Silence fell around the room as we entered. It was unnerving, I admit, having all eyes on the room silently look upon me. In near unison, the nobles in the room made a salute to me, placing a closed fist to their chest. Their posture was respectful, but their eyes were calculating. I looked through the crowd, trying to get a lay of the land. There were people from different kingdoms around. There were Cornalic people, wearing the famous (or infamous) poofy hats adorned with feathers. There were Sfatarans wearing their elaborately carved arm bands. There were Entelessans wearing their loosely fitting robes, and there were countless other peoples from other, smaller kingdoms as well, but I couldn't recognize all of them after the little amount of time I had spent in my lessons.
According to what I had learned about the cultures of the groups I could recognize, the Cornalic people should be milling about the room, talking to delegates from all the other kingdoms, trying to negotiate new trade deals with anyone and everyone they can. The Sfatarans, by contrast, should be keeping to themselves in a tightly knit group, shunning anyone who tried to approach them, and the Entelessans should be trying to compete for something, almost anything, either amongst themselves or with delegates other kingdoms. But no one was doing any of that. They were all simply watching me, all trying to gauge me.
As my eyes scanned the crowd, I saw Mourastor looking back at me. Since he wasn't with me or the Princess he was allowed to enter the Hall much earlier, and probably was given much less scrutiny when he did enter. He sipped from his glass of dark amber liquor, and then gave me another salute, this one seeming more sincere then the salutes given by everyone else in the room. I nodded in acknowledgment. The nod was only meant for Mourastor, but it appeared to have been some sort of unspoken signal. Everyone ended their salutes, and started to talk amongst each other, but I could still feel that I was being watched out of the corner of their eyes.
Wherever I walked, I noticed that the other delegates were keeping a good distance from me. In other circumstances, that would have been insulting, but for this, it was oddly comforting. No one there to evaluate me and see through the ruse I must uphold. This feeling diminished as a young Entelessan man with a small retinue approached me. I could tell the two people at either side of him were warriors from the way they walked. The woman at his right was tall and lanky, with sharper features than were common for Entelessans, and the man on his left was short and stocky, built like a pile of bricks, with a blocky face to match. The man at the center was not a warrior. His walk was more of an arrogant stride, something reminiscent of Mourastor in it.
"I am General Allobor Erasthmus, of the great empire of Entelessa," he proclaimed. he was facing me, but something about how loud he made his voice made me think he was trying to put on some sort of show, like he was trying to make sure that everyone heard him.
"I am Kharilo," I answered. A question occurred to me and found it's way out of my mouth before I could stop it, "Were you the general who was trying to invade?"
I kept my face stony, trying not to look like I had just made a serious possible blunder, and a certain social misstep. I don't know if a demigod would be so bold as to say something so blatantly rude, but they certainly wouldn't be embarrassed about it afterward.
A shadow passed over the expression of the young general. I am not sure if that was anger, or something else.
"No, no, my young demigod. You had the honour of going against my esteemed colleague, General Seashimus. Unfortunately, he could not attend this event, as he is in mourning over the death of his son, Seakrea. You know Seakrea, don't you?" said the general.
I didn't need the Princess squeezing my arm to let me know that there was a trap somewhere in that statement, but the only proper response that I could come up with was, "I don't know that name."
The young general's quick grin let me know that I had triggered the trap, "Ah, of course! Your meeting was brief, perhaps you did not even have time to exchange greetings before you killed him and stole his armor."
People die in war. I know that. I have been in numerous battles before, and I have killed my fair share of enemy soldiers. I know that they all had families of their own, and I know that they would have killed me just as I killed them. None of that makes it any easier to hear that you are the cause of a father grieving for their child. I couldn't stop my face from twisting for a moment, but I made my face stony again. The young general spared me the need to respond, by striding away accompanied by his warriors and servants.
"That man will be trouble," whispered the Princess. I think she was talking more to herself than me, but when I questioned her with a glance, she answered, "You did a good job hiding your expression. I don't think anyone aside from he and myself noticed the change. That was a little too much humanity for a demigod to show." I suppressed a grimace at that. The young general seemed to have broken a dam of sorts, since I now had a steady stream of delegates coming up to me. Most simply introduced themselves and then left, seeming uncomfortable. I may have had something to do with that. My fumble with the young Entelessan general weighed heavily on my mind, so I resolved to not speak, in order to not fall into any other traps. This resulted in me silently staring at whoever was trying to speak with me.
One notable exception to this rule was the young Cornalic man who gave a perfunctory greeting to me, and then completely ignored me in favor of talking to the Princess, trying to set up some sort of trade deal. Perfectly fitting the stereotype. Beyond that, there was nothing of note. The rest of the ball lasted until the evening, when the delegates began shuffling out of the Great Hall, practically on each other's heels. The Great Hall was empty of everyone except for myself, the Princess, Mourastor, and approximately 20 servants cleaning up after all of the delegates. I was surprised to find that I was actually tired. I had done nothing but talk to, or rather avoid, a bunch of politicians and yet I was tired. Not so tired that I didn't keep an eye on the servants, but tired nonetheless.
The Princess called Mourastor and I over and said, "Well, that certainly could have gone worse. No major missteps on any of our parts. I see you went with the strong silent type Kharilo, I think that's an effective choice."
Mourastor nodded, "Yes, a little mystery goes a long way when making people confirm their own biases," he hesitated a moment before continuing, "By the way, Kharilo... About the 'Seakrea' that the young general mentioned. You seemed almost, regretful."
I grimaced at that, "All death in war is regretful. I won't lose any sleep over this particular death, and I won't hesitate if I have to do it again. That doesn't mean that I am unbothered when someone throws a grieving father in my face."
I suppose either my face grew hard or my voice became harsh, because the Princess laid a warning hand on my shoulder, as if to say don't attack the propagandist. I wasn't planning on attacking the man, so I relaxed my shoulders. I hadn't even noticed I was so tense.
"Is there anything else needed from me?" I asked, "If not, then I am going to my quarters."
The Princess indicated that I could go, so I went to my quarters and collapsed onto my bed. I had the feeling that the Princess and Mourastor were shielding me somehow. I think the blunder I made with my reaction to Seakrea's name was bigger than they were letting on. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I should just go to sleep.
I kept repeating that to myself for hours, sleep evading me the entire time.