The final, golden notification declaring our victory shimmered on the Scry-Screens, and the Royal Arena exploded into a chaotic symphony of noise. The portal to my dungeon swirled shut, plunging the main lobby back into its familiar, blessed silence.
My team stood in the center of the room, covered in a light dusting of Manticore fur, looking completely stunned.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
"Did... did we just win?" Pip asked, his voice a small, disbelieving squeak. "With a belly rub?"
Gilda just stared at her own hands, a look of profound confusion on her face. "My ancestors fought dragons," she muttered to herself. "I just... gave a giant cat a tummy tickle. And it worked."
Sir Crumplebuns puffed out his chest. "IT WAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY FOR THE FORCES OF COMFORT!" he boomed.
But while my team celebrated their strange, quiet victory, the reaction in the Royal Arena was anything but quiet.
(The Royal Box)
