EMRYSA

Chapter Two (III)

Curious about their exchange, Warwick asked Prudy, "What did you send Ciara?" Prudy, not missing a beat, responded with a question of her own. "What did you send Prince Arcwick?"

Warwick stared at her for a moment, contemplating his response. "What's your name, fair maiden?" he finally asked. "Prudence," she answered. Warwick smiled warmly, saying, "Prudence, call me Warwick. I feel a connection between us. Would you like to court me?"

Prudy rejected his proposal. "I know you are a prince and all, but no," she said firmly. "May I ask why?" he inquired. "I do not think you are my type," Prudy answered, revealing her lack of interest. "How about you give me a chance? Like a trial period. I will prove to you that I am indeed your type," he proposed, hoping to change her mind. "Fine, it's not that deep. Can I go back to helping my friend now?" Prudy, not seeing any harm in it, agreed, saying.

Curiosity got the better of Ciara, and she finally asked, "Why did you want to meet me?"

Arc took a deep breath, gathering his courage before speaking. "I want to pick your brain," he blurted out, his words coming out faster than he intended. Seeing her confusion, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, I want to ask you something," he clarified, hoping to ease the tension.

Ciara relaxed her furrowed eyebrows, awaiting his question. "I would like to... join your team." Arc finally revealed his intention, revealing his desire to be a part of Ciara's team. Surprised by his request, Ciara questioned his decision. "Oh, erm, may I ask why? I mean, why my team? There are six others. Wouldn't you want the hefty Burnscar or Lisbeth of Awntrue?" she inquired, genuinely curious about his motivations.

Arc, however, had made up his mind. "I want to join yours," he stated firmly, expressing his preference. Ciara pressed further, asking, "What can you add?"

Confident in his abilities, Arc showcased his skills. "I am a skilled fighter. I use both a sword and a bow," he demonstrated, hoping to impress Ciara. Satisfied with his response, Ciara extended her hand for a handshake. "Okay, you're in. Welcome to Team Ciara. I'm still working on the name," she said, sealing his inclusion in her team.

As Ciara's magi-slate buzzed with a reminder of a cooking competition at the castle, she remembered that Micky would be participating. "I have to go now. Something came up," Ciara informed Arc. "Where? I can give you a lift." Arc, wanting to be of assistance, offered. He whistled, and a black horse with a purple mane galloped toward them.

"Where do you think they are going? Should we follow them?" he asked, seeking information. Prudy checked the time on her magi-slate, "I think I know where they're going. Her brother has a competition, and they're headed for the castle," she replied. Taking the lead, Warwick guided Prudy toward a light yellow horse with a light pink mane. "This is Flutter. We'll catch up to them on her," he explained.

"Micky?! Micky?!" Ciara's eyes darted through the crowded castle entrance in search of her brother. Finally, she spotted him and he beckoned her over. With relief, they caught up with each other. "Hey, I know you. You're one of Fizzwick's brothers," Micky exclaimed upon recognizing Arc. Arc, wearing a smile, approached Micky. "Hello, you must be Micky," he greeted. "I look forward to tasting your dishes, Chef Micky. I am one of the judges."

Warwick and Prudy met up with them. "Fizz, what are you doing here?" Warwick inquired. "I'm Micky's junior chef. I'm helping him." Fizzwick proudly announced. “You?” Warwick scoffed in disbelief. "Yes. Me," Fizzwick asserted and pulled Warwick aside. "You guys go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," he said to the rest of the group. "What was that for?" Fizzwick demanded. Warwick feigned ignorance. "What was what?"

"You were trying to make Micky think I have an ulterior motive for helping him," Fizzwick complained. "Don't you?" Arc asked Fizzwick, raising an eyebrow. Fizzwick sighed. "Micky is a great cook. My intuition tells me that he will emerge victorious," He explained. “That doesn’t answer the question.” Arc remained unconvinced. Fizzwick relented. "Fine. I'm in it for his food," he admitted. He handed each of them a sausage roll. They took a bite, their faces lighting up with delight. "This is good," Warwick acknowledged, impressed. "I believe you now," Arc added, satisfied.

Warwick reminded Fizzwick, "You better share what you get with us," before they all proceeded into the castle. The castle hall buzzed with excitement as people gathered to witness the culinary competition. At the judges' table sat Baltimore, Johnwick, Arcwick, Warwick, and Princess Sage. With her flowing straight black hair and brown eyes, Sage bore no resemblance to her dark-skinned, bald father. Ciara noticed her facial expressions and concluded that she must be an irritating person.

As the competition progressed, the aroma of various dishes filled the hall. Finally, all the dishes were prepared and served. The judges savored each dish, engaging in a brief discussion before selecting the winner. Arc rose to his feet, ready to announce the judges' decisions. "The winning dish is... the pomegranate-sumac chicken with roasted carrots," Arc declared.

The crowd erupted in applause, and Ciara, Prudy, the Ickies, and Fizzwick erupted in jubilation. "Well done," Morgana congratulated Micky. Arc invited the chef responsible for the winning dish to come forward. The crowd murmured in surprise, not expecting the victor to be such a young boy. Arc sat back down, a proud smile on his face as he clapped for Micky, who climbed up onto the stage.

"As the winner of the competition," Arc began, his voice resonating through the hall, "you will have complete access to the castle kitchen and the opportunity to learn from Chef Tom. Additionally, you will receive a bonus of five hundred gold coins."

"Thank you, your majesty," Micky said nervously, accepting his prize money. "Serve me more of your dish, young man," Johnwick requested enthusiastically. Micky collected his prize money, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement, and then returned to his friends and family, who greeted him with cheers and warm embraces.

One of the castle guards leaned in and whispered something to Baltimore, catching his attention. Sensing Baltimore’s uneasiness, Johnwick inquired, "Is something wrong, Baltimore?"

Baltimore swiftly issued an order, "Guards, escort King Johnwick, his sons, and the princess to their quarters."

"What is wrong, Daddy?" Sage, confused, asked her father. Baltimore, in a cold tone, replied, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Suddenly, a voice from the crowd shouted, "The afacs have escaped!" The hall erupted into chaos as panic spread. People scrambled, attempting to save themselves. Ciara, Prudy, Arcwick, and Warwick exchanged knowing glances, as they recalled their actions.

"Are you sure about your plan, C?" Prudy asked. "Of course, it's simple. The afacs are mostly water and clay, so they just need to turn into mud," Ciara explained confidently. "Then they can flow out of the dungeon. Okay, I'm in," Arcwick agreed. "I'm in too, but how will we get to them?" Warwick asked, curious. "You just need to handle the dungeon guards. Leave that to Ciara and me," Prudy assured him. "Okay, let's go," Ciara affirmed, determined to release the creatures.

In the dungeon. Baltimore paced anxiously in the dungeon, frustration evident on his face. "How did more than fifty afacs escape without any of you nimrods spotting them?!" he bellowed, his anger palpable. He demanded to know which guards were on duty.