Knights Training Base:
"Huh?! What do you mean, he is gone?" Enya's eyebrows shot up as her incredulous expression met the cavalier's. The cavalier before her nodded, "Yes. I am saying what's right. The squire who borrowed your sword, left with General Void and the Grand Commanders as an attendee to the Imperial Palace Banquet." he answered.
Enya's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, "No way. You must be kidding me. How would I train for my moves then?" The cavalier smirked, "Now, here's an idea – how about we seize the moment and slack off a bit? No commanders breathing down our necks, just us enjoying the peace. Only the leaders are at charge." he suggested in a whisper.
Enya's lips curved into an ironic smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, you have no idea how tempting that sounds. Want me to punch your face?" She arched an eyebrow, her threat implied.
The cavalier jolted.
"He's had my sword for two days now. He's saying he'll return it so many times. And I'm seriously tired of swinging this rusty blade around. That liar!" Enya's voice grew annoyed, tinged with frustration. "Wait, what was his name again?" she asked, a puzzled expression crossing her face while tossing the bronze sword aside.
The cavalier didn't hold back his chuckles. "Squire Joe," he managed to say before breaking into laughter.
Enya's face fell, "Seriously? Squire Joe? That's the name?" She let out a bemused sigh, her eyes rolling. "Sounds more like a nickname for a court jester."
Amusement crossed the cavalier's features. "PFFT! You've got a point there!" he said, struggling to contain his laughter.
Enya shot him a displeased glare. "Save the laughter for later, will you?"
"Right, right, my mistake," he conceded, stopping his laughter.
"I will put an end to this. I will fix him, by going there! And, let me tell you, he must be planning to steal it. My father's keep sake, that is. No way. I won't ever let that happen!" Enya's expression turned determined, her brows knitting together.
The cavalier's smile faded as he shifted to a more serious tone. "Hm. I agree with you. I also think his intentions are no good. That's probably why he's holding onto your sword."
Enya's frustration bubbled over, and she snapped, "To hell with him!"
The cavalier flinched again, gulping audibly. "Okay fine, I get it. No need to get all worked up."
"I couldn't care less of what his reasons are! I'm going there and taking back what's rightfully mine. And then! He can deal with the consequences of messing with me." Enya's eyes blazed with a strong resolve.
"Hey now, listen. You can only go there with the permission of Leader." The cavalier spoke.
A familiar voice sounded from behind. "Hold on a moment." Deion's presence drew their attention. Enya and the cavalier tuned to him as he continued,
"You have my permission. General Void informed me. You may deal with whatever you see fit."
Enya's lips curled into a smirk as she turned to the cavalier. "See? Permission granted."
Deion gave a nod approving as Enya's confidence surged. "Just you wait, Squire Joe. You don't know who you have messed with."
Deion's composed smile remained intact as Enya's eyes blazed with flare, emitting a deep blue glow that carried a threatening glare.
The Imperial Banquet
Draven, facing Zayne, sighed, "So. What's going on?" he asked. Zayne smiled, "Nothing of any consequence. Prince Draven."
Draven gazed at him intently for a while until Abel approached them, "Ah, there you are. Draven. The nobles wish to see you. Your father is calling for you. Let's go." he told, patting Draven's shoulder.
"It appears that most of the guests have arrived. As for the latecomers... well, let the guards and, hey, Arawn, deal with them. Or you! Zayne or whoever," Abel ordered, rolling his eyes. Zayne, upon hearing him blinked, pointing at himself perplexed. Draven pouted, "Seriously, more guest greeting duty? Again? Ugh," he moaned, "I just came. I haven't even spent a few minutes with Arawn."
Abel sighed, his eyes filled with understanding and a hint of impatience. "The nobility, the generals, and the commanders have graced us with their presence. You must extend your greetings and show respect," he explained patiently, ushering Draven away.
With Draven's departure, Zayne smiled at Arawn, a subtle bead of sweat forming on his forehead as the weight of their task settled upon them. "...Duty calls, Prince," he remarked with an air of unwavering resolve, receiving a subtle nod from Arawn.
Arawn, shifted his contemplative attention from the bustling banquet as his keen eye caught an unsettling sight. A bold nobleman had clasped Raven's hand, showering her with bewildering compliments through gallant gestures.
"Um. Sir?" Raven uttered, a puzzled and bewildered look crossing her face. "You are indeed a beauty. Just as elegant as the flower, I must say." The man began showering her with compliments, "I, the baron's son, invite you for a dance," he extended an offer, blatantly smiling at her.
Raven, caught off guard and overwhelmed, stammered looking around, "I... No, I..." Her confusion left her helpless and speechless, as she stood there, silently pleading for help through her eyes, "Brother Abel..." she thought.
For Arawn, a figure veiled in the shadows, this marked an intolerable offense. Despite his hidden emotions and reserved facade, deep down he held a strict sense of justice and a deep responsibility to protect those he cares for.
Arawn's gaze narrowed, with his lips as usual, pressed in a thin closure. Zayne, ever watchful, carried a sense of bewilderment. "Oh, dear goodness..." he murmured under his breath.
The nobleman tightened his grip on Raven's hand, suddenly, sensing an ominous shadow creeping beneath him. With a sudden jolt, he spun around, exclaiming, "What the-" His bewildered gaze scanned the surroundings, finding nothing amiss. Perplexed, the oblivious guests all around him, began to murmur and exchange puzzled looks.
Unseen by all, Arawn swiftly yet silently intervened from behind, decisively guiding Raven away from the perplexed nobleman. Raven's eyes widened in astonishment. Though Arawn's grip had been subtle, it had proven remarkably effective in averting all concequences.
"Hey, you-" Before the man could voice his objections, he turned to confront Arawn, only to be met with a chilling glare that sent a shiver down his spine.
Moments later, Arawn led Raven to a safer spot and released her from his grasp. His composed demeanour remained, "There's no need for you to escort guests any longer."
Raven's gaze fell sadly, as she murmured an apology, "I...am sorry."
With his ever-present smile, Zayne approached and offered his own reassurance. "Fear not, my lady. It is the job of the second prince to ensure the safety and harmony of the guests and the banquet alike." His soothing words continued, "You see, you're free to attend to the arrived guests now. Look, the melodists have arrived."
The elegantly attired melodists troupe beneath shimmering chandeliers set the stage for the evening festivities. With a baton raised, the conductor ushered in silence. Musicians enchanted guests with a captivating melody of harps and flutes, evoking a range of emotions, creating a graceful atmosphere.
On the other hand, some while later,
Enya stepped down the wagon, paying the fare. She yawned, exhausted by the ride as she tucked her hairs back.
Stepping onwards, she could see the Majestic Imperial Palace adorned with resplendent and architectural splendor. However, something was not right; this wasn't the rear side of the Palace.
Two attentive palace attendants, dressed in dignified livery, eyed Enya's approach with keen eyes. One of them spoke with a polite tone, "Greetings. You must be one of the escort knights, am I correct? Please, allow us to accompany you inside."
Enya marveled at her luck; she hadn't needed to offer any explanations or ask directions. With a sense of pride, she followed the attendants further towards the rear side of the palace.
As she strode forward, an opulent scene unveiled itself. Extravagant carriages lined the path, each more luxurious than the last. The air charged with anticipation and grandeur as nobles and dignitaries, elegantly attired, moved gracefully into the Imperial Palace's banquet hall. Enya couldn't help but be swept up in the splendor as she ventured further inside.
In the hustle and bustle of the lively banquet, the guests were engaged in dance, vocalists' sang, and the melodists' played sober melodies. The Emperor, Empress, King Edgar, and the noble guests seated on the refectory table, thoroughly enjoyed the festivities.
Enya, thanks to the escort knights, slipped into the bustling hall unnoticed. Most of the invited guests were engrossed in the celebration, paying little attention to her casual entrance. She walked through the crowd, her hands swaying at her sides.
As she glanced at all sides, her hand rested on her waist. She kept a keen eye out for the squire amidst the celebration. Eventually, she paused to the side, inspecting as guests clapped their hands in rhythm with the performances.
Enya couldn't help but smile as she joined in the applause and enjoyed the music and dance. She effortlessly blended into the crowd.
But then, a sudden realization of her real motive hit her. She touched her forehead with her fingers and sighed. Pursing her lips, and furrowing her brows, she pondered.
Enya glimpsed a mature noblewoman seated alone at a table, clapping and thoroughly engrossed in the enchantment dance of the vocalists alongside the melodists. She was the honoured Mistress of Ceremonies. The conductor of the female vocalists troupe.
Enya steeped to her side, tucking her hair behind her ears, while lightly tapping the lady's shoulder. "Um, ma'am," she called.
The Mistress of Ceremonies, fully engrossed in the vocal troupe's competition, replied, "Hold on, we're about to win. Wait."
Enya offered a polite smile, biting her lip as she continued, "Ma'am, have you seen a squire named Joe—uh, I mean, an escort squire?"
The Mistress slowly turned to face Enya, her brows furrowing. "Did you mistake me for a squire? I own escort knights. Knights. I've had high standards since my youth, girl." she boasted. "Do you understand?"
Enya smiled awkwardly and nodded, her gaze drifting to the side. The Mistress, still looking at her, stood up,
"By the way, are you the female knight from the training Headquarters? Hmm. You are a fine young girl. How about you join the vocalists' competition?" she suggested interested.
Enya glanced at her, wearing an awkward wry smile. "What? I don't know how to sing. No," she shook her head in refusal.
The Mistress sneered, "So you're afraid, huh?"
Enya's expression shifted from awkwardness to bold determination, igniting her competitive spirit.