Chapter 36: Great feast

As Sylas and Livia stepped out of the grand halls of Silverstone Castle, the weight of their conversation with King Eyndor still lingered in their minds. His words had been pragmatic, almost cold in their logic, but there was an undeniable wisdom behind them—one shaped by years of rule, of choices made in the name of the greater good. They walked down the polished stone corridors in silence, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the high vaulted ceilings, until they finally emerged into the bright afternoon light of the capital city—Valdenor.

The Kingdom of Valdenor

Valdenor was a kingdom of prosperity, a beacon of stability in the region. The capital, named after the kingdom itself, was a sprawling city built upon layered terraces that climbed the gentle slopes of the Emerald Heights, a chain of verdant hills that cradled the royal city. The architecture was a seamless blend of stone and silverwood, the latter being a unique type of pale, luminous timber native to this land. The buildings stood tall and elegant, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial patterns and beasts of legend, their spires reaching for the heavens like silent prayers.

Wide cobblestone streets stretched in every direction, bustling with merchants, artisans, and townsfolk, each going about their daily lives with an air of contentment. Market stalls lined the streets, their canopies bursting with color as traders displayed their wares—richly woven fabrics from the eastern provinces, aromatic spices from distant lands, glittering gemstones mined from the depths of the Silverstone mountains, and fresh produce grown in the kingdom's fertile heartlands. The scent of roasted meats and honeyed pastries filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of smelting metal from the nearby blacksmiths.

Though the city was lively, it was not chaotic. There was a natural rhythm to it, as if everything and everyone had its place. Even the royal guards, clad in polished silver plate armor with the sigil of Valdenor—a soaring falcon with outstretched wings—moved through the streets with quiet efficiency, their presence a reminder of order rather than oppression.

As Sylas and Livia ventured further, they found themselves drawn to the central plaza, a vast open space paved with white marble, where a towering monument stood at its heart—a statue of a winged warrior holding a burning blade aloft, his expression both fierce and resolute.

"The First King, Valden the Unyielding," Livia read aloud from the plaque below. The inscription detailed the story of the kingdom's founding—a tale of war, unity, and sacrifice, where Valden had rallied warring factions under a single banner and forged a realm that would endure long after his passing.

"Everything here feels… established," Sylas murmured, observing the people going about their daily lives. "Like a kingdom that has long since found its place in history. There are no signs of struggle, no instability. It's as if the people trust their ruler completely."

Livia nodded. "King Eyndor must be doing something right if the city thrives like this. Even his philosophy—harsh as it may seem—has clearly led to a prosperous reign."

They continued their exploration, drawn next to the Grand Library of Valdenor, a massive structure built of ivory stone, its entrance flanked by towering statues of wise scholars. Inside, rows upon rows of ancient tomes, scrolls, and manuscripts lined the towering shelves, the scent of parchment and ink heavy in the air. Librarians in flowing silver-blue robes moved quietly, organizing texts and assisting scholars who had gathered to study.

Sylas traced his fingers along the spine of an old tome titled "The Legacies of the Great Kings", flipping through pages filled with accounts of past rulers. Meanwhile, Livia had found a section dedicated to arcane studies, where books detailing the kingdom's relationship with magic lay open on polished wooden tables.

"Magic is strictly regulated here," she noted. "It says only those who study under the Royal Academy of Magistry can practice it within the kingdom. No wonder we haven't seen any mages wandering the streets."

"It makes sense," Sylas replied. "Eyndor rules with control and precision. Allowing magic to run unchecked could disrupt that balance."

As they left the library, the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon, casting golden hues over the rooftops. The streets were illuminated by hanging lanterns filled with enchanted crystals, casting a soft blue glow over the pathways. The city did not sleep, but it did slow, its once-bustling markets giving way to quieter evening activities—musicians playing soft melodies in open courtyards, nobles gathering in grand estates, and common folk retreating to taverns where the scent of mead and laughter filled the air.

A Night in the Golden Hart

Feeling the weight of the day's exploration, Sylas and Livia found themselves at a tavern near the western quarter, a place called the Golden Hart. Unlike the more raucous drinking halls near the docks, this establishment catered to travelers, scholars, and knights, offering a warm and refined atmosphere.

Inside, the tavern was lit by a grand chandelier, its light reflecting off polished wooden beams. The scent of roasted venison and spiced cider filled the air as patrons engaged in quiet conversation. A bard strummed a gentle tune in the corner, his voice weaving a song about a long-lost hero who had ventured beyond the stars.

Sylas and Livia took a seat at a table near the hearth, ordering simple meals of herbed lamb, fresh bread, and honeyed tea.

"We've learned a lot today," Livia mused, cutting into her food. "Valdenor is… peaceful, but there's a firm hand guiding it. There's no chaos, no questioning of authority."

"Because Eyndor's rule is absolute," Sylas added. "Everything is done for the sake of the kingdom's prosperity, no matter the cost. That's why there's no unrest. People trust him."

Livia leaned back in her chair, watching the flames crackle in the hearth. "Do you think a ruler should always govern like that? With pure logic, never emotion?"

Sylas thought for a moment before answering. "I think it works—for now. But time changes everything. Even the strongest rule can crumble if the people's needs shift and they begin to seek something more."

The night stretched on, and soon, they retired to a small but comfortable room on the tavern's upper floor. As they lay in their beds, gazing at the wooden ceiling above, their minds swirled with thoughts of Valdenor and its king.

Tomorrow, they would continue their journey, uncovering more of the kingdom's secrets and perhaps even understanding the full extent of King Eyndor's rule.

But for now, they slept, the city of Valdenor continuing its quiet hum beneath the silver glow of the moon.

The Garden of Dandelions

The morning sun stretched its golden fingers across the sky, bathing Silverstone Castle's gardens in a warm glow. A soft breeze whispered through the ancient stone walls, carrying the delicate scent of blooming flowers. The garden, nestled within the castle's inner sanctum, was unlike anything Sylas and Livia had expected—it was not filled with grand, exotic flora nor the meticulously sculpted hedges of nobility. Instead, it was a vast field of dandelions, their golden heads swaying in the wind, stretching out like a sea of sunlit stars.

At the center of this quiet sanctuary stood King Eyndor. His back was to them, his regal form clad in a dark blue tunic lined with silver embroidery, the color of a twilight sky before nightfall. His long white cloak draped over his shoulders, almost blending into the delicate flowers beneath his feet. He was not accompanied by guards or attendants; here, he stood alone.

Sylas and Livia exchanged a glance before stepping forward, their boots brushing against the soft grass. As they neared, they instinctively knelt before him, a gesture of respect—not just for his title, but for the weight he carried upon his shoulders.

Eyndor did not turn immediately. Instead, he spoke in a voice calm and measured, one that seemed to blend with the rustling wind.

"You rise early. Not many visitors take the time to seek me out before the city awakens."

Livia was the first to respond. "We saw you from the halls, Your Majesty. We did not wish to disturb you, but…" she hesitated, looking around at the vast field of dandelions. "This place… it is not what we expected."

At that, Eyndor turned to them. His gaze, sharp and calculating, softened just slightly. He looked over the field before speaking again.

"Dandelions are weeds, are they not?" he mused, his silver eyes tracing the swaying flowers. "Many would think a royal garden should be filled with roses, lilies, and rare blossoms, symbols of wealth and prestige. And yet… I find the dandelion to be the most honest of them all."

Sylas tilted his head. "Honest, Your Majesty?"

Eyndor nodded. "A rose withers if not properly tended, a lily wilts when the season changes. But the dandelion… it grows where others do not. It flourishes in the wild, in the cracks of stone, amidst adversity. No matter how many times it is uprooted, it always returns." He knelt then, plucking a single dandelion from the ground and twirling it between his fingers. "A kingdom should be like this. Not fragile, not dependent on a single season of prosperity, but resilient. Self-sustaining."

Livia watched him carefully, realizing that everything about this man—his rule, his philosophy—was reflected in this simple garden. "That is why your kingdom thrives," she murmured. "Because you shape it to endure, no matter the circumstances."

Eyndor gave a slight smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "You understand well." He then turned his gaze fully to them, his presence suddenly heavier. "But tell me… why do you truly seek my company?"

Sylas straightened, meeting the king's gaze without faltering. "We seek knowledge, Your Majesty. To understand this world, its rulers, its history."

Eyndor studied them for a long moment before responding. "Knowledge is a tool, much like a blade. It can cut through deception, but it can also wound the one who wields it. What is it that you wish to cut through?"

Sylas knew this was a test. He chose his words carefully. "Ignorance."

Eyndor chuckled softly, shaking his head. "A noble answer. And yet, ignorance is often a shield as much as it is a prison. Some things are better left unknown. Some truths, once uncovered, demand action." He let go of the dandelion in his hand, watching as the wind carried it away. "Are you prepared for that?"

Livia and Sylas exchanged a brief glance. Then, together, they nodded.

The king exhaled slowly, as if weighing something in his mind. "Very well. Walk with me."

He turned and began to move through the field, his steps unhurried. They followed, listening as he spoke.

"Rulers do not shape their kingdoms with might alone. Decisions must be made—not for today, but for tomorrow, for years beyond our own lifetimes. Every choice is a thread woven into the greater fabric of history."

His gaze flickered toward Sylas. "You said you seek knowledge, yet I suspect you seek something more. Do you desire power?"

Sylas did not answer immediately. He knew this was a dangerous question. "Power without understanding is dangerous," he finally said. "I do not seek power for power's sake. I seek strength to carve my own path."

Eyndor gave a small nod of approval. "A reasonable answer. But power is not only measured in strength. A ruler's power lies in the weight of his choices. Would you sacrifice a hundred to save a thousand?"

Sylas clenched his jaw. He knew the king was testing him. He had read about this kind of logic before.

"I would seek a way to save both."

Eyndor let out a quiet breath, neither approval nor disappointment in his expression. "Spoken like someone who has not yet ruled."

Livia frowned. "Do you always view life as a numbers game, Your Majesty?"

Eyndor stopped walking and turned to face them fully. "No. But reality does." His gaze was unreadable, but there was something in his expression—something that hinted at a burden neither of them could yet comprehend.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The wind rustled through the field, sending dandelion seeds into the sky like tiny stars drifting into the unknown.

Then, Eyndor broke the silence. "I will grant you audience again, should you have more questions." He gave them both a long, knowing look. "But be mindful of the answers you seek. Once you learn them, you may find you were better off without them."

With that, he turned, walking away into the sea of golden flowers, leaving Sylas and Livia to contemplate the words of the king.

A Gathering of the Kingdom's Elite

As Sylas and Livia walked away from the garden, their minds still lingering on King Eyndor's words, they noticed something unusual—a sudden rush of movement within the castle grounds. Servants and maids were hurrying through the open corridors, their arms filled with expensive silk tablecloths, trays of exotic fruits, and bottles of fine wine. Knights and royal attendants were barking orders, ensuring that everything was prepared.

The once serene and orderly castle had erupted into a flurry of controlled chaos.

Livia narrowed her eyes. "Something's happening."

Sylas reached out, lightly stopping a young maid who was carrying a stack of ornate silver plates. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice even.

The maid, startled, quickly bowed before answering, her breath slightly ragged from rushing about. "A grand feast, my lord. The king has summoned nobles and envoys from across the land. Important people will be gathering tonight."

Livia crossed her arms. "A feast?"

The maid nodded quickly. "Yes, the largest in months. The king seeks to forge new alliances and strengthen existing ones. His Majesty rarely hosts such gatherings unless they serve a greater purpose."

Sylas and Livia exchanged glances.

King Eyndor's words in the garden now carried new weight. Every decision must be made not for today, but for tomorrow, for years beyond one's own lifetime. This was not just a banquet—it was a political move, a calculated effort to ensure the kingdom's future.

The maid, sensing that she had lingered too long, bowed once more before hurrying off.

Livia sighed, looking around at the bustling preparations. "This kingdom really is prosperous, isn't it?"

Sylas gave a small nod, his gaze trailing after the servants. "We should learn more about who's attending."

Livia smirked. "You just want an excuse to eavesdrop on important conversations."

Sylas shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt."

As they continued walking, they overheard snippets of conversations from servants discussing the night's guest list: high-ranking nobles, generals, scholars, and even emissaries from distant kingdoms. It seemed that King Eyndor was expanding his influence beyond his own lands.

They had come here to observe, to learn.

Tonight might be the perfect opportunity.

A Game of Subtle Manipulation

As Sylas and Livia continued walking through the castle corridors, the air was thick with urgency. Servants rushed back and forth, nobles murmured among themselves, and guards stood ever-watchful at key entrances. The feast was clearly not just an extravagant gathering—it was a meeting of influence, of power.

Sylas glanced at Livia. "We need an invitation."

Livia smirked, understanding his unspoken plan. "I thought you didn't like social events?"

"I don't." Sylas's tone was flat. "But if the king is gathering powerful figures from across the land, this feast might reveal things we wouldn't learn otherwise."

Livia's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Then let's get to work."

The two blended into the moving crowd of attendants and officials, observing the exchange of invitations between nobles and stewards. Some were hand-delivered, others were given in discreet conversations, and a few were passed between servants for delivery.

Livia nudged Sylas subtly. "That one."

She pointed—ever so slightly—with her eyes toward a nobleman distracted by a conversation, holding his invitation carelessly between two fingers.

Sylas moved first. He strode past the nobleman, subtly bumping into him while reaching into his coat as if adjusting something. The invitation slipped from the noble's hand at the perfect moment.

Livia, who had been walking just behind, swooped in without hesitation. With the grace of a seasoned thief, she caught the falling parchment in one fluid motion, making it seem as though she had simply picked up her own dropped possession.

"Oh, forgive me!" Livia exclaimed with practiced charm, handing the noble a different piece of parchment she had palmed beforehand.

The noble, too engaged in his conversation, barely glanced at it before accepting it back and continuing his discussion.

Sylas and Livia exchanged a knowing look before slipping away.

Once they were a safe distance from the nobles, Sylas unfolded the stolen invitation and read the elegantly scripted text:

"By decree of His Majesty, King Eyndor, the honored guest is cordially invited to the Grand Feast within the Royal Palace. Entry is permitted upon presentation of this invitation. Attire befitting the court is required."

Livia grinned. "Now, this should be interesting."

As they turned a corner, another conversation caught their attention. Two high-ranking officials, unaware of their eavesdroppers, were speaking in hushed but urgent tones.

"The king seems confident, but I still find it risky," one murmured. "We don't know if these new alliances will hold."

The other scoffed. "King Eyndor is no fool. Every guest at this feast is someone he's carefully chosen. Whether they ally with him or not, this night will change the balance of power."

Sylas and Livia listened in silence, absorbing every word.

This was no ordinary feast. It was a battlefield of diplomacy.

And now, they had secured their place within it.