“In the quiet corners of Demis, tension coiled like a serpent, patient as the stillness before a storm.”
– Master Gavril, Annals of the Two Cities
She sat in a café, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, a few side streets removed from the main avenue. Yet even here, the vibrant energy that seemed to pulse through Demis was palpable. She looked around. The café’s clientele was a motley mix of locals and visitors, all immersed in lively conversations.
Lithas had found a spot toward the back, a piping hot cup of spiced tea before her, its scent a tantalizing blend of cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves. A waiter brought her a plate with flaky pastry filled with chopped mushrooms, chicken, and aromatic herbs. The flavors melded together beautifully as she ate, each bite more delicious than the last.
They had announced themselves to the palace after entering the city. Now, Lithas had a brief chance to recuperate from their journey, while she waited for the formal invitation from Demis’ leader. Wandering through the city, she had let herself explore the sights, smells, and tastes of this new world with her retinue. Lithas had amused herself with the unguarded fascination of Kael and the, far better concealed, wonder in Kellen’s eyes. Only Avila had remained composed. It was probably not his first visit to the city. There was a strange melancholy in the man, ever since they strode through the gates of Demis.
Then there was the city itself. Elegant and aloof Demis. And yet, despite the apparent harmony and prosperity in the markets, the harbor, the entertainment district, Lithas sensed an undercurrent of tension in the air, a subtle strain simmering just beneath the surface of Demis’ bustling façade. Like tasting the petrichor of rain on your tongue, just before the first drops fell.
At last, the official summons had arrived. Tonight, she was to join Prince Cerax for a banquet at the royal palace. Only ever ‘Prince’—the Belt would never allow a king, not after what happened after the last king ruled these lands.
Pondering this, Lithas allowed her eyes to wander over the other patrons in the café, her curiosity piqued by snippets of murmured conversations. Two men sitting nearby caught her attention. They spoke in hushed, urgent tones, their faces partially concealed by shadows.
“I’m telling you, Arlon, there’s something brewing,” the first man whispered, casting a wary glance around the room. “There’s been too much unrest among the nobility lately. Mark my words, it’s only a matter of time before it all blows up.”
“You’re always so dramatic, Joran,” The second man, Arlon, quietly scoffed. “It’s just the usual power struggles and games. Nothing ever truly changes here.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong.” Joran leaned forward, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “There’s supposed to be a new player in this game, someone who’s been making maneuvers in the shadows. Not from here, an outsider faction. I’ve heard rumors of secret meetings. Old alliances broken, new ones forged. It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to light.”
Arlon shook his head, still unconvinced. “If something were genuinely happening, Prince Cerax would put a stop to it. The man’s no fool. He’s not one to let such matters go unchecked. Have you seen what he did to this ring of dust smugglers?”
Lithas took another sip of her tea as her heart started to beat a bit faster, eyes furtively flicking back to the two men who seemed lost to their world of whispers and secrets. As much as she wanted to edge closer and listen in, she knew better. She had a job to do here, after all, and getting caught up in palace politics was the last thing she needed.
Finishing her pastry, Lithas savored a last moment of solitude to steel herself for the negotiations awaiting her at the palace. Then she paid the waiter and exited the café, heading back to the main avenue that led to her accommodations. Lithas drew a deep breath, the cooling evening air feeling refreshing after the stifling warmth inside the café. Navigating the bustling crowds, Lithas soaked in the nocturnal energy of the city, its vibrant life pulsating around her. The colorful lanterns dangling overhead bathed the cobblestones in a warm light. Sounds of laughter and music filled the air.
From a distance, glimpsed in-between streets, she could already spot the grand façade of the palace, lofty spires and ornate designs extravagantly lit by what seemed like thousands of fires. Dark spots lazily circled the towers that caressed the sky.
Back at her lodgings, Lithas retreated to her room. She chose an elegant gown, made of a deeply emerald fabric that fell gracefully over her frame. Detailed golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves shimmering in the soft lamplight. Her honey-hued hair was twisted up into a sophisticated knot, a few loose strands framing her face, as she appraised her reflection in the mirror.
A knock at the door.
Kellen looked sharp, dressed in his formal uniform, his demeanor radiating military confidence. His gaze lingered for a moment on her dress. A moment too long. Quite the contrast to her usual dusty traveling clothes from the weeks before. He opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitated, and finally spoke. “Forgive me, my lady. Shall we depart for the palace? It is time.”
“Thank you, Kellen,” Lithas returned Kellen’s unspoken compliment with an appreciative smile. “Yes, I’m ready.”
With Kellen and an escort of her guards in tow, Lithas navigated the celebrated (and celebrating) streets of Demis, heading toward the palace. The grand edifice loomed ahead, its magnificence only amplified by the night’s darkness. She approached its entryway, where palace guards scrutinized their invitations and identities before, almost reluctantly, granting them entrance. But only Kellen and herself, with the rest of her guard being instructed to wait outside. Cerax was a careful man.
As they crossed the royal threshold, Lithas was immediately met with a whirlwind of activity, servants dashing to and fro, preparing the evening’s festivities. The air was rich with the sweet scent of cedar, intertwined with hints of cardamom, while a traditional Demisian harpsichord gently flowed in the background.
Already in the corridor—presumably leading to the banquet hall—opulence drowned her. Intricate tapestries adorning the walls, sparkling chandeliers scattering rainbows of light across the ceiling. Lithas felt dwarfed, despite her sumptuous dress.
Then came the banquet hall.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the glittering crystal chandelier, hanging suspended over the long table. Outshining its now modest-seeming counterparts from the corridor, its twinkling light reflected off the dozen or so gold plates and silverware meticulously arranged on the table. Light also reflected off the polished breastplates on the guards, stationed along each of the room’s walls, in a dazzling display. Through it all, at the far end of the hall, Lithas saw it. A large, grand throne. Spread wings of pure gold. Empty.
But before she could be appropriately confused, Lithas saw him. Mid-conversation with a tall, armored man on the opposite side of the hall. Noticing her arrival, Prince Cerax left the frantically gesticulating giant behind and stepped out from the shadows. Resplendent in a golden robe, dark hair neatly combed to one side, the prince strode across his banquet hall to welcome Lithas, his face lighting up with a warm smile as he performed an elaborate bow. White teeth flashing as if to rival his attire.
“Elevated Lithas, I’m truly delighted by your presence. Forgive the short notice, the affairs of the court are often unpredictable, even to myself.” Cerax’ voice was gentle and melodious, drawing in the attention of the already seated guests. Lithas felt herself being probed by eyes all along the banquet table. “Regrettably,” the prince of Demis continued, “it wasn’t possible to make the banquet larger. I would have loved to introduce you to some friends of mine. Another time, perhaps.” His light blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he motioned for Lithas to take her seat.
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“Your apology is quite unnecessary, Your Highness,” Lithas replied with practiced grace, her eyes briefly assessing the portly man sitting beside her, mentally jotting down the subtle crest of a noble house on the man’s vest. “I’m more than honored to be here.” Behind her, Kellen assumed a protective stance near the walls of the hall.
The table was laden with an array of dishes that rivaled the splendor of the room itself. Quail stuffed with prickly pear and wild rice, mushrooms sautéed with garlic, thyme, and a splash of elderberry wine, and the most succulent sweet peaches Lithas had ever tasted. The harpsichord continued to play softly in the background, delicate melodies floating through the room, adding to the atmosphere of grandeur. Almost immediately, her tablemate started to involve her in a one-sided conversation about the intricacies of drydocks, failing to notice Lithas’ wandering attention.
The other guests—a mix of nobles and dignitaries—spoke in hushed tones, their conversations punctuated by nervous glances toward the throne at the far end of the hall. No other Elevated, it seemed. Cerax had different views on using them than most rulers. No flaunting of raw power in this court. Of course, Vexaria was here though, seated to the right of her prince. Lithas could sense tension in the air, which made her uneasy as well.
Prince Cerax, now occupying his regal seat at the head of the table, was already engaged in polite conversation with a tall-necked woman beside him. But it was not long before he turned his attention toward Lithas. His lapis eyes studied her thoughtfully.
“Elevated Lithas,” Cerax began, voice carrying effortlessly across the table, smothering the hum of the crowd in a single instant. “I must say, I’ve heard a great deal about you and your travels these past days. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Your Highness is too kind,” Lithas inclined her head, lips curving into a polite smile toward those golden wings. “I am simply doing my duty, much like yourself.”
“Very diplomatic, my lady,” With a gentle, knowing chuckle, Prince Cerax’ demeanor softened, his royal poise momentarily giving way to a more personable, almost boyish charm. “But surely, your journey hasn’t been without its hardships. The whole court, myself included, would be intrigued to hear about your experiences.”
Lithas glanced around the table, considering each guest in turn. Conversations had died down. The nobles and dignitaries were all listening intently now, eager to hear what she had to say. She had to remind herself that this was a court. There was a certain expectation of a dance of words here, and she could not afford to miss a step. Drawing a measured breath, Lithas gathered her thoughts, her gaze flitting across the array of expectant faces, back to Cerax and his devastatingly blue eyes.
“Certainly, Your Highness. My travels have had their fair share of trials and tribulations,” Lithas began, a touch of humor in her voice. “We’ve faced everything from dust storms to food shortages, but each challenge has been a lesson in its own way.”
“One time,” she reminisced, “on the way to Tibara, long ago now, we found ourselves caught in the mother of all dust storms.” She glanced over at Kellen, a smirk playing on her lips. “You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your eyes. We’d lost our way. Kellen here had the bright idea to follow a river, thinking it’d lead us to civilization.” Lithas paused, letting them wonder what happened next. “Turned out, he was right. After I fell in said river.” Isolated laughter, uncertain and brief. “We found shelter in a small village, just in the nick of time. I never let him hear the end of it. But any later and we would have been shredded to pieces out in the open.”
Her smile softened, touched by genuine warmth now, as she recalled the unwavering hospitality they had received. A rare kindness that still warmed her heart. “In that settlement—a small village in the north, called Helka—we met a family who, despite having very little themselves, welcomed us into their home. It was a humbling experience. And a stark reminder of the good that still exists in this world, even in the direst circumstances.”
She paused, letting the memories sink in, her eyes slowly sweeping over the assembled guests, which hung on her every word now. Lithas smiled at another, more recent, memory, along the coastal highway. “But there is goodness and then there is greatness,” she mused. “One of the most captivating sights we’ve encountered on our way here were the Halcynian Spears.” She noticed a flicker of recognition in Prince Cerax’ eyes.
“Huge basalt pillars rising out of the ocean, like silent sentinels guarding the sea,” she said, her gaze traveling far away, reliving the awe of her encounter. “You should have seen how the wind and waves crashed against their base, creating this hauntingly beautiful symphony. It was hypnotic, really.”
A more serious expression crossed her face. “We met an old man during our travels who told us the history of the Spears.” Remembering the conversation stirred something in Lithas, a somber note in the grandeur of the banquet. She kept her eyes on the prince, searching his dark pupils—so much like flecks of lapis lazuli—for answers. “He posed a thought-provoking question, that old man did. It resonates with me to this day: Should we surrender our beliefs and identity for an easier life, or do we stand up for our truths, even at great personal cost?”
Throughout, Prince Cerax’ attention was unwavering, his eyes turning into a mirror of the sea—deep and stormy, reflecting a world of thoughts beneath the surface. His responses were measured, his questions innocuous, but she could tell he was searching for more, probing for information he was not privy to.
Eventually, the prince leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. “It seems you’ve had quite the adventure, Elevated. I must say I admire your strength and courage.”
He paused, swirling the wine in his goblet before he took a sip. His gaze remained steady, but there was an intensity in his eyes that put Lithas on edge. “Our city hasn’t been without its adventures, either,” Cerax said finally. “Even a place as beautiful as Demis has its... challenges. I’m sure you know what I’m speaking of.”
He paused a moment before continuing, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “However, I believe we are strong.” He let his gaze sweep over the crowd, voice firmer now, more commanding. “Demis is strong. And, with people like you on our side, I’m sure we’ll be able to handle whatever comes our way.”
The shift in atmosphere was almost tangible, as if the room had drawn a collective breath. Cerax’ implication hung in the air. From the corner of her eye, Lithas noticed Kellen tense behind her. From outside, she heard the swelling festivities in the streets, accompanied by shouts and muffled noises. She felt slightly queasy.
An unspoken question lingered now, one she hesitated to answer outright. Instead, Lithas nodded once, a non-committal gesture that could be interpreted however necessary. She suddenly was hesitant to broach this topic here, in the throne room of Demis, surrounded by its wealth and power.
“Elevated Lithas,” Cerax’ gaze narrowed slightly, and he leaned forward, the joviality of earlier all but forgotten. “Let me be frank. I hope to work closely with you. I hope to gain an ally in you. May I assume you’ll lend your skills, your expertise, your enterprise to our cause, when the time comes? Do you stand with Demis?”
It was phrased as a question, but the prince’s words also carried an unmistakable challenge. Hanging in the air, shrouded in the vibrating notes of the harpsichord. “Your Highness,” Lithas met his gaze evenly, “my primary obligation lies with my people and my business. If your intentions align with mine, then you have my support.”
The prince paused, absorbing her words. Vexaria sitting rigidly at his side, glaring at Lithas. Finally, Cerax nodded, a sense of urgency shadowing his handsome features. “I understand that a monopoly relationship may be too much to ask for at this time, so let me ask for something lesser. Do not sell weapons to Loratha, do not sell armor to Loratha. We don’t care if you sell to anyone else and we’ll gladly buy everything you offer. That is the only thing we ask for. Would you consider this request?”
Lithas glanced at Kellen, his expression stoic but alert. She understood the implications, the delicate balance of power here. She also understood desperation when she saw it. This was worse than she had imagined. “Prince Cerax, I understand your concerns. I will need to discuss this with my associates. We’ve maintained neutrality so far, supplying all who require our services. However, I hear your request and will consider it.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Prince Cerax said, inclining his head slightly. “That’s all I’m asking for. I’m grateful for your understanding.”
But before Lithas could articulate her next thoughts, a deafening explosion shattered the refined atmosphere of the banquet hall, thrusting everything into chaos.
Immediately, the sound of drawn blades and frantic shouts replaced the gentle harpsichord. Guests—so composed and elegant but a moment ago—now scrambled in panic, their elaborate attire ill-suited for the sudden flight, as they knocked over ornate tables and chairs.
Prince Cerax rose, his composure momentarily lost. He reached out a hand, steadying himself on the table. “What is happening?” he demanded. Nobody seemed to have an answer for him. Then his eyes flickered to his guards, who started to move toward the source of the noise, swords drawn.
Kellen was beside Lithas in an instant, sword drawn and eyes sharply scanning the room, every sense heightened to detect threats. “Stay close to me, my lady,” he barked, his voice a beacon of certainty in the ensuing turmoil. Of course, in most scenarios it would be her saving him, rather than the other way around.
Then, as if to mock any remaining semblance of control, a second explosion thundered through the hall and a guard rushed in, panting, armor splattered with blood. “Intruders at the gates—we’re under attack!” he gasped out. Behind him, noise that was previously held back by the thick banquet doors burst forth, revealing a tableau like from a kicked ant hill.
Cerax seemed to freeze for a moment, taking in the scene before him. His eyes met Lithas’, a look of disbelief etched on his face. Then, his shock gave way to resolve. “It seems Loratha has made the decision for you, Elevated,” he said, voice grim over the chaos of the hall.
Lithas met the prince’s gaze, heart pounding against her chest. “So it seems, Your Highness,” she responded, gripping the edge of the table. “Looks like it’s time to choose sides.”