Roy and Gustavus flung themselves at Niles, climbing on him like he’d just scored the game-winning goal. Never mind that they’d lost the duel overall, two losses to one win. Right now, it was celebration time. Aurelia rushed forward to her champion, her joy radiating like sunlight as she brushed tears from her cheeks. "You did it!" she exclaimed, embracing the trio as they laughed and cheered.

The king stood off to the side, staring down at his hand in quiet contemplation, as if it were some unfamiliar thing. How could he have lost? The duel had been fair and square. He’d pushed for victory with all his might, but in a moment of trust—trust in his Veritas Gaze—Niles had outmaneuvered him. Xemena, eager to object to the result, opened her mouth, only to stop cold at her father’s look—a silent command not to risk embarrassing him. Xhiva, meanwhile, rubbed his eyes in disbelief, struggling to process what he’d just seen. Their father, the undefeated, had lost a thumb war... and somehow, it overshadowed the two rounds he’d won before.

The tension hung thick in the air, until Niles stepped forward, breaking it with a grin and an outstretched hand. In it was his flip-phone, offered up like a rare artifact. “This belongs to the victor,” he said, holding it out with exaggerated formality. “Congratulations on your victory.”

The king, caught slightly off guard, accepted the strange device, studying it with curiosity before signaling for his trusted guard, Dragon Maw, to take it and deliver it to the royal engineers for examination. Then he turned back to Niles, his expression a hard mask. “The punishment for challenging the king to a duel and losing,” he declared, “is death.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and Niles’ friends braced to intervene, but the king held up a hand, silencing them. “But you’ve shown bravery, young champion,” he said, a hint of a smile—almost playful—flickering at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow, in the Hall of a Thousand Crowns. Until then, think carefully on which request you wish to claim.” With that, he turned, marching away, his Xargian guards falling in line behind him.

The king’s assistant raised his voice, filling the air with booming pride as he proclaimed, “The winner of the duel, Xerxes, King of Xandria, the Dragon of a Thousand Crowns!” The crowd erupted in cheers, and Xerxes raised a triumphant fist in acknowledgment, a regal gesture that resonated with authority.

As the king walked, Dragon Maw fell in step beside him, awaiting instructions. “Have my children meet with me in my chambers tonight. We have matters to discuss,” Xerxes ordered. Dragon Maw nodded in silent affirmation. “And I wish to be alone for a while,” the king continued. “Ensure I’m not disturbed.”

From a quiet corner, Xander began his subtle approach. Like a shadow slipping through the castle grounds, he drew close to his father, slipping a small wrapped scone into the king’s hand. Xerxes accepted it without a word, tucking it into his pocket as they exchanged a silent understanding before Xander melted back into the crowd, moving toward Niles and his companions.

Xemena stood rooted in place, her mind spinning. Her father had just promised to grant Niles a single claim? The weight of it sat heavily on her, an ominous feeling that her destiny now hung in delicate balance. As she wrestled with her thoughts, Niles passed by, catching her eye with a mischievous glint. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, hinting at the claim he could ask for—one that involved her hand in marriage. Xemena went rigid, her face draining of color. Niles noticed, letting out a sly, wicked laugh, a laugh that only he and Xemena understood.

Meanwhile, the king reached his private chamber, shutting out the noise and excitement. He unwrapped the scone Xander had given him and took a thoughtful bite, savoring the unfamiliar taste. A chuckle bubbled up from within him, then grew into a full, hearty laugh. It felt like a part of him had reawakened—a part that hadn’t known joy for years. Tomorrow he would don his crown and bear the burdens of a king, facing the world’s relentless challenges. But tonight, for this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to laugh, the image of that young, bold champion Niles still vivid in his mind.

A short while later, Xerxes’ children—Prince Xander, Princess Xemena, and Prince Xhiva—entered his chamber. Xhiva poured himself a goblet of wine, breaking the silence with a casual smirk. “It’s not like you, Father, to summon us at this hour.” He took a long drink before offering the goblet to his brother, Xander, who declined with a slight shake of his head.

King Xerxes stood by the window, watching the distant fortress walls, where guards patrolled with torches flickering like stars against the night. Xemena’s voice broke the quiet. “That summoned fool has embarrassed our court with his insolence. You should have him executed and end this shame once and for all.”

Xerxes turned his head slightly, listening. “Tell me, dear daughter,” he began, his voice as soft as velvet but laced with steel, “did I win a complete victory in tonight’s duel?”

“Of course, Father,” Xemena replied confidently. “The last bout was nothing—a mere trifle. Your victory was absolute.”

The king gazed back out the window, as if contemplating her words. “And you, Xander?” he asked, turning to his eldest son. Xander met his father’s gaze, saying nothing, his face impassive but his eyes keenly observant.

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Xerxes continued, almost to himself. “And who won the baking contest?”

Xemena answered quickly, “You did, my king.”

The king’s lips twitched in a bitter smile. “Xhiva,” he called, “I could’ve served you the raw ingredients, and you’d still praise it as the finest delicacy.”

Xhiva laughed, raising his goblet in acknowledgment. “That’s loyalty, Father.”

But the atmosphere in the room had shifted. Xander’s hand crept subtly toward his sword, while Xhiva’s lazy gaze sharpened, watching his father’s every move. Then the king’s gaze fell on Xemena, his Veritas Gaze coming alive, its power cutting through her defenses like a blade. “Tell me truly, daughter—who made the finest bread?”

A shiver went down Xemena’s spine. She opened her mouth, hesitating. “You…of course, you, Father.”

Xerxes’ face twisted in fury. With a roar, he swung his fist, shattering a table with a force that echoed through the chamber. “You lie!” His voice thundered like a storm, filling every corner of the room.

Xemena took a step back, trembling, her face ashen. “I—I’m sorry, Father, I only meant—”

“Did I have complete victory? Answer me!” His voice seemed to suck the air from the room, the oppressive weight of his anger crushing all in its path. “You’ve dishonored me—as your king, as your father, and as the ruler of this nation!”

Xemena collapsed, sobbing, her words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to apologize. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Xerxes lifted his hand high, fury blazing in his eyes, ready to strike her down like a predator closing in on wounded prey.

Just as his hand fell, Xander threw himself forward, taking the blow. The force of it sent him to his knees, blood trickling from his mouth. “Father, please!” he gasped. But Xerxes’ rage was unyielding. His hand moved to the sword at his back, and with a flash of steel, he drew it, aiming the blade toward his daughter.

Xander raised his own sword, blocking the strike with a ringing clash that reverberated through the room. In an instant, the doors burst open, and Xargian elite guards stormed in, taking in the scene with wide eyes—the prince standing against the king, blade to blade.

Xerxes’ voice was a low, dangerous growl. “You dare betray me, Xander?”

Xander’s voice was steady but pleading. “Forgive me, Father. Do what you will with me, but please…spare Xemena.”

Xerxes’ eyes drifted to his daughter, who knelt on the floor, trembling and tear-streaked. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Perhaps I should make you marry that summoned fool after all. Maybe then you’ll understand what shame truly feels like.”

Xemena let out a strangled sob, and Xander knelt down beside her, helping her to her feet. Xhiva, meanwhile, stood apart from the fray, his eyes flickering with barely concealed ambition, calculating the possibilities the scene unfolded before him.

The king exhaled a long, weary sigh, finally sheathing his sword. “Do not mistake my mercy for kindness,” he warned, his voice resonating with cold authority. “Is that understood?”

The three siblings nodded, each one bearing the weight of his words. “You’re dismissed,” he said, turning his back on them. “And pray you do not shame me further at tomorrow’s ball.”

As they left, Xerxes remained by the window, staring into the night, his anger simmering beneath the surface. The image of Niles’ defiance lingered in his mind—a reminder that not all battles were fought with swords, and that sometimes, his greatest opponents wore faces far younger and bolder than his own.

***

In the courtyard, their assigned assistant led Niles, Roy, and Gustavus to their chambers for the night. As the adrenaline slowly faded, the day's trials weighed on them, fatigue settling in. The goddess wished them a good night before retreating to her separate quarters.

“Not bad, Mr. Planet Buddy,” Niles said with a grin, giving the assistant a thumbs-up. “Without you, we wouldn’t have made it to the final duel. That took guts!”

The assistant gave a gentle smile. “Thank you, Sir Niles, but you and the king were the brave ones tonight.”

Roy gave the assistant a friendly smack on the back. “That’s how we say ‘good job’ on Earth.”

Slightly surprised, the assistant replied, “Then I am honored by your praise.”

“And you’re humble, too! You’re perfect for our Planet Buddy group!” Niles said with a laugh.

Gustavus chimed in, “Yeah, we all bring something different to the team.”

The three laughed, but then Roy and Niles caught Gustavus’s meaning and gave him playful punches on the shoulder. “Hey, does that mean Sir Gustavus did a good job too?” the assistant asked, amused.

“In this case, it means you’re a jerk!” they joked in unison, making the assistant chuckle as he processed the strange Earthling customs.

After a short walk, they reached the sleeping quarters. “Your room is here,” the assistant announced. “The goddess suggested you all share it.”

Roy paused before opening the door, “There are three separate beds, right?”

The assistant’s sympathetic expression said it all. Gustavus’s voice grew panicked, “Three separate beds…right?”

With a sheepish look, the assistant bit his lip as Roy opened the door to reveal one massive bed.

“I’m going home,” Roy muttered under his breath, as Gustavus stood frozen in shock.

Niles broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “It gets worse, guys. I snore like a lumber mill!”

Roy and Gustavus shared a pained look before Niles burst into laughter.

The assistant cleared his throat. “My apologies, Sirs Roy and Gustavus. Sir Niles requested a joke—it seems he wanted to see your reactions. There are, in fact, two extra beds inside.”

Too tired to argue, Roy and Gustavus shook their heads as they realized they’d been pranked. Niles gave the assistant a thumbs-up for being in on the gag. “Are you gonna be here tomorrow?” he asked.

The assistant nodded. “I work here, Sir Niles. I’ll be assisting with your preparations for the royal ball.”

“What’s your name?” Niles asked, extending his hand.

“Winston,” the assistant replied, grasping Niles’s hand.

Niles grinned, “This is a handshake—another Earth thing. It’s how we seal a bond. Congratulations, Winston, you’re officially a Planet Buddy.”

Winston beamed, thrilled to be part of the group. They said their goodnights and settled in for a well-earned rest. And, as promised, Niles did snore like thunder, shaking the walls well into the night.