with all 16 flavour profiles just for the sake of a free meal.”
The barmaid blinked.
And then, she laughed as she slid a pair of differently coloured bowls onto the table. The sound of sizzling filled the air at once. The red stew in Coppelia’s bowl lashed angrily as it was disturbed by the sudden movement.
“Got it, one regular and one spicy. Enjoy!”
The barmaid was still in the process of leaving us as Coppelia dragged her bowl towards her. I leaned over and peered at the contents.
Despite the trials of my noble journey, I’d become no less accustomed to the horrors which sought to befoul my palate … mostly because I was strangely unable to remember them.
And yet this …
Were I to consume this, the regret would doubtless haunt me into my nightmares.
Without waiting, Coppelia lifted the bowl to meet her smile. And ignoring the spoon provided, she took a generous gulp from the edge.
The expression she wore as she brought it back down was one of utmost satisfaction.
“Mmmmh~ just the right amount of tanginess.”
“T-Tanginess … ?”
“It’s braised beef with hints of fresh cardamom and lemon rind.”
I stared in shock at the red sludge.
“But … wasn’t it spicy?”
“Oh yeah. It’s super spicy. Definitely the kind of thing you’d cry from. Like being hit by a thousand onions covered in chilies.”
“I … I see. Well, the addition of cardamom and lemon rind is unexpected. But even so, it looks utterly dreadful. The colour balance is tilted entirely towards death.”
“Yep, but it’s one of those things which tastes better than it looks.”
Coppelia broke into a playful smile as she pushed the bowl towards me.
“Hey, want to make that double or nothing, after all? Last chance! I bet you can’t eat a single spoonful of this without tearing up. If I win, I get two nights with the nicer pillow. If you win, you get … well, you can just have the pillow back early.”
“Please, as I said already, I won’t be entertaining bets against you any longer. Especially bets which threaten to draw tears from my royal eyes. There are few occasions where I’m permitted to shed tears. And all of them involve the sight of the first shipment of soap being exported to a foreign nation.”
“Half a spoonful!”
“No.”
“A quarter!”
“No.”
“A tenth!”
“No.”
“A single, tiniest dab on the edge of your tongue, barely even felt!”
“Done.”
I brought the bowl of red sludge towards me.
“Eh–?! Hang on! I thought you said no more betting!”
Coppelia looked stunned. As she should do.
After all, she’d fallen into my clever trap!
“Ohohoho!” I instantly raised my hand to the edge of my lips, barely covering my smile. “N-Naturally, I was merely lulling you into a false sense of security! Why, I knew the only way for you to offer an acceptable wager was to make the prospect of a bet against me so remote that you had to gift me victory on a silver plate … or a wooden bowl, as the case now is!”
Indeed!
This was without a doubt all planned … and until the day Coppelia could read my mind, that would forever be the case!
A dab of a spoon!
Even with how truly awful it appeared, that only constituted the merest contact! By all definition, I wasn’t even eating anything!
Ohohohoho! How unfortunate for Coppelia that she would learn the truth of a princess’s wiles to the detriment of losing the nicer pillow!
Why, she was so stunned that she didn’t even look aggrieved … merely concerned!
“Ehhh … I dunno, it’s really hot, you know?”
I smiled as I gave the bowl of red sludge a cursory stir.
“It’s needless to frighten me now. What is the difference between red sludge and brown sludge other than the colour? I was already consigned to disappointment. Supplementing the taste of salt and sadness with a drop of spice is hardly going to make things worse. In fact, it might even rescue a morsel of flavour.”
“When I say it’s really hot, I’m actually kidding. It’s super, ridiculously hot. Didn’t you just say your palate is carefully balanced with all 16 colours of the rainbow?”
“With all 16 flavour profiles, yes.”
“Okay. Because I think your journey might end if you eat this.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Please, it’s a dab of a spoon. There’s no need to be dramatic.”
“I dunno … Isn’t a dab of death still death?”
“Compared to the afternoon scones in some of my tea parties I’ve suffered through, this is trivial. Now watch and observe a princess consuming fare well below her accepted standards for the sake of the kingdom.”
“Don’t you just want the nicer pillow back?”
“As I said–the sake of the kingdom. How well I sleep dictates how well I engage in the subtleties of diplomacy.”
Waving away Coppelia’s concerns for her own self-induced loss, I lifted a tiny spoonful of red sludge and brought it towards me.
It smoked before my eyes.
A tiny dollop that was nevertheless reminiscent of a splodge of molten lava rolling down an exploding volcano.
Somewhat concerning, yes. But irrelevant. Speed was everything. Just as a candle’s flame cannot hurt a swiping finger, nor can overly spiced food burn if it was downed with minimal fanfare.
Thus–
I shot the spoon into my mouth, then just as swiftly gulped … even if in truth, there was so little there that scarcely anything could be consumed.
A few seconds passed.
Coppelia blinked at me.
“Sooooooooooooooooooooo … how is it?”
I gave it a moment’s thought.
“Hmm. It’s fine.”
“Huh? … Really?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I really thought it was spicy. You know, because of the flames spouting from it. You sure you’re okay? Or are you doing that thing again?”
“Thing? What thing?”
“That thing where you eat brown sludge and then all of a sudden your eyes go hazy. Like this.”
Suddenly, Coppelia became stock still, her eyes turning glassy as she stared at some faraway object. It was the most abject, pitiful expression I’d ever seen. And certainly not the type of thing I could ever shame myself in doing.
“Coppelia, I have no recollection of what you’re referring to.”
“I know. And that’s amazing.”
I offered her the look of puzzlement she deserved, before returning the bowl of red sludge back towards her.
“Yes, well … in any event, I believe I’ve won this wager, no?”
Coppelia pretended to pout. Yet despite the way her cheeks puffed out, I could see the clear bemusement in her eyes, as though I’d achieved some grand feat.
In truth, it really wasn’t so bad at all.
Yes, it was astringent in taste and I would never touch it again, but the quantity was so fine that it was practically impossible to suffer.
“My bad, then~ I had no idea a dab of a spoon would be so easy for you. Fine, I lose! You get the nicer pillow back.”
“Excellent. Let this be a lesson that a princess isn’t so easily bested.”
“Ahaha~ I’ll keep that in mind for our next bet.”
I practically scoffed.
“Optimistic for revenge, I see. Well, I won’t fault you for the ambition. Now, what did you do with my food?”
“Your what?”
“My food. The one the barmaid brought me.”
Coppelia tilted her head slightly, a perplexed expression on her face.
“The brown sludge? It’s right here.”
“Where?”
“Here.” Coppelia’s eyes blinked at me. Her very bright eyes. How strange. I didn’t remember her eyes being that bright. Or everything else being that dark. “Right here. I’m pointing at it … hellooooo?”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
Thwunk.
The next moment, blackness met me as my forehead promptly struck the table.
And so–
I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, came to experience my first taste of commoner food (spicy edition).
The next day, I did not remember a thing.
kayenano
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