The great hall was a thing of beauty, and for good reason.
Upon entering the Crystal Parliament, visitors would be reminded of the deposed Strangian royalty’s past glory by the sight of this magnificent hall- a relatively small yet breathtaking space within the castle walls, where the daily ongoings of castle life went about without disruption. Most of the time the great hall simply acted as a hallway for people to access other parts of the castle, but during grand functions such as the Martyrs’ Fest, it was transformed into a lush meeting space for nobles, affluent businessmen, war generals, and everyone else of the sort.
The ball was one such function, held on the eve of the Martyrs’ Fest- and thus it was suitably decorated, adding to its natural beauty. Ornate flooring inlaid with floral designs from the medieval ages was enveloped in narrow strips of alluring purple carpets. Similarly, red and white banners hung from the ceilings against the whitewashed walls, right beside paintings by the likes of Zopomnit and El Greco. The gate from which guests entered the great hall was built out of gray stone, carvings of ancient runes visible around the borders of the giant rectangular opening, with statues of men, women, and especially children frolicking around the edges. And to top it all off, a gigantic set of luxurious stairs lay at the northernmost side of the hall, forking into two perpendicular sets of stairs that divulged into different sections of the castle.
Klaus himself was going down the easternmost set of stairs, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he made his way to the ball. Looking down from his position, he realized that the function was relatively modest in terms of population, as there only seemed to be about three scores of people lounging around the great hall, bold and open to conversation under the guise of mysterious socialites, especially after a few glasses of red wine. Nevertheless, the ball seemed to be in full swing, as the atmosphere felt amicable and the guests were more than happy to make engaging small talk.
Moonlight streamed in through the circular dome in the middle of the hall, shining down on couples dancing to the solemn tune of a well-practiced orchestra. Dining tables were methodically arranged around the room, with royal waiters and waitresses providing food at a minute’s notice to any person willing to indulge in dinner. Wine glasses clinked and clacked as toasts were declared, and Klaus could audibly hear a few glasses cracking upon impact as some of the more heavy-handed veterans failed to reign in their enthusiasm for a toast well deserved.
Oh look, there goes one of them.
Out of nowhere, the royal artificer- who had barely managed to hold onto his job ten years prior- began to stumble his way through the dancing couples, often bumping into them in a drunken stupor and prompting incredulous scoffs and grunts. He made his way to the orchestra, who noticed his approach with a concerned eye yet continued to play for the sake of the crowd.
“Are any of you even academy graduates?” hissed Yulian Zakharov, laying a heavily scarred hand on top of the white piano, “because all you lot look like to me is a bunch of farm boys who learned ‘music’ by beating pans and pots with sticks and spatulas.”
Provocative, but nothing out of the ordinary for the artificer. Unbothered by the insult, the pianist continued to play his somber tune.
“You know what your music is made of, boy? Hmm?” Yulian let out a short burp, before continuing, “It’s made up of stuff called sound waves. In fact, the only reason why you can hear anything is because of sound waves. So best believe me, that if I have found out what your mindless key-clicking, whistleblowing, mind-churning piece of shit music is made of, then I can replicate it with less effort than it takes you to memorize a single stanza. All I need are a few lucky innovations, tons of money from the blasted government, and a few fucking hours to myself that the needs of a prosperous and needy country bar me from having.”
Klaus failed to withhold a chuckle as the artificer let out his frustrations on the pianist. Composed as ever, the proud pianist began to transition into a more cheerful melody with his nose held up to the sky and a look of snobbish annoyance in his eyes.
Klaus looked away from the absurd situation, realizing that he ought to distance himself from such entertaining distractions.
Instead, he searched the crowds for anyone familiar, having reached the proceedings at long last. As he walked by tight-knit groups of people, Klaus noticed the diversity of the participants. He found Nords- there was an awful lot of them in Stranga tonight- with their noses held high and their pride visible to the naked eye, refusing to engage in conversation with anyone but Strangians and those of their kind. To Klaus’ surprise, the silver-tongued city folk from across the Sea of Reckoning had also made their appearance known at the ball, impossibly attractive nobles and merchants who had a penchant for mutiny against the king and good old conquest. Even Slavic barbarians from the lands west of Makedonia had arrived in Milov, speaking in hushed tones under masked headdresses.
Has Martyr’s Feast always been so sundry, or am I blind?
Klaus eventually sauntered past the orchestra and to the edges of the room, watching couples dance to their love and companionship as he searched the gyrating crowd for any familiar faces.
Failing to find anyone but strangers and faint acquaintances, Klaus let out a deep sigh and started walking towards the tables, hoping to run into a fellow academy graduate while they were dining.
As he made his way to the westernmost section of the hall, Klaus was approached by a waitress who offered him a glass of pure red wine, telling him to unwind and enjoy the ball a little more instead of pacing around anxiously. While it was tempting, the young man was determined to be of a clear mind that night, and thus politely rejected her offer.
“But sir, you look to be withering by the second. Help yourself to some of our finest beverages- it will loosen up that stiff posture of yours,” insisted the waitress, perhaps a little irritated at being rejected so thoroughly.
“I apologize, but I simply do not have the desire to- what? Stiff posture?” Klaus interrupted himself mid-sentence, slightly offended by the waitress’s mild jab at his awkward stature. “I’m not so world-weary that a single glass of wine will be able to loosen me up and make me forget about my problems, miss!”
“The least it will do is at least calm your tense nerves, sire.”
“And hinder my sense of judgment as well as make me more susceptible to some embarrassing incidents!”
The waitress frowned, one hand holding the serving plate as she put the other on her hip.“So you refuse to indulge in one of the most basic amenities of a ball? That is just simply foolish, Sir Knight,” she said with a slight tinge of annoyance.
When had the tables turned? Was she not the ever-so-compliant waitress, and him the polite palace guest?
“Listen, you misunderstand. I just do not desire to-”
Suddenly, Klaus caught sight of a rather familiar face, nestled in between small crowds of socialites. She had raven-black hair from the plains of Skorva, curly locks nuzzled up against lean shoulders. They framed her long neck quite nicely, a pale thing holding a pleasant little face. Sharp brown eyes, petite little nose, rosy lips holding a smile just suggestive enough to turn cold indifference into keen interest- no wonder the man right beside her appeared to be so charmed.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
She was trading a few short words with him, the sway of her body suggesting more than a little interest. They appeared to have recently returned from a rather engrossing dance as their short bursts of breath indicated. Inch by inch, their faces neared each other’s, lips desiring a single deep taste.
Klaus looked down at their hands, fingers crawling into the other’s warm grasp, passion overwhelming their sense of civility.
“Are you even listening to me, sir? How many times must I insist that you enjoy some red tart wine to ease your jumpy self?”
Klaus jumped up a little as his reverie was forcibly broken. Blinking his eyes profusely at the waitress, Klaus realized that he needed to hurry if he was ever to save the young woman he had laid his eyes on from embarrassing herself.
“Are you out of it, sire?” the waitress’ annoyance faded away as concern set in. “You must leave if you feel dizzy, sire. I say this for your well bei-”
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, miss, but I really need to go. I’ll be sure to grab a glass of wine later!” Klaus hurriedly said as he made his way to her, making sure not to bump into anyone else at risk of embarrassing himself as well.
He slowed his steady pace as he approached the well-dressed woman, tip-toeing towards her in a kingly manner until she set her eyes on him.
“Well hello, Natalya.” drawled Klaus, a little out of breath, though he certainly enjoyed the shifty look in her eyes as he closed the distance. “It’s been an entire week since I’ve seen you. How have you been?”
He took a glance at the man beside Natalya, gauging him from head to toe- pretty face, sharp jaw, taller than even some Nords, purple mask adorned with fine jewels, and overall, just a total knockout. “ I don’t believe we’ve met, good sir! I’m Natalya’s fellow comrade from the academy. We just graduated!”
The man looked embarrassed, slightly irritated even. He put a hand behind his head, hiding his unease with a perfectly predictable human reaction.
Sensing the man’s self-consciousness, Natalya sighed and flashed an accusative glare at Klaus, who smirked in response.
“Sorry for that, Jayelle. This gentleman here is Klaus Weirmann, someone who I graduated with. Klaus, this is Inspector Jayelle Bello, a renowned investigator of Fallen Spirits, hailing from the kingdom of Catalonia.” Sporting a bright smile, Natalya introduced the two men to each other.
Head-to-head, Klaus was perhaps an inch or two shorter than Jayelle. The bigger man sized up Klaus, staring at him with something akin to wariness.
“No need to add the ‘renowned’ there, Miss Yavorska. I simply do what is required of me by the state- nothing more, nothing less.” he said with some degree of modesty.
Not like acting modest made him seem any less entitled in Klaus’ eyes.
“I disagree, Mister Bello. There must be a reason why Natalya of all people has chosen to compliment you.” mused Klaus, a little smile shying its way into his face as he looked at Jayelle with a welcoming expression. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mister Bello, for I have only a few words to share with Miss Yavorska here...”
Jayelle seemed taken aback by the summons for privacy. Natalya simply closed her eyes, letting out an unhearable sigh and shifting back into her formal look as she looked to smooth things over between the two men.
She put a hand on Jayelle’s shoulder, beckoning him to come closer. “It will only be for a few minutes, Jayelle. I haven’t talked to Klaus for a week now.” she pressed him, an apologetic look in her eyes.
Jayelle melted in mere seconds. “O-oh. Of course, I wouldn’t dare to intrude! The both of you may speak for as long as you might desire to.” blabbered Jayelle, backing away as he set a fond look at Natalya. “I’ll see you near the orchestra when you’re all done, Miss Yavorska.”
Natalya grinned softly as Jayelle backed away, telling him she would meet him later for a second dance. Then she slowly turned toward Klaus and stared down at him in obvious irritation.
“You were about to embarrass yourself in front of a few too many people, Natalya.”
“So what?”
Her stare bore into Klaus’ face, challenging him to argue with her on the subject of her love life. When he refused to relent his position, Natalya broke off the stare and sighed once more to herself, a deep and powerful sigh that blew into Klaus’ chest like a strong gust.
She threw up her hands, letting out an exasperated groan as she complained about Klaus’ inopportune timing. “Can’t a girl pick her men as she wishes, dance with them as she wishes, kiss them as she wishes?”
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits, and Klaus sensed a bitter mischief beneath her eyes for perhaps the first time in his life, his childhood friend leaning into him with a sultry grin. “Can’t she make love with garish men as she wishes?”
“I think you’ve had a few too many glasses of wine tonight,” Sober Natalya would balk at the way her intoxicated self was acting.
“And you clearly haven’t had enough. Perhaps you should have downed the glass of wine that the nice waitress had so kindly provided you with.” Natalya replied with a snark evident in her tone, shocking Klaus into stunned silence.
“You think I didn’t notice? I saw you coming from a mile away. That’s what made this,” Natalya waved her arms around, frustration clear in her body language, “even more mollifying than it should’ve been.”
“Well…I guess you caught me,” replied Klaus, a sheepish grin plastered onto his face.
Seeing that stupid smile, Natalya couldn't help but peer down at the floor with a bemused smile of her own.
Klaus liked to think that at this point, she had finally acknowledged the fact that the man in front of her was like no one else, someone who had been raised in the same coop as hers, someone who had eaten to the same toasts, someone who had read her bedtime stories when maman wasn’t feeling too well.
“How was Borovny?”
“Fine. Old Baba was as grouchy as always.”
To that the duo chuckled, memories of a past long gone resurfacing at the forefronts of their minds. Old Baba had always been a bit of a grouchy bastard. He worked for Natalya’s father as his butler- A job that required the man to take care of the Yavorska head’s extensive family, including the little ones that constantly ran around the castle, always up to some mischief that increased Baba’s workload by a thousandfold.
Well, Klaus could certainly understand why Old Baba was as grumpy as he was.
They talked some more. The girl asked many, many questions, for she hadn’t had a chance to visit her hometown yet- what with her being an honor student and all, Natalya was chosen to participate in the Blooming March from the South, something she had taken great honor in. Klaus willingly answered her queries, happy to have had a chance to talk with his single close friend in Milov. He had feared that once they would be assigned to different units the duo would end up in a friendship that slowly withered from the inside, but he had thought wrong.
She was still the same Natalya as before, minus the inebriation and the snarky humor.
While in the middle of sharing a story from his return to Milov the day prior, Klaus felt a slight nudge on his shoulder. He turned his head around, and to his great surprise, ran into the same butler that had delivered to him the domino mask he currently had on.
“Greetings, Sir Klaus. I’m here with a message from Sir Koldan.” said the butler, nervously gazing at the grand staircase now and then.
“A message from Koldan? At this hour?” said Klaus irritably, wishing he could backhand his cousin for once. “Tell him I’ll speak with him tomorrow. Now’s not the time for business.”
“It’s urgent, Sir Klaus,” the butler pressed on, stressing the importance of what was to be discussed. “Sir Koldan is here right now, awaiting your arrival inside the great hall.”