A quiet tension settled over the group as they walked through the castle corridors, the sounds of distant laughter and the clinking of glasses mingling in the air ahead. Each step seemed to heighten the pulse of anticipation.
"I, uh... can’t dance," Roy confessed to his Earth-born friends, his voice low as if sharing a guarded secret.
"Do we even know what kind of dancing they'll expect at this ball?" Gustavus chimed in, visibly uneasy.
Niles, ever the group’s comforter, clapped his hands together. “Brothers, fear not! We have the finest moves from Earth up our sleeves. When in doubt, just break out the classics: the booty pop, the twerk, you know… shake our money-makers!”
“Please,” Xemena interjected, her tone firm, “I don’t know what any of those dances look like, but I warn you—do not embarrass us.”
Xander cut in smoothly, “Though perhaps the ‘money-maker shake’ could work wonders with the representatives from the Golden Bank?”
Gustavus recoiled, “Let’s not, please. And definitely no taking dance advice from that guy,” he said, pointing at Niles, who was already attempting a moonwalk with a mischievous grin.
Xemena gave an cold eye-roll. “You may observe from the sidelines,” she commanded, then softened. “It’s not as though any of us plan to dance, anyway.”
For a moment, there was a peculiar feeling among them—a group of Earth’s summoned champions walking beside the royal heirs of Xandria. They were distant yet bound by shared experiences that left a subtle understanding.
Ahead, the grand gates to the ballroom loomed. The courtly attendants stood at the ready, preparing to open them and reveal the guests of honor to the waiting audience beyond.
The ballroom gates swung open, and blinding lights greeted them as they stepped forward. The vast chamber, with windows stretching up to the high ceiling, radiated the grandeur and storied history of Xandria. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of guests filled the room, but a hush fell as the royal family and the champions moved toward the center, making their presence unmistakably known.
In the middle of the ballroom stood King Xerxes himself. His robe, a deep crimson lined with black wolf fur, draped from one shoulder, fastened by a golden dragon brooch—the proud emblem of Xandria. Both arms were bare, the muscles defined and hardened, a silent show of raw power. But it was the crown that commanded awe: jagged and dark, adorned with spikes representing the kingdoms crushed under his rule. Each edge bore the symbols of fallen nations, etched with the glory—and the haunting agony—of thousands.
The crowd closed in a circle around the king, his children, and the summoned champions, and the music ceased, awaiting his command. Xerxes surveyed the guests and began, “Welcome, all. We are honored to have you here tonight.” He then seemed to attempt humor, adding, “They say a king is only as feared as his crown. Though I must admit, I’ve yet to meet anyone who wanted to try it on.” A ripple of polite laughter followed, a few chuckles more forced than amused.
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With his commanding tone, he continued, “Tonight, we celebrate the strength of our kingdom. We have summoned three champions from a distant world to bring even greater honor to Xandria. They are under the care of my children, who represent our future, and we look forward to the deeds they will achieve.” Xerxes gestured to his children, and his gaze lingered on each of them: Xhiva, who eyed the feast table with barely restrained eagerness, Xander, who looked like he’d rather fade into the shadows, and Xemena, who held her head high, unsmiling.
“Raise your glasses,” Xerxes commanded, lifting his goblet. “To my children—the future of Xandria! Let the ball and the dancing begin!” Applause erupted, glasses raised high, and the music swelled once more.
As the king sipped his wine and handed it back to an attendant, he muttered with dry disapproval, “My children… socially inept as ever. Let’s hope they don’t disgrace themselves.”
Down on the ballroom floor, Prince Xander, Princess Xemena, and Prince Xhiva all exhaled in relief. Xhiva made his way to the buffet table, fully intending to settle there for the rest of the evening, while Xander slipped off to the farthest corner of the room. Xemena lingered in place a few moments longer, casting a quick glance across the gathered crowd. Her posture was tense, her hands instinctively smoothing her dress as though looking for some imperfection. With a final glance, she, too, made her way to the sidelines.
Meanwhile, their father, King Xerxes, was engaged with guests, moving from one conversation to the next. The three champions from Earth dispersed into the crowd as well, surrounded by guests eager to make introductions and leave an impression on the newcomers. Niles quickly crafted a strategy: he’d gather as many contacts as possible—who knew, maybe one of these new acquaintances would invite him and his party to their estate or lands. His experience as a field sales agent, with its endless events and a constant push for leads, made this environment feel like home turf. Niles flexed his fingers in anticipation, but just as he was about to dive in, a gentle hand tapped his shoulder.
“Sir Niles?” a kind, warm voice greeted him. Niles turned, and there was Aurelia. Her golden hair was swept back in a subtle crown braid, and her attire—a deep royal blue with white silk details—exuded strength and compassion in equal measure. Her expression held a warmth that softened her fierce, steady gaze, like someone unafraid to hold her ground. She looked, to him, like a goddess.
“Goddess,” he murmured, blinking. Aurelia smiled, mischief sparking in her eyes. “You look quite handsome,” she remarked, looking him over. “Was it your idea to choose the colors of blue and white? You match me perfectly; they’re the colors of our house.” She twirled playfully, her smile broadening as she faced him again.
Whatever plan Niles had formed was completely forgotten. Aurelia laughed, teasing, “Did I take your breath away?” Niles stammered, trying to collect himself, but before he could find his footing, a new voice interjected.
“Greetings, Sir Niles. I am Lord Aldric, and I wish to thank you for protecting my daughter; she’s told me everything,” said the man who’d joined them. He was slim, with a neatly trimmed mustache that arched high on each end and only a hint of hair remaining. His coat was adorned with a brooch—a blue deer set against a white landscape with a golden sun—marking their house emblem.
Niles grinned, finally finding his voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Aldric. I’m Niles,” he said, reaching out for a handshake. Aldric, unfamiliar with the gesture, looked puzzled, and Aurelia leaned in to whisper a quick explanation. Smiling in amusement, Aldric finally grasped Niles’s hand, shaking it with a slightly awkward yet genuine warmth.