Entry 28: The embassy ball

Dear diary,
 
Alistan and Liliana returned with news that made me roll my eyes and reignited old frustrations. Their mother, Sofia Delaroost, had arrived in Keralon for the ball. I hadn't given her much thought since our rather unpleasant encounter in Hillfield, but the mere mention of her name was enough to stir up my dislike for nobles who carry themselves with such entitlement and disdain.
 
The stories Alistan and Liliana shared only served to reaffirm my former feelings about their mother. Upon arriving, Sofia wasted no time criticizing Alistan for everything under the sun—the reduced size of their estate in Keralon, his lack of a suitable partner, and his so-called lack of achievements. Never mind that Alistan is a respected knight of Keralon and is even being considered for a position among the Octagon, a prestigious honor that should have made any parent beam with pride. But to Sofia, these accomplishments paled in comparison to the pursuit of status, wealth, and influence. She couldn't see past her own shallow notions of success and privilege, and it stung to watch her dismiss all that Alistan had worked so hard for simply because it didn’t fit into her narrow view of the world.
 
The other bit of drama she brought was the revelation that everyone attending the ball was expected to bring a date. The mere suggestion caused a ripple of panic through our group—after all, none of us, save for Luke with his mostly unsuccessful pursuits, had given much thought to forming romantic relationships. Alistan, with all his dedication to his duties and the people of Keralon, certainly hadn’t spared time for courting, and Gael, Dadroz, and Liliana seemed equally at a loss. As for me, the very idea of seeking out a date for a ball felt absurd. I had no interest in such things; I’d always found the idea of romance to be more trouble than it was worth. My dear brother seemed to have inherited all the romanticism in the family, and even he had never managed to hold onto his fancies for long.
 
For a moment, we stood there in a collective state of dread, each of us grappling with how to handle this new complication. I could sense Alistan’s discomfort at the idea of disappointing his mother yet again, and though Liliana brushed it off outwardly, I could tell she was equally anxious about making a misstep in this unfamiliar world of high society. I simply resolved to ignore this foolish expectation. I was going to attend that ball as I was, without pretense and certainly without a forced date.
 
We had far bigger concerns than keeping up with the appearances expected by nobles like Sofia Delaroost. There was a looming threat against Keralon and its people, and every day brought new challenges that demanded our attention. I would attend this ball, if only because it was an opportunity to keep an eye on those with influence and power—and perhaps to gain some insight into the political tides that might help us in the battles ahead. But I was not about to waste my energy worrying about fitting into their petty games of courtship and pretense.
 
As the others continued to debate how to handle this unexpected expectation of bringing a date to the ball, an idea sparked in my mind. It was simple, perhaps a little mischievous, but it made sense. I considered offering to attend with either Gael, Dadroz, or Alistan, which would neatly solve the problem for at least two of us. Alistan was my primary pick, partly because it would drive his mother absolutely mad. The thought of Sofia Delaroost’s face if I walked into the ball on Alistan’s arm was tempting beyond words. Would that have been petty of me? Maybe just a little, but I have never been above a touch of mischief when it serves a good cause.
 
Still, a different idea began to form, and it was far more satisfying. I excused myself from the group, feigning the need for some air, and made my way through the bustling streets of Keralon. My destination was clear: I was heading to see Dan, the man who had quietly shouldered the burdens of Ravensfield’s people after the loss of our mayor. He had stepped up in ways that no one expected, and the village owed him a debt that could never truly be repaid. Who better to ask to escort me to the ball than Dan? Not only would it solve my immediate problem, but it would also give him a chance to mingle with the powerful and influential figures of Keralon and Velora Morenthene. This was an opportunity for him to make connections that could benefit the villagers in ways we could only dream of.
 
When I reached Dan, he looked surprised, but I could see the warmth in his eyes. He had always been modest, never seeking the spotlight or recognition, but this was his moment to step into a world far removed from the daily toil of leading our people through adversity. I extended my invitation, explaining that it was as much about gratitude as it was about the practicalities of navigating the ball. He hesitated at first, humbled by the offer, but eventually, with a bashful smile, he accepted. I could see a hint of pride mixed with nervous excitement—he had never imagined himself rubbing shoulders with nobles and dignitaries.
 
As evening approached, we all regrouped at the Colline estate. The others had gone all out, dressed in the finest silks and brocades they could afford, each trying to outshine the other in an unspoken competition of fashion and status. Alistan looked particularly dashing, clearly hoping to win at least some approval from his ever-critical mother. Liliana was practically glowing, dressed in an elegant gown borrowed from Elsa, which seemed to bewilder her more than please her. Gael and Dadroz had also cleaned up nicely, each wearing sharp suits that hid their usual ruggedness beneath a veneer of high society. Even Luke had managed to look respectable, though his roguish grin never quite left his face.
 
And then there was me, standing among them in my usual dark robes, unchanging, unbothered by the expectations of nobility and wealth. Midnight is who I am, and no gilded gown or glittering jewels would change that. I wore a simple silver brooch, borrowed from Elsa, to add a touch of formality, but beyond that, I was as I always am. Some might see it as a refusal to conform, but I saw it as a statement of resilience. I have faced dragons, armies, and the scorn of those who think they know better, and I have never faltered.
 
Tonight would be no different.
 
Dan stood beside me, dressed in a suit borrowed from one of Keralon’s tailors. He looked every bit the unlikely hero—nervous but determined, and ready to face whatever the night might bring. We would step into that ball together, a reminder that true strength comes not from titles or wealth, but from the courage to stand up for what you believe in. The others seemed pleasantly surprised by my choice of escort, and I caught a small, approving nod from Alistan. Even in this world of pomp and privilege, we would not be outshone.
 
The mood as we prepared to leave was electric, a blend of anticipation, trepidation, and the unspoken camaraderie that had seen us through so many trials. Each of us had made our choices about how to face this night, whether with friends, old flames, or in stoic solitude. Luke, still riding the high of his newfound partnership with Elsa, looked both eager and nervous. Gael, ever the lone wolf, wore his usual detached expression, seemingly indifferent to the splendor of the occasion. Edward, too, had opted to go alone, the consummate warrior always more comfortable on a battlefield than a ballroom floor. Alistan, on the other hand, had chosen to make a statement—arriving with Galiene, a half-elven priestess of Irminsul, whose calm grace contrasted starkly with the disdainful glances thrown by his mother. Sofia Delaroost’s disapproval radiated off her in waves, her distaste for anyone beneath her imagined station evident in every pinched look she cast in Galiene’s direction.
 
Liliana had left her date up to her mother. As we gathered outside the embassy, the ornate coach Elsa had arranged pulled up, and we began the slow shuffle of introductions and formalities before being announced. The embassy of Velora Morenthene was an imposing structure, a former fort that had been transformed into a lavish estate along the riverbank of the Lorerun River. Its high stone walls and narrow windows gave it the air of a place built for defense rather than diplomacy, and I couldn't help but appreciate the symbolism of a fort being repurposed for something more civil.
 
Then came the moment that turned the evening’s quiet excitement into simmering tension. As we waited in the receiving hall, Liliana’s date finally arrived. A tall, sharp-featured man with an air of arrogant confidence stepped forward, and I could see the spark of recognition ignite in Luke’s eyes even before his name was announced. Samuel Valeborn. Luke’s reaction was instantaneous and visceral. His cheerful demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a hard, bitter anger that twisted his features into something cold and unrecognizable. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury. I had seen my brother face down monsters, but none had stirred the kind of visceral rage that Samuel’s presence now evoked.
 
Samuel Valeborn was one of those privileged few who had made Luke’s life at the academy a living hell. A noble by birth and a bully by nature, he had wielded his status like a weapon, making sure that those who didn’t fit into his narrow worldview were made to suffer. Luke had been one of his favorite targets, and it was Samuel’s constant harassment that had played a significant role in my brother’s eventual expulsion. The injustice of it all still stung, a wound that had never truly healed. And now, by some cruel twist of fate or simple obliviousness on Liliana’s mother’s part, Samuel was here, standing before us with a smug smile and a sense of entitlement that set my blood boiling.
 
Liliana, blissfully unaware of the history between Luke and Samuel, greeted her date with polite indifference. She clearly had no interest in the man but was willing to play along for the sake of appeasing her mother. Samuel, for his part, was doing his best to charm her, though his attention kept drifting to the rest of us with a look of mild disdain, as though he were trying to piece together how such a motley crew had ended up in the company of nobility. When his gaze finally settled on Luke, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a slow, mocking smile. I could see Luke’s knuckles whiten as he fought to keep his composure.
 
I stepped closer to my brother, giving him a subtle nudge of reassurance. “Let it go, Luke,” I whispered, knowing full well how hollow those words must have sounded. “Tonight isn’t about him. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”
Luke nodded, but his eyes never left Samuel. I could tell that it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from lashing out. This was not a battlefield where anger and action could solve problems; this was a different kind of fight, one that required restraint, composure, and the ability to swallow pride for the greater good.
 
As Elsa led us through the embassy, her confident stride set the tone, dispelling some of the lingering tension from Samuel's unwelcome presence. The ballroom was a display of Velora Morenthene’s culture, rich tapestries depicting ancient battles and serene forest scenes hung alongside banners of gleaming silver and emerald, the colors of Velora’s people.
 
We barely had time to take in the grand spectacle before Rachnar Ergoll, the new ambassador, swept towards us. He wasted no time in announcing us as the heroes who had made this embassy a reality, a proclamation that drew nods of approval and curiosity from the crowd. It was an unexpected moment of recognition, and while the applause was polite, the glances from the assembled dignitaries ranged from genuine admiration to thinly veiled suspicion. We were outsiders here, not of their world, and no amount of praise from the ambassador could fully bridge that gap. Still, it was a brief but welcome acknowledgement of everything we had sacrificed to get to this point.
 
But as we were about to disperse, seeking our own paths through the evening’s festivities, the doors swung open again with an almost theatrical flourish. A cold breeze rushed in, and with it, a light dusting of snow drifted through the air, swirling around the entrance like a whisper of winter. Vivienne, the lady of Whitewail, stepped inside, her presence as cold and imposing as the storm she commanded. Draped in an immaculate white gown that shimmered like frost under the ballroom lights, she moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her ice-blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of disdain. If there was anyone who could instantly sour the atmosphere, it was her.
Vivienne was the last person we had hoped to see tonight, barring Sofia Delaroost herself. Her arrival was a reminder of the ever-present machinations of the high king's court and the dangerous politics that swirled around our every move. She wasted no time in making her presence known, approaching us with a cool smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
 
“The high king sends his regrets,” she began, her voice sharp and measured, “but he could not attend in person. I am here as his representative, to ensure that his interests are well observed.” The words were polite, but her tone was unmistakably condescending, as though we were little more than pawns in a game far beyond our understanding.
 
There was a brief exchange of pleasantries, if they could be called that, before Vivienne moved on, gliding through the room like a specter. We were all too relieved to see her go, though her presence lingered like a chill in the air, a constant reminder of the political web we were caught in.
 
With that, the group finally splintered, each of us gravitating towards our own priorities for the evening. Alistan, always eager to forge connections that could bolster his standing, made his way towards the cluster of Octagon knights, ingratiating himself with charm and wit.
 
Gael, on the other hand, sought out another circle of knights, his focus less on networking and more on gathering useful information. He had a knack for slipping into conversations unnoticed, picking up on the whispers that others might miss. I knew Gael well enough to understand that, while he often played the aloof loner, his sharp mind was always working, always observing.
 
Meanwhile, the simmering tension between Luke and Samuel reached its inevitable boiling point—not through violence, but through something far more public and humiliating: a dance-off. I watched with equal parts amusement and exasperation as my brother, spurred on by a mix of pride and spite, took to the dance floor. Samuel, clearly relishing the chance to one-up Luke in a setting where social grace held more sway than martial prowess, eagerly accepted the challenge. The two men exchanged jabs through footwork and flourishes, each trying to outshine the other with increasingly complex steps.
 
And then there was Dan. I had chosen him as my escort because of his unwavering dedication to the people of Ravensfield, but tonight he surprised me even more. Instead of mingling with the nobles or vying for attention among the knights, Dan led me around the ballroom with a quiet confidence, focusing his attention on the embassy’s servants and the dignitaries of Velora Morenthene. He moved through the crowd with purpose, striking up conversations with those who often went unnoticed—the attendants, the aides, and the lower-ranking officials who kept the wheels of power turning behind the scenes.
 
It was a refreshing change from the usual pomp and arrogance that permeated these gatherings. Dan’s humility and genuine curiosity won him far more favor than any empty flattery could have, and I could see the respect growing in the eyes of those he spoke with. For my part, I was content to let him lead, occasionally chiming in when the conversation turned to Ravensfield or our journey. I knew Dan’s motivations were simple but noble; he wanted to secure a future for our people, and tonight he was doing just that, one conversation at a time.
 
Velora’s people continued to surprise me with their generosity and practicality. Despite the conflicts of the past, they bore no grudge, and their willingness to offer a plot of land near their border to the people of Ravensfield was a testament to their desire for peace and cooperation. They understood the hardships our villagers had faced, and this gesture could mean a fresh start for so many of them—a chance to rebuild and thrive in a safe, supportive environment.
 
I knew the transition wouldn’t be easy. Velora’s culture, though not entirely alien, was still different enough to present challenges. There would be new customs to learn, languages to adapt to, and a long road ahead to build trust and understanding between our people. To help bridge that gap, I suggested that Zem and Saphira take on roles as liaisons between the communities. They were well-respected and level-headed, with enough experience to handle the complexities of such a delicate situation. Their presence would not only provide guidance to our people but also serve as a reminder to Velora’s folk that we were committed to this new alliance.
 
As I wandered through the bustling crowd, the whispers about the king’s absence grew louder, passing from one guest to the next like a ripple in a pond. It was unusual for him to miss such an important event, especially one meant to symbolize the unity between Keralon and Velora’s people. The news that he would not be attending set tongues wagging, and speculation ran wild. Some suggested urgent matters at court; others believed it was a strategic move, a subtle statement about the evolving politics between the realms. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if our warning about Robert Talespinner had something to do with it.
 
The bard had slipped in almost unnoticed, weaving his way through the guests with the ease of someone used to blending into any crowd. From what I’d seen of him, he was playing his role perfectly—too perfectly, in fact. He appeared every bit the charming entertainer, strumming his lute and regaling a small circle of nobles and courtiers with his tales of distant lands and forgotten battles. His stories were captivating, his voice warm and melodic, but I knew better than to be lulled by his charms.
 
I caught sight of Alistan and Luke lingering near the doorway to the room where Robert performed, keeping a close eye on his every move. Alistan’s expression was carefully composed, but I could see the gears turning in his mind as he watched Robert work the crowd. He was calculating, always planning two steps ahead, trying to piece together what Robert’s true purpose here could be.
 
The ballroom fell silent as the queen made her entrance, her regal presence commanding the attention of every noble and dignitary present. Dressed in a deep blue gown that shimmered like starlight, she moved with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Whispers rippled through the crowd as she ascended the dais, her gaze sweeping the room. Though her expression was composed, it was impossible to miss the sharp intelligence in her eyes.
She addressed the gathering with a grace that belied the gravity of her words, explaining that the king, unfortunately, could not attend due to pressing matters of state. The vague mention of “important business” only fueled the murmurs that had been circulating, and I could sense that the room was filled with equal parts curiosity and trepidation about what might be unfolding behind the scenes.
 
After making her rounds, the queen turned her attention to our little group. To have the queen herself approach us was both an honor and a surprise. I could see the others stiffen slightly, the weight of her presence palpable. When she spoke, her voice was warm but measured, carrying that same keen edge of authority that defined her every move.
 
"I have heard much about you all," she began, her gaze flicking over each of us, lingering briefly on Alistan and Luke. "Your deeds have not gone unnoticed, and your efforts to aid Keralon in these troubled times have been invaluable. I want you to know that the crown recognizes your courage and dedication."
 
Her words were more than just empty praise; they were an acknowledgment that our actions had reached the highest levels of the kingdom. There was a sense of validation in her tone, as though our struggle, the sacrifices we had made, and the battles we had fought had all been worth something more than just survival.
 
The queen continued, expressing her appreciation for our intervention during the recent chaos and commending our efforts in keeping Keralon safe. It was clear that she had been briefed on the situation with the dragon construct and the threat it posed. The recognition felt both gratifying and bittersweet; while it was comforting to know we were making a difference, it was also a reminder of how close we had come to disaster.
When she finished speaking, she gave a small, gracious nod before turning to leave. As she moved away to mingle with the other nobles, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. It was not every day that the queen herself would take the time to personally thank a ragtag group of knights, mages, and villagers. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, our actions mattered.
 
The queen’s visit left a palpable energy in the air. The recognition from the highest seat in the land was more than just a morale boost—it was a signal that we were on the right path, that our fight was just, and that even in the grand halls of power, our voices could be heard.
 
As she departed to mingle with the other nobles, one of Rachnar’s guards approached us, saying lord Rachnar would like to have a word with us. He led us up the stairs to the second floor and into the spacious office of the new ambassador, who was pacing up and down.
 
Lord Rachnar’s office was a stark contrast to the opulent ballroom below. The space was richly appointed but practical, with dark wood paneling, shelves lined with books, and a large desk cluttered with scrolls, maps, and correspondence. The air was thick with the scent of ink and wax, a reminder of the serious business that took place here. The windows offered a view of the river, its waters gleaming under the moonlight, but Rachnar’s pacing betrayed a man whose mind was far from the serene scene outside.
 
As we entered, the ambassador stopped abruptly, turning to face us. His usual composed demeanor was strained, and I could see the tension in his furrowed brow and clenched fists. This was not the calm and collected diplomat we had seen earlier in the evening.
 
“Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “I apologize for pulling you away from the festivities, but something has come up that requires your immediate attention.”
 
To be continued….