The morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of Xiaxoan Blues, illuminating the delicate latticework and casting dappled patterns across the floor. Larin sat in the dining hall, finishing his breakfast, when Ted entered, his expression one of measured calm.
"There's a social event tonight," Ted announced. "At the Governor's manor. We'll all be attending."
Tyrs and Mynta were already in the sitting room. The knowing look that shot across passed unremarked. "Terrific," Tyrs drawled, his tone dripping with scorn. "A night more bracingly perfumed with the metallic tang of Monarek."
Mynta laughed. "Well, perhaps this will prove an educational experience in and of itself. These kinds of gatherings are at least half-spectacle, half-theatric, a full fight.
Ted sighed. "It's needed, sisters. This is not simple socializing. Every glance, every word, every gesture could mean friends or foes."
Larin did not say anything, but his mind was already weaving the meanings.
The rest of the day passed without problems. Tyrs and Mynta remained on the living room couch, relating to each other the peculiarity of Monarek's climate.
"Living here long-term would ruin your health," Tyrs said, gazing out at the faint smog on the horizon. "The air alone is poison, not to mention the stress of constantly watching your back."
"Xiaxo feels like a dream in comparison," Mynta agreed. "Here, everything is calculated, transactional. Even the air feels engineered to serve the empire's ends."
Meanwhile, Larin locked himself in his room, fiddling with alchemical formulas and perfecting designs for weapons. He would sometimes come out to confer with his aunts, who were sharp, practical women.
By the time the sun had set below the horizon, casting the city in a warm glow, they were ready.
Larin's formal attire was stunning. His headdress, made of vibrant Rainbow Pheasant feathers, shimmered with iridescent hues. His Chidhilla fur jacket was utilitarian as well as elegant; deep black fur against cold as well as spells, Lauron's Beast-softened leather trousers helped flexibility too, his Panther hides were worn as boots. They were enchanted and silent as well as indestructible. Such an outfit that gave him that impressive and very refined look together with the subtle aura of enchantment giving his outline a dull glimmer. Tyrs and Mynta wore formal armor that was elegant yet powerful.
Their headdresses were like Larin's but accompanied by fitted ceremonial cuirasses with Xiaxoan glyphs. The armor was made from tempered scales of the Mountain Drake, shining like polished obsidian. Long, flowing cloaks of Crimson Antelope fur gave them a touch of royalty, while their boots, reinforced with Silver Stag hide, hinted at their readiness for battle. Unlike the impractical, over-sexualized designs typical to the empire's formal wear, their attire was dignified and commanding. "You both look incredible," Larin said, adjusting his headdress. "Flattery will get you everywhere," Mynta replied with a wink. Tyrs smirked. "Remember, nephew, appearances matter here. But actions matter more." ---
The Governor's manor dwarfed Xiaxoan Blues. Five times its size, it seemed to be a monument to the extreme. The walls have carvings of mythical creatures intertwined with the insignia of the empire along with the sprawling gardens dotted with fountains and statues. The grand hall where the event was held shimmered in gold light from rather massive chandeliers with crystals enchanted to refract the light into a kaleidoscope of colors.
As Larin entered, she was overcome with the pure pomp of the people who had congregated. Men and women wore almost brazen, sultry attires in bright hues, and their bodies glistened with oils and magic. Jewelry festooned each wrist, neck, and ankle, and they moved with an intent to cause a commotion. "Why everything so dramatic?" Larin whispered to herself.
Ted leaned forward a little. "In the empire, these occurrences are plays for power. Style, charm, and influence can mean the rise or fall of a house-or an entire state."
Ted introduced them to his most trusted allies first.
"Larin, meet Neopolis and Nymphomia," Ted said, gesturing to a tall, stern man in military regalia and a graceful woman in flowing robes.
Neopolis was an Imperial soldier and a 'True' Magi, his posture unyielding, but his eyes gave away the slightest glimmer of compassion. His uniform was impeccable, and a faint glow of mana surrounded him, an indicator of his repressed power.
"A pleasure," Neopolis said, shaking Larin's hand. "I have heard of Xiaxo's tenacity. Admirable, if dangerous."
Nymphomia seemed warm, however. A Scholar Magi, she wore robes covered in swirling glyphs, which shimmered faintly as she moved. Her voice was soft but had an edge of intelligence to it.
"Knowledge is the sharpest weapon," she said, nodding to Larin. "And I suspect you wield it well."
They exchanged pleasantries, the subtle undercurrent of politics never far from the surface.
Ted continued to point out notable figures as the hall filled. "Over there are Nikola and Vermys Pemparo," Ted said, gesturing to a middle-aged couple. Nikola, a towering man with sharp features, wore a military uniform adorned with medals and insignias, while Vermys, a petite woman with silver hair, exuded quiet authority in a sleek, dark gown.
They rule a significant fraction of the military-industrial complex, Ted explained. Dangerous but pragmatic.
Ted's eyes shifted. That is Lina Nethoff. She is the censor and chief overseer of media across the empire. Royalty by birth.
Lina was really beautiful, but her jet black hair fell with waves down on her back and she wore some fitted deep-red dress, all the fabric shiny like liquid fire. Her facial expression was perfectly serene, although her piercing bright blue eyes, as if reviewing everything and anybody.
"And there," Ted said, his voice lowering a little, "is the Duke of Bitet. He was elected into his position as ambassador to save his country from ruin. He might prove an asset."
The duke was a thin man with hollow cheeks and a restless air. His clothes were excellent, but he didn't have that dash of flamboyance other people had here. He walked nervously, scanning the room, as if to see who might jump him.
The hall grew quiet when the Governor-a stout man with a voice like thunder-strode onto the balcony over the hall.
"Tonight," Governor Lyaison declared, his voice full of self-aggrandizement, "we meet to rejoice in the strength and unity of the Kirat Empire. And it is my privilege to present some new guests to our magnificent city. Do show them all due courtesy and respect."
The crowd whispered excitedly as two figures emerged from behind the Governor.
They were unlike anything most had ever seen: two beings with skin the color of the ocean at dusk, their formal military attire immaculate and festooned with medals that seemed to hum with energy. Their gills, delicate and alien, flared slightly as they surveyed the crowd with calm detachment.
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. The air became tense as the two beings stood there silently, their presence commanding attention. For a full minute, they waited, letting the weight of their appearance sink in.
Larin's pulse quickened a little. These were the same creatures he'd met before—the same creatures whose power had put the shakes in his knees. He glanced at Tyrs and Mynta, both of whom stood rigid, their faces unreadable.
"Stay sharp," Tyrs whispered under her breath.
As the silence stretched, Larin could feel the balance of the evening shift. This was no ordinary gathering.