The grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace was a massive piece of architecture. Soaring columns of white marble rose to a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of the empire's founding. Crystal chandeliers hung from golden chains. Massive windows lined one wall, offering views of the imperial gardens now illuminated with thousands of lanterns.
The day had progressed into evening, and the ball was officially underway. Nobles and dignitaries filled the space, their colorful attire creating a sea of moving fabric as they mingled. Musicians played from a raised platform, their melodies providing a backdrop to the constant murmur of conversation.
At the entrance to the ballroom stood a herald, announcing each new arrival so that all could acknowledge their presence.
"Lord Rowan van Ambrose, Head of House Ambrose, Military advisor to the Empress!"
Rowan entered alone, his dark blue attire standing out among the brighter colors favored by many of the nobles. He bowed formally toward the imperial dais where the Empress's throne waited, still empty. The Empress would make her entrance later, as tradition dictated.
As Rowan moved into the crowd, he was intercepted by a tall man with striking brown hair despite his relatively young age. His formal wear was pale blue with silver trim, and an insignia of a silver tree was embroidered on his chest.
"Rowan," the man said, his voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. "What an unexpected pleasure. I wasn't aware exiles were permitted at imperial functions these days."
A small circle cleared around them as nearby guests sensed the tension and moved to give them space. While still remaining close enough to eavesdrop.
"Julius," Rowan acknowledged with a slight nod. "House Luminaris is as charming as ever, I see."
Julius Luminaris's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement or irritation. "Tell me, how does it feel to be the Empress's newest project? First exiled for your father's... indiscretions, now welcomed back when it suits her purposes."
"I serve the empire, as House Ambrose always has," Rowan replied evenly. "Our loyalty has never wavered, regardless of circumstance."
"Loyalty," Julius repeated, swirling the wine in his glass. "An interesting word from someone who vanished when the empire needed every sword it could muster during the northern campaigns."
"I was where I was ordered to be," Rowan said, his voice hardening slightly. "Which is more than can be said for House Luminaris during the eastern rebellion."
Julius's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Ambrose. Making accusations without evidence is unbecoming, even for you."
"Not accusations, merely observations. The Luminaris troops were notably absent until after the decisive battles were won."
"Strategic deployment is a complex matter," Julius replied smoothly. "Something your house understood before it was reduced to a father and his peculiar son."
Rowan took a half-step forward, his hand instinctively moving toward where his sword would have been had weapons been permitted in the ballroom. The motion did not go unnoticed by the watching nobles.
Before either man could speak again, the herald's voice boomed across the ballroom, louder than previous announcements:
"Her Royal Majesty, Maeve, Queen of the Demon Lands and Protector of the Northern Barrier!"
The music stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. All eyes turned to the entrance.
A woman appeared in the doorway, and the collective breath of the ballroom seemed to catch. She was tall and imposing, with dark brown skin that contrasted elegantly against her black gown. Her dirty blonde hair was woven into an intricate braid that draped over her shoulder and rested beside her chest. But it was her eyes that caught people's attention. They were violet and unnaturally bright, as if lit from within.
Two attendants flanked her, both with the characteristic red eyes and dark brown skin of dark elves. They wore formal attire in the style of the Demon Lands. High collars, angular cuts, and deep crimson fabric.
Maeve moved with fluid grace, her gown flowing around her like liquid shadow. She approached the center of the ballroom, then executed a bow of precisely the correct depth to acknowledge the absent Empres. Not too deep to suggest subservience, but not too shallow to suggest disrespect.
The tension in the room was palpable. Relations with the Demon Lands had been strained for generations, despite the peace treaty. The presence of their queen at an imperial ball was unprecedented.
Julius and Rowan had both turned to watch, their dispute temporarily forgotten in the face of this development.
"Interesting," Julius murmured. "The Demon Queen rarely leaves her territories."
"The Empress must have extended a personal invitation," Rowan replied quietly. "Something is happening that we don't yet understand."
The herald cleared his throat, apparently having recovered from his own surprise, and continued with the announcements:
"General Yongrun and Archmage Dongmei of the Heavenly Dao Sect!"
Another ripple of surprise moved through the crowd. Representatives from Colere at the same ball as the Demon Queen? The political implications were enormous.
General Yongrun entered first—a broad-shouldered man whose military bearing was unmistakable despite his formal wear. He had white beard that was braided down to his torso, he always wore a hood and only ever a smole cpuld be seen. The insignia of the Heavenly Dao Sect insignia was OK his chest for all to see.
Beside him walked Archmage Dongmei, a woman of striking beauty with her facial expression as sharp as ice. Her gown was white with pale blue accents that seemed to shimmer with frost. Her black hair was styled in an elaborate updo secured with pins that resembled icicles. While Yongrun's presence commanded respect through sheer physical power, Dongmei radiated a cold, controlled energy that was equally intimidating.
"Nine mana hearts," Rowan whispered, almost to himself. "Yongrun has fully cultivated nine mana hearts."
Julius's eyes widened slightly. "Impossible. No one has achieved that since—"
"Since Caius," Rowan finished. "And the archmage has seven hearts, at least. The Heavenly Dao Sect has been busy. Julius, you don't pay attention do you?"
The Colere representatives made their way into the ballroom, carefully maintaining distance from the Demon Queen and her attendants. The political choreography was fascinating to watch.
"Speaking of busy," Julius said, turning back to Rowan with renewed focus, "where is your son? I expected to see him clinging to your shadow."
"Grim arrives when he chooses to," Rowan replied. "He's developing quite an independent streak."
Julius smiled thinly. "Yes, I've heard rumors. Special training with a mysterious master, dual affinity cultivation, and now favored by the princess herself. Quite the little prodigy you've produced."
"Your interest in my son is noted," Rowan said coolly. "And unnecessary."
"On the contrary," Julius replied, "the sudden rise of House Ambrose after generations of decline is of great interest to all the noble houses. Especially when that rise appears to be built on a child with unusual abilities."
"Whatever point you're attempting to make, Luminaris, I suggest you make it directly."
Julius leaned closer. "Very well. Direct question: is it true your son can use Caius's techniques? The Aurora Flash Sword Dao?"
Rowan's expression remained neutral, but his eyes hardened. "My son's training is a family matter."
"Not when it involves potentially destabilizing powers," Julius insisted. "Light affinity has been absent from your line for three generations. Its sudden reappearance, combined with water affinity and accelerated cultivation, raises... questions."
"Questions you have no right to ask," Rowan replied, his voice low but intense. "House Luminaris would do better to focus on its own affairs rather than prying into mine."
"Our affairs are the empire's affairs," Julius said smoothly. "As head of one of the sixteen great houses, I have a responsibility to—"
"Introducing Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Alexia, Ruler of the Celetis Empire, Protector of the Realm, and Light of the East! And Her Royal Highness, Princess Liona!"
The herald's voice cut through all conversation, louder and more commanding than for any previous announcement. The entire ballroom fell silent as all eyes turned to the main entrance.
The Empress appeared first, resplendent in a gown of pure red. Her blonde hair was arranged in an intricate style atop her head, adorned with a crown of gold and diamonds that caught the light with every slight movement. Her face, beautiful yet stern, surveyed the gathered nobility with practiced composure.
Beside her stood Princess Liona, dressed in a smaller version of her mother's attire. The young princess's eyes were wide as she took in the spectacle of the ball, though she maintained perfect posture as she'd been trained to do. Unlike her mother's carefully neutral expression, Liona's eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for someone among the guests.
As one, the assembled nobility, dignitaries, and even the foreign royalty bowed or curtseyed according to their stations. The Empress acknowledged them with a slight nod, then proceeded to the imperial dais. Two attendants in white and gold livery ensured her train followed perfectly as she ascended the steps to her throne.
Princess Liona followed, taking her smaller seat to the right of her mother's throne. Once seated, the Empress raised her hand in a gesture that encompassed the entire ballroom.
"Rise," she commanded, her voice clear and strong. "Let the Imperial Ball commence."
Musicians immediately began to play a stately processional tune. The nobles straightened, conversations resuming in hushed tones as everyone assessed the new power dynamic with the Empress now present.
Rowan and Julius exchanged one final look. A silent acknowledgment that their conversation would continue at another time. Both men bowed formally to each other before turning away, moving to different parts of the ballroom as the evening's festivities truly began.