Royal Banquet

The heart of the royal palace pulsed with life, the grand ballroom bathed in a resplendent cascade of golden chandelier light, casting intricate patterns onto the polished marble floor.

The symphony of whispers and laughter, High Society's unique orchestra, echoed through the vast hall bouncing off the ornate gold leaf adorned walls, and mingling with the harmonious melody of a string quartet. They had descended upon the Palace like a flamboyant flock of exotic birds, their plumage a vibrant spectacle of elegant gowns, embroidered with precious stones, and perfectly tailored suits cut from the finest cloth, all shimmering under the ethereal glow of a thousand twinkling lights.

The air was dense, laden with the heady scent of exotic perfumes mingling with anticipation that hung as palpably as the luxurious drapes adorning the palace windows. Lords and Ladies, their jeweled hands clasped in courteous greetings, exchanged pleasantries that barely concealed their ulterior motives. Their eyes sparkled with ambition and cunning, every glance a clandestine message, every smile an unspoken promise or threat.

As the starting event of April, this Royal Banquet was more than just a showcase of wealth and power; It was an intricate chessboard where each move was carefully calculated, where power was as intoxicating as the sweetest nectar served in crystal goblets and alliances were as fragile as the delicate glass they held.

This night held more than just a promise of an upcoming Magic Tournament and Summit. It was akin to a precarious dance on a tightrope woven with intrigue, diplomacy, and magic.

Delphia stood elegantly by Zypher's side near the imposing entranceway. The two of them standing next to each other looked like something out of a classical painting, their own looks complimenting each other nicely. The whispers escalated into a crescendo then rippled through the crowd like an invisible wave, acknowledging their arrival. Zypher had picked up Delphia in his own carriage for the night so she didn't have to arrive with the Vosswell family.

Over the past several weeks, Delphia and Zypher had forged a formidable reputation; Any event that Delphia was sent an invitation to, she immediately asked Zypher to be her partner—catching High Society off guard since they were aware of Delphia and Zypher's engagement but they also knew that the two couldn't stand each other.

Seeing their relationship blossom, their feelings for one another change, many were caught unexpected. Even now, she could sense the lingering gazes of other Nobles, their eyes filled with scandalous intrigue and a growing interest. Their bond had not gone unnoticed in this world where alliances—romantic or otherwise—had the power to alter the course of peoples' fates. The unspoken words, the shared glances, all added to the rich tapestry of this Ballroom Warfare. Every move was a statement, every word a weapon, every alliance a shield.

Tonight, they were not just spectators but active participants in this dance of power and intrigue.

She stood tall and regal, her figure donned a stunning sapphire blue gown that brought out the cool undertones of her beauty, the skirt long and draping around her body with numerous embroidered motifs of lavender flowers in gold. The intricate folds of the fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the chandeliers, giving her an ethereal quality.

Zypher, who always exuded confidence and grace, was equally striking in his coordinated attire. His dark-grey suit boasted delicate seams of gold and silver thread, his own sapphire blue shirt enhancing his gorgeous features, small embroiders on the cuffs and lapels, catching the light as he moved with effortless elegance. His vivid maroon eyes roamed the room with a quiet intensity, as if searching for something or someone special amidst the crowd.

Delphia weaved through the tightly-packed crowd of nobles, her hand in Zypher's preventing anyone from bumping into her, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on two familiar figures.

Crown Prince Alaric stood tall and lordly, his eyes fixed on the woman beside him—Calista Faremont. Her delicate features were enhanced by a flowing gown of ivory tinged gold, making her the center of attention. But… Delphia couldn't help but notice the subtle glances and jealous sneers from Sybil Mooresbane, who stood across the room, eyeing Calista like a predator stalking its prey. Delphia watched as Calista gracefully navigated the gathering, her laughter light and genuine, her charm undeniable.

Alaric stood close by, his attention fully on her, as if she were the only person in the room. The two were the epitome of a perfect couple—the future Crown Princess Consort and her devoted Prince.

But as Delphia observed the small interactions, the subtle shifts in posture and tone, she could see through the act. Calista was no innocent leading-lady; She was playing her role to perfection. Delphia's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. Calista's rise to power had been anything but the result of naïve virtue. That girl had learned how to manipulate the world around her, charming those who could elevate her status and carefully positioning herself as a "perfect" successor of House Faremont. It wasn't just her cunning, though, that intrigued Delphia tonight. It was the way Calista deftly managed to outmaneuver Sybil Mooresbane consistently.

Sybil's reputation had taken a sharp turn for the worse since January. Her repeated attempts to sabotage Calista had backfired, and tonight, she looked more bitter than ever. Delphia could see it in Sybil's eyes—the frustration, the desperation to claw back her standing. But no one paid Sybil any mind anymore.

All attention was on Calista and Alaric.

As Delphia observed Calista's graceful movements, she couldn't help but feel that she was watching a rehearsed production. Every gesture, every expression, every laugh seemed intentional. And Alaric? He was falling for it all, just as the book described. But the longer Delphia observed, the more forced and artificial it all seemed. This wasn't a natural romance unfolding; It was a cleverly orchestrated ascent to power.

Zypher's quiet voice pulled her from her thoughts, "You've noticed it too, haven't you?" He said, his eyes briefly flicking toward the Crown Prince and Calista before returning to her.

They were standing behind the crowd and off to the side so that they could observe the gathering. Delphia nodded, her expression thoughtful, "She's good, I'll give her that. The way she plays into the role of the perfect daughter, the perfect match for the Crown Prince—it's all too perfect. This isn't an innocent girl stumbling into power. She knows exactly what she's doing."

Zypher's lips twitched in the faintest of smirks, "And yet, it seems only a few of us can see through the act. Alaric is completely under her spell."

Delphia glanced again at the pair across the room, "He always was in the novel…" She muttered. "But seeing it play out in real life is more unsettling than I thought it would be."

Zypher chuckled lowly at her words, the sound so soft it was barely distinguishable beneath the hum of the banquet. "Reality has a sharper edge, doesn't it?" He murmured, his gaze lingering on her just a moment longer than necessary.

Delphia tilted her head slightly, a faint smile dancing on her lips. "Sharper—and far more theatrical."

From the periphery, a pair of older noblewomen leaned their heads together, whispering with poorly concealed fascination as they cast lingering glances toward Delphia and Zypher. Nearby, a younger Viscountess nearly dropped her fan when Zypher reached over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Delphia's ear in a motion so natural, it looked rehearsed.

But the tenderness was real—and it was being noticed.

"They're staring again," Delphia said under her breath, eyes flicking to the side.

"They always stare," Zypher replied smoothly, not even bothering to mask his amusement. "But this time, it's not out of scandal. It's envy."

She arched a brow, lips twitching. "Oh? Envy of you or me?"

"Both," he said simply, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Before she could respond, a shift in the ballroom's energy signaled the arrival of another cluster of guests. From the grand double doors, the Vosswell family made their entrance—Seraphina gliding in on her own, Lucian not far behind, flanked by a pair of lower House acquaintances trying a little too hard to appear important.

Delphia's expression cooled a fraction, though she kept her posture effortlessly composed. "They're late."

Zypher glanced toward the entrance. "Deliberately so. Seraphina's always liked to make an entrance, especially when she isn't the center of attention from the start."

"And she'll be all the more irritated that I arrived with you," Delphia murmured, tone laced with dry amusement. "She would've wanted that moment for herself."

"She doesn't like sharing the spotlight," Zypher agreed. "Especially not with you."

"Especially not when the whispers have begun shifting in my favor," Delphia added, casting a glance toward a trio of gossiping noble heirs huddled near the refreshment tables. One of them, clearly unaware of his volume, was mid-sentence—'…never thought Lady Delphia could outshine Lady Seraphina like that. But look at her—she's practically royalty standing beside Lord Zypher…'

Zypher noticed the comment too. "You hear that?"

"Oh, I hear everything," she said, her tone deceptively light. "And so does Seraphina. Give it five minutes, she'll be fuming."

As if on cue, Seraphina's eyes locked on Delphia, lips pursed in a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes. The air around her bristled with tension, but she glided toward a group of nobles with feigned indifference, pretending she hadn't noticed Delphia and Zypher at all.

Lucian, in contrast, hesitated—his gaze briefly catching on Delphia before flicking to Zypher, then dropping away altogether as he disappeared into the crowd.

"They look mismatched tonight," Zypher noted.

"Because they are," Delphia said. "Neither of them has anyone they can present as a partner or companion. Seraphina's social standing relies too much on borrowed grace, and Lucian…" she trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly. "He never was good at reading the room."

"But he's good at echoing the voices in it," Zypher added quietly. "That makes him dangerous in a different way."

Delphia hummed her agreement. "He plays whichever side seems most advantageous in the moment. Which means if the tide keeps shifting in my favor…"

"He'll come crawling back," Zypher finished, voice laced with disdain.

Delphia turned to meet his eyes, something cold and calculating beneath her calm. "And I'll be ready."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, their presence still drawing gazes, still stirring speculation.

Then Zypher said, low and contemplative, "The Faremonts are garnering more attention than ever tonight. Even more than the Vosswells, and that's saying something."

Delphia followed his gaze toward Calista and the Crown Prince once more. "It's strategic. House Faremont's influence was always underestimated in the original story, but now… they're quickly climbing."

"Because of her," Zypher said simply.

"Yes. Calista isn't just charming. She's weaponizing it. Every eye on her tonight is another thread she's weaving into her web."

"And if she becomes Crown Princess…"

"She'll have all the leverage she needs to elevate House Faremont into a true powerhouse." Delphia's voice was calm, but sharp beneath the surface. "But that also means she'll be the biggest threat to every other noble family in this room."

Including mine, was the unspoken implication.

Zypher tilted his head slightly, observing Delphia from the corner of his eye. "Do you intend to confront her eventually?"

"No," Delphia said quietly. "I intend to outmaneuver her."

For a brief moment, the candlelight caught in the gold threading of her gown, casting a glimmering halo around her silhouette. The effect did not go unnoticed—one of the Marchioness's sons leaned closer to his mother, whispering with admiration as his gaze followed Delphia's every movement.

The ballroom was a battlefield. And tonight, Delphia wasn't just holding her ground—she was winning.

Zypher extended his hand again, palm open.

She placed her hand in his, fingers curling lightly.

"To power and politics," he murmured.

Delphia smiled. "And to playing the game better than anyone else."

They each took a moment to scan the ballroom for anyone else that stood out before Delphia looked at him, "I need to use the restroom real quick. Go ahead and mingle since I'll most likely have a snack and a drink before coming back." He nodded at her, leaning in to place a kiss to her temple before turning to grab a drink from a passing server.

She turned and wove through the throngs of lavishly dressed Nobles and officials, her flowing silk gown whispering against the polished marble floors, making her way across the grand hall past clusters of delicately dressed nobles whose laughter and gossip filled the air like a perfumed mist. The vaulted ceilings, adorned with crystal chandeliers scattering the light in dazzling arrays, seemed to echo her every step, reminding her of the situation happening tonight.

She slipped into a side corridor, the noise dimming behind a heavy oak door embossed with the gilded insignia of the ruling family. Following the plush burgundy carpet, she reached the refreshment room—a quiet space contrasted with the splendor and chatter of the main hall. Here, servants moved silently, refilling trays with delicate pastries and exotic fruits that spilled over silver platters with an artful abundance.