Occasionally, a few guests stopped by their table, offering polite words of gratitude. Many thanked Leo for his efforts during the chaos of the last Phoenix Ball. Leo accepted their praise with a reserved smile—it wasn't every day that an assassin from the Night received open appreciation for his work.
"Almost time for the ball," he murmured, gazing out through the towering muraled windows. The sun was a sliver of gold on the horizon, slowly dipping beneath Elyria's enchanted skies. "Still no sign of Bethran." He didn't sound concerned. Knowing Bethran, the man would swagger in fashionably late—perhaps when the dancing began or when there was no other maiden left uncharmed.
Out of sheer boredom, Leo decided to try something different. He shut out the chatter and music, letting silence envelope his senses. With practiced ease, he activated his azure eye.
Mana signatures flared into view.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he thought, scanning the sea of guests. A few glowed with immense energy—familiar presences like Bethran, the court mages, and the Supremes seated at the high table. "I suppose that's a good thing," he mused. At least no threats seemed to be lurking… yet.
He took another sip from the delicate glass in his hand. The amber-colored liquid within swirled like melted gold. Its taste was strange—sweet at first, but with a lingering tartness that clung to his tongue like sour fruit.
"Excuse me," Leo called to a passing royal servant.
The elven woman paused, offering a small curtsy. "Is there a problem, sir?"
"Nothing of the sort." He swirled the liquid in his glass, eyeing it suspiciously. "Just curious—what exactly is this drink?"
"That, sir, is what we elves call Amberose," the servant replied with a gentle smile. "It's derived from the sap of an ancient tree found only in the sacred groves of Elyria."
"The fabled Amberose," Leo murmured, more to himself than to her. "Interesting."
"Thank you for your time," he added, waving her off politely.
She dipped her head and disappeared into the crowd.
Leo chuckled softly to himself. "Look at me—sipping overpriced tree sap. And I thought I'd seen it all."
It almost reminded him of—
The thought never finished.
The massive oak doors groaned open once more, drawing all eyes toward the grand entrance.
And there they were.
Queen Flowyria and Princess Emelda stepped into the ballroom, commanding the attention of every soul within. They looked like birds of paradise descending from a divine realm—radiant, regal, and utterly breathtaking.
Their gowns shimmered under the chandeliers. Woven from fine silk and embroidered with threads of gold, the garments bore phoenix motifs that seemed ready to take flight. Red and gold flames danced across their hems with every step.
Despite the matching theme, their dresses could not have been more different.
Emelda's was bold and daring—casual by royal standards—with a low neckline and a dramatic slit along the thigh that sent hearts racing and whispers rippling through the room. Queen Flowyria's, by contrast, was a masterpiece of regal elegance. Long sleeves lined with velvet, golden frills cascading along the skirt, and ornate jewelry that glittered with every graceful movement. Upon her head sat a crown of emerald and gold—a symbol of her power and poise.
Even their entourage was a sight to behold. Elven guards and maids moved in perfect synchrony, their steps light, their bearing proud.
"You have got to be kidding me," Bethran muttered from beside Leo. He stared, wide-eyed, not at the queen—but at Leo, whose gaze had locked firmly onto the princess. "She's walking toward us? It seems I taught him too well…"
"Pleasure meeting you, Fang Leo—and you as well, Bethran." Emelda's voice carried like a melody as she reached their table.
Leo rose with a polite nod. "The pleasure is mine, Princess."
Bethran, for once, was speechless.
The rest of the ballroom watched in stunned silence. Nobles craned their necks. Scandals were born from less.
"She left the highborns' tables… for them?" someone gasped.
"Preposterous, I tell you!" a young nobleman exclaimed, adjusting his monocle for a better view. "First the Dryads, now this?"
"Perhaps I could learn a few things from him…" another muttered enviously.
At the gilded table, Emelda dismissed most of her guards with a wave. Only one remained.
"Are you certain about this, Your Highness?" asked Glandhyr, captain of the royal guard. His voice was courteous, but tense. "Her Majesty, your mother, specifically asked us to watch over you."
"That's my mother," Emelda said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I'm seated with two of the Night's finest."
Glandhyr hesitated. She added with a knowing smile, "And if a threat does emerge—one great enough to endanger me—only the Supremes could protect me, anyway."
Glandhyr bowed. "Understood, Your Highness." He stepped back, though Leo could sense his unease.
"I don't think you should've said that," Leo remarked, sipping the Amberose again. The taste was still strange… but strangely addictive.
"I only told the truth," Emelda replied. "No use wasting protection on someone who doesn't need it. Better they guard those who do."
"She does have a point," Bethran agreed, finally finding his voice.
Leo nodded, but paused as the sound of a heavy chair scraping against marble drew his attention to the high table. Queen Flowyria had risen.
She stood tall, her voice echoing through the crystalline hall.
"On behalf of the Phoenix and of Elyria, I, Queen Flowyria the First, welcome you all to the fifth Valor Ball!"
Thunderous applause followed. The music died down as she continued.
"Three weeks ago," she began solemnly, "an evil cult known as the Brotherhood launched attacks across the Four Kingdoms. The most devastating of which was the massacre at the Phoenix Ball. And yet, thanks to our brave soldiers and valiant heroes, their schemes were thwarted. Peace reigns once more."
The crowd grew quiet.
"Many of us lost loved ones. Elyria itself lost an entire clan. I do not speak to reopen wounds, but to remind us that the fiends behind these attacks still hide in shadows—waiting. Hoping. Planning."
She looked out over the gathered nations.
"These are not times for division. They are times of unity. Of understanding. We must cast aside prejudice—because together we stand, and divided, we fall."
A beat of silence passed.
"To honor those who fought, those we lost, and those who continue to guard our future, the Phoenix has made the Valor Ball a symbol—not just of celebration, but of remembrance. May this night be a beacon of peace."
She raised a crystal goblet high.
"With that, let the Valor Ball… begin!"
The crowd erupted in applause once more. Queen Flowyria returned to her seat with grace, her emerald crown catching the light as if ablaze with promise.
For the first time in history, the Valor Ball was being held in Elyria.
And tonight, it would be unforgettable.