Why Does My First Banquet End In Explosions?

The first sign that dinner was going south wasn’t the shouting. It was the sound of steel scraping against marble.

So yeah, not exactly the vibe I was hoping for.

“Stay calm!” a knight shouted, which was actually just code for “Panic!” because no one stays calm when someone with dual swords just somersaults into a royal banquet.

One of the masked intruders landed on the table in front of me, slicing a roasted pheasant clean in half like it owed him money. His eyes locked on me through the mask.

“Hero,” he hissed. “You’re coming with us.”

…What?

“Uh, hard pass,” I said, grabbing the nearest object for defense, which happened to be a loaf of bread.

He lunged.

I swung the bread.

The bread exploded into crumbs. Great start.

I dodged backward, almost slipping on spilled gravy, and yanked the wooden sword from my belt. At least I had that. Not that it mattered, because two seconds later his blade slammed into mine, and guess what? Turns out wood doesn’t block steel very well.

My sword cracked like a fortune cookie. No good news inside, by the way.

“Any time now would be great!” I yelled to literally anyone listening.

The banquet hall was chaos incarnate. Nobles were screaming like they’d just discovered taxes. Tables flipped, chandeliers swung dangerously overhead, and roasted meats soared through the air. Knights scrambled to form a line of defense near the king, who—credit where it’s due—sat on his throne looking calm as ever.

Two more masked attackers burst through the side entrances, blades flashing. I tried to retreat toward the guards, but my intruder friend wasn’t letting up. He pressed forward, each strike sending shocks up my arms. My wooden sword was now 50% of a wooden sword. I was about two seconds away from being 100% dead.

“Come quietly,” he growled, blade grazing my shoulder.

“Yeah, see, I would, but I have this thing about not going with strangers,” I shot back, ducking under his swing. My boots slipped on something—more gravy? Pudding? Whatever it was, I went down hard, smacking the floor. My sword clattered away.

The masked guy grinned (I think—hard to tell with the mask). He raised his blade for the final strike.

Then a chair hit him in the face.

He stumbled back with a grunt, mask cracking slightly. I blinked in disbelief, following the trajectory of the airborne furniture to the source—and saw her.

The clumsy fruit girl. Standing there, red-faced and clutching another chair like she had no idea how physics worked but was determined to use it anyway.

“What are you—” I started, but she cut me off.

“Move!” she squeaked, voice trembling as much as her hands.

I rolled out of the way just as she launched chair number two. It didn’t hit the guy, but it distracted him long enough for a knight to ram into him with a shield. The attacker cursed and spun away, joining his masked buddies in regrouping near the shattered buffet.

The hall was wrecked. Nobles cowered in corners. Someone was crying over a ruined cake. And in the middle of it all, me—sweaty, weaponless, and wondering how my life had become a low-budget action scene.

“Who are these guys?” I gasped, backing up toward the girl.

“No idea!” she stammered. “B-but they’re not very friendly!”

No kidding.

The intruders made their move. The leader—taller, heavier, big sword that practically screamed “compensation”—pointed at me.

“Take him! Now! He’s our bargaining chip!”

Bargaining chip? What does he mean?

Suddenly the nearest attacker charged. I braced for impact, mentally preparing to die like a hero (read: screaming and crying)... when the girl suddenly shoved me down and threw something else. This time, it wasn’t a chair.

At first, I thought it was an apple. Which, honestly, seemed like the worst possible weapon right after bread.

Then it started to smoke.

Then it exploded.

The blast wasn’t huge—just enough to knock the guy off his feet and cover him in sticky chunks of what I can only describe as apple-flavored shame. The smell was somewhere between apple pie and burning hair.

The attacker hit the ground groaning. Everyone froze.

Did she actually just bomb him with fruit?

I couldn’t help but gawk at her. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“Alchemical charge,” she squeaked, fumbling for another apple-bomb from the basket she had pulled from who-knows-where. “Highly unstable… please don’t move suddenly.”

Another attacker lunged at us. She tossed the second apple, muttering something under her breath. It burst in a flash of bright blue sparks, sending the guy skidding across the floor and into the dessert table. Goodbye, seven-layered cake. You will be missed.

“Are you—are you an alchemist?!” I asked, scrambling to my feet.

She nodded nervously, cheeks flushed. “Kaela. Apprentice rank… s-sort of.”

“Sort of?!”

“I failed the practical exam twice,” she admitted, pulling out a third apple. “B-but I’m good at improvising!”

Improvising… like bombing terrorists with fruit?

The attackers didn’t like this new development. One of them snarled, “Forget subtlety—kill them both!”

Kaela’s hands shook as she armed the last bomb. “Cover your eyes!”

“Why—”

BOOM!

The explosion rattled the hall, sending silverware flying and knocking over half the tables. Smoke filled the air, and when it cleared, the masked intruders were already retreating through the shattered windows. Their leader looked back once more before disappearing into the night.

“This isn’t over, Hero!” his voice echoed, dramatic as hell.

I collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving. My ears rang like crazy. “Where did that jump in power come from? The first two weren’t near that level…”

Kaela knelt beside me, clutching her basket like it was a lifeline. Her face was pale, eyes wide with lingering panic. “I-I’m sorry! That last one was a bit excessive… I-I didn’t mean to—um—make such a mess—”

“A mess?” I laughed weakly, gesturing to the apocalypse that was once a dining hall. “This place looks like a food fight in a war zone!”

More knights swarmed in, securing the exits. Elara appeared through the smoke, silver hair glinting, eyes like twin blades. She scanned the room, then locked on me. Relief flickered across her face—quickly hidden behind her usual calm.

“Are you harmed?” she asked.

“Define harmed,” I croaked, picking up what was left of my wooden sword. It snapped in half and fell to the floor.

Elara’s gaze shifted to Kaela. The girl froze under that look, clutching her basket tighter. Something in Elara’s eyes softened—a flicker of recognition? Interest?

“You,” Elara said quietly. “That was… alchemy.”

Kaela nodded nervously. “I-I didn’t want anyone to die…”

Elara’s lips curved into the smallest smile. “Impressive.”

I blinked between them. “Uh, question,” I said. “Who the hell were those guys? And why were they trying to kidnap me?”

Elara’s smile faded. “That,” she said, “is what we must find out.”

As the smoke cleared and the servants began dragging away wrecked tables, there was a count for casualties. Surprisingly, there weren’t really any at all. Unless you count the seven-layered cake.

I glanced at Kaela. She met my eyes for a second, cheeks pink, then looked away like her soul depended on it.

For some reason—as much as I hated the thought—I had the feeling this wasn’t the last time I’d find myself working with her.