The Festival

The golden light of dawn streamed through the palace windows, casting a soft glow over Lindarion's room.

The silk curtains swayed gently in the morning breeze as he opened his eyes. For a moment, he lay still, wrapped in the warmth of his blankets, letting the quiet of the early morning sink in. Then, the reason he had to wake early returned to him.

"The festival… fuck."

Taking a deep breath, he sat up. His gaze landed on the clothing stand, where his ceremonial attire waited—a white tunic with gold embroidery, elegant yet strong, almost like armor woven from silk.

He ran his hand over the fabric. Cool to the touch, yet reassuring.

"Time to get ready, I guess."

He went through his morning routine quickly—a refreshing bath, a few strokes of a comb through his hair—before putting on the attire. It fit well, snug around his shoulders but comfortable.

Lastly, he fastened his sword to his belt. The familiar weight grounded him.

Just as he finished adjusting his outfit, he sensed movement in the room.

Seraphine stepped out from the shadows, as silent as ever. Her sharp gaze swept over his attire, then lingered on his sword.

'Did she just watch me get dressed…?'

A slight warmth rose to his face, but he pushed the thought aside.

"Are you ready, Prince?" she asked in her usual cold tone.

"I am," he replied evenly.

'She's always like this…'

Lindarion shook his head with a quiet sigh and glanced at his reflection. It was strange seeing himself like this—not in training clothes, but in full ceremonial attire, ready to face the public.

A knock at the door broke his thoughts.

"It's time, Your Highness," a maid announced, bowing as she entered.

He took one last look in the mirror before stepping forward.

'This will be a long day…'

Seraphine followed as he walked down the grand palace halls.

The morning air was crisp as they stepped outside. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, and birds sang in the distance, creating a peaceful melody.

"Son."

His father's deep voice pulled him from his thoughts. Eldrin stood beside Melion near the royal carriage, waiting.

"Are you ready?" his mother asked, smiling warmly.

"I am. We should go," he replied.

His father nodded, and they climbed into the carriage. With a knock, the coachman set the horses into motion.

"There will be many noble families at the festival today," Eldrin said, his voice firm. 

"Not just from our kingdom. The Elven Council will also be there. Remember what I told you."

Lindarion glanced at him. "Which families will be attending?"

"Our kingdom, Eldorath, is hosting," Eldrin began. "Lorienya, the land of the Wood Elves, will also be present. That's where your instructor, Sylvie, comes from."

His expression darkened slightly, and his hand curled into a fist.

"Sylvarion will be there as well. They are known as the Moonfolk—you can recognize them by their white hair."

His tone grew even heavier.

"And then there's Tirnaeth… the kingdom of the Dark Elves. They haven't been invited to any events for years. But this time, the Council decided differently."

He met Lindarion's gaze.

"These are the nations of our elven continent, Vaeloria."

So many kingdoms… I'll never remember them all.

"I understand, Father," Lindarion said, storing the information away in his mind.

Eldrin gave a brief nod before continuing. "You must pay close attention to the royal families and their children. These are the people you'll have to deal with in the future."

Lindarion nodded again, acknowledging his words.

The rest of the journey passed in conversation between the three of them, with Seraphine remaining silent, listening from the shadows as always.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination—Elarion, the city known as the heart of Eldorath. Towering silverwood trees intertwined with luminous crystal spires, their branches forming pathways that shimmered with soft, enchanted light.

"We've arrived," Eldrin announced.

A moment later, the carriage doors swung open from the outside.

As they stepped out, a sea of people surrounded them—guards standing at attention, noble spectators watching from a distance, and musicians whose ethereal melodies drifted through the air.

Among the guards, Lindarion spotted Therion, his sharp gaze meeting his. The man gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

The music was unlike anything Lindarion had ever heard. It didn't seem to come from a single place but from everywhere at once.

'Some kind of sound magic?'

[Correct, Host]

The realization sent a small thrill through him, but he pushed it aside. The festival was only beginning, and he had much to prepare for.

The crowd swirled around them, nobles and guests casting curious glances their way while the guards moved in a tight formation, ensuring their path remained clear.

As Lindarion stepped forward, the sheer scale of the square took his breath away. Vibrant silk banners fluttered overhead, enchanted lanterns floated gracefully above the buildings, and the streets buzzed with the energy of the festival.

The scents of freshly baked sweets, spiced wines, and rare flowers blended into an intoxicating mix, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere.

Eldrin strode ahead with his usual confidence, while Melion gently touched Lindarion's arm before moving to walk beside him.

Seraphine, with her usual silence, followed closely behind like a shadow, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.

'Silent as always… still creepy.'

Then, a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the lively chatter.

"Welcome the Royal Family of Eldorath! The Sunblade family!"

At the announcement, the crowd parted slightly, revealing a tall man dressed in regal attire. His broad smile exuded confidence, his posture one of effortless authority.

"In the name of Elarion, we extend our warmest greetings!"

He stepped forward, offering his hand to Eldrin.

"We have long awaited this day, Arthion."

Eldrin accepted the handshake, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"As have we, King Eldrin. This year's festival promises to be exceptional."

Arthion's gaze drifted over Lindarion before briefly flicking to Seraphine.

"And he is my son, the prince—Lindarion Sunblade."

Eldrin formally introduced him, and hushed whispers rippled through the crowd.

Lindarion bowed politely, as was expected.

"It is an honor."

"The honor is mine, Your Highness."

Arthion stepped closer and, to Lindarion's surprise, inclined his head in a respectful bow.

"These coming days will hold many opportunities for you, Prince."

There was something in his tone—something layered beneath the surface. His words carried weight, a hidden meaning Lindarion couldn't quite grasp.

'What is he trying to say…?'

Before Lindarion could respond, Eldrin took a step back and gestured toward the city with an open hand.

"Let the festival begin!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the music swelled, and the city came alive with renewed energy.

The festival had officially begun.