The Banquet of Crowns, as the court would later call it, was held beneath the heavens, a deliberate choice by the Emperor, for nothing in Eldoria was ever without meaning.
Open skies meant transparency, unity, the promise of peace.
But tonight, beneath those same stars, it felt more like a stage, and every royal, a player upon it.
At the central dais sat the Emperor and Empress; Arin and Katherine, serene and watchful. To their right, the Imperial Highnesses: Alaric and Daphne.
Daphne sat poised, laughter soft when required, smile gracious and distant.
Beneath the table, Alaric's hand remained over hers, his thumb idly tracing against her palm.
At the lower ends of the dais, nobles and ministers watched with cautious delight, whispering about alliances and trade and the plague.
Further still, the visiting kings and queens mingled, laughter loud, gestures graceful, smiles sharpened like blades.
The music swelled as Queen Mira of Gad rose once again.
