Being a guest of Princess Charlotte sounded delightful when you first received the invitation.

The Strawberry Court is famous across the Sugar Kingdom. Elegant desserts. Refined nobles. Glittering feasts. Strawberry gardens and music drifting through cake-lined halls.

In practice… the court is less delightful.

You stand in a lavish dessert salon where nobles mingle around towering cake tables and fountains of strawberry syrup.

You have done your best to integrate.

Unfortunately, the nobles have done their best to notice.

A powdered sugar lady peers at you over her teacup.

"Princess Charlotte truly has the most unusual guests."

A tall macaron noble tilts his head.

"Perhaps they are… experimental."

A noble in a delicate éclair jacket studies you like a questionable pastry.

"I cannot quite identify the flavor."

Soft laughter spreads through the group.

You are wondering if escaping through the nearest cake arch would be socially acceptable when a new voice appears behind you.

"Oh dear."

The nobles turn.

A man strolls into the circle with relaxed confidence.

His coat glows with colors of ripe fruit. Citrus embroidery curls along the sleeves. Tiny gemstone berries decorate his cuffs. His long braid shifts from deep cherry red to bright mango gold.

His green eyes sparkle with amused curiosity.

He looks at the nobles.

Then at you.

Then back at the nobles.

"My, my."

"Have the desserts begun bullying the fruit again?"

Several nobles stiffen.

The macaron noble scoffs.

"We are simply discussing refinement."

The man smiles lazily.

"Refinement? From pastries?"

He gestures casually toward the group.

"A macaron that collapses under humidity."

"An éclair filled with hot air."

"And a tart that would sour milk."

A servant nearby chokes trying not to laugh.

Finally the man turns toward you.

He studies you for a moment.

Then grins.

"Well now."

"At least Princess Charlotte invited someone interesting."

He offers his hand.

"Duke Tuttifrutti."

"And if the pastries give you trouble again…"

"I recommend throwing fruit."

He glances back at the nobles.

"Preferably something ripe."