Chapter 102 - And you do?
-9 PM, Imperial Romanian Palace; Banquet Hall-
As the clock struck 9, the grand banquet hall of the Imperial Romanian Palace came alive with opulence and intrigue. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembled dignitaries, their light dancing off the polished marble floors and ornate gold leaf decorations adorning the walls. Long tables draped in fine silk cloths stretched across the room, laden with an array of sumptuous dishes that showcased the finest Romanian cuisine.
Alizah leaders sat alongside delegates from various empires and kingdoms, their hushed conversations punctuated by the gentle clink of crystal glasses filled with Romania's renowned Fetească Neagră wine. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the subtle perfumes of the assembled elite, while a string quartet played softly in the corner, providing an elegant backdrop to the evening's proceedings.
As servers in crisp white uniforms glided between tables, offering platters of roasted wild boar and delicate river trout, the gathered guests engaged in a delicate dance of diplomacy. Toasts were made to recent victories and future alliances, each word carefully chosen to convey strength without revealing too much. Beneath the veneer of civility, tensions simmered as each faction sought to gain an advantage in the ongoing conflict that raged beyond the palace walls.
As the grand banquet unfolded in the Imperial Romanian Palace, whispers and hushed conversations flowed as freely as the wine:
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"Did you hear? The Azone witch nearly burned herself out in the last battle. They say she hasn't been seen in weeks," a nobleman murmured to his companion.
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A maid, refilling glasses, leaned in slightly to catch snippets of conversation:
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"The Alizah commander, Rudbeckia - I heard she's been experimenting with forbidden shadow magic. No wonder their attacks have grown more vicious."
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Near the dessert table, two delegates from rival kingdoms exchanged meaningful glances:
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"If the Azones fall, which of us will claim their territories? We should discuss... arrangements."
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An Alizah captain boasted quietly to a group of admirers:
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"Our next strike will shatter their defenses. By this time next month, we'll be dining in Ossa itself."
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A servant passing by with empty plates caught wind of worried whispers:
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"The common folk are restless. If this war drags on much longer, we may have revolts on our hands in addition to enemy armies."
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As the night wore on, the gossip grew bolder, fueled by wine and the heady atmosphere of power:
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"I heard the Azone princess has gone mad. They keep her locked away, only bringing her out to unleash her powers in battle."
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"Nonsense," another countered. "She's been spotted training with Domino's former king. Some say there's more than strategy being discussed behind closed doors."
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The rumors and speculation swirled through the opulent hall, a testament to the uncertainty and intrigue that permeated this gathering of the powerful amidst a seemingly endless war.
The banquet hall fell silent as the herald's voice rang out:
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"Presenting His Grace, The Archduke of Valentine, Lucian De Valentine Eriko Elmir!"
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Lucian entered, resplendent in a midnight blue tailcoat adorned with silver embroidery, his chest gleaming with medals.
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"His Grace, The Little Archduke of Valentine, Cillian De Valentine Eriko Elmir!"
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Cillian followed, wearing a deep crimson suit with gold trim, his youthful face set in a serious expression.
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"The Right Honorable Lord of Valentine, Brandon De Eriko Elmir!"
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Brandon (Cillian's grandfather) strode in, cutting a dashing figure in a forest green jacket and cream breeches.
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"The Lady Celeste De Valentine Eriko Elmir, Youngest Lady of Valentine!"
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Celeste glided into the room, her lavender gown shimmering with every step.
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The assembled guests, including Cesare, turned to watch the Valentine family's entrance. Whispers immediately began to circulate:
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"The Valentines, here? I thought they were neutral in this conflict."
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"Look at Little Duke of Valentine, Prince Cillian - he's grown so much since the last gathering."
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"Lady Celeste will soon be of age now. I wonder which alliances they'll be considering for her."
As the Valentine family made their way through the banquet hall, the whispers grew more intense:
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"Did you see the way Lord Cesare looked at Archduke Lucian? There's bad blood there, mark my words."
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An Alizah commander leaned in to his companion: "The Little Archduke - I've heard rumors he's been seen near Azone territory. What game is Valentine playing?"
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A group of noblewomen eyed Celeste with a mixture of admiration and suspicion:7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ97nXSopltH
"She's grown into quite the beauty. I wonder if she's here to secure an alliance through marriage."
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Brandon's presence sparked particular interest among the military figures:7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9HS1W0Y7GJ
"Lord Brandon's tactical skills are legendary. If Valentine throws in with either side, it could turn the tide of the war."
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Rudbeckia watched the family's progress through narrowed eyes, her voice low as she addressed Cesare:7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrisPKqqUne
"We need to know where they stand. Arrange a private meeting - tonight."
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As the Valentines took their seats, the tension in the room was palpable. Their unexpected arrival had thrown carefully laid plans into disarray, and both Alizah and their allies were scrambling to adjust their strategies.
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The banquet continued, but now with an undercurrent of heightened anticipation. The war's next move might well be decided not on the battlefield, but here, amidst the glittering chandeliers and whispered conspiracies of the Imperial Romanian Palace.
As the banquet continued, the nobles seated at Cillian's table grew increasingly curious about the Valentine family's sudden appearance. Their questions came in rapid succession, each more probing than the last.
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"Lord Cillian, what brings the Valentine family to this gathering? Surely not mere coincidence?" a portly duke inquired, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed interest.
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A baroness leaned forward, her jewels glinting in the candlelight. "We've heard whispers of Valentine's neutrality wavering. Is there truth to these rumors, my lord?"
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"Your father's military prowess is legendary," another noble chimed in. "Has he come to offer his expertise to our cause?"
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Cillian remained silent, his face resting on his palm, elbow propped on the table. His aquamarine eyes gazed distantly, as if focused on something far beyond the opulent banquet hall. The nobles exchanged glances, unsure whether to press further or retreat.
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A young count, emboldened by wine, ventured another question. "Lord Cillian, surely you must have some insight into your family's intentions. The war hangs in the balance, and Valentine's allegiance could-"
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Cillian's eyes suddenly snapped into focus, cutting through the chatter like a blade. The intensity of his gaze silenced the table more effectively than any words could have. After a moment of tense silence, Cillian spoke, his voice low but carrying a weight that demanded attention.
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"Gentlemen, ladies," he said, each word precisely enunciated, "Valentine's position will be unequivocally communicated when strategically optimal. Meanwhile, I propose we leverage the premium refreshments and intellectual capital presently assembled."
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The table fell silent, the nobles chastened by Cillian's subtle rebuke. They turned their attention back to their meals, stealing occasional glances at the young lord who had so effectively shut down their inquiries.
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As the awkward silence settled over the table, Cillian's gaze wandered across the banquet hall. He noticed a group of important figures discreetly exiting the room - high-ranking Alizah officials, delegates from various kingdoms and empires, and to his surprise, his own family members. His grandfather's stoic face, his father's commanding presence, his mother's graceful poise, and his uncle's shrewd eyes - all moving with purpose towards a side door.
Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours to Cillian. An inexplicable unease began to gnaw at him. Unable to shake the feeling that something significant was transpiring beyond those doors, Cillian rose from his seat.
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"If you'll excuse me," he murmured to the table, not waiting for a response before striding away.
Once in the corridor, Cillian's pace quickened. His footsteps echoed off the marble floors as he navigated the palace's winding hallways. The further he got from the banquet hall, the faster he moved, until he was running full tilt, driven by an instinct he couldn't quite name.
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As he approached a grand set of doors, muffled voices reached his ears. Cillian slowed, pressing himself against the wall and inching closer to listen.
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"...the Artifact of Lirania," a voice said, barely audible. "Confirmed to be in the eastern wing."
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Cillian's heart raced. The Artifact of Lirania - a legendary jewel said to hold immense power. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards the eastern side of the palace, his mind whirling with possibilities and consequences.
The eastern wing was a maze of corridors and chambers. Cillian threw open door after door, each room empty or filled with mundane treasures that paled in comparison to what he sought. His frustration grew with each failed attempt, but he pressed on, driven by a mix of duty and curiosity.
After what felt like an eternity of searching, Cillian burst into a room that immediately felt different. The air crackled with an energy he couldn't explain. But as his eyes scanned the chamber, his heart sank. The room was empty, save for an ornate pedestal that clearly once held something of great importance.
A commotion in the hallway caught his attention. Cillian rushed out just in time to see a group of black-clad figures rounding a corner. In their midst, a flash of vibrant pink hair caught his eye - a girl, running alongside the men, her presence a stark contrast to their shadowy attire.
Without hesitation, Cillian gave chase. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, drawing it in one fluid motion as he closed the distance. The sound of steel leaving its scabbard alerted the group, and they turned to face their pursuer.
What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Cillian's blade sang through the air, meeting flesh and bone with terrible precision. His years of training under the finest swordmasters in Valentine came to the fore as he engaged multiple opponents at once.
One by one, the black-clad men fell. Some managed to draw weapons, but Cillian's speed and skill proved overwhelming. Blood stained the opulent carpets as bodies dropped, the clash of steel giving way to the final gasps of the dying.
In mere moments, it was over. Cillian stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in short gasps, sword dripping red. Before him stood the pink-haired girl, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance.
"Who are you?" Cillian demanded, his voice hoarse. "And where is the Artifact of Lirania?"
The girl's hand went to a pouch at her side, and Cillian tensed, ready for another fight. But instead of a weapon, she withdrew a gleaming jewel that seemed to pulse with an inner light.
"I am its guardian," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "And you, have just complicated things immensely."
Cillian's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his sword.
Cillian's eyes narrowed, his sword still pointed at the girl. "Guardian? You look more like a thief to me. Start talking, or you'll join your friends on the floor."
The girl's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "You have no idea what you've just stumbled into, do you?"
"Enlighten me," Cillian growled, taking a step closer.
She held up the jewel, its pulsing light casting eerie shadows across her face. "This isn't just some pretty bauble for nobles to fight over. It's a key. A weapon. And in the wrong hands, it's the end of everything you know."
Cillian scoffed. "Spare me the dramatics. Who sent you? The Azones?"
"Neither," she spat. "I serve powers you can't even comprehend, little boy."
In a flash, Cillian closed the distance between them, his blade at her throat. "I comprehend enough to know you're outmatched. And I'm not little. Can't you see the height difference? Hand it over. Now."
The girl's eyes flashed with defiance. "You want it? Take it. But know this - the moment you touch it, you're part of something far bigger than your petty war."
Cillian hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. "FUCK OFF." he growled, his voice low.
She replied, " I'm offering you a choice. Walk away now, forget what you've seen. Or take the jewel and step into a world you can't even imagine."
Cillian's mind raced, weighing his options. Duty, curiosity, and something else - a hunger for something beyond the political games he'd been raised in - warred within him.
"Time's running out, little boy," she taunted. "What's it going to be?"
Cillian's grip tightened on his sword. "I'll take my chances," he said, reaching for the jewel.
As Cillian's fingers closed around the jewel, a searing pain shot through his arm. He gasped, nearly dropping his sword as the world around him blurred. The girl's voice echoed, distant yet crystal clear:
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"Welcome to the real war, Cillian. Try not to die too quickly."
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Cillian gritted his teeth, fighting against the pain. "What...what is this?" he managed to choke out.
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The girl - Ava, she'd called herself - stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and something darker. "That, little boy, is power. Real power. How does it feel?"
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Cillian's vision swam, images flashing before his eyes - ancient battles, forgotten cities, creatures of myth and nightmare. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall. "It's...overwhelming," he admitted, his pride warring with the sheer magnitude of what he was experiencing.
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Ava nodded, a hint of respect creeping into her voice. "Most can't even hold it for this long. Maybe you're not as useless as I thought."
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Cillian straightened, forcing himself to focus through the maelstrom in his mind. "You still haven't answered my question. Who are you? What is this artifact?"
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"I told you, I'm its guardian," Ava replied, her tone softening slightly. "As for what it is...it's a piece of history. A fragment of a power that shaped the world long before your precious kingdoms and empires ever existed."
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Cillian's eyes narrowed, his tactical mind already racing. "And now the Alizahs want it. Why?"
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Ava's laugh was bitter. "Why does anyone want power? To control, to dominate. But they don't understand what they're dealing with. None of them do."
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"And you do?" Cillian challenged, his grip on the jewel tightening despite the pain.
To be Continued...
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