As twilight befell on the palace, it ticked the appointed hour. Without delay, the banquet commenced.
The magnificent hall at the rear side of the Palace, bathed in golden hues, came alive with a myriad of radiant lights. The rear gates, mainly reserved for distinguished guests, swung open, inviting them to step into the night of grandeur and secrecy. The palace itself seemed well aware of the unfolding event.
Chandeliers, resplendent with numerous crystals, cast an ethereal glow that reflected upon the polished marble floor. Aides strolled with practised grace, ensuring every detail was flawless, as if weaving the threads of a grand tapestry.
Their dedication was evident in each feature, from the elegant table settings to the intricate decorations that adorned the hall.
Upon these tables laid a lavish spread, a culinary masterwork that went beyond mere food; it was a feast that symbolized the bond of friendship between realms.
King Edgar and Draven with their escorts were welcomed at the hall, their expressions a blend of curiosity and intrigue. As they crossed the entrance into the grandoise hall, their eyes widened in pleasant surprise, greeted by a spectacle that exceeded even their expectations.
King Edgar exchanged a knowing glance with Draven, both understanding the significance of the moment. The Emperor's hint had blossomed into an evening of unity, an unspoken gesture of appreciation for the bond between realms.
Ahead of them, an adorned grand table stretched out, and Emperor Vladimir and Empress Everen stood side by side, their eyes gleaming with shared anticipation. Their elegant attire gleamed with fine fabrics and intricate embroidery, reflecting their esteemed status as hosts of the extraordinary event that was about to unfold.
As the honoured guests arrived, laughter and conversations exchanged, while they bought shared memories and newfound connections. The palace's hidden secrets had been well unveiled, in a display of unity and friendship that would be remembered for generations to come.
Among the gathered nobles, royals, and dignitaries, Abel, and Raven graced the hall. They stood with regal dignity, serving as hosts to testify to the harmony that this banquet was all about. A feeling of togetherness hung in the air, even as the unspoken secrecy hinted at deeper meanings.
Emperor Vladimir's deep and commanding voice cut through the excited chatter, "Ladies and gentlemen, and esteemed guests, tonight we gather to celebrate the bonds that unite us, transcending distance and difference."
Empress Everen's smile, radiant and warm, echoed her husband's sentiment. "As the stars above form constellations, so do our friendships form alliances that shine through harships. Tonight, we honour those alliances."
Emperor Vladimir continued, "To our honored guests from the Camellias Realm, led by King Edgar and his noble son, Draven Edgar. Your journey across realms to be here is not just an event, but a symbol of the trust and unity that defines our friendship."
He raised his crystal glass, and the guests followed suit, "Let us raise our glasses, as a toast to this occasion and to the futures we forge together. May our bonds continue to flourish, our alliances endure, and our shared dreams lead us toward prosperity."
The hall echoed with cheers and the sound of glasses clinking together as the guests celebrated the moment.
As Abel and Raven exchanged smiles, King Edgar and Draven, serving as representatives of their realm, took their seats with grace. Noble guests surrounded them, occupying adjacent positions. Meanwhile, other attendees chatted amongst themselves or stood in small groups at the guest seating area, adding to the lively atmosphere.
A tall figure stood at the edge of the crowd, absently twirling a delicate crystal glass in his gloved hand. His gaze wandered discreetly across the expanse of the hall, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. Draped in a dark belted robe of rich green and gold, its flowing fabric elegantly concealed the left side of his legs. Dark brown boots adorned his feet as he took a measured step onwards. His fair complexion contrasted by a pair of eyes that seemed to gleam like molten gold. A cascade of green hair, with shades of silver, framed his visage.
With a subtle, almost noticeable curve of his lips, he gazed ahead in deep contemplation.
Lively conversations harmonized the event with interactions. The Emperor and Empress conversed with King Edgar and other esteemed invited nobles, exchanging warm greetings and sharing their thoughts while gathered around the magnificent long table.
Abel, dressed in an attractive blue tunic, moved gracefully among the guests, guiding them through the event, striking up conversations, and providing company. Raven, elegantly attired in a beautiful pink gown, accompanied him, assisting and ensuring that the guests felt welcomed.
"Damn it! Where is he?" Abel in a hushed voice whispered hiding his exasperation. Raven tugged him whispering back, "Shh! What are you saying?" Abel eyed her murmuring, "That damn Arawn! He-" Raven smiled all of a sudden, "Greet the guest, he would come...he is never late." she told in a hushed tone.
Abel heaved a sigh, soon grasping the sight of the figure clad in green, "You." he uttered, his tone a mixture of surprise and recognition. The figure eyed him back, a cryptic smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, Lord Abel Vladimir?" he replied, acknowledging the moment with a slight bow.
Abel's response was tinged with a hint of irritation as he looked aside, "And you must be Zayne," he stated, more as a statement than a question. A smile graced Zayne's features, "Well, yes. Indeed, I am Zayne Jasper,"
Abel's nod was accompanied by a knowing expression. "I'm well aware," he remarked, folding his arms in a display of nonchalance. Raven, gazing at Zayne, curiously turned to Abel, "Brother Abel. Who is he?" she asked, for clarification.
Zayne, with a gesture of humility, placed his right hand over his chest and offered a respectful bow. "I am a comrade of the second prince," he addressed Raven, his voice carrying a sense of camaraderie. "Allow me to extend my greetings, my lady."
Raven's brows knit inquisitively. "Comrade of Brother Arawn?" she repeated. Zayne's affirmative nod was accompanied by a gentle smile. Raven's own smile mirrored the sentiment, "He looks nice..." she held satisfied and spoke, "Nice to meet you."
Abel, rolling his eyes, took hold of Raven's hand, guiding her with a sense of purpose. "Shall we continue?" he directed, his words a prompt to move along. With that, they departed, leaving Zayne behind.
Zayne gazed at their back, the smile never fading, "Oh dear. Oh dear,"
Amidst the festivities of the banquet, a subtle shift in the atmosphere hinted at uncertainty. All eyes were drawn to the corner of the hall where Emperor Vladimir stood, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression a blend of solemn formality and unspoken concern. The celebrations soon swirled, continuing, despite the momentary diversion.
During this lively backdrop, Arawn emerged from the shadows, his approach swift yet distant. The air itself grew quite somber with uncertainty, creating an aura of suspense. However, his presence seemed to glide largely unnoticed, a reflection of the distance he felt from the revelry.
Drifting slightly, his attire—a flowing robe of elegant black—cascaded with a quiet grace. His hair, bound in a braid, hung over his shoulder in artful disarray, with hair strands framing the right side of his countenance.
Arawn's gaze met Emperor Vladimir's briefly, they had a lingering distance between them. The Emperor's gaze followed Arawn's figure with grim and stern expression.
With a slight nod to the Emperor, Arawn at once shifted his gaze and advanced ahead, his steps measured yet guarded. He stealthily slipped through the guests, blending with an almost uncanny ability to avoid much notice.
Draven, seated on the table beside King Edgar, caught sight of Arawn and watched him closely, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the situation. The Emperor took his place beside the Empress, continuing their conversation.
Amidst the charming chaos, Raven abruptly tugged on Abel's sleeve, her eyes alight with excitement. "Brother, look, he's there," she exclaimed in a hushed tone, discreetly pointing in Arawn's direction. "His hair looks great. I'm glad I styled it," she admitted. Abel, initially puzzled, spun his gaze around in search of him, "Where?" he queried, his brows furrowing.
Slightly miffed, Raven rolled her eyes, her impatience coated in affection. "Not everywhere, silly," she retorted, her voice laced with playful annoyance. "Look where I'm pointing."
Abel, as if suddenly enlightened, nodded in affirmation. His gaze followed Raven's indication, "Ah. There." he gasped.
Later,
Arawn, Abel, and Raven stood in a triangular formation, their expressions ranging from impatience to bemusement and irritation. Abel, unable to contain his restlessness, continuously tapped his feet on the floor, his arms crossed, and his gaze fixed on Arawn with a resolute intensity.
Raven caught in the complexity, eyed the both of them clueless and bemused.
"Brother," she began, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "Are you trying to crush the floor?" she remaked observing Abel's restless feet and his unyielding stare fixed upon Arawn.
Abel clearly agitated, noticed the paper thin smile upon Arawn's lips. Narrowing his eyes, he questioned annoyed, "Am I jesting here?" Arawn shook his head,
"No--It's nothing."
Arawn's words, however, only seemed to fuel Abel's frustration. His brows twitched as he shot back, "Oh, really? I'm bound to believe that you find this amusing!" Arawn's reserved demeanor remained unchanged, as he stood wordless.
Abel rolled his eyes, complaining, "Fine. Tch! Had to wait for you this whole time. Seriously? Did you assume I'd serve you an invitation or personally escort you in?"
Raven amused and confused, interjected, "Actually, I think he's on time, though. Brother,"
Arawn's eyes briefly closed, his voice light, "My apologies." Abel rolled his eyes, dramatically turning around, "Tch. Alright, Let's get moving." he conceded.
While Abel and Raven were engaged with the bustling guests, Arawn's gaze was drawn at the intricate artworks that adorned the walls and pillars. He stood in silent appreciation of the skillful details and masterful strokes.
Unexpectedly, a voice cut through the air,
"A masterpiece, a fusion of threads so fine... Each stitch woven with fortitude, divine. In every loop and twist, stories abide, Hanging on walls with grace and pride. What is it?"
Arawn's gaze subtly shifted, catching sight of a tall middle-aged man standing nearby from the corner of his eye. He was dressed in a bronze cloaked robe with gold embroidery and resplendent adorned jewels. His long, neatly combed white hair cascaded down his back, reflecting wisdom.
"Tapestry," Arawn responded with brevity. The man's lips curled into a knowing smile, "Indeed, not bad. Prince Arawn." his tone layered with an air of intrigue that held deeper meanings. His words were measured, as if each syllable had a story yet to be unveiled.
As the conversation flowed, Abel, always the gracious host, smoothily interjected, "Ah. Greetings. May I ask where you are from, honourable sir?" he questioned.
The man's smile remained, "I am Celric Galdur, the Imperial librarian." Abel's expression shifted slightly, a moment of recognition crossing his features. "Ah, Lord Celric," he responded, "I remember. Pardon my oversight. Allow me to escort you inside." Celric's nod carried a subtle acknowledgment.
However, the conversation took a more solemn turn as Celric faced Arawn once more,
"No need to think so much," he spoke, his tone carrying a weight of insight. "Sometimes you just need to relax, and take everything in."
Upon hearing this, Abel glanced at Arawn, his brows furrowed slightly. Arawn, with his demeanour still guarded, tilted his head ever so slightly.
Celric, assuming Arawn as emotionally distant, lowered his gaze, a thoughtful smile escaping his lips, "Nevermind. Let's talk again someday." he added, his words a gentle whisper, soon moving alongside Abel, joining the festivities. On the other hand, Arawn stood still, his expression one of serene detachment.
An arm draped across his shoulder, causing Arawn to turn slightly. "Why put up a poker face at all times, little one?" the voice advised. The figure who happened to be none other than Draven chuckled, as carefree as ever, "Look how beautiful of a banquet this is!" he exclaimed impressed.
"However you know, you are overthinking it. This banquet is meant for dancing~ singing~ music~ and I dare say, love~" Draven chanted, playfully poking Arawn's cheek with his finger., "Stop being so dour. Join the fun."
Arawn glanced below. "Well, I do find your reserved demeanor rather intriguing... But hard to crack," Draven suddenly remarked, his words carrying a teasing undertone.
Arawn's lips curved slightly into a wry smile, "How so?" he lightly asked as Draven grinned, "Oh, don't give me that." he teased.
"Well. I heard Zayne is here," Draven curiously questioned, scanning the surrounds. Arawn simply nodded, his gaze indicating Zayne's presence. "Where is he- Ah, there he is." Draven reacted as he walked over to Zayne, alongside Arawn.
Approaching Zayne, they found him engaged in conversation with a woman at a nearby table. Draven's eyes popped out, "Oh! Dear Goodness! When did this masterpiece of social interaction occur?" he blurted in clear shock. Arawn remained impassive. Draven blinked, his gaze shifting between Arawn and Zayne, "What in the world? How come? You owe me an explanation," he demanded.
Arawn spoke calmly, "...You are mistaken."
"Mistaken? I'm totally lost. Clarify,"
"...It's not something I'm concerned with."
"Aw. Come on," Draven's bewildered expression lingered for a moment before he refocused on Zayne.
Soon, Zayne glanced up at them. The women he had been talking to departed shortly. Heading over, he offered a bow to the two of them.
Draven, unable to keep his curiosity in, tapped his feet continuously, raising an eyebrow. Seemingly perplexed, Zayne questioned, "...Is something the matter?" Arawn stood aside letting Draven finally express his curiosity, "That woman? Who was she?" the question was blatant.
Zayne blinked, suddenly, flustered,
"Oh dear, me. No. No- Please don't get me wrong," he responded hastily, his words flowing rather quickly as he sought to clarify, "I mean. She was merely sharing a captivating tale. In other words, an entertainer,"
Draven eyed him, yet with a gaze of suspicion, "Hmm...?" Zayne looked downward briefly, collecting his thoughts. "Believe me. I swear," he emphasized, hoping to put any doubts to rest.
Arawn, uninterested in the trivial conversation, directed his gaze elsewhere. Draven, finally satisfied, exhaled, "Ah. I see, good." he declared.
Zayne, momentarily flustered and slightly bemused, raised his fingers to his temple, exasperated and speechless.