The doors to the ballroom opened slowly and obnoxiously. They creaked, but low and steady, as if they were supposed to do that. As they parted, the room itself appeared in a harsh burst of color and sound. Dozens of people dancing together, with hundreds more watching from the sides, over half of them wearing the hideous knight armor, the remainder wearing dresses, robes, and tunics.

Laz tried to discern if anyone else had on a wizard gown, but there were too many people, the room was too large. He would have to explore.

Their line moved forward through the doorway at a mud snail’s pace, much to Laz’s annoyance. He knew they needed to seem ordered and respectable, but his impatience wanted to start asking around as soon as possible. At last it was his and Calder’s turn to enter, and once they did, Laz realized how truly massive the castle was.

The walls launched upward, curving together to form a smooth, rounded ceiling over a hundred feet above them. Though he knew the whole castle was carved from rock, the walls were covered with enough wood, marble, and gold that Laz was beginning to doubt they were still inside of a mountain. The whole room was a long oval, with them entering on one of the short edges. On the long end to their left, Laz saw movement up the wall.

Wait, that’s not a wall… He squinted, confused as to what could be happening. Are those balconies? Inside?

Three tiers of open-faced hallways stretched along one side of the room. Inside them, more people were mingling, dancing, laughing, and eating. Some of them were looking down at the main floor as if it were a play.

Those in the bottom level, still a couple dozen feet above Laz, were the liveliest. Bright white lights, the same type Laz saw in the entryway, only bigger, made them look alive and important.

Above them, the middle balcony, there was a distinction. There were fewer people, yes, but more than that, their attire was unique. Even from down on the ground, Laz noticed all of them were wearing one of orange, green, or purple. And nobody had seemed to mix the colors either. If he was being honest, Laz thought they were even uglier outfits than the knights had to wear. Their lights were dimmer, yellower, and Laz wondered if they were of lower status.

But the third and highest level was what intrigued Laz the most. There was very little light, perhaps none other than what drifted over from the ballroom. Nobody was on that level, at least as far as he could tell.

Before Laz could piece together how the balconies worked, Calder touched his arm.

“Surely you’re starving, yeah? Or need to, er, need relief?” His date pointed to a set of stone halls near where they entered. A few people were waiting by them with looks of annoyance. “Those are the privies.”

“They’re inside?” Laz said, not even trying to hide his shock and disgust. “We’re up in a mountain, I can’t imagine waste drops all the way down to ground level. What’s wrong with–”

Calder laughed, and Laz quieted down upon seeing his smile.

“No, look, I get what you mean, but it works. Trust me. They have some device or something, I think it’s magic. You’ll have to see for yourself.” As he spoke he stepped closer to Laz, his steel-plated shoulder pressing against his skin.

Laz wondered if they would dance again, part of him hoping it would happen. Others were already dancing, all they had to do was–

No! First, I have to ask around about Master Edre. I’m here for a reason, I can’t get distracted.

Laz opened his mouth to retort,but he froze when he saw the other side of the ballroom. He had been so distracted by the rows of balconies, and then Calder, that he hadn’t once looked at the opposing long side. Across from the tiers of onlookers, a stained glass portrait matching the ones he passed in the hallway minutes earlier. Though this one was so large, so incredibly, colossally grand in size and detail, that Laz thought he had slipped into a dream.

It was almost as long as the barracks back home. It was taller than any of the houses back home. It was certainly worth more than any aid the capital had sent Evermine in decades. And there it was, embedded in the wall of the castle for only the nobles to see.

The king it depicted was clear immediately. King Abol, the founder of the kingdom, the dynasty that still ruled after millennia. The man who unified the region of Kradall into one empire. The ruler who discovered magic and taught it to his people. The legend that was more myth than man or history by now.

And Laz hated him.

His mentor had taught him to hate royalty from a young age, while others were inspired by it, so perhaps Laz would have felt the same rage building in his gut either way, but now it felt like a personal hate instead of ideological.

King Abol was the man who started the hunt against dragons. Their extermination. He was the reason Irida was in danger, the reason she may be the only dragon remaining in the entire world.

The window portrayed him as tall and strong, with sharp black facial hair. A gorgeous blue focus in one hand and a wicked sword in the other. Laz wanted to throw a stone through the mosaic bastard.. Perhaps the only truly worthwhile thing he did was popularize the use of magic. It may be the only reason the kingdom still allowed wizards like him to keep practicing.

Beneath the glass were stone arches that led to a grassy courtyard. A few faint orange glows would appear and then vanish. Laz recognized it as people drawing on their pipes.

The last end of the oval, opposite where they entered, had a raised platform with nobody on it. Laz assumed the king would stand there when he made his appearance. It looked like it was made for someone to feel important.

He tried to push his hatred for royalty away and focus on his mission. The ball wouldn’t last forever. His eyes scanned the enormous ballroom, hoping they would catch a similar gown to the one he wore. Anything to tell him there was another wizard there he could speak to.

The sea of merry knights and their dates was making it a challenge, however. He was at the edge of the room, limiting how far he could see forward.

If I was Calder’s height this would be a touch easier. Maybe I could ask him to lift me again…

Laz blushed and decided that would lead to too many distractions. He next looked at the wall of balconies again.

Up there. I could see the whole room, even if just for a second.

He searched the walls below for any hint of a staircase that could lead him up there, when he noticed one of the people on the bottom tier. An older woman, wearing a wizard gown.

There! So there are wizards here, that’s good to know.

She had her gray and brown hair tied up, and her gown was much less elegant than Laz’s, which he was happy about, but she was surely a wizard. And next to her, a middle-aged man with a dense beard was in a similar outfit.

Is there some type of wizard gathering up there? Is that where I need to be?

He looked down the row and sure enough, every seven or so people were in proper wizard attire, fewer than a dozen in all.

“Calder,” Laz said, trying to get the knight’s attention as he spoke with Strawb and Mohs. Laz wondered if he should have been paying more attention to what they were saying, but knew politeness wasn’t his main concern for the time being. “Calder, how do we get up to those balconies?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

His date turned and looked around confused, before seeing what Laz was pointing at. “The galleries? We don’t.” He appeared baffled that Laz had even suggested it. “That’s where those trusted by the king and the nobles stay. Magnates, foreigners, court wizards. And normally the captains, but this is obviously an exception.”

Laz scoffed. “What, they want to watch us? I can’t even stop by and try to chat with any of them? What about the second level, it looks like they allow us peasants up there. And nobody is even up on the third! Surely they wouldn’t care if I–”

“Laz.” Calder spoke sternly, and with a touch of fear on his face. “The second level is for those related to the nobles. They’re some of the most important people in the whole kingdom, please don’t let anyone overhear you calling them peasants.”

“Dressed like that?” Laz asked.

“And the top level is for the king.” Calder looked up at it, despite no signs of life up there still. “Only he, his personal guards, and the people he invites are allowed. Do not try to go up there, alright?”

Reluctantly, Laz nodded. As much as he wanted to find more information about his missing mentor, drawing attention to himself by trespassing, on a place filled with royalty no less, would end in disaster.

I’ll just have to find someone of my ‘status’ I suppose. What a stupid place.

“Now, if we can find a servant we could get some food or a drink.” Calder turned to observe the room.

“Please,” Mohs said. She and Strawb had stepped closer and Laz could no longer ignore them. “I want my fill of capital food before we’re forced back to rice and tomatoes for the next decade.”

Strawb stood close to Mohs, and Laz imagined that he and Calder looked quite similar. The young tailor’s apprentice looked nervous and clearly wanted to stay with those she was familiar with. “Maybe we should go out to the courtyard where it’s less crowded. Is that off-limits too?”

Mohs shook her head. “Nah, you can. But I’m starving. Why don’t you go find a nice guy to dance with? I’m sure you can find a single knight in here willing to walk outside with you.”

Strawb glared at the ground and stayed put.

Well, as much as I’d love to stay here and enjoy whatever this is, I have to ditch these people. Sorry, Strawb. I’ll talk about clothes with you all you want on the way home.

Laz tapped his foot and searched the room, hoping that Calder would assume it was to find a servant. If all went well, he could slip away, talk to a wizard, find out what he needed, and get back to his date before anyone noticed there was a problem. Then he might actually allow himself to–

“Ah!” Calder tapped Laz on the bare part of his shoulder and pointed into the crowd. “Spotted one. I’ll be right back!”

Calder ventured forward, all but disappearing into the swarths of dancing and chattering knights. The only thing that let Laz keep his eyes on him was his red hair and large stature.

Okay, this could be my only moment.

Laz noticed that Mohs and Strawb were turned away, admiring the stained glass, and took his chance. He walked briskly, weaving through and around people, never stopping, only walking forward and gaining distance between him and those he arrived with. He planted his feet in any open space he could find, and swung his shoulders with precision to not bump into anyone. To anyone he passed, he hoped they would mistake him for a gust of wind.

After a minute or two of carefully getting through the crowd, Laz found himself in the center of the ballroom where he stopped to catch his breath.

This place is far too big. And how are there this many knights in the kingdom? I know Evermine is small, but are there truly that many people in Kradall?

And then, a man passed him by.

A familiar, older man, with short gray hair and large glasses, wearing a wizard gown.

It happened in a second. Laz barely blinked before the man walked right by him and continued at a quick pace. By the time he turned, he could only see the man’s back, and a couple dancing was already between them.

No, there’s no way. Master Edre?

He pursued. He cared far too much about finding his mentor than anything else by that point, and pushed between the dancing knight and her date to follow the old man. Any complaining on their end was ignored.

He looks like him, Laz thought as he steadily closed the gap between them. The hair is right, same height. And he was wearing glasses. Were they the same frames? His skin is the same tone, even. Oh, I wish I got a good look at his face!

His excitement grew, as did his worry. If that was his mentor, then what was he doing? Why hadn’t he come home? Would the king not let him leave? Were his skills as a wizard too good to let him rot away in Evermine?

The wizard, Edre or not, was still walking away from the center of the room without seeming to notice the young man tailing him. Laz wondered what he should say to him first. If he should yell at him for disappearing, or hug him now that they’d reunited. If he should tell him about Irida, or Exchange Elixir.

Should I yell out? Maybe he’d stop. Maybe he’d recognize my voice!

Just when he had readied his throat for a yell, the man turned. And Edre he was not.

His hairline had two deep peaks going up his head, his eyes were a completely different color and shape, his chin was blunter, not even the glasses frames were the same.

His feet stopped. Laz felt the air leave him, and defeat set in.

It wasn’t him… Of course it wasn’t, what was I thinking? I didn’t even come here to find Master, I came here to find out information. That man is still a wizard, he still might know something!

He lifted his right foot to keep chasing after the man, when another man bumped into him from the left. Laz nearly toppled over, though was luckily able to catch himself with the same foot he was about to step with.

“Gah! Watch where you’re going,” the man yelled. “Do you know who I–”

The man stopped talking when they locked eyes, and Laz got a good look at him. He was still young, though clearly older than him or Calder judging by the wrinkles on his forehead, and was beginning to sport a thin, sly smile.

“Ah, my apologies, dear. It’s been such a busy day for me, I hope you’re alright.” He stepped closer and touched Laz’s shoulder and then grumbled. “Oh, damn, this again. It’s always a wizard, I swear. Damned dresses throw me off.” He backed up, thankfully no longer touching Laz.

Where did the wizard go? Laz paid no mind to the man that had barreled into him. I can’t lose this chance.

“Why can’t you people wear normal clothes,” the man continued. He adjusted the way his brocade cloak sat on his shoulders, and Laz couldn’t help but notice it matched the unripened plum purple of those in the second gallery. “Whatever, I have more important things to– What’s that?”

Laz flinched as the man grabbed his wrist and brought it closer to his face. He was examining the bracelet Calder had given him that morning, and turned Laz’s hand back and forth as the emerald glinted.

“Where did you get this?” He asked between clenched teeth. “Tell me, immediately.”

“Um, it–” Laz stammered. Any mention of creating it with a spell would likely lead to too many questions. “A merchant! A merchant sold it to me, a traveling one.”

“When?” He still seemed on edge, and his grip was turning white on Laz’s wrist.

“In the spring. He visited Evermine as part of a caravan.” Laz was becoming more comfortable in his lie, in hopes that more detail would dissuade more questions. “He was missing half of a finger, and had a slight Pamantian accent. Then he left after a week and they all traveled south, I don’t know where they are now.”

Maybe that was too much. All he asked was when, I must sound so guilty!

His hand began to tingle as blood was cut off, and he struggled to break free of the man’s grip.

Does he believe me?

“Alright, fine. I know you wizards love your gems.” He sighed with a scowl and let go. “Still, you should know better than to wear something that valuable out in public, especially at a time like this. Some of the knights here have brought questionable dates.”

Laz nodded, just glad that his lie had worked. He turned the band around to hide the gem along his inner wrist again. Others were now looking toward him at the spectacle.

“Evermine, you said?” The rude man was unfortunately not leaving, despite his assurance he had important things to do. “What’s your name? Have I ever–”

“Sire!” A new voice called out. Out from the crowd, a short man with deep set eyes appeared. “Sire, you are needed. The others are all together and waiting on you.”

The man groaned. “Is it time already?” He looked up to the top gallery with annoyance.

Laz followed his gaze, and nearly gasped when he saw a man up there. All alone, on the dark balcony, the shadow of a man gazing down upon the ballroom.

That’s King Garen…

Despite the years of hating the king, Laz had never any clue what he looked like. Now, he was in the same room as him, and had no better idea. But even through his silhouette, he could tell his mentor was right. The hate that had been instilled upon him was flaring back up. King Abol in the window was at least dead, but the shadow on the balcony was the real threat.

I suppose saving the kingdom implies going against the man who rules it, huh. Well, at least now I know what I’m dealing with.

At that, the king left, and the gallery was empty once more, or at least the edge Laz could see. By the time that had happened, the man in the purple cloak had disappeared, as had the man who had come to collect him.

Laz set off in the same direction he saw the old wizard disappear, silently praying that he hadn’t missed his shot.