The sun had climbed higher in the sky when Prince Edess’s tea table was finally empty, the open letters stacked in Celestio’s hands.
The prince swung his legs up onto the sofa, finally have the chance to relax. He waved a hand to dismiss his Omega secretary. “Go on, then. See to the letters I must write, and to my birthday banquet. I want it to be the most glorious event Soura has held in decades.”
“It will be even more grandiose that your tenth birthday celebration, Your Highness,” Celestio assured him with a deep bow. He turned and began to leave, the soft rustle of his trousers the only sound in the chamber.
As the door closed behind his advisor, the prince let out a long sigh, resting his head against the armrest. For all his pride and frustration, he couldn’t deny that Celestio’s guidance was invaluable. The Omega was all he needed.
The castle was alive with buzzing energy as the prince’s twentieth birthday celebration approached. From the highest spires to the deepest kitchens, everyone was playing their part. The air within the white stone walls carried the mingling scents of lavender soaps, beeswax polish, and of freshly painted decorations. Servants hurried through the halls carrying bolts of silk and armfuls of flowers, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Musicians gathered in shadowed alcoves, tuning their instruments beneath the watchful eyes of their overseers as they ensured their instruments would be ready to celebrate their prince. There were still days to go but the hum of anticipation grew louder with each passing hour.
Celestio stood at the center of the chaos in the grand hall, as unshaken as ever and surveying the flurry of preparations with an unreadable expression. His brown hair caught the sunlight streaming through the high, arched windows, giving him an almost otherworldly presence amid the bustle of activity. A ledger rested in one hand and a quill in the other as he meticulously checked and rechecked every detail.
“The tapestries,” Celestio said, his voice cutting cleanly through the din. “Ensure they are hung evenly. They must frame the hall without overpowering the space.”
“Yes, Sir Celestio!” a servant called back, scurrying to adjust the deep blue and gold banners that bore the royal crest.
“And the floral arrangements,” Celestio continued, his sharp gaze shifting to a pair of attendants fussing over a table centerpiece. “The white lilies will be too overpowering. Replace them with the black roses from the eastern gardens. They are more in keeping with the prince’s taste.”
The attendants exchanged nervous glances, but they quickly bowed and hurried off to carry out his instructions. Celestio then turned his attention to the long banquet tables, their polished surfaces gleaming beneath the sunlight. Silver candelabras stood in perfect symmetry down their lengths, their intricate designs catching the light like frozen flames.
“Have the seating arrangements been finalized?” Celestio asked without looking up from his ledger.
A young steward at his side nodded quickly, clutching a scroll to his chest. “Yes, Sir Celestio. The ambassadors and foreign emissaries will be seated closest to the prince, as you instructed. The lesser nobles will be placed further down the hall.”
“Good,” Celestio replied. “Ensure the seating cards are perfectly legible and names are spelled correctly. Double and triple check the foreign names.”
“Yes, Sir Celestio.”
As the steward scurried off, Celestio allowed himself a small sigh, his eyes flicking toward the raised dais at the far end of the hall. The prince’s chair, carved from dark mahogany and inlaid with golden filigree, stood empty. It seemed to radiate authority even in its vacancy, a stark reminder of the event’s importance.
The celebration was more than a mere birthday. It was an opportunity for the prince to assert his presence as the kingdom’s ruler, an adult worthy of the nobles’ submission, to silence the murmurs of doubt that lingered in the court. Every detail, from the food to the music to the decorations, had to reflect the kingdom’s prosperity and strength. Anything less would be seen as a failure – not just of the prince, but of Celestio himself.
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“Sir Celestio,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. Celestio turned to see one of the castle’s stewards approaching, a harried look on his face. “The vintners have arrived with the casks of wine, but there seems to be a dispute over the allocation. They claim the northern vineyard’s barrels are meant for the royal table, but the southern vintners insist theirs were requested.”
Celestio’s expression didn’t change, though there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “I will handle it,” he said curtly. “Send both representatives to the east courtyard. I will meet them there shortly.” He closed the ledger with a soft snap. “Continue overseeing the hall; I will return shortly.”
The attendant bowed as Celestio swept past him. He moved through the castle with purpose, his every step measured and deliberate. Servants and courtiers alike parted before him, their whispers trailing in his wake.
As he descended the staircase leading to the east courtyard, Celestio’s mind was already racing ahead to his next steps. The wine dispute was a minor issue of too many egos to placate. The prince’s court was a delicate system of alliances and rivalries, and it was Celestio’s job to ensure that system didn’t break down. Just like the castle, maneuvering through the social webs was second nature to him. He had all but grown up in the castle, tagging along with his father’s frequent visits and being fostered off onto the castle’s personnel, and by the time Edess was born, there was no one more qualified to care for the prince than the teenage Celestio.
He found the two vintners already waiting by the time he reached the courtyard, their faces flushed with frustration. The northern representative, a stout man with a ruddy complexion, was gesturing wildly with his hands, while the southern representative, a wiry woman with sharp features, crossed her arms and scowled.
“Sir Celestio,” the stout man began, his voice rising with indignation. “I must protest! Our vineyard has supplied the royal table for generations. It is absolutely unthinkable that we should be displaced at His Highness’s birthday banquet!”
The woman cut in sharply. “And yet, it was my vineyard that received the royal steward’s request. We brought the finest barrels from this year’s harvest, specifically for this occasion!”
Celestio held up a hand. “Enough,” he said firmly. “This is not the time for petty squabbles. His Highness’s celebration requires the best of both your vineyards.”
He turned to the stout man. “Your vintage will be served with the main course. Its richness will complement the roasted meats.” Then he turned to the woman. “And yours will be presented with the desserts. Its sweetness will enhance the final course. I assure you, not a drop of either of your wines will go to waste, and you will both gain new patrons eager to purchase your future casks.”
The two vintners exchanged glances, their expressions softening as Celestio’s words sank in. Finally, they both nodded, their postures cautiously relaxing.
“As you say, Sir Celestio,” the stout man said with a bow.
“Thank you for your wisdom,” the woman added, her tone grudging but respectful.
Celestio inclined his head. “See that the barrels are delivered to the kitchens without delay. And ensure that your staff remains available should the sommelier require assistance.”
With the matter resolved, Celestio turned and began making his way back toward the grand hall. The trees and flowers were already blooming in the courtyard and a few of the castle’s personnel were taking a quick break on the benches and fountain edges scattered throughout the beautiful site. The sun was just beginning its descent, the shadows lengthening across the castle grounds. There was still much to do, but Celestio’s mind was already ticking through the remaining tasks. The musicians needed to rehearse their pieces. The floral arrangements needed final approval. And, of course, the prince himself would need to be briefed on the evening’s schedule, and Celestio would need to placate his protests against the timetable.
As he stepped back inside, the weight of his responsibilities pressed against him like an invisible hand. But Celestio bore it without complaint – his only purpose was to ensure Prince Edess’s success, no matter the cost.
