Episode 4: “Tea, Treason, and Tension You Can Taste”

Scene: The Royal East Garden – Next Morning

The tea party was supposed to be relaxing. Keyword: supposed. In reality, it was a polite war zone with lace tablecloths.

Princess Liora sat beneath a blooming cherryshade tree, daintily stirring her tea, which shimmered faintly with calming charm. She needed it. Badly.

Across the lace-covered table sat the Umbra delegation, including her favorite person to loathe: General Vaela “I’m Not Jealous But I Totally Am” Dusk.

And, of course, seated like a shadow sculpted into a tux: General Riven Thorne. Back in black. Again.

“You haven’t touched your cake, General,” Liora said sweetly. “Too sweet for you?”

“I don’t like surprises,” Riven replied, eyeing the enchanted raspberry layers like they were plotting betrayal.

“How tragic.”

Vaela sipped her tea. “Umbra soldiers learn early not to trust anything pink.”

Liora blinked. “That explains your entire personality.”

The nobles gasped. The tension? Palpable.

Then Prince Theron of the Northern Isles—charming, smug, and way too tan for his own good—arrived fashionably late and strutted into the garden with two things:

A bouquet of enchanted glowroses

A proposal scroll.

“Oh no,” Riven muttered.

“Oh yes,” Liora grinned.

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Scene: Ten Minutes Later – The Tea Party That Turned into a Duel

“I’m here to challenge for Princess Liora’s hand!” Theron announced, waving the scroll.

“Oh, for—” Riven stood up so fast his chair tipped over.

“You can't challenge for someone already engaged,” he growled.

Theron smirked. “Then let’s make it official. Winner gets the Princess.”

Gasps. Faeries fainted. A noble choked on her lemon tart.

Riven turned to Liora. “Say something.”

“I am,” she whispered. “I’m enjoying myself immensely.”

“Do you want to marry him?”

“I don’t even want him to breathe near me.”

“Then I’ll duel him.”

“Not because you're jealous?” she teased, sipping her tea.

“Because I value competent governance,” he snapped.

“And definitely not jealousy,” she repeated with a smirk.

“Definitely not,” he lied.

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Scene: The Duel Grounds – 30 Minutes Later

Apparently, royal protocol allowed for “minor ceremonial duels,” which basically meant swordplay with strictly non-lethal spells and maximum humiliation.

The crowd circled like hungry swans. Enchanted cameras hovered overhead.

Theron flourished his blade, covered in sparkle runes. “Careful, General. I’m trained in twelve noble sword styles.”

Riven pulled a dull, military-standard saber from his belt and cracked his neck. “I’m trained in war.”

First clash—Theron sparkled. Riven didn’t flinch.

Second clash—Theron tried a twirl. Riven knocked him flat.

By the third round, Theron had somehow managed to fall into the royal fountain. Backward. With a splash heard across three provinces.

Liora applauded delicately. “Bravo. You killed him with basic competence.”

“He tripped on his own charm spell,” Riven muttered.

“You still look hot doing it.”

He turned. “You think I look hot?”

Silence.

She blinked. “That was… external monologue. Ignore me.”