Noah lay flat on his back, one leg dangling off the side of the royal bed like he'd just been emotionally destroyed by a long-distance breakup and also hit by a truck.
Because, in a way, he had.
"I didn't ask for this," he muttered to himself. "I just wanted coffee… and maybe a little action. Was that too much to ask?"
As if answering his woes, the door creaked open — and then chaos arrived.
A parade of servants marched into the room like a royal food army.
Each carried a massive silver tray stacked high with food that glowed, sizzled, or made tiny bubbling noises that definitely weren't FDA-approved.
Noah sat up slowly, blinking. "Uh… are we feeding an army? Or just aggressively targeting my abs?"
One of the maids — a young woman with bright pink hair and a smile suspiciously cheerful for someone carrying six pounds of glowing pasta — beamed at him.
"These dishes were prepared by the palace's top chefs! Please enjoy, Hero."
He looked down at the plates.
There were some familiar sights — steamed vegetables, some kind of roasted bird that looked suspiciously like turkey — but also stuff that absolutely didn't belong.
A loaf of bread that levitated.
A bowl of soup that shimmered like a rainbow oil spill.
And what he assumed were mashed potatoes… except they were bright purple and lightly humming.
He poked one. It purred.
"…I'm either gonna die or ascend," Noah muttered, grabbing a fork.
The first bite melted in his mouth like holy butter.
He moaned. Actually moaned.
"Okay what is this and can I marry it?"
The pink-haired maid giggled. "That's roasted moonduck with celestial glaze."
He stared at her. "You just made that up."
"No, it's a real bird. From the Skyfall Cliffs."
"Right. And next you'll tell me this juice is made from unicorn tears."
She paused. "Oh, no! That's unicorn milk. Much healthier."
Noah dropped his spoon.
Still, as terrifying as the menu was, the food was good.
Too good.
He began stuffing his face without shame, channeling the hunger of a college student during finals week.
Then it happened.
"Would you like me to feed you, Hero?" the maid asked, kneeling beside him with puppy-dog eyes and holding a forkful of glittering fruit.
He froze. Mid-chew. "Excuse me?"
"It is custom to — "
"Nope." He pushed the fork gently back toward her. "Absolutely not. I still have some pride left. Let me at least keep that while I eat this glowing duck."
She looked a little disappointed, but backed off with a small curtsy.
Noah returned to his meal, now shoveling like a man on death row.
Between bites, he managed a conversation with the maids about the capital.
"So how's the whole… kingdom thing doing?" he asked with a mouthful of jelly-like fruit.
"Well," one of them began, setting down a carafe of sparkly juice, "the economy's stable. Trade routes with the east have reopened. Monster sightings have increased slightly, though."
"Slightly?"
"Only twenty-seven percent!"
"That sounds like a lot — "
"Not compared to last year!" she chirped.
Another maid chimed in. "Plus, the royal treasury just finished constructing the Grand Bathhouse of Eternal Soothing."
"...What even is this kingdom?" Noah muttered.
Before he could ask if the bathhouse came with free massages, the maids began clearing the plates with practiced grace.
Then, without a word, two of them clapped in unison.
A soft whoomph echoed through the room as the glowing runes on the walls faded.
The lights dimmed to a gentle glow, and a warm breeze whispered through the open window.
"Sleep well, Hero," the maids said in unison, backing out with eerie synchronization and closing the door behind them.
Noah stared at the now-dark room.
"Okay, this is the part where I find out they slipped something into the duck," he muttered.
But no hallucinations came. Just peace. And a very full stomach.
He burped softly, rolled over, hugged a pillow shaped like a giant grape, and let sleep take him.
For what felt like exactly twelve minutes.
RIIIIIIIIING!
Noah sat bolt upright.
"What?! What is that?!"
He looked around wildly before his eyes landed on the glowing orb beside the bed. It was pulsing angrily.
"Good morning, Hero!" a chipper voice rang out from inside the orb. "It is currently 4 A.M.! Rise and shine!"
Noah stared at it. "You lying ball of sorcery."
"You must freshen up! Training begins soon!"
Noah dropped his head back into the pillow with a long, miserable groan. "No. I just got here. I am emotionally and digestively exhausted."
The orb didn't care. It began to ring louder.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!
"Okay OKAY!" Noah shouted, sitting up like a zombie clawing its way from the grave. "Fine! You win, demonic time egg!"
Still muttering curses, he stumbled out of bed and grabbed a towel from a nearby hook. His body felt like it was filled with soup. Magic soup.
He staggered toward the bath chamber connected to his room, still swearing under his breath. "This is fine. Everything's fine."
As he passed the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself: messy hair, eyes barely open, a deep pillow crease down one cheek. He stopped and pointed at his reflection.
"This is your life now, champ. Hope you're proud."
The reflection looked back with the same expression of resigned suffering.
He shuffled into the bath, dropping the towel with a dramatic flair, and began what could only be described as a pity-shower.
"Tomorrow," he muttered as the warm water hit his skin, "I'm hiding the orb."