Kingdom of Silver and Starlight

Uncivil Reception

They hadn’t planned on being so late, truly. Alios had sent back a message indicating that they would be in attendance and had requested one of the palace’s pegasi carriages, a service that the Clouded Domain offered to those without access to airborne modes of transportation. However, the king suspected that the court had either taken their acceptance as a hoax, or they simply hadn’t wanted their company and had chosen to ignore the missive. After all, it was one thing to grudgingly extend an offer, it was an entirely different matter for the other party to accept.

No matter, his hell-hound drawn chariot had done the job, though they had only managed to make it a good hour late. Idly, he hoped that the servants and stablemen wouldn’t antagonize his mounts. Though intelligent, hell-hounds were first and foremost beasts of the darkest pits of the Abyss, and he wouldn’t put it past one of them to try to steal a bite of winged chevaline or drag some unwitting servant on an impromptu joyride through the craggy shadows of the mountain. From what he’d been told, shadow-travel was allegedly quite uncomfortable for those who hadn’t experienced it before.

Confident that he had made a suitable introduction, Alios dispelled his magic with a wave, returning light back to the celebration, then turned to his second-in-command. Mena marched forward without a word, opalescent blue eyes glittering above the mask she wore over her mouth, and passed him the envelope that held the invitation.

“I told you this was a terrible idea,” she muttered as soon as she was close enough to speak without being overheard. Her eyes darted to the watching crowd who were staring at their retinue with unveiled horror, disgust, and dismay. Though there were divine laws prohibiting the murder of guests and eschewing the laws of hospitality, Mena had seen what people were willing to do when terror gripped them. She knew how far fear could twist people, how it could be used to justify anything and everything, especially if there was a common enemy nearby.

Alios hummed softly to himself, then bared his sharp teeth in a grin at the unlucky sylph servant that had been pushed forward to collect and verify his invitation. The glamour clung to his skin like a coating of cheap paint, chafing at his true form that lay beneath the unassuming pretense. “That doesn’t mean much,” he pointed out cavalierly. “You think everything that I do is a bad idea.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Mena muttered, folding her arms across her chest and letting her eyes scan the ballroom with sharp intent. The woman was not a fan of dressing up for any occasion. She was far more comfortable in rough leathers and well-worn boots that masked her every tread as she darted, fleet-footed and faster than a hare, to crouch high above in darkened corners where she could perch unseen with her hood pulled over her face. She would not dress up for these people, regardless of how rare or prestigious the event.

Thus the banshee looked the same as she always did, barring the mask that covered the entirety of the lower part of her face. Bright blue runes the same hue as her magic covered the leather surface, and pulsed with every breath. She caught sight of a few guests watching her, their shoulders tensed and hackles raised, yet they quickly dropped their gazes to the tiled marble floor the moment she met their eyes. Did they think that she would start screaming at them? She could hardly proclaim death where there was none to be found.

At any rate, what did they think the mask was for? She hated the stupid things, but in this court an unmuzzled banshee was a threat. ‘A banshee’s scream foretells a death’. It was a simple phrase, but oh how easy it was to twist and misinterpret. The misunderstanding of their abilities had started before the war, though the conflict certainly did not help. Mena had heard the older banshees, some of them veterans, speaking of way the battlefield had shaken with the force of their wails. They had been crying out a warning of future peril, but correlation was difficult to gauge when everyone around you was being slaughtered mere moments before the screams could finish escaping.

“Now, now Mena,” Alios’s voice jerked the woman from her morbid thoughts. He scolded her with that aura of careless good cheer that she often found aggravating yet soothing at the same time. Their retinue glided further into the ballroom, the massive doors falling shut behind them. As they moved the crowd parted around them, as though some magnetic force were keeping them at bay. “We’re here on a peaceful diplomatic excursion. Cheer up and go mingle. Who knows, maybe someone will insult my maidenly honour and you can defend my virtue with all those knives you insisted on bringing along.”

Unable to quite bite back her grin, Mena elected to hide her amusement with a dispassionate scoff and caught Nicolai by the elbow before the awestruck and terminally inquisitive vampire could wander off into the crowd. Alios watched the two peel away from their group, a pleased smirk on his face. Mena wasn’t one for socializing, and so he had no expectations on that front, but he did expect her to return bearing a comprehensive report on the current economical, sociopolitical, and personal lives of every high-born present.

Though their arrival had caused quite a stir, Alios had to hand it to the Radiant Court, they refused to let a party remain interrupted for very long. It only took a few minutes before one by one the musicians took up their pipes and harps and once more resumed their playing. Soon the hall was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation, though noticeably more pointed and unvaried in topic.

Ignoring the string of gossip that trailed behind him, Alios plucked two flutes of champagne from a passing cloud nymph, dropping her a wink that caused her fluffy cumulus hairdo to turn a bright rosy pink.

“Could you refrain from doing that while I’m still standing here?” Salix muttered, ungraciously accepting the second glass and sniffing it suspiciously. The snake demon had actually dressed up for the occasion, though his idea of what constituted as ‘dressed up’ likely would not have matched that of other people. His long red hair was tied back out of his face, and from his waist hung a chatelaine from which dangled scissors, a set of surgical scalpels, a leather pouch of smelling salts, and a silver pocket-watch.

Alios suspected there were even more items secreted away in the many pockets of his cloak, but he refused to ask about them. Though Abyssal demons rarely – if ever – grew sick, it wasn’t impossible, and he still shuddered at the memories of Salix standing over his bedside with a hypodermic needle in one hand and a bowl of whatever foul, medicinal slop he’d whipped up.

“Do try to relax,” Alios murmured, pausing to look up at a painting on the wall. It was of a crane suspended at the moment just before it took flight, the crescent moon and a constellation of stars caught in the halo of its wings. The plumage was lovingly recreated in watercolours, every feather blending together in a gentle gradient of scarlet, ivory and navy. There was no name attached, or even a signature to identify the artist, but it was magnificent. Such a talented creator would do well in his court where he could offer them fine pigments of crushed lapis lazuli, crushed ochre, and delicate sheets of gold leaf.

Poaching of talent was frowned upon, but Alios doubted that any artist who was being treated well would leave their work unsigned.

Eventually he pulled himself away from the painting, only to catch the eye of a Dragonkin duchess over her husband’s shoulder. Short ridged spikes stuck out from the tip of her head, and the platinum band holding back her hair was decorated with four violet stones fashionably cut to mimic extra horns. Their hue matched the geometric designs woven through the fabric of her dress.

Her startled expression quickly gave way to a knowing upturn of her painted red lips, and the hand that had been fiddling with her wedding ring rose to tug at the silken lace border of her scandalously low neckline, as though she were enticing someone to wander over and yank it down. Alios didn’t have to inhale to know that she reeked of lust and unfulfilled s****l desires, and that like all dragons she was interested in courting danger if it came in a pretty enough package.

With a knowing smirk, Alios let his gaze drop lower as eyed her up and down with deliberate intent. Then, once he was certain that he had her attention, he turned away and dismissed her, gulping down a mouthful of champagne as he did so. It went down smoothly, weaker than the mildest of Snowland vintages, but it had that bubbly kick that all Clouded Domain spirits had, the sort that made you feel as though you were floating with just one sip.

Across from him the crowd parted ways, and a stately man in blue robes and a cloak of pristine alabaster feathers glided over to them. “Ah, King Caligo,” he beamed, arms spread wide in greeting though he made no move to actually shake hands, “I am so glad you were able to attend this year.”

“Yes well, we could hardly turn down your generous invitation,” Alios replied with a close-lipped smile, similarly keeping his hands to himself. “Forgive my manners but I fear you have me at a loss. We do not get much information in my kingdom.”

The man waved his words off, the faint wrinkles that belied his true age digging cheerful lines into the corner of bright blue eyes. “Do not place too much focus on formalities. There will be time for that later. I am Prince Savant Azul, acting representative for the Ethereal King.”

“Oh?” Alios furrowed his brow quizzically. “Is he not in attendance?”

“Unfortunately my brother Camus is quite busy, and tends to eschew informal gatherings,” Savant replied with a wry smile. “Truly a perfectionist he is, though I suppose you will see that in the next few days. Still, we shouldn’t speak of state matters now! This is a night of merriment after all, and this is your first time in the Clouded Domain is it not?”

Alios c****d his head and brought the rim of his glass to his lips. “Yes it is. I suppose I should take the chance to enjoy the wonders of your magnificent kingdom before I return to ruling mine. Who knows, perhaps I shall learn something of value while I am here.”

The smile Savant Azul gave him was polite and utterly empty, and then he was gone, hardly sparing Salix a glance. “Hm, I suppose that was the warmest welcome we could hope to receive,” the doctor exhaled, folding his arms over his chest.

A nearby noble scoffed under his breath, though not quietly enough to not be overheard by anyone listening. “Of course. This happens during every celebration held in the Clouded Domain castle. It’s been this way since...well…”

Baring his teeth in a grin that might have passed for friendly had it been it on anyone else’s face, Alios leaned closer. “Don’t keep me in suspense now. I admit, I have been quite out of the loop these past few years, and you seem fairly knowledgeable.”

Sweat beaded on the aristocrat’s temple despite the spacious room and the choker of cyan blue Snowland icicles shimmering around his throat. In spite of his obvious nerves, the man’s shoulders visibly loosened and he looked both stunned and bashful at being complimented. Was it truly that simple? How easily did these people roll over to show their soft underbellies, or did they truly believe that their wealth and status was sufficient armour? “Well, it is something of an open secret nowadays,” he babbled. “No one knows the specifics but the Ethereal King has been out of sorts since his soulmate died. He’s hardly seen outside the castle and never for too long, and the princess might as well not exist.”

Alios clicked his teeth in apparent sympathy. “It must have been a tragedy for the royal family to lose both a mother and soulmate.”

“No, that’s the thing!” The noble chimed gleefully. “She was his soulmate, but she wasn’t his queen. The two of them were never properly married.”

“Why not?” Salix interrupted, brows furrowing in confusion. “If there is a princess, then surely they ought to have been wedded.”

The noble shrugged and waved a hand. “They have different beliefs about soulmates in the Clouded Domains. They exchanged gifts over some sacred well, and I suppose they considered that ample declaration of legitimacy,” he explained, and then he let out a derisive snort. “I bet his second royal highness wasn’t too pleased about any of that.”

Well this was interesting, Alios hummed over a sip of wine. A miserably ineffectual king and a locked up princess. Before Alios could press the loud-mouthed noble for more information, a tall woman grabbed the chatterbox by the shoulder, her knuckles going whiter as she squeezed. The smile she gave Alios as she dragged the man away was as brittle as the round glass beads decorating her hair. Good, he would have been utterly baffled if everyone was as gossipy as that noble had been. Still, it wasn’t a total loss. Their conversation had been observed and, upon seeing that the elusive and oft-rumoured Demon King had not torn one of their fellow associates limb from limb for merely speaking to him, others began to make their way over.