“May I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?” Niles asked with a bold grin, his gaze fixed on Lord Aldric, who still wore a warm, unsuspecting smile. It had taken every ounce of nerve for Niles to ask, but one thing his time in sales had taught him was simple: if you don’t ask for the deal, you’ll never win the business.
Aurelia’s cheeks flamed crimson as she gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
For a moment, Lord Aldric remained frozen, as if his mind struggled to process the audacity of Niles’s words. Then, like a storm breaking across a tranquil sky, his expression shifted from warm politeness to shocked outrage. His shoulders stiffened, and his mustache twitched like an agitated bird.
“You… YOU RASCAL!” Aldric bellowed, his voice booming over the hum of the ballroom. He seized Niles by the shoulders, shaking him as though trying to dislodge the sheer gall from his very being.
Niles, however, only laughed, his grin unyielding. With a deft twist, he slipped free of Aldric’s grip, stepping back with a playful bow. His eyes found Aurelia’s, and his tone softened.
“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Lady Aurelia?” he asked, extending his hand.
Aurelia hesitated, her noble upbringing urging her to caution, but something about Niles—the spark in his eyes, the way his grin carried no pretense—melted her resistance. Her hands, warmer than she expected, found their way into his.
Her father sputtered behind them. “You cannot—this is—Aurelia!”
But she wasn’t listening. As Niles led her onto the dance floor, her initial stiffness gave way to laughter. He spun her effortlessly, his steps light and unconventional, a stark contrast to the rigid ballroom traditions she’d known her entire life.
“You know,” she said between giggles, “the king told me to avoid dancing tonight.”
“Then I’ll just have to take the blame,” Niles replied with a wink, guiding her into another twirl. “But I couldn’t miss the chance to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Her smile widened, and for the first time in ages, Aurelia felt free—unbound by decorum, expectations, or the watchful eyes of the nobility. The world blurred around them as they moved, and she realized she didn’t recognize the style of Niles’s dance, but she didn’t care. He led, and she followed, both caught in the magic of the moment.
At the edge of the floor, Aldric stared, his face a mix of shock and begrudging amusement. He watched as his daughter—his proper, reserved Aurelia—laughed openly in the arms of this peculiar outsider. He sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ll never accept him,” Aldric muttered, shaking his head. But even he couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile creeping onto his face.
**********
Xander had found solace in the farthest corner of the ballroom—the good old corner, where no one could bother him. From his vantage point, he caught glimpses of Niles and Aurelia disappearing into the swirling dance floor. Even so, the comfort of the shadows wasn’t enough tonight. He decided to make a discreet retreat, stopping by the dessert table to gather a small assortment of sugary treats that fit neatly in one hand.
With his loot secured, he headed for the exit, his mind already set on training—a far better use of time than enduring these tedious social rituals. But before he could slip away, a looming figure emerged from the crowd. His father. King Xerxes’s scarlet gaze locked onto him, unyielding and full of command.
“Xander,” the king said, his voice low but sharp, “I expect you to stay.”
Xander didn’t answer, his head turning slightly in defiance. Before he could take another step, a young woman passed by. The king’s hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly. The maiden froze, her wide eyes filled with panic.
“What’s your name?” Xerxes demanded.
The woman stammered incoherently, her voice barely a whisper.
“Speak up,” the king growled, his tone sending shivers down her spine. “My son wishes to dance—you shall court him.”
Tears welled in her eyes as the king’s grip tightened, his imposing presence unbearable.
Xander acted quickly, stepping forward and addressing her gently. “Dear maiden, forgive us for this intrusion. Please, you’re free to go.”
She hesitated, glancing between Xander and the king, before nodding in gratitude. Xerxes released her with a scowl, his frustration shifting to his son.
“Just look at you and your siblings,” the king spat, gesturing broadly toward the ballroom.
Xander followed his father’s motion, though his gaze lingered more on the king than his siblings.
“Xhiva,” Xerxes continued, his voice dripping with disdain, “is more interested in the feast than anything else. If his table of food had fewer legs, he’d probably ask it to dance. And Xemena…” His voice rose deliberately, carrying across the ballroom to where Xemena stood stiffly on the sidelines.
“She is the only woman in this world no man wants to dance with.”
Xerxes flung his coat over one shoulder, turning away in mock shame, refusing to look at her.
Xemena’s hands clenched her dress tightly, as though trying to channel her pain into the fabric. Her expression remained stoic, but Xander could see the subtle tremble in her posture.
Xander’s calm, calculating gaze returned to his father. He offered a short bow, his voice steady. “I’ll remain here, Father.”
It was a simple statement, but in it lay a quiet defiance—a small rebellion that Xerxes would feel but not address.
**********
Roy had spent much of the evening mingling with various guests, regaling them with tales of his arrival in Xandria and his impressions of this strange new world. But the constant socializing had left him feeling drained. Scanning the room, he spotted Prince Xhiva seated alone at the feast table, happily indulging in the grand spread of food.
Since he would soon be serving under the prince, Roy figured it wouldn’t hurt to strike up a conversation. He plopped down beside Xhiva, who didn’t even glance up, too engrossed in his meal.
“You’re not going to dance?” Roy asked, breaking the silence.
The question amused Xhiva so much that his laughter sent ripples through his generously proportioned frame.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Roy said, smirking as he reached for a handful of fruit. Then, with a casual tone, he asked, “What’s your skill?”
Xhiva paused, straightening up with a self-satisfied grin. “My skill is a state secret,” he declared, nodding solemnly, as though the statement alone elevated his princely mystique.
Roy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s useless. Got it.” He poured himself a goblet of wine, his smirk widening.
The cool, enigmatic façade Xhiva had been carefully crafting crumbled instantly. “It’s not useless at all!” he objected, his voice pitching upward like a scolded child.
At that moment, Gustavus wandered over, plopping down on Xhiva’s other side with a cheerful grin. “What’re you two gossiping about?” he asked, helping himself to a piece of fruit from the table.
Roy leaned back in his seat, gesturing toward Xhiva. “We’re trying to figure out what his skill is.”
Gustavus perked up, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, is it useful on the battlefield?”
Xhiva’s smile faltered, his silence speaking louder than any denial. Feeling cornered, he grumbled under his breath before finally muttering, “It’s not for battle.”
Gustavus grinned knowingly. “Maybe it’s gossiping?”
Xhiva, flustered but not entirely without pride, shot back, “It’s not gossiping! Although,” he added, straightening his posture, “gathering information is a skill of mine. And a highly valuable one at that.”
Roy and Gustavus exchanged a glance, their interest now thoroughly piqued. They leaned in, speaking almost in unison. “Alright then—tell us some gossip!”
Xhiva’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he grinned broadly, his plump cheeks following suit. He stretched his arms wide, embracing the role of storyteller. “Very well,” he declared. “I shall share with you the juiciest tales from across the realms!”
The trio leaned in closer, their heads nearly touching, as Xhiva began spilling secrets about the guests and royalty attending the ball. Laughter and gasps rippled through their small circle as Xhiva painted vivid pictures of scandals, rivalries, and intrigues, his enthusiasm growing with each tale. For the first time that evening, the three felt more like conspirators than strangers, forming a bond over the art of well-placed whispers
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
**********
Xemena lingered at the sidelines, her scarlet eyes drifting across the grand ballroom. She occasionally admired the intricate architecture and let the live music wash over her, but her gaze inevitably returned to the dance floor. Nobles and esteemed guests twirled in perfect harmony, creating a spellbinding scene of youthful exuberance and elegance.
Her attention caught on Niles and Aurelia dancing together in the distance. The sight stirred something bitter in her chest, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth. She looked away, her eyes darkening with barely concealed rage.
A familiar figure passed by and stopped beside her—Xander. Silent as always.
“You’re not going to dance?” she asked after a long moment.
He didn’t reply.
“Did our father try to match you with someone?”
Xander sighed. “He did.”
“And?” Xemena’s tone carried a faint edge of anticipation.
Xander simply shook his head, offering no further details.
“Even the wall is more talkative than you, brother,” she muttered, ending her attempt at conversation. Despite her frustration, she didn’t mind his presence. Sometimes Xander’s quiet companionship was more comforting than words, even if she would never admit it aloud.
After a pause, her voice softened, contemplative. “Are we that repulsive in their eyes?” she asked. “Or is it fear?”
She caught a fleeting glimpse of her reflection in a nearby polished surface, her scarlet eyes staring back. “Maybe it’s the color of our eyes,” she murmured, straightening her posture as though shaking off the thought.
“Should we leave?” she asked, her tone sharp again.
Xander shook his head. “I tried. Father’s watching us.”
Xemena smirked bitterly. “Is he that embarrassed by us?”
Xander nodded, his gaze distant but unyielding.
"Fine then, let’s just get through this night," Xemena said, smoothing out her dress.
**********
As the music paused, Niles and Aurelia concluded their long dance. Niles offered a graceful bow, his movements smooth and respectful. “Thank you for the dance,” he said warmly. Aurelia mirrored his gesture with a delicate curtsy. Her smile radiated warmth. “I’ve never danced like that before. Where did you learn?”
Niles straightened, a playful glint in his eyes. “Back on Earth. I used to play sports at a pretty competitive level, and dancing was considered... a lesser activity. When the idea of it started to intimidate me, I figured it was something I had to face. So, I started practicing regularly. Plus,” he added with a chuckle, “every school I went to forced us into it anyway.”
Aurelia laughed lightly, her voice a melody of genuine amusement. “Well, I think that’s a wonderful thing to be forced into.”
Before more could be said, a court assistant approached with a bow. “Apologies, Goddess, but the king wishes to speak with you and your father regarding future collaborations within Xandria.”
Aurelia nodded, turning back to Niles. “Thank you for the dance, Niles. I hope we’ll speak again soon.” With a parting smile, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Niles to watch her go.
As he meandered through the room, Niles spotted Winston seated at the feasting table, a goblet of wine in hand, his posture sagging under the weight of unspoken troubles. Niles approached, giving him a hearty slap on the back. “Hey, homie!” he said cheerfully.
Winston looked up, his expression brightening slightly. “Ah, Sir Niles! How... how happy I am to see you,” he said, hiccuping mid-sentence before taking another swig of wine.
Niles studied his companion carefully. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus earlier.”
Winston blinked, clearly unfamiliar with the Earth phrase but catching the sentiment. “Thank you, Sir Niles. At least you seem to have a plan for where we’ll be heading... in banishment?” His words were laced with bitterness.
“Not yet,” Niles admitted, grinning. “But I’ll figure something out. Got any bright ideas?”
“Perhaps turning back time,” Winston muttered wryly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Niles laughed heartily. “Didn’t know you were such a comedian!”
Winston joined in the laughter but soon fell quiet, staring into his goblet. “Do you have family here?” Niles asked gently.
Winston’s expression turned somber. “My parents live in the city. They’re... old.” He stopped there, his tone heavy.
“Let’s meet them tomorrow,” Niles offered, his voice full of encouragement.
Winston looked up, a spark of gratitude in his eyes. “I’d like that,” he said softly. They clinked their goblets—wine for Winston, water for Niles, who grumbled inwardly about the lack of apple juice at the royal ball.
“I’m going to check in with Felix. Want to join me?” Niles asked.
Winston shook his head. “Thank you, Sir Niles, but I think I’ll stay here for now.”
Niles rose with purpose, pausing to rest a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I want you to know something—this world is a challenge we can only face together. I need people I can trust, and I believe you’re one of them. I’ll repay you, Winston. And your family too. That’s a promise.”
Winston’s grip tightened on his goblet as he nodded. “Thank you, Sir Niles. That means more than you know.”
**********
Xander observed from the sidelines, his sharp gaze scanning the ballroom. Niles had barely taken a few steps when a smooth, unfamiliar voice cut through the hum of conversation.
“Peculiar dance, I’d say. Is that from your homeland?”
Niles turned to see a man of similar age standing behind him. The stranger’s eyes were perpetually slitted, giving the impression of a constant smile—a mask that hid his true emotions. His silvery-white hair, neatly combed and angled over his forehead, added to his ghostly and otherworldly presence. The slight curve of his lips was unsettlingly ambiguous, warm and inviting at first glance, yet disquieting upon reflection.
“My name is Zacharias, first prince of Zairule,” the man introduced himself with an elegant bow, his voice calm but with a slight edge. He extended a hand. “Is this how summoned champions greet each other?”
Niles, eager to make a connection, clasped his hand and shook it vigorously. “That’s perfect! My name’s Niles, and I’m from Earth. I was summoned here—”
Before he could continue, Zacharias’s slitted eyes opened just enough to reveal their color—an eerie, serpent-like yellow. His gaze felt sharp and invasive, as though peeling back layers of Niles’s soul. “A long journey, I imagine,” Zacharias murmured. “Would you mind telling me more?”
Niles sighed, visibly relieved. “Finally, someone who actually wants to listen!” Without hesitation, he launched into an enthusiastic retelling of his life: how he’d been summoned, the duel with King Xerxes, and even his mundane work on Earth.
Xander, unnoticed, stepped closer from the sidelines, his soft movements betraying his curiosity.
Zacharias listened intently, though his interest clearly waned when Niles delved into Earth’s peculiarities. “We saw quite a spectacle on our arrival,” Zacharias said after a pause, steering the conversation. “The king’s tower in ruins—was that your doing? Summoned ones must possess mighty skills.”
Niles waved the compliment off with a laugh. “Mighty skills? Nah, that was Roy over there.” He pointed toward the red-haired figure chatting with Prince Xhiva. “He can’t aim worth a darn. He was trying to hit a dummy! Gustavus and I, though? Our skills are basically useless.”
Zacharias’s smile flickered briefly, his slitted gaze narrowing. “What if this Roy managed to control his ability?” His tone was casual, but the weight of the question hung in the air.
Niles shrugged. “If he did, I guess he’d be... the ultimate weapon or something. But I don’t know.” His tone shifted as he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with sudden determination. “Since my party’s been banished, would it be possible for us to join your kingdom?”
Zacharias didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. We’d welcome you.”
But before Niles could celebrate, his curiosity got the better of him. “By the way, I heard you were once betrothed to Princess Xemena. Why was the engagement canceled?”
Zacharias’s smile hardened, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because of her... poor skill.”
“Poor skill?” Niles repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.
Zacharias nodded gravely. “It’s widely believed that superior skills are passed through bloodlines. Xemena’s skill has no value—not in battle, nor in strategy. Meanwhile, I possess the kind of power that can change the tide of war.” He flexed his arms slightly, as if to emphasize his point, before adding with a faint chuckle, “And those scarlet eyes of hers? Like the eyes of a demon.”
Niles’s stomach twisted with unease. He had shared so much with Zacharias, but now the prince’s words felt heavy with hidden intentions. Zacharias leaned closer, his voice soft yet pointed. “What about you, Niles? What do you bring to the table?”
Niles hesitated, feeling the weight of Zacharias’s piercing gaze. His instincts screamed at him. “And you, Prince Zacharias,” he said finally, ignoring Zacharias question, his voice low, “you have the eyes of a snake.”
The room seemed to freeze for a moment.
“What?” Zacharias hissed, his composure cracking.
Niles forced a smile, taking a deliberate step back. “Thank you for your time, Prince Zacharias. It’s been... enlightening.” He turned on his heel but paused just long enough to throw one last barb over his shoulder. “Snake Eyes.”
Zacharias gasped, his carefully constructed mask slipping further. “What did you say?”
Xander, now within earshot, covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking. He quickly made his way back to Xemena, who raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, her tone sharp.
Xander wiped a tear from his eye. “A night without laughter is a day wasted.”
“You never laugh,” Xemena retorted.
“Then today,” Xander replied with a smirk, “is a blessing.”
Xemena rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as Xander chuckled to himself.
**********
Niles stepped out onto the castle grounds, the night air cool against his face. The faint glow of flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls, casting long shadows that swayed with the breeze. Darkness wrapped around the training grounds, save for the occasional lantern hanging near the path.
He walked with purpose, his boots crunching softly against the gravel until he reached the moat bridge. A familiar figure stood at the far end, and Niles cupped his hands to his mouth. “Felix!” he called.
Felix turned at the sound, his expression shifting from surprise to a warm smile as he approached. “Sir Niles, what brings you out here? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the royal ball?”
Niles crossed his arms, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Needed some air... and besides,” he said, pulling back his coat to reveal a bundle of neatly wrapped parcels, “I brought you some of the fancy food and drinks!”
Felix’s eyes lit up as Niles handed over the goods. “You didn’t have to do this,” Felix said earnestly, his gratitude shining through.
“Of course, I did! Can’t forget my fellow party member.” Niles waved off the thanks, gesturing to a nearby bench. “C’mon, let’s sit.”
They settled onto the bench, the sounds of distant music and laughter faint in the background. Felix unwrapped the food, taking a bite of the delicate pastry, then sipped the drink. It was just water, but cold and refreshing, with chunks of ice clinking softly against the glass.
Niles leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Busy night with all the guests?”
Felix nodded, still chewing. “Hundreds of them. Maybe even a thousand.”
Niles chuckled. “That’s a lot of handshakes. Did you use your skill on them? What’s the verdict?”
He meant it as a light-hearted jab, but Felix paused mid-chew, his brow furrowing. Niles’s grin faltered, shifting to a more neutral expression as the silence stretched.
“To be honest, Sir Niles,” Felix began, his tone lower now, “there’s something strange about tonight’s crowd.”
Niles tilted his head, watching Felix carefully. “Strange how?”
Felix set down the glass, his fingers tapping against the wood of the bench. “It’s probably nothing, but… my skill’s been picking up on a lot of hostility. More than usual. The last ball we hosted, I sensed a few bad apples, sure, but tonight? Tonight, it’s different. Too many lean toward ‘bad.’ Far more than I expected.”
The weight of his words settled between them. Niles turned his gaze toward the grand hall, where the ball continued in full swing. The windows glowed with golden light, shadows of dancing figures flitting against the glass.
“Maybe,” Niles said quietly, his voice thoughtful. “Or maybe not.”
Felix glanced at him, the unease in his expression mirrored in Niles’s own.