The dancers moved in harmony across the floor, their slow, measured steps carried out in perfect unison. They were ablaze with colour, for the noble lords and ladies of the Kingdom of Weldwyn vied to outdo each other with their finery.
Alric was not impressed. He sat, watching their movements, bored with the majesty of it, his young mind filled rather with thoughts of combat and glory. His musings were rudely interrupted.
"Alric, did you hear me?"
He glanced up to see the face of his mother, Queen Igraine, looming down on him in disapproval.
"Sorry, Mother," he answered.
"Don't sorry me, we have guests to attend to. I know you're young, but you're still a prince, and you have responsibilities."
"To do what? Dance with the young ladies?"
His mother's frown grew increasingly intense,
