| Marc Pelzer | Fabian Wiestner
Eldric Valerian, the Duke of Varnas, looked at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. He had always had a new robe tailored for the annual banquet. This year, his tailor had outdone himself once again. The light velvet doublet was in an intense red and interwoven with thick golden seams. Additionally, gemstones were set in golden settings and adorned his chest. It was an easy-to-wear piece of clothing that, however, appeared very heavy and mighty from the outside, just to his taste. His valet had already spent hours preparing him for the celebration, washing and styling his beard and hair. Furthermore, the Duke had been perfumed and now smelled of black pepper, sandalwood, rose, and amber. When Eldric Valerian invited to a feast, nothing was to be left to chance. He turned away from the mirror and addressed his faithful valet: “Is it time to arrive at the feast?”
“Your Grace, the tenth hour will soon strike, but you still have plenty of time. Shall Your Grace depart?” he inquired.
“Indeed, I am looking forward to my guests. Please hand me my cloak.” To keep the Duke warm, his tailor had also made him a thick dark red cloak, which could be attached to hidden clasps on the doublet's shoulders. The Duke planned to reward the tailor in his thoughts. The thick doors of his chamber were opened, and he stepped out into the corridor. It was pleasant to walk on the ancient, yet well-maintained and noble carpets, which his great-grandfather had received from the desert city of Hadad. Their rich colors and complex patterns were still visible as on the first day. Even before the door to the great hall, flanked by guards, the delicious food could be smelled and the guests could be heard. Eldric took a deep breath and nodded to the guards. The door opened, a wave of chatter and aromas greeted him, and trumpets sounded to announce his entrance.
The chatter of the guests ceased, and their eyes turned to their host, who, accompanied by his court magician and his steward, walked to the throne. Silent awe filled the room. For the Duke in his noble garment, the magician in her radiant dress, and the steward in his black and gold uniform made a majestic impression. Upon reaching the throne, the Duke addressed the crowd: “My guests, welcome to the fifty-third banquet here at the court of Varnas. May you delight in the delicacies we brought from all lands!” A silver goblet of wine, shimmering in the room’s light, was handed to the Duke. “Long live the duchy!” he called to his guests, to which they responded: “Long live the Duke!” A sip later, the feast was back in full swing.
Yaena conversed, as her position required, with many princes and other political representatives of other duchies. She even exchanged a few words with Elara of Delmond, the granddaughter of the former king, while waiting to speak with the Duke. Elara expressed her admiration for the numerous light spells Yaena had cast around the hall, which naturally flattered her. Indeed, it had taken a long time to bind enough enduring and strong spells into form and then place them so that no corner of the hall would remain dark. Apart from a few small exceptions, the conversations were very superficial, and Yaena did not find them joyful but rather an unpleasant necessity. Fortunately for her, the Duke found his conversations to be true joy, as his lively laughter was hard to miss. It wasn’t long before the Duke withdrew with some guests to one of the rear tables reserved for him to discuss more private matters. As Yaena watched his merry company, she noticed a young man wearing an elegant but relatively simple red and silver shirt. He inspected the table and then kept his distance to give the Duke his space. Yaena found herself admiring his slightly curled, wild hair, which shimmered with every movement in the warm light of the hall. She looked down his well-formed broad shoulders and spotted insignia. The man must be the captain of the guard. Geomon or Gemon was his name, something with a G, she thought, and got lost in the moment.
The man seemed to sense the gaze and turned around. Their eyes met, and Yaena looked away, caught. She quickly stepped aside, down a few steps to the next table, to grab something to eat and escape the situation.
The silver plates were filled with all sorts of delicacies; it was difficult to choose from such a selection. She thought briefly, but then the court magician reached purposefully for the small poultry pies, her favorite dish, as they contained an insanely delicious mustard sauce. “Good choice, the pies are really good!” she heard a voice beside her. She turned her head, looked into the smiling face of the captain, and choked.
“Your Grace, the tenth hour will soon strike, but you still have plenty of time. Shall Your Grace depart?” he inquired.
“Indeed, I am looking forward to my guests. Please hand me my cloak.” To keep the Duke warm, his tailor had also made him a thick dark red cloak, which could be attached to hidden clasps on the doublet's shoulders. The Duke planned to reward the tailor in his thoughts. The thick doors of his chamber were opened, and he stepped out into the corridor. It was pleasant to walk on the ancient, yet well-maintained and noble carpets, which his great-grandfather had received from the desert city of Hadad. Their rich colors and complex patterns were still visible as on the first day. Even before the door to the great hall, flanked by guards, the delicious food could be smelled and the guests could be heard. Eldric took a deep breath and nodded to the guards. The door opened, a wave of chatter and aromas greeted him, and trumpets sounded to announce his entrance.
The chatter of the guests ceased, and their eyes turned to their host, who, accompanied by his court magician and his steward, walked to the throne. Silent awe filled the room. For the Duke in his noble garment, the magician in her radiant dress, and the steward in his black and gold uniform made a majestic impression. Upon reaching the throne, the Duke addressed the crowd: “My guests, welcome to the fifty-third banquet here at the court of Varnas. May you delight in the delicacies we brought from all lands!” A silver goblet of wine, shimmering in the room’s light, was handed to the Duke. “Long live the duchy!” he called to his guests, to which they responded: “Long live the Duke!” A sip later, the feast was back in full swing.
Yaena conversed, as her position required, with many princes and other political representatives of other duchies. She even exchanged a few words with Elara of Delmond, the granddaughter of the former king, while waiting to speak with the Duke. Elara expressed her admiration for the numerous light spells Yaena had cast around the hall, which naturally flattered her. Indeed, it had taken a long time to bind enough enduring and strong spells into form and then place them so that no corner of the hall would remain dark. Apart from a few small exceptions, the conversations were very superficial, and Yaena did not find them joyful but rather an unpleasant necessity. Fortunately for her, the Duke found his conversations to be true joy, as his lively laughter was hard to miss. It wasn’t long before the Duke withdrew with some guests to one of the rear tables reserved for him to discuss more private matters. As Yaena watched his merry company, she noticed a young man wearing an elegant but relatively simple red and silver shirt. He inspected the table and then kept his distance to give the Duke his space. Yaena found herself admiring his slightly curled, wild hair, which shimmered with every movement in the warm light of the hall. She looked down his well-formed broad shoulders and spotted insignia. The man must be the captain of the guard. Geomon or Gemon was his name, something with a G, she thought, and got lost in the moment.
The man seemed to sense the gaze and turned around. Their eyes met, and Yaena looked away, caught. She quickly stepped aside, down a few steps to the next table, to grab something to eat and escape the situation.
The silver plates were filled with all sorts of delicacies; it was difficult to choose from such a selection. She thought briefly, but then the court magician reached purposefully for the small poultry pies, her favorite dish, as they contained an insanely delicious mustard sauce. “Good choice, the pies are really good!” she heard a voice beside her. She turned her head, looked into the smiling face of the captain, and choked.