The King's Gala was held in celebration of a King's ascension, a rare occurrence in an immortal's life, even more so for a mortal. As Nirva's kings' reign for more than a century, these kinds of events were held and celebrated in almost every corner of the Lost Realms.
Here in the capital, the King's gala meant a feast for everyone in the city, even for those of unfortunate statuses like pests, pets, and plants. In the Opal Palace, where the royal family resides, a more magnificent King's Gala was held. The Royal Hall was almost as tall as the skies were high and wide as the realm was, all with the help of magic. The Royal Hall was lit up with golden rays of light, and radiant flowers, each possible corner shined upon. It was also filled to the brim with nobles, scurrying around, and trying to find a way to one-up another. Some to establish alliances, some to bribe, some to barter, and a few others, seemingly lost in the space of it all.
Alongside the subtle melodies wafting through the ballroom, various fragrances flowed throughout: the sweet and soft aroma of the golden-tipped roses placed around the room straining to cling unto the air, the shrewd and condescending perfumes of multiple nobles, the growing scent of a mouthwatering feast being prepared, and the subtle sniff of magic essences running under almost everyone's noses undetected.
Sovereign Khamael's magic was always of the grandiose spectrum, or what most of his constituents know of. However, the Sovereign's Insignia, [Archivist's Grimoire], held more than just the flashy and distracting spells. Like her wife's magic, it held subtle spells too, among these was the [The Ruler's Pacifism], a spell that allowed the caster to subtly redirect every thought in an area into calmer tones. A spell the former king was very familiar with, having dealt with greedy and arrogant noble families that ascended into the lost realms.
A mortal would think that a King of an entire realm would have no problem dealing with mortal-made-immortal nobles, however as much as he respects the hard work a person has done to reach the semi-immortal realm, the King has no obligation to grant each demand an egotistical and narcissistic noble has.
As such, spells like these prove more efficient in governing. Some might argue that such spells break the rule the Sovereign has mandated, that mind and manipulation magic was forbidden and use of it will result in exile from this land, but in his case, does it apply to the strongest in a kingdom? Probably not.
Noticing the attendants at the doors preparing to announce another entity to enter the hall, he paused and sighed. 'Gab and Sands, as punctual as ever. Or should I say as late as ever?'
"-nd so I, Earl Coppre, would like to extend my cong-"
"Queen Mother Gabrella and the royal prince Sandalphon."
Snorting at the noble whose countenance quickly shifted from red-faced anger to concealed contempt at being cut off, Khamael raised from his seat to meet his wife.
"Oh, my dear, you did not need to stand up just for me," the queen said with her signature icy smile on her face.
"How could I not greet my beloved wife?" he barked out a laugh, and he held his wife's hand.
Noticing his wife's discomfort, 'Something's wrong.'
He focused on Queen Gabrella: silver hair braided around her head, a white gown adorned with diamond embellishments, and her crowd-pleasing smile. 'A mask as beautiful as ever, he noted.
He focused more on her: tense shoulders, a slight quiver to her voice, her clammy hands, a loose pluck of hair on her face, and frequent glances to their son with her [Vision].
'The timeline has gone awry.' he thought. He noticed the small giddy steps from the boy, the rough and unrefined soul control. 'Sands got an Insignia.' Glancing back at her wife's tired eyes, 'The timeline wasn't the best choice then.'
'Well, there's nothing I can do about it right now. If Gab is that nervous, I probably won't be able to do much then.' he noted as he guided the queen to the spot next to him before the throne.
The last night, as it appears to be, was not as ideal as he would have wanted. So, The Sovereign, moving with grace and the assurance of a king clapped his hands once.
The room stilled, as the shock wave from the single clapped eclipsed every sound anyone could make. 'No signs of damage, good.' he glanced around.
"Ahem. So we will now officially start the King's Gala. This will be the last time I will host a Gala for the Royal family, as the responsibility for future ones fall upon King Heremiel," he glanced to his firstborn, a steeping ball of nerves and grief, "As such, the first order of business will be: DRINKS!"
An entourage of attendants, all in luxurious clothes, moved into the room from the servant's entrances. Each pushing a cart containing various wines, juices, ciders, and almost every alcoholic and non-alcoholic drink the Palace could make.
Commotions ran through the room.
"I know, I know. This is not the standard or even an anticipated program for a King's Gala."
"However," he continued, "I am the Sovereign, I decide the direction for this Gala, and whoever disagrees can step up and challenge my decision." He stood and strengthened his hold on the atmosphere even more with his soul. A hush fell upon the crowd, as the implication of challenging a Sovereign slowly sunk deep into them.
After a slight pause, a resounding cough emerged from the crowd. "I believe we, as Patriarchs, Matriarchs, and Heads of our responding noble families, cannot individually hold a candle to your majesty's might, so we shall endeavor to follow your highness' decisions for the Gala. As it is a celebration for the enthronement of King Heremiel himself, we agree that a celebration is paramount," the speaker bowed.
Duke Isla of the Malik Family, the current Leader of the Noble Houses, stood tall. Staring straight at the Sovereign but cutting his challenging gaze just enough not to be rude. Lean and tall, with straight horns pointing upwards to further emphasize his height, the red-haired patriarch held himself in dignity and strength, his every action almost but not quite breaching the court etiquette.
The Sovereign stared at the almost rude leader of the nobles, then he smirked, 'Always the sly one.' "Let us begin the festivities, then. [Animation: Festivities:]!" King Khamael cast one of his more known spells, [Animation].
The autonomous instruments that had been playing background music in the corner of the hall suddenly lurched into the air and played melodious harmonies one would find in festivals and dances. The lights slowly floated to different levels, brightening up the ballroom and burning even the deeper shadows apart. Flowers and decorations came alive and danced to the music as the tables and chairs moved to accommodate a large space in the middle of the room.
Multiple gasps were heard as the beautiful room turned into an even more stunning place. Excited gasps and wide-eyed stares were all that was seen among the younger nobles, those who were not familiar with the Sovereign's magic.
A resounding cough and a sudden quiet flowed from the direction of the thrones before a voice was heard throughout the room:
"My queen and wife, Gabrella of the Pravil Family, Duchess of the Raduriel Family, and my one true love, would you grant me this dance?" Khamael offered his hand as he lightly knelt and bowed.
Unaffected by the sudden whispers of 'Why is Sovereign Khamael like this', 'What's happening?', and a few more people recognizing the gesture. The King looked up and stared at the icy visage of Queen Gabrella. As he met her magical gaze, her cold smile slowly cracked and genuine laughter almost threatened to escape her rosy lips.
"Of course my sovereign and husband, Khamael of the Pravil Family, Father of my two sons and my one true love, I would love to," And for the first time in this Gala, he saw her genuine smile. Khamael thought to himself, 'How lucky am I to have this woman have my heart.'
He carefully held her hand as she left the throne and down the steps, and led her into the middle of the open space. He snapped his fingers and the music died down, then started again as the instruments played a soft song, a song of melancholy, a song of youth and vibrancy.
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A soft gasp came out from Gab's lips, a soft melodic voice then permeated the ballroom as the queen soft hummed along. The royal couple danced a graceful dance, maneuvering left and right and slowly floating off of the floor. His wife glared at the sovereign.
"I know what you're doing," Gab whispered as they danced on a platform that was not there. "-and unfortunately, it's working." The graceful woman suddenly plucked a small clip from her hair, dislodging the intricate braids in her hair, and slowly cascaded down her dress. As her hair further lengthened to almost her height, silver stars and particles glinted among the air, a beautiful show of artistry and complex magic.
"Going with the flow now, my dear?" Kham's face held a mischievous smirk. "Did you like my proposal?" he giggled like a child telling a joke to his mother.
Gab rolled her eyes, as she remembered their first dance at her debut. The crowd dancing to the same song playing, with her sitting awkwardly at the front. Then suddenly a red-faced boy, bigger than he should be at his age, shouted at the top of his lungs:
'MY FUTURE QUEEN AND WIFE, GABRELLA OF THE RADURIEL FAMILY, DUCHESS-APPARENT OF THE RADURIEL FAMILY, AND MY ONE TRUE LOVE, WOULD YOU GRANT ME, KHAMAEL OF THE PRAVIL FAMILY, THIS DANCE?!'
She remembered the way the gasps and the sudden silence that fell unto the hall that day. The unforgettable day she saw her family's reactions; Her parent's lack of words and fish-like motions they did with their mouths, but the most memorable one was her scheming uncle's face as the slowly creeping realization crept in. SHE was going to be queen. She looked back on how she elegantly stood and said:
'Of course my future king and husband, Khamael of the Pravil Family, Father-apparent of my two children, and my one true love, I would love to.'
She fondly reminisced the unfolding political hell that followed right after those proclamations. It was natural for a bride to proclaim the number of offspring they would have, but two children who had never met proclaiming love and vows to each other in a debutante ball? People would clamor, but a former-Viscount-turned-Duke's daughter and the Crown Prince? The fallout was recorded in history not only in the Archives but even in children's books.
When the news traveled the Opal palace, the former king just guffawed and roared with laughter at his son's antics. If not for Kham's father, the civil war that bubbled underneath it all would have destroyed the entirety of the noble houses.
In the end, her uncle's plans to usurp the Raduriel Family's power has been uprooted, her parents lived their best life, and she became queen; all because of a reckless teenage boy who secretly had one too many alcoholic drinks, and had fallen in love with her at first sight.
"You're getting lost in your head again," a light pull on her hand and a reassuring voice bringing her back into the ball.
Queen Gabrella slightly shook from Khamael's perspective, a slow shiver of an impending doom only the three of them know. "I can fix this. Maybe. I don't know, but Augustus' crown feathers are still [Chromatic Down]s. Augustus can't view anything beyond that timeline but he told me it has as much energy as any good branch has."
"Maybe, if I can move my pieces right we ca-", a soft gaze met her Vision. Khamael was always boisterous, a reassuring presence that had always lingered around and was always heard regardless of how quiet he tried to be. His presence often filled a room no matter the size.
So for her to see him like this, holding her hands and dancing in the middle of a star-filled sky-like room, listening to her every woe and doubt, silenced her. She felt they were both so small like teenagers dancing in a small hall again, prancing and dancing around the floor.
She slowly reeled in her [Vision], so the only thing she could see was Kham and herself.
"Can we start over again? I would very much like to enjoy this dance with you, Kham."
A gentle smile fell upon the warm soul in her hands.
As the royal couple danced gracefully above the awe-filled crowd, a few more daring nobles declared their love to another, some grabbing the other's hand, some shouting their love. Slowly, the ballroom filled with a certain atmosphere, one of a rare emotion. People danced in the middle of the room, some sneaked quietly to the adjacent rooms, some stared and watched.
King Heremiel was one of those, as he watched as both of his parents danced above them all. He would grant them this solemn night for their celebrations. Not that he had anything to celebrate.
He had learned the hard truth a few months before his coronation. He knew his mother kept secrets, he knew she held her power back, and he knew his father's actions were more than just questionable crusades and policies, and a confusing effort for the lost realm's expansion.
They were trying their best to deviate from the imminent. 'How cruel,' he thought as he watched the forming king and queen dance the night away among the floating lights, seemingly out of reach for everyone.
'Even their happiness is beyond of anyone's reach.'
He sat properly on his father's throne- the king's throne, and noticed right out of the corner of his Vision, two rats scurrying and snooping around the palace. He glanced to one of the Knights assigned to him and gestured for her to follow the trespassers.
As he watched the knight calmly walk out of the room, he noticed Sandalphon.
The king slightly chuckled as he watched Sandalphon, filled with awe, watch both of his parents dance among the starlight. He slowly grits his teeth as he thought about Sandalphon. 'How will he take this news? Will he believe us? He hasn't even gone to school yet,' Heremiel thought as his mind slowly dug deeper and deeper into the worst of cases.
He thought about the divinations of his mother coming true, or the visions he was allowed to see. Visions filled with death and destruction, then vast emptiness.
Before the dance, he noticed the slow-building tension between his mother and father. An unspoken conversation regarding everyone's lives happened in front of the Kingdom's high ruling authorities yet no one noticed.
The prince slunk further into his mind. He didn't notice the approaching noblemen that held the Sovereign's attention for the past 8 hours, before the queen's arrival. It was only a cough that brought his presence back into the present.
"Seems like the King is already thinking so much for the future, I must say I am impressed." a round nobleman said. Hair slick with oil and heavily perfumed, the nobleman stood behind Duke Isla.
The duke remained quiet and stoic as the noblemen's chuckles were heard.
"I must congratulate you, your majesty. It seems just a day of being a king had been tiring for you. Please do accept some of our offers for premium meats," the portly man said. Then a sickly looking man looked over the king, with greedy eyes, "As you ARE the first king to be coronated without a concubine, may I be allowed to present my own daughter? She had just had her debutante ball a few years ago, and she holds you in high regards too, eccentric as she might be."
'Offering the king not only prostitutes but also their daughters? Do these people have no shame?' he thought as he slowly spread out his aura, and held the atmosphere in between them. Anger and frustrations slowly seeped out of him as his aura leaked tremendous amounts of pressure. Yet as the noblemen in front of him shivered, sweat, and glanced about, they noticed they were the only ones affected by the pressure.
King Heremiel may be one of the youngest Kings in history, but he was not incapable. His Insignia,[Mercurial Scepter], allowed him control of everything within his domain. A single flick of his finger was all it needed to dispose of these disgusting creatures, but he held his hand. As he was his mother's son, he will never use direct force, and as his father's, he will always keep something up his sleeve.
Slowly the pressure acquiesced, and on his throne, looking down upon the noblemen, he said out loud, "If you wish to offer me premium meat, I will put in the request at the King's Audit and Management," the noblemen paled at the statement. "They will handle every expense. You know how extensive and thorough the Department is, don't you? You should know, as I recall, two of your ex-members were executed for treason, forgery, illegal activities, celestial trafficking, sex trafficking, and murder, by the same department. Were they not?" With each word coming from King Heremiel, the group in front of him grew paler and paler.
"O- of course y-your di-divineness, we o-oversee o-only legal companies operating with meats and ingredi-dients." The formerly confident round-faced noble stammered through his words as the King's statement slowly sank into them.
"Oh, and Viscount Gra, you must be pertaining to Olivia, I have heard she is very fertile, having five children from five different fathers and all that. If she is here then I shall give her a chance then, where is she?"
"She is... currently indisposed of your Imminence," a quiet reply was all that was heard from the sickly-looking nobleman.
"Oh then, you must mean your other daughter Olsen, who, excuse my description, had cried and thrown a tantrum at her debutante ball?"
A silent response was all the King needed. "Then you may excuse yourselves. I imagine you have so many people to entertain, businesses and engagements and all that." The King's eyes bore down on all of them, lingering upon the top of their heads, his gaze falling last upon Duke Malik. The only one not affected by the pressure nor the statements.
"Please, forgive them, your majesty, as they were only trying their humor. It is this one's fault if we had overstepped, and had not monitored our actions." Duke Malik said and bowed as he stared almost a second too much at his superior.
'Hah! I bet you were accompanying them just to see how much you could push me,' the King thought as he smiled darkly.
"Hm. Forgiven then," a collective sigh of relief was heard from the group.
"Congratulations, once again my King," they all collectively bowed and left him upon the cold golden seat.
"That was very, uh, intense." a boy's voice spoke from his left.
"It was, but I lost that battle. I may have let my anger take control of me," King Heremiel sighed as watched the noblemen walk away then slowly faced his brother. A mop of curly silver hair atop his head and formal clothes, Sandalphon was the epitome of a child in an adult's clothes.
"Enough about those termites, how is your very first King's Gala experience?"
"Uhhh... I don't think you should call them termites, brothe- err, I mean, my King," as he said as he performed a bow a bit late.
Laughing quietly, King Heremiel said, "Well, technically, they're just living off of our land. Our ancestors built this realm. A stepping stone for mortals to become true gods. But these nobles just live off of us and build houses and destroy everything around them, exactly like common termites do."
Slowly realizing he almost said it loud enough for people to hear, but noticed nobody looked his way, he criticized himself for losing composure.
'Today is just not a good day,' he thought.
Noticing his brother's concerned gaze, he said, "I'm fine Sands, nothing a few drinks couldn't cure." The king gestured for an attendant to serve him the strongest alcoholic drink they had.
As Prince Sandalphon's made an even more concerned face, the king scoffed and looked at his brother straight in the eye and said:
"Let me be, Sands, it's not like I'll just die the next day."