casual encounter

The grand dining hall of the royal family was bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, casting a warm light over the elegantly set table. The refined dishes, served with precision, filled the air with tempting aromas as the royals enjoyed their meal in respectful silence. The king, with his imposing posture, led the banquet, his calculative gaze observing each family member as they maintained their impeccable composure.

The murmurs were low, exchanged in formal tones, almost ritualistic, where every word was measured carefully. This banquet was more than just a meal; it was an exhibition of power and control, where any slip could be seen as a sign of weakness. The eyes of the servants, attentive to every need, only highlighted the tension that hung in the air. Although they were safe within the castle, the sense of an impending threat permeated the atmosphere.

In the adjoining rooms of the grand hall, the scene was entirely different. While the royals enjoyed their meal, the military guests, including the Order of Witches, awaited in a war-like posture. The tension in the bodies of everyone present was palpable, as if a battle was about to unfold at any moment.

The soldiers, clad in their shining armor, stood firm, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready for anything. There was something almost ritualistic about the way they positioned themselves, as if they were constantly training to defend the elite of the city. Each one knew their role, and the presence of the Order of Witches made the atmosphere even more charged.

The leader of the Order, Lady Elara, stood at the center, her eyes glowing with an inner light that reflected the hidden power she carried. The other witches, each a specialist in different forms of magic, formed a circle around her, channeling energy among themselves, ready to act in defense of the royals.

The soldiers and witches exchanged respectful glances, but there was a mutual distrust that could not be ignored. While the soldiers relied on brute strength and military strategy, the witches bore the burden of being seen as guardians of forces most could not fully understand.

Through the heavy doors that separated the adjoining rooms from the grand hall, muffled sounds of the banquet could be heard. Every new noise or laugh caused a subtle shiver among the soldiers and witches. They were prepared for the worst, knowing that in NeoArchanah, peace was often a prelude to the storm.

A messenger hurried into the room, heading straight for the commander of the military forces. After a brief exchange of words, the commander nodded, and the messenger disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

"The royals are almost finished with the banquet," the commander informed Lady Elara, turning to her. "We must be ready for any order."

Elara simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the fixed point where she seemed to be visualizing something beyond the physical. She knew that the orders could change the course of the night and, possibly, the fate of the entire city.

Finally, the doors to the grand hall opened, and the royals began to exit. The king, at the front, maintained his imposing posture, followed by the queen and their children, all carrying the same calculated dignity. As the nobles entered the adjoining rooms, the soldiers and witches lined up, forming a guard of honor that served as a silent reminder that in NeoArchanah, power was as fragile as the alliances that sustained it.

The eyes of the royals met those of the military and witches. There was a silent understanding between them: they were all in a deadly chess game, where any wrong move could lead to chaos.

Rodrigo, who had stayed in the grand hall for a final conversation with his father, watched the scene from a distance. He knew that this night was far from over and that, beyond the rituals of courtesy and formalities, there was a tension ready to explode.

With everyone finally gathered, the atmosphere grew even more charged. The elite were surrounded by their guardians, ready to defend them at any cost. But in NeoArchanah, the real danger rarely came from the outside — it came from the shadows hiding within the very walls.

The royal family was extensive.

They were all learning. They were all in their strategic positions with their own hidden interests and determination. The young prince rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he felt dizzy and began searching for a place to sit. He needed a drink.

There were delicious desserts to be served. Raul and Mirella, Rodrigo's siblings, were chatting animatedly with each other.

The atmosphere in the grand hall of NeoArchanah was charged with tension, even if covered by a façade of elegance and control. All those present, from the royals to the military and witches, were in their strategic positions, each with their own hidden interests, disguised by smiles and superficial conversations. The night seemed to be just another among the many that took place in the castle, but for those who knew how to look beyond appearances, it was clear that something was at stake.

Rodrigo, the young prince, was acutely aware of the intrigues and subtle manipulations that permeated the hall. He observed the movements, the furtive glances, and the measured words with a growing sense of irritation. That political dance always left him restless. He rolled his eyes, impatient with the constant theater surrounding him.

Suddenly, a wave of discomfort hit him. A wave of dizziness overcame him, and the prince felt the world around him spin briefly. The lights of the chandeliers, once so steady and bright, seemed to flicker, and the sound of the voices around him became muffled, as if he were submerged.

Rodrigo brought his hand to his forehead, trying to regain his composure. He felt an urgent need to sit down and something to relieve the strange sensation that dominated him. He looked around, searching for a discreet place to rest, away from the watchful eyes and possible speculations.

The sweet and comforting smell of the desserts about to be served reached Rodrigo, bringing a sense of normalcy amidst his discomfort. The dessert table was laden with delights, carefully prepared to enchant all senses. He knew that a drink might help calm the turmoil in his mind and body.

As Rodrigo moved toward the table, trying to maintain his composure, his eyes caught a scene that, on another occasion, might have brought him some relief. His siblings, Raul and Mirella, were nearby, chatting animatedly with each other, oblivious to the tension that seemed to engulf the prince.

Raul, always the most extroverted of the three, laughed at something Mirella had said, while she, with her characteristic smile, gestured eloquently, capturing her brother's attention. For a moment, Rodrigo felt disconnected from the lightness with which his siblings interacted. They seemed so at ease, so far from the weight of responsibilities that constantly enveloped him.

Rodrigo finally found an empty chair near the dessert table. He sat down heavily, feeling immediate relief from being out of the spotlight. He reached for a glass of wine and took a sip, hoping the drink would help dissipate the feeling of vertigo.

As the liquid flowed down his throat, he tried to focus on the flavors, trying to anchor his mind and push away the fog that seemed to want to dominate him. But the unease did not completely disappear. There was something deeper, a sense that something was wrong, something he couldn't quite identify, but that lurked in the shadows of his mind.

Rodrigo closed his eyes for a moment, trying to reorganize his thoughts. He knew he couldn't allow himself to falter, especially not tonight. With deliberate effort, he forced himself to open his eyes and look around, seeking a connection, an anchor, something to keep him present in the moment.