Chapter 9 Royal Rage
1109 Words
No sooner had Elvis entered Celestial Keep than Denny came storming in, two enormous chests in tow.
"Look what I brought you, son!" With dramatic flair, he threw open the chests—both overflowing with copper coins.
"Oh come now, Father! I don't need money. You should keep it for the treasury!" Elvis turned away with exaggerated indifference.
{System Alert: +888 rage points from Denny}
Denny's palm crashed down on the table. "What nonsense! A man owns his wealth—how many times must I teach you this?"
"Tsk, but Father, you just promised to manage it for me!" Elvis fluttered his eyelashes, his theatrics making Denny's eye twitch.
{+388 rage points}
"Enough excuses—the money stays here."
"Fine. Just leave it and go." Elvis waved him off lazily.
"About those fireworks blueprints..."
"Well..." Elvis leaned in conspiratorially. "I've been eyeing that snow-white tiger pelt from your last hunt. Care to part with it?"
Denny looked like he'd been stabbed as servants brought the pelt. Cradling it like sacred relic, he groaned, "My greatest hunt! Your mother begged for this—I slept on Serenity Palace's floors for weeks to keep it! Treasure it, boy!" He stormed off, clutching the fireworks formula like a wounded man.
Elvis admired the flawless pelt, draping it dramatically. "Perfect for a robe!" Without hesitation, he grabbed scissors and hacked away, transforming half the pelt into a crude cloak before strutting toward Serenity Palace.
Denny was still mourning his loss when Elvis swaggered in, the mangled pelt billowing behind him.
"Father! Mother! Behold my magnificent new attire!" He spun like a performer taking bows.
"Stunning! Fierce as the beast itself," Empress Vallier praised warmly.
"Charming," Denny said through clenched teeth, his smile strained. "That wouldn't be my pelt, would it?"
"Oh yes! Just a quick trim, and—ta-da! Such generous material!" Elvis gushed, playing the clueless innocent.
{Host has gained 10,000 rage points from Denny - Danger level critical}
Meanwhile, Denny quietly picked up a stool, his face twisting into a dangerous smile. "Elvis, come here. Your father has something special to show you."
"Ahem! Sorry Dad—urgent matters! Must dash!" Elvis sprinted away without hesitation. With 10,000 rage points accumulated, getting caught might mean being flayed alive.
"GET BACK HERE!" Denny roared, charging after him with the stool raised high. "You ungrateful brat! Do you know what I endured for that tiger pelt? I carried that beast on my back for twenty miles through mountain passes! It was destined for Aurelia Palace as my proudest trophy, and you—you turned it into this mangled mantle? I'll make you regret the day you were born!"
"Father, wait! I come bearing treasure!" Elvis yelped, ducking behind a pillar.
Denny skidded to a halt. "Treasure? This better be worthwhile, or so help me—"
Elvis flashed a conspiratorial grin. "Imagine a crop that could feed all of Aeloria. Valuable enough?"
Denny's pupils contracted. His face flushed crimson despite the winter chill, breath coming in short gasps. "If you're lying, not even your mother can save you. Am I clear?"
"Would I deceive you?" Elvis produced a lumpy object from his sleeve. "Behold the potato—yields ten times more than current crops, thrives in any climate, withstands drought, and tastes far better than millet porridge!"
"You expect me to believe this worthless lump can feed my people?" Denny snarled, snatching the potato with trembling hands.
{Host has gained 10,000 rage points from Denny - Rage at lethal levels}
"It's meant to look this way! Try breaking it—" Elvis edged backward as Denny's killing intent became palpable.
With a crisp snap, Denny split the potato and bit into the raw flesh. "Pfah! Disgusting! Hard as flint!" he spat, wiping his mouth furiously. "I'd rather eat dirt!"
Elvis saw his father's doubtful look and knew explanations wouldn't cut it—better to show than tell.
"Hold on, Father. These need fire to become edible," he said, waving at the knobby tubers.
Denny glared at the strange vegetables in his hand. If these really were miracle crops... well, the boy should get his chance to prove it.
"To the royal kitchens then," he growled, swinging the stool like a weapon. "But if you're lying, boy, you'll be wearing this wood!"
The busy kitchen froze as their emperor burst in—one hand gripping a stool, the other dragging his son struggling with an armful of potatoes.
"Your Majesties!" The head chef scrambled to bow, eyeing the stool with alarm. The entire kitchen staff held their breath.
"Skip the formalities. Let the boy play with his dirt balls," Denny snapped.
"Patience, Father!" Elvis recklessly chucked the tubers straight into the blazing oven.
"You're roasting them raw?!" Denny's grip tightened on the stool. That damned tiger-skin cloak made the prince temptingly targetable.
"Your Majesty, what are they—" a cook dared to ask.
"Know your place!"
Soon, a savory roasted scent filled the air. Elvis fished out the blackened potatoes, hissing as he broke one steaming portion for the emperor.
"Ah, been too long!" He took a showy mouthful, savoring the fluffy insides. Denny sniffed cautiously before biting—then his eyes lit up.
"Hot damn... buttery, rich..." Crumbs tumbled down his beard as he devoured it. "These truly yield tenfold harvests?"
"Absolutely! Grows anywhere too!"
Denny stroked his beard. "The royal fields beyond Valkaris—ten thousand acres. Prove this there. Succeed, and the land's yours. Fail..." He snatched the remaining potato with a dark chuckle. "You'll be plowing fields until winter."
"Wait, why can't you—" Elvis's protest echoed through empty air. He turned to the gawking staff. "What? Never seen your crown prince before?" Flushing, he bolted after his father.
"What kitchen sorcery was that?" a cook whispered. "That aroma..."
"Quit the yapping! That royal brat's shenanigans have delayed dinner!"
Meanwhile in Serenity Palace, Denny offered two steaming potatoes to Empress Vallier with a sly grin.
"Den, this burnt-looking thing... are you sure it's edible?" The Empress eyed the odd food with visible reluctance.
"Do you really think I'd feed you poison? Just try it!"
She took a cautious bite, then her eyes lit up. "Sweet heavens!! This is amazing!"
"This 'thing' yields over ten Aeloria per acre," Denny revealed proudly.
"You can't be serious?" she gasped.
"Elvis gave it to me himself!"
The Empress grew thoughtful. "First fireworks, then beauty potions, now super crops... Doesn't this seem too convenient?"
Blinking slowly, the Emperor squeezed her hand. "Our son has his own mysterious ways. But remember—he'll always be our own flesh and blood, and Aeloria's Rightful Heir."
- Writer
