The hall of the feast was immense, able to fit hundreds of people with ease. The Royals had their places at the hall’s end, grandiose seats of stone on an elevated stage so that they could look down on their guests. The hall was filling up already, musicians playing a soft tune while the brouhaha of conversations began to fill the hall.

Arthan found himself wondering what his place was in all this. He was a mere knight, a champion perhaps, but still a far cry from these wealthy and powerful men and women. He dared say he could with a sword in hand challenge and defeat all present, with the notable exception of Tristan of course. But these men wielded hundreds or even thousands of swords, he was but one of them. And the most powerful of them all, the king, who sat, or rather lied, on his spectacular throne of marble and gold.

His head was resting on his fist in a relaxed but bored manner. He had a slender build, with long and thin fingers wearing priceless rings. His legs were straightened and crossed. His hair was long and straight and seemed to have been woven of silk, the way it fell on his shoulders and down to where his belt would have been. His face was ageless and fair to the point that there seemed to be no flaws in his figure. The king’s eyes were grey and tranquil but had a glow in them which seemed to Arthan like they were constantly looking for a source of amusement. Arkansas was a far cry from the imposing warrior kings of old.

A voice from behind pulled him from his observations. “You are alone?” Arthan turned his head to the familiar voice, which belonged to none other than Tristan.

“As you say,” Arthan said. Tristan didn’t seem to care though, handing him a sealed paper.

“From Hadrian.” He simply said.

“You’re courier now?” Arthan commented. Normally they had servants to run around handing letters and orders, whatever this was. Tristan ignored him.

“I have no time for this, you’re going to have to do it for me. Consider it your price for losing to me.”

“I respect you, Tristan, but you have no authority over me.” He said carefully.

“Hadrian has approved of my choice for a replacement,” Tristan said. “He needs me elsewhere.”

“Then I guess there’s no way around it.” He muttered while taking the letter. “What is this task?”

“I suggest you find out.” Tristan let out and left promptly, not sparing him another word. 

Arthan raised a brow, following Tristan with his eyes. The knight disappeared from the hall, leaving without much form. He wasn’t much for the life of the court, probably more a warrior than anything else.

That’s when the hall fell silent, the last murmuring voices disappearing one after another. The king had risen from his throne and stood at the edge of his stage. He had a glass of white wine in his hand.

“Friends.” He said, gesturing to the assembly. His voice was soft but carried itself to all spectators without issues. “I have the pleasure of presenting to you the first play of Celarl Meistrich.” Arthan felt a warm gush of excitement in his stomach. It was Stella’s turn now. The Celarl Meistrich was a story of a young Prossian man’s tragedy; how he discovered the grandeur of the Azurian court and grew to love its culture and people. The tragedy itself consisted in him being torn apart by the duty to his homeland Prossland and his love for Azure. The only reason Arthan knew this much, was because Stella had told him secretly.

He saw his sister step forth in a beautiful scarlet dress, along with another woman who paled in comparison and two men whom he didn’t pay attention to. By their clothing, he determined that the woman was the singer. One man held a lute while the other had a harp, Stella played the flute which was the lead instrument in the play.

It was beautiful, even to Arthan’s untrained ears and eyes. He felt pride swell his chest up as Stella performed admirably. He glanced around at the spectators and noticed that many were gawking at her, and not necessarily because of her skill. And the king too, he noted with a mix of satisfaction and apprehension. A king’s attention could be very rewarding but also dangerous.

Arkansas had a smile on his lips as his eyes fixated on Stella. They sometimes darted away to the other performers, but they quickly returned to her.

The play ended, and applause filled the hall. The performers bowed or curtsied and left the stage. As soon as servants had taken care of their instruments, they mingled with the audience to receive praise and hopefully sponsorship, while many connoisseurs came to congratulate them on their performance.

Arthan contemplated on joining her but soon resigned himself on waiting for later, people were already flocking around her. His protective instincts urged him to go to her side however, to show people that she was not alone and defenceless. She had a champion knight backing her.

But as such, he was not without his fame, and he was soon accosted by some young highborn men and boys who seemingly admired his steady hand with a lance and deplored his unlucky battle with Tristan. Many nobles were knights only in name, having mainly trained as a sort of hobby and possessing several armours and many weapons and mounts. And although he had little respect for them, he made sure to act like he had, discussing the fights as well as different types of armours and their respective advantages and flaws. These young men came from powerful houses, with the potential to make life very difficult to him should he offend them.

Suddenly, however, a group of young girls split the noblemen apart, led by Stella.

“Hello brother,” she said with a bright smile, “what did you think?”

He smiled back. “It was breath-taking.” She had three girlfriends with her, of which the oldest was maybe a couple of years younger than him.

Stella’s smile broadened. She gestured to her friends and presented them to him one after another. Two of them were sending each other small looks and giggling behind their hands like small girls, but the last one was more composed and seemed more mature to him. He took her hand and kissed it as was the custom. She had long and curly hair, in a strong fire-red shade. Her eyes were green and watchful. She was tall for a woman, which permitted her to look down on most. An advantage she most assuredly exploited, judged by the way she looked at the two other friends.

“A pleasure to meet you, Geraldine.” He said.

“Likewise.” She responded with a faint smirk, which he couldn’t quite decipher.

Stella began to explain the small details she thought they had missed about the play, about her mistakes so minuscule that none had even noticed. Geraldine herself interceded a couple of times, clarifying Stella’s otherwise unorganized account with a welcomed precision.

Arthan nodded and smiled, though he had a question that he yearned to ask. He had noticed earlier how Arkansas had introduced her performance, but even more so how the king’s eyes had been captivated by his sister. The moment never came, however, as a couple of famous troubadours came over and began to praise Stella, the first two in a long line.

Arthan sighed mentally and sat at an empty table with a glass of wine. He took out the letter he had received from Tristan and opened it.

It was an order from Hadrian, detailing how he was ordered to go arrest a witch that had been bothering a couple of villages a few days away. Another silvered knight would go with him, Parceval. He was a knight renowned for his lack of fear, as much in combat as in his way of living.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Just as he had finished the letter, which also contained a series of instructions as to where and how to do the task, he saw Geraldine approach from the corner of his eye. The lady took the chair next to him.

“Strange, to see you reading a letter at such an occasion.” She said, eyeing it curiously. “It must be important.”

He hesitated but saw no harm in telling her. “It is from Prince Hadrian. I am apparently required to hunt a witch.”

“A witch-hunt? There hasn’t been one for almost a year. I thought you were done with it.” The kingdom had a long history of hunting witches and sorcerers. The hate of both commoners and nobility ran deep, not to mention the clergy. All in all, they were considered something of a plague to society for most, an evil that had to be removed from the world.

He shrugged and gestured to the letter. “Well, apparently not.”

She smiled amusingly. He wasn’t sure why, and it bothered him. “How is your relationship with your sister? You seem very close.” She asked.

“Since our father’s death, she’s my only family. Do you have siblings?”

She shook her head. “I do have a child with my deceased husband though.”

“Husband? You seem so young.” He let out without thinking. “Pardon me, that was insensitive.”

“I married early. Do you have a… romantic interest?” She tilted her head. “I know that you are not married, nor even betrothed. I would have heard of it.”

He slowly shook his head, seeing where this was going. “I suppose I am still open to suggestions.” He said, his lips curving up slightly.

She smiled again. “I need fresh air. Would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens?”

“With pleasure, my Lady.” He stood up and presented his elbow, which she took graciously. They crossed the hall and left it for the garden.

The Royal Gardens were a project initiated by Arkansas in the first years of his reign. It had been an enormous courtyard, used for the mustering and training of soldiers. Those barracks had now been moved to the outskirts of the city, right next to the city walls. It had been a move to add to the prestige of his court, but at the same time, the moving of the barracks conveyed a new message to the people that had made him quite liked: he wanted to protect the whole city, not just the royal palace and castle.

The gardens were vast, with huge rows of finely cut bushes and trees, wide beds of flowers in all colours and sizes. In the night, they were only illuminated by the pale moonlight and the stars. Arthan and Geraldine slowly strolled through them while conversing back and forth. She was a pleasure to talk to, a witty but open-minded woman. She was a woman like he hadn’t met before, one who had nothing to prove to anyone. She wasn’t even trying to impress him, but rather simply being her genuine self.

*

Stella enjoyed the attention thoroughly. She spent the evening eagerly talking to the many people interested in both her performance and her brother. One noble even described her and her brother as splendid examples of what heights humans could attain with talent and hard work, which gave her immense pleasure. Her brother was a man who she admired and loved beyond anyone else. Which was why she had introduced him to Geraldine, the young widow who had been one of her first friends in the capital. She suspected they had already left the party.

She was joking around with a charming and handsome noble, who seemed both kind and very fond of her. She wouldn’t mind him courting her, though she wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to hold his ground against her at times over-protective brother. Few men were.

Suddenly, however, he grew quiet and took a respectful step away. His eyes were fixed on a point beyond her shoulder.

“Your Majesty.” He said with a respective bow of his head. She spun around, seeing the king standing right in front of her, a little smirk on his face.

“Dance with me, Stella.” He said, presenting his hand confidently like he knew that she would accept without the shadow of a doubt. No one in their right mind would refuse a king.

“Your Majesty.” She greeted shakily, curtsying to him and then taking his hand carefully, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

He led her out on the dancefloor and then laid a hand on her back while grabbing the other firmly. As if on cue, the music switched to a waltz, a dance where the two partners' hips had to be intimately close to performing correctly. He took a step forward in between her legs and she followed his lead.

His grey eyes were staring into hers as they danced, the same smug smile on his lips. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“You performed my play perfectly.” He muttered to her, the whisper strangely reaching her ears clearly despite the music and the noise.

“The play was perfectly written.” She complimented back.

“Of course, it was. I have been working on it for years.” She had never directly interacted with him before, but he had often come to their practise sessions, giving their teachers advice and pointers.

The dance ended, and she thought he would let her go. This was already too much; she had danced with the king! An incredible achievement for a girl coming from the lower tiers of nobility. But he didn’t let go of her, instead, he laid a gentle but firm hand on her lower back, leading her forward.

“Come, I want to show you something.” He said, slipping out of the party with her as another piece of music started playing.

She glanced back nervously. “Is it really okay for us to leave?”

He giggled. “Of course! I am the king.”

She wasn’t sure how she dared, but the words simply left her mouth without thought. “Especially so, the king shouldn’t leave his ball.” Maybe it was the fear of what he might do to her once alone. He was an exceptionally handsome man, beautiful even, but she had never been in bed with someone before, and the thought scared her. She wanted her first time to be on her terms.

The king’s smile disappeared, his unreadable grey eyes fixating on hers. “I am surprised. For a moment, you sound like I imagine a queen would.” He then said.

She was unsure of how to respond. “How so?”

“You sound like a boring queen reminding a husband of his duties.” He stopped up, slowly running his hand through her hair until his hand was on the back of her head. “Tonight, you should act like a princess instead. An adventuring, keen and awe-inspiring princess, who is worthy of even a god’s attention.”

A god? She thought, feeling that his expectations were impossibly high. This would inevitably end in disappointment, she feared.

He spun around and led her upstairs, where the floor was covered in red carpet wherever they walked, and as they got further up, the luxury increased too. The walls were covered in insanely detailed tapestries, which were complemented with threads of gold and silver. Then there was a hallway of reflections, or so Arkansas called it. It was an entire corridor where the walls and ceiling had been entirely clad in mirrors while a layer of white and polished stone had been laid on the floor. The result was mesmerising, and she couldn’t even imagine the cost of such a project.

“Incredibly…” She muttered at the sight of their endless reflections.

He laughed. “I made this years ago. Come.”

He led her through it and into another room, which seemed to be a sort of exquisite living room. It had a large and heavily ornamented hearth, with both pelts of exotic animals covering the armchairs placed around it. There were also beautiful instruments of the highest quality positioned up against chairs around the room.

Her heart skipped a beat. This was the king’s personal quarters. There were several doors, one of which led to his bedroom, she was sure.

He smiled again. Had he guessed her thoughts? Her cheeks reddened furiously. The door didn’t open to a bedroom though, but instead on a large balcony of marble. The balcony was like a miniature garden, with a few flowers ascending from earth lying in beds of stone. As they approached the solid balustrade, her breath was once again taken.

The view was magnificent. The large city of Parth extended below them. The castle of the king was situated on an island separating a large river in two, along with the richest of citizens and crafters and the noble’s mansions and residence. The rest of the city lied on the other side of the rivers, connected to the river by many large bridges of both wood and stone. The balcony had a clear view of the river running into the sea, as well as the rest of the island and parts of the city.

Many small lights illuminated the streets, coming from countless oil lamps across the city, carried by patrols and fixed to buildings. Parth was one of the few cities large enough to have a nightlife.

As her eyes eagerly absorbed the view, Arkansas was instead looking at her, with an emotion that seemed strange and foreign in his eyes. It dissipated as quickly as it had come the moment, she turned to look at him.

“This is beyond magnificent.” She commented.

He was leaning calmly against the balustrade. “And yet I’m more captivated by you.”

“Only because you see this every day.” She retorted. “You’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time?”

“I’m showing it to you, am I not?” He pointed out.

For the first time since they had entered the balcony, she shifted her attention to him again. His amusement was gone but he did not look displeased. His formerly pale eyes had grown to become shining stars enthralling hers, while his lips seemed to grow more appealing by the second. Following her impulse, she approached him slowly and pressed her lips against his. For a moment, they connected gently, and he did nothing. Stella feared she had made a mistake. Then his hands enwrapped her waist and the kiss grew more passionate.

She was inexperienced, so he guided her. They stood embraced on the balcony for a while until suddenly, he pulled on her dress and slipped a hand under. She gasped, growing weak in the knees. He still had a firm grasp around her waist, however. He swept her off her feet and carried her through the living room and into the bedroom. What followed was the most exciting and pleasurable moments of her life, as she experienced sensations she had only dreamed of before. She only hoped it was the same for him.

Arkansas was gentle and soft in his touch, and though there was pain at first, it was soon replaced by waves of pure pleasure. His fingers were electrifying, and he seemed to enjoy making her lose all control.

That night, she did not get much sleep.