The Banquet

October 13th, 1689. At Prince Bruno's estate in Loretto.

The day has arrived for the banquet Bruno had long intended. Lines of exquisite carriages, each adorned with the family crests of Corse's most influential nobles, clattered to a halt at the grand entrance of the estate.

Antoine stood at the entrance, offering polite nods and warm greetings as the nobles disembarked. His demeanor was welcoming, though his sharp eyes betrayed a readiness to act at the slightest sign of trouble. Behind him, a line of servants stood ready to guide the guests inside.

"Lord Vallier, welcome," Antoine said smoothly as the older noble descended from his carriage.

"Antoine," Vallier replied curtly, his tone cool. "It seems His Highness has spared no expense."

"Indeed," Antoine replied with a polite smile, gesturing toward the entrance. "The prince values the presence of every esteemed guest."

Inside the grand hall, the scene was nothing short of magnificent. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, their glow reflecting off polished marble floors. Ornate tables, laden with silver platters of delicacies and fine Elysean wine, lined the room. A string quartet played softly in the corner.

Lady Genevieve arrived shortly after, her calculating gaze sweeping the room as she entered. 

"Ah, Antoine," she said smoothly and continued. "I trust His Highness has something… enlightening planned for tonight?"

Antoine inclined his head. "The prince always has his ways of surprising us, my lady."

Genevieve's lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Indeed."

Count Duval was next, his broad frame filling the entrance as he descended from his carriage. He exchanged a few terse words with Antoine before entering, his face a mask of irritation. The nobles were clearly divided—some curious, others openly resentful, but all intrigued by what awaited them.

At the far end of the hall, Prince Bruno stood atop a slightly elevated dais. His attire was impeccable, his high-collared coat embroidered with the gold insignia of the Elysean crown. His expression was calm, composed, but his piercing gaze swept over the room with purpose. This was his arena, and tonight, the nobles would play his game.

Antoine approached the prince, leaning in slightly. "Your Highness, nearly all of the invited nobles have arrived. The banquet is proceeding as planned."

"Good," Bruno replied. "Let them settle. I want them comfortable—relaxed, even."

Antoine nodded and stepped back, blending seamlessly into the background.

The banquet began in earnest. Servants moved deftly among the guests, offering glasses of wine and trays of hors d'oeuvres. Conversation hummed throughout the hall, with nobles exchanging pleasantries and veiled barbs.

Meanwhile, Count Duval, who had been mingling with Lord Vallier and Lady Genevieve noticed something.

"Where is Marquis Adrien?" Count Duval asked.

Lord Vallier swiveled his head and looked for Adrien. 

"I don't see him…is he not attending?" 

"That's impossible, he had already expressed his intention of coming to the banquet," Lady Genevieve added. "Perhaps he is running late." 

"Anyways…that's our lord sitting there. Look at him, he is just observing. What does he intend on gaining by hosting a banquet?" Count Duval said as his eyes were fixed on Bruno. 

"He intends to gain exactly what we're doing now," Genevieve said coolly. "Talking. Wondering. Second-guessing ourselves. It's a power play, plain and simple."

Lord Vallier narrowed his eyes as he studied Bruno. "A power play, perhaps, but one with purpose. He didn't summon us here for idle conversation or goodwill. He has a plan."

Count Duval scoffed, swirling his wine with an annoyed flick of his wrist. "If his plan is to lecture us on loyalty and reforms, he's wasting his breath. None of us are fools."

"Careful, Duval," Genevieve warned softly. "You're speaking loudly enough to be overheard."

Duval waved her off dismissively. "Let them overhear. I've said nothing that isn't true. The prince may believe he has the upper hand, but this banquet changes nothing."

At that moment, the sound of a bell rang gently through the hall, drawing the attention of the nobles. 

A servant stepped forward and announced, "Your Highness will address the gathering shortly. We kindly ask all guests to find their places."

The hum of conversation subsided as the nobles moved toward the arranged tables. Bruno remained on the dais, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the room.

As the guests settled, Lady Genevieve leaned toward Vallier. "Notice how he hasn't mingled with anyone. He's letting us stew in our own thoughts."

"Or in our own fear," Vallier replied darkly.

Duval, sitting across from them, muttered, "Let him try to intimidate us. I won't yield."

At the head of the room, Bruno finally stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the polished marble. His piercing gaze met the eyes of several nobles before he spoke.

"My esteemed guests. I welcome you all to this banquet—a celebration, if you will, of the unity and strength of Corse under the Kingdom of Elysea."

Some nobles exchanged wary glances, their skepticism clear.

Bruno continued, undeterred. "Tonight, I intend to speak plainly. It is no secret that my reforms have sparked… debate among the nobility. I have heard the whispers, the rumors, the dissent. And I have taken it upon myself to address these matters directly."

Duval shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his earlier bravado faltering.

Bruno's gaze lingered on him briefly before sweeping across the room. "I believe in transparency. I believe that the path to a stronger Corse lies in cooperation and trust. But trust cannot thrive in the shadow of doubt and betrayal."

A ripple of unease passed through the hall.

"Which brings me to a matter of great importance," Bruno said, his voice hardening slightly. "There are those among us who have chosen to conspire against the crown. To resist the reforms that are meant to benefit not only Elysea but Corse itself. This is not speculation; this is fact."

The room fell deathly silent. Genevieve's hand tightened around her wine glass, while Vallier's expression grew grim.

Bruno stepped down from the dais, walking slowly toward the center of the room. 

"There was what you might call a whistleblower that blew the whistle about this treachery. Please introduce yourself."

The hall was so silent that the faint clink of glasses being set down on tables echoed unnervingly. All eyes followed Prince Bruno's gaze as he gestured toward the grand entrance. The doors creaked open, and every noble strained to see who would emerge.

The sound of deliberate footsteps preceded the appearance of a figure that froze the gathered guests in their seats. Marquis Adrien stepped into the hall, flanked by two Elysean guards. 

Lord Vallier's jaw dropped, his hand clutching the armrest of his chair as if for support. 

"It can't be…" he whispered.

Count Duval stiffened, his wine glass halting mid-air. His expression was a blend of disbelief and rising anger. 

"Adrien? What… What is he doing here?"

Lady Genevieve's calculating mask faltered for a moment as her eyes narrowed. 

"He was supposed to be one of us," she muttered under her breath.

Adrien stopped near the center of the room, his gaze briefly flickering over Vallier, Duval, and Genevieve before settling on Bruno. The prince's expression remained calm, almost smug, as he looked down at the Marquis.

"Marquis Adrien," Bruno said smoothly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "Thank you for joining us. I trust your presence here clears up any lingering doubts about the… whistleblower I mentioned."

A wave of murmurs swept through the room as nobles exchanged glances, some incredulous, others panicked. Adrien, however, stood silently, his hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of forced composure.

"Now that he has arrived, let's begin."