Four months had passed since the last disastrous ball, and Alaric found himself reluctantly preparing for yet another social gathering. This time, however, the occasion was different. Baroness Celeste Karmon was hosting the banquet, celebrating the successful recovery of Merger after the six-month-long war with the goblins.
Alaric adjusted his collar, looking at his reflection with a resigned sigh. He knew what awaited him: not just the tedious politeness of the nobility, but the constant criticism from his own family. He could already hear their voices in his mind, echoing the same complaints over and over again.
The carriage ride to the Karmon estate was tense. His father, Count Vincent Vargas, was stern and silent, his disapproval evident in every stiff movement. His mother, Isabella, couldn't contain her frustration.
"You need to understand the importance of these events, Alaric," Isabella began, her tone sharp. "You embarrassed us last time. This is your chance to make amends."
Alaric stared out the window, watching the landscape pass by. "I don't see how pretending to enjoy myself will make any real difference."
Damian, his elder brother, smirked. "You're hopeless, Alaric. It's not about enjoying yourself; it's about making connections, building alliances."
Eliza, his sister, chimed in. "And you need to stop acting like you're above it all. We're all making sacrifices here."
Alaric clenched his jaw, the familiar frustration bubbling up. "Sacrifices? What do you know about real sacrifices?"
The carriage fell silent, the tension thick in the air. Isabella sighed deeply, shaking her head. "Please, Alaric, just try to behave tonight. For the family's sake."
They arrived at the grand Karmon estate, the building illuminated by hundreds of lanterns. The sounds of laughter and music spilled out into the night. As they stepped out of the carriage, Alaric steeled himself, determined to endure the evening without causing another scene.
Inside, the ballroom was a vision of opulence. Noblemen and women dressed in their finest attire mingled, their faces masked with polite smiles. Baroness Celeste Karmon greeted the Vargas family with a gracious smile, her eyes briefly meeting Alaric's with a knowing glint.
"Welcome, Count Vargas, Lady Isabella. It's a pleasure to have you all here," Celeste said warmly.
Vincent nodded. "Thank you, Baroness. The pleasure is ours."
Alaric followed his family through the crowd, exchanging obligatory pleasantries with other guests. He felt like an outsider in his own skin, the mask of civility chafing against his true nature. He caught sight of Margaret across the room, speaking animatedly with a group of young nobles. Their eyes met, and she gave him a small, encouraging smile.
Isabella nudged him gently. "Go, Alaric. Speak to people. Show them that you're not the same as before."
With a resigned sigh, Alaric made his way through the throng, accepting congratulations and well-wishes for his role in the goblin war. Each interaction felt like a test, a performance he had to perfect.
Eventually, he found himself standing alone by the refreshment table, a glass of wine in hand. He took a sip, savoring the brief moment of solitude. His thoughts drifted back to the battles, to the grim determination that had fueled him. Here, amidst the laughter and trivial conversations, it all felt so distant.
"Enjoying yourself?"
He turned to see Margaret, her eyes filled with heavy sorrow.
"Not particularly, but I'm trying."
Margaret nodded, her expression softening just a fraction. "It's strange, isn't it? To be here, after everything we've seen."
Alaric looked around the room, the opulent surroundings feeling almost surreal. "Yes, it is. Sometimes I wonder if they truly understand what happened out there."
"They don't," Margaret said quietly. "But that's probably for the best. They don't need to carry the same burdens we do."
Alaric took another sip of his wine, his mind wandering back to the horrors they had faced. "Maybe you're right. But it doesn't make it any easier."
Margaret placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but grounding. "We did what we had to do. And now, we have to find a way to live with it."
Alaric met her gaze, seeing a kindred spirit in her eyes. "I suppose that's all we can do."
They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the banquet fading into the background. For the first time that evening, Alaric felt a sense of peace. Here, with someone who understood, he didn't have to pretend. They were both survivors, trying to find their way in a world that had moved on without them.
As the night continued, they stayed close, finding solace in each other's company. And for Alaric, that was enough.
Far away from the brightness of the banquet.
Deep in the forest, inside a shadowy cave, a man sat at the head of a makeshift table, illuminated only by the flickering light of a few scattered torches. Around him, twenty figures were gathered, their faces partially obscured by the dim light and hoods.
"We've been pushed back," the man began, his voice a low growl. "Our plans were disrupted by that damned Alaric and the forces of Merger."
One of the figures, a woman with sharp eyes, leaned forward. "It was a temporary setback. The goblins were only the beginning. We have other means."
The man nodded, but his expression remained stern. "We need to be more careful. Our next move must be precise. No more mistakes."
Another figure, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, spoke up. "What about the weaponry? Alaric's creations are formidable. We need to neutralize him."
The man at the head of the table clenched his fists. "Alaric is a threat, but he's also an opportunity. We can learn from his designs, use them against our enemies."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. The man continued, "Our ultimate goal remains the same. We will sow chaos, disrupt the noble houses, and seize control. But we must be patient and strategic."
The woman with sharp eyes smirked. "And what of Alaric himself? Do we capture or kill?"
The man leaned back, a cold smile spreading across his face. "We'll see. For now, let him be. He's useful alive, for the time being."
The meeting continued, plans and strategies whispered in hushed tones. The man at the head of the table listened carefully, his mind already several steps ahead, plotting the next move in their grand scheme.
"Remember," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Failure is not an option. We will succeed, and our purpose will be fulfilled."
With that, the meeting dispersed, each figure melting back into the shadows of the cave, their resolve stronger than ever. The man watched them go, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over him. The game was far from over, and Alaric had yet to see the full extent of their power.