By the time Floridiana, Bobo, Dusty, and I got there, the Earl of Black Crag and the queen’s cousin were circling each other with swords drawn while indulging in that time-honored tradition of…trading insults.

“’Tis dimwitted, musclebound men like you, who believe that every dispute is best settled by blood, who are bringing the kingdom to ruin,” the queen’s cousin accused. Although his blade looked sharp enough, his motions were stiff and clumsy and totally unsuited to a duel to the death.

(A random thought: Was Jullia sacrificing her least favorite loyal cousin, perhaps?)

Prowling around the other man, the Earl retorted, “Nay, ‘tis soft, useless courtiers like you, who have never done a single day of hard labor in your lives, who sit on plump, cushioned seats and gorge on delicacies all day, who are bringing the kingdom to ruin.”

Well, it could have been worse. At least they were still addressing each other with the polite “you.”

“Why canst thou not see that infighting serves only to weaken the kingdom in the face of a demon advance!”

“Why canst thou not see that giving nobles license to defy the Crown weakens the kingdom!”

Never mind then. They’d hit the “thou”-ing stage.

Bobo’s head swiveled from one man to the other, and she blinked as she tried to follow their insults. “Is it jussst me, or do they want the sssame thing? For the kingdom to be ssstrong? Why are they fighting?”

Dusty blew out a long snort. “Sounds that way to me too. Isn’t the dude who just said that you shouldn’t let nobles defy the Crown, the one who’s defying the Crown?”

Yep, I confirmed from my perch on Floridiana’s shoulder. It’s called hypocrisy.

She shot me a look, which I ignored.

We pushed past their retinues and into the dueling ring, causing the nobles to stop circling each other and face us with identical scowls. At the very least, our arrival had united them in outrage: How dare a bunch of commoners interrupt their fine tradition of hacking at each other with swords? How else were they going to prove which one Heaven supported?

I could have told them which one Heaven supported – neither. The gods and goddesses had far more interesting things to do than follow every frivolous duel on Earth. Like monitor royal chefs’ culinary inventions, for example.

“Are you sssure this will work?” Bobo whispered, since Floridiana’s pride wouldn’t allow her to ask it.

Yes. All right, mage. You’re up.

As I had coached her, Floridiana bowed, vaguely in between the Earl and the queen’s cousin so she couldn’t be accused of favoring one over the other. It helped that her tunic and leggings, so different in style from southern attire, marked her as an outsider.

One of the queen’s Household Guards and the Earl’s mage stepped forward at the same time to block us. “Halt. State your name and business,” they said, almost in unison – and not on purpose either.

The mage sniffed and lifted his chin, the Household Guard went stone faced, and the two pointedly avoided looking at each other.

Floridiana struck her favorite dramatic pose, pressing one hand to her breast. “Honorable lords, my name is Floridiana, Mage and Headmistress of the East Serican Academy in Claymouth in the Kingdom of East Serica.” (She made sure they could hear all the capitals.)

At the mention of an academy, the Earl’s mage perked up, but the Household Guard was unimpressed. “What is your business here?” he repeated.

“Why, the renown of the academic institutions of South Serica have crossed e’en the Snowy Mountains to reach the farthest reaches of East Serica! My companions and I have journeyed here in hopes of humbly conversing with scholars and professors and learning the wide range of pedagogical techniques that they employ, so that I may raise the standard of education in my own homeland!”

“Well! You certainly have come to the right place – ” began the mage, puffing out his chest, but the Household Guard broke in.

“You still have not stated what your business is right here, right now.”

Meanwhile, Floridiana’s mention of a different kingdom had caught the noblemen’s attention. Unconsciously, they moved a little closer to each other, aligning themselves against a potential outside threat.

It’s working. Keep going, I whispered.

Floridiana flung open her arms with so much force that I had to dig my claws into her tunic to stay on. She didn’t seem at all apologetic.

“Indeed, I was traveling through the forest this night when I witnessed an awesome display of – ” I gave a warning chirp before her praise could accidentally favor one side over the other, and she hastily redirected her sentence. “What courage! What loyalty! What devotion to duty!” Her dazzling smile included everyone there equally.

At the flattery, the noblemen’s stances relaxed minutely.

The Household Guard’s, however, did not. “Then you have no business here, travelers. Please withdraw so that Their Graces may continue their duel.”

Don’t listen to him. Keep going, I instructed Floridiana, who extended a beseeching hand, again making sure to include both men equally.

“But that is precisely why I am here! What a tragedy, what a loss to your kingdom – nay, to all of Serica! – if such honorable men were to fall!”

“’Tis for Heaven to decide – ” the mage began piously, but she talked over him.

“If I may venture a suggestion – nothing more than an outsider’s observation! – there is an alternative form of dueling in my homeland that may suit your purpose just as well. Perhaps even better, given the circumstances!” She beamed, feigning complete confidence that they would take that suggestion.

“What is this alternative form of dueling of which you speak?”

It was the queen’s cousin who spoke, and I allowed myself a moment of smugness. I’d thought, based on his rather portly figure, that he’d prefer a clash of tongues to one of swords.

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Confident of an easy victory in the latter, the Earl folded his arms across his chest. “This is a waste of time, Yellow Flame. Stop stalling and fight me!”

“Come, come, Black Crag,” said the queen’s cousin, who was apparently called the Earl of Yellow Flame. “Surely thou canst drum up some intellectual curiosity. Let us hear her out.”

Bow to him, I directed. Just a quick one, to thank him.

She obeyed. “My lords, I am honored beyond words that you would consider my unworthy proposal.”

“What is it?” snapped Black Crag. “Out with it.”

“I propose a duel of – gourmandism.”

All the South Sericans in earshot gave her blank stares, as well they should. It was a word I’d made up myself, just minutes earlier. It sounded good, though.

Floridiana gestured at the lush forest that surrounded the city. “Perhaps because my homeland is a harsher place than this, foodstuffs are less abundant, and so the consumption of lavish delicacies is an effective display of status, affordable to only the highest in the land!”

Here she hesitated, so I nudged her with a wing. Pineapples.

“For example, my lords, did you know that back in the days of the Empire, the aristocracy in the City of Dawn Song would compete over who could grow the largest, most beautiful pineapples?”

“Pineapples?!” objected the mage. “But they’re a copper a dozen!”

The two noblemen were too dignified to yelp, but they both looked as if they could not comprehend who would possibly compete over such a common fruit.

Floridiana nodded several times for emphasis. “Indeed. For the north is a cold, harsh land – ” if she thought the area around the City of Dawn Song were cold and harsh, then she should spend a winter in the Jade Mountains! – “inhospitable to southern fruits such as the pineapple. It is a delicacy in the north! Prized beyond imagining!”

The South Sericans blinked as if it were beyond their imagining.

“Expensive beyond compare to grow, as they require specialized, spelled, heated houses maintained by a veritable army of mages and servants! And when, after years of painstaking labor, the pineapple plant bears a single fruit, does the proud new owner eat it?”

“Uh, yes?” ventured the Earl’s mage.

“Nay! Banish the thought! This precious fruit is put on display, in a place of honor, as a centerpiece, where it proclaims to all with eyes to see: Here is an aristocrat who can grow a pineapple. Now that, my lords, is true victory.”

From their expressions, the two earls did appreciate the social cachet of ostentatious production.

“So what you’re saying,” drawled the still-unimpressed Household Guard, “is that Their Graces should hold a duel of fruit farming?”

“Na – ” began Floridiana before I jabbed her with a wing. A duel that dragged on for years and drained Black Crag’s resources sounded perfect. (And who cared about Yellow Flame’s financial situation?) “Why, yes, indeed! What better contest than one rooted in a tradition that dates back five hundred years to the most glorious era Serica has known?”

“That does sound – ” the mage started to say, casting a glance over his shoulder at the Earl.

Before he could finish, the Household Guard interrupted. “That’s all well and good, mage, but Her Majesty will not wait three years to see whether the Earl of Black Crag will obey her decree.”

At the reminder, both noblemen drew themselves up and sidestepped away from each other.

Curses. Was there a spell to seal this guard’s lips shut?

Not for nothing, however, had Floridiana been a traveling mage, skilled in the magic of talking coins out of people’s pocketbooks. “But of course! You are wise to see that. What I had in mind was a modern form of the gourmandistic duel.”

The mage’s brow furrowed as he strained to follow her logic. “This alternative form of dueling, of which you speak, ‘tis a competition to see…whose chefs are capable of serving the more lavish banquet?”

That was also an excellent idea, but Floridiana didn’t give me time to signal it to her. She plowed on with our original plan: “Nay, it is a competition to see who can eat more of a specific type of delicacy in a set period of time! For that is the true test of not only financial resources, but also physical stamina. It is far, far more difficult to consume vast quantities of food in a short time than you might imagine!”

“That is an…interesting form of dueling.” Yellow Flame raised his eyebrows at Black Crag. “What say you? Shall we test it out?”

“’Tis just like you to pursue novelty wherever you find it,” sneered Black Crag, although he didn’t reject the idea.

Yellow Flame, evidently, took that as a “yes.” “But what kind of delicacy can we find in the middle of the night?” And he scanned the battlefield for inspiration.

Lychees, I reminded Floridiana. Bring up the lychees.

“I know,” she whispered back through gritted teeth. Raising her voice, she addressed the two noblemen once more. “My lords, if I may be so bold as to offer an additional suggestion, we do have plenty of delicacies on hand.”

“We do?” Yellow Flame gasped, as if he could not fathom what they might find to eat on the scorched, torn earth. Under normal circumstances, he would even have been correct.

“But of course! The finest, most prized fruits that were once sent north to the Emperor and his court by express riders!”

Enchantress’ Smile, I hissed.

“Huh?”

The name of the lychee that was sent to court.

“The Enchantress’ Smile! The very same variety as the one that the Sons and Daughters of Heaven once dined upon! What could be a more fitting subject for a duel of gourmands?”

Yellow Flame eyeballed the muddy red fruits strewn across the ground.

On the other hand, a broad grin spread across Black Crag’s face. “Of course. A good idea. What say you, Yellow Flame? Shall we test it out?”

“What, here? Now? Surely we can find a more dignified setting.”

“What, are you saying that this field is good enough for a duel of swords but not a duel of gourmands?” mocked Black Crag.

Yellow Flame hesitated, but he couldn’t argue with that.

Black Crag’s grin stretched from ear to ear. He lifted an arm, summoning one of his retainers. “Have the soldiers gather all the lychees that have fallen. His Grace the Earl of Yellow Flame and I shall be dueling to see who can consume more of them.”

I nearly pumped a wing in the air in triumph.

----------------------------------------

Even on a battlefield, however, aristocratic procedure held sway, and it took a good hour to set up a simple eating contest. With mages from both sides supervising them, the Black Crag soldiers crawled around on their hands and knees, picking up the same lychees that the trees had shot at them. They weren’t all Enchantress’ Smiles, but neither nobleman seemed to notice or care. Yellow Flame was much more concerned with ensuring that all the dirt was rinsed off and that the lychees’ skins were pristine, while Black Crag lounged in a chair volunteered by a Lychee Grove merchant. Legs stretched out before him, he guffawed every time Yellow Flame grimaced at the sight of a dirty or damaged lychee.

“Have them wash their hands before they start peeling,” the queen’s cousin ordered.

“I knew you were weak, but do you lack even the strength to peel a lychee yourself?”

“Black Crag, Black Crag, please don’t tell me that a mighty earl such as yourself makes a habit of peeling his own fruit?”

“Of course not. But this is a battlefield duel, is it not? Do you bring your full kitchen staff to war with you?” Black Crag’s sneer indicated that he was sure the queen’s cousin did. His head swung towards us. “You there!”

In an instant, Floridiana was in front of him, bowing low.

“Since you know so much about duels at the Emperor’s court, how did they do it? Was peeling the lychees part of the contest?”

Say yes, I directed. Anything to slow them down and buy time for Jullia or the Lady of the Lychee Tree to do – well, something.

Floridiana beamed. “But of course, Your Grace! The speed and skill with which one peeled a lychee was part of the contest too!”

“Ha! Hear that?”

Black Crag stabbed a forefinger at Yellow Flame, who agreed with no enthusiasm whatsoever, “Very well, then. Let us clarify the terms of the duel before we start. If I eat more lychees in the time it takes that candle to burn down one notch, you will obey the Queen’s decree and withdraw your army.”

“And when I eat more lychees than you in that time, you will scamper on back to my niece and tell her that I’m doing this for her own good. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

They did not shake hands, but maybe that wasn’t the custom here.

Without needing any urging, Floridiana claimed the position of judge, and such was her confidence and the abnormality of the situation that no one disputed it. From her shoulder, I surveyed the scene: the two men sitting at opposite ends of a long table, a heaping basket of lychees and a small waste basket next to each, and a single candle midway between them.

A page boy hovered, ready to light the candle on Floridiana’s signal.

She took a deep breath. “Ready. Set. Eat!”