Chapter 5: "Revolt of the Side Dishes"
It was only a matter of time.
While Grubnuk bathes in gravy and gives daily speeches from atop a stack of lasagna, murmurs of dissent begin to boil beneath the surface.
Somewhere in the shadows of the Bread District, an underground meeting is held beneath a discarded fondue fountain.
> "He has gone too far," whispers a cloaked figure. "Yesterday he made my grandma illegal because she owns a salad bar."
The speaker steps forward into the candlelight. A scarred duck with a chef's hat, half-burned, one wing wrapped in aluminum foil.
> "I am Benedict. Once royal head chef. Now... exiled garnish."
> Murmurs: "The Benedict?" "The Sauce-Splitter?" "He made the divine aioli…"
> "Yes," Benedict hisses. "And I will reclaim the spice rack of destiny.""
---
Back at the palace, things have escalated.
Goblins have started assigning sauce ranks. I'm apparently now a "Third-Level Crouton Custodian."
Arcanos is somehow on the palace entertainment committee.
> "We have a mime duel scheduled for tomorrow. Also, a butter sculpting contest."
> "Why does everything here feel like a fever dream I ate?"
> "You mean a dream that ate you back?"
Suddenly, the doors explode open.
Smoke. Fire. A war cry echoes down the marble hallway.
> "DOWN WITH THE GRAVY CROWN! ALL HAIL THE TRUE FLAVOR!"
Chef Benedict storms in flanked by rogue pastry chefs, gluten-free ninjas, and a ladle-wielding goose named Kevin.
Chaos erupts.
Grubnuk grabs a spatula.
> "A coup? Here? I was literally about to invent Cheese Law!"
I dive behind a table as flaming souffle grenades bounce across the floor.
Arcanos, already sipping tea, mutters, "I told you the side dishes would revolt eventually."
> "How did you know that?"
> "Because no meal stays peaceful when you mess with the menu hierarchy."
The hallway turns into a food-fight-meets-civil-war. Grubnuk deflects mashed potatoes with his crown. Benedict dual-wields carving knives and quotes outdated cookbooks.
> "WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!" I yell.
> "OR TAKE OVER," Arcanos shrugs. "Just sayin'."
Suddenly, everything halts.
Kevin the Goose lets out a single, deafening honk that echoes like thunder. Time freezes. Utensils mid-air. Gravy suspended. Goblins holding ladles like spears.
Kevin... is glowing.
> "Oh no," Arcanos says, his tone shifting. "He's awakened."
> "Awakened what?!" I scream.
> "His ancestral bloodline. Kevin isn't just a goose. He is... THE PAN-SEARED ONE."
Kevin slowly rises into the air, spinning gently like a rotisserie of destiny. Golden feathers rain down. A crown of breadcrumbs forms.
> "HONK." (Translated: "I claim the throne in the name of balance… and brunch.")
Grubnuk stares, sauce dripping from his goblet.
> "I can respect that."
Benedict bows.
> "The prophecy was wrong… the Saucebringer was only the appetizer."
> "Kevin... is the Main Course."
Arcanos, utterly deadpan, stands and claps slowly.
> "Bravo. Now this is theater."
Somehow, in the chaos, a truce is called. Grubnuk and Benedict shake hands with a breadstick.
Kevin honks in approval.
A council is formed: The Order of Culinary Peace. Its first decree? Free dessert Fridays.
> "...We still need to leave," I mutter.
> "Why?" Arcanos grins. "You're now High Judge of Bread Law."
I scream internally.
---
Just as peace settles and Kevin the Goose is officially declared brunch deity of the newly united goblin-duck alliance...
The ground rumbles.
Soft at first. Like distant thunder. Then louder.
> "Was that an earthquake?" I ask.
> "Nope," Arcanos says, backing up slowly. "That's squirrel stomping. I know that tempo."
From the horizon, they appear. Hundreds. No—thousands.
Squirrels. Armored. Furious. Feral. With tiny war paint and acorn-shaped grenades.
> "BARKTHAR LIVES!" one screams from atop a walnut chariot.
> "FOR THE SACRED GROVE!" another howls.
> "FOR THE ACORNS YOU OWE US!"
> "Oh no," Grubnuk says, eyes wide. "They brought siege nuts."
> "We have to run," I blurt.
> "Agreed," Arcanos mutters, hopping off his chair. "They still think you owe them tribute."
> "I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER THAT!"
> "You beat their champion with a baguette. It was sacred."
> "OH COME ON!"
The squirrels breach the palace gates like a tidal wave of chaos and tail floof. Goblins scatter. Ducks dive into fountains. Kevin attempts to stand his ground but gets dive-bombed by a red squirrel with nunchucks.
> "I REGRET NOTHING!" Kevin honks before being yeeted into a bread truck.
Grubnuk grabs a half-eaten meatball and tucks it into his pocket.
> "For later."
> "RUN!" I scream, dragging both him and Arcanos by the sleeves.
We race out the back, dodging exploding pinecones and dodging through pastry fallout.
> "WHY ARE THEY SO ORGANIZED?!"
> "They've had months to prepare," Arcanos yells. "You kicked off the First Great Squirrel War with a baguette, remember?!"
> "HOW IS THIS MY LIFE?!"
The last thing I see before we leap into the river below the palace is Barkthar rising on a siege acorn, cape fluttering in the wind.
> "THIS TIME... YOU WON'T ESCAPE THE NUT-PUNISHMENT!"
We hit the water hard.
And just like that, the fragile peace is gone.
The war has begun again.
The Squirrel Uprising has arrived.
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End of Chapter 5 (twice-roasted with revenge).