Our ways had to part in front of the theatre.

  Special seats had been reserved for us for the ceremony, while the Edelweiss would be attending the ceremony as ordinary spectators. Very non-ordinary ones, but still spectators.

  Gesturing for us to stop before stepping into the theatre, Father briefly took Mister Edelweiss aside, whispering something in his ear.

  His friend turned bright red as he exclaimed, “Are you sure?”

  Father nodded, and Mister Franz shrugged.

  “If you insist—” he muttered, looking short of words as he joined the rest of the family to discuss something.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked Father, curious.

  “I just returned a favor,” he simply said, without revealing anything.

  “Bianca, go with them,” Mister Edelweiss declared after the brief consultation, giving his daughter an encouraging nudge.

  “Are you sure?”

  “If you don’t want to go, I’ll happily take your place,” Richard proposed.

  “Thanks, brother dear, but I think I’ll accept Lord Damyon’s generous offer,” she promptly responded, sticking out her tongue.

  Richard snorted, poking her in the ribs.

  Her ironic tone shifted to a more respectful and polite one as she turned to my father. “Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Damyon,” Bianca addressed my father, ignoring her brother’s teasing.

  “We’d better hurry then, we wouldn’t want to miss the beginning, would we?” With a dramatic gesture, Dad led us inside the theater.

  * * *

  Like most things here in Ardelar, the theater was enormous.

  As we stepped through the entrance, we found ourselves immersed in an elegant hall, baroque in style, but not overly opulent.

  Numerous men and women, impeccably dressed for the occasion and ready to guide guests to their seats, stood in orderly lines between the hall’s towering columns.

  Enormous columns adorned with floral patterns spiraled up to the ceiling, supporting an imposing rib-vaulted ceiling decorated with frescoes.

  The hall was illuminated by a myriad of candles, casting a warm orange glow on the walls and the faces of the attendees.

  I did not expect to recognize anyone. The guests were mostly nobles from Ardelar or other prominent figures, but I wouldn’t bet on recognizing anyone from Veldya, even.

  My parents had stopped early in the hall to chat with some people I didn’t know, probably acquaintances of theirs.

  Knowing better than looking for familiar faces, I let my gaze wander through the hall, pausing only to admire the incredibly detailed fresco on the ceiling.

  I would have loved to lie down on the floor and look at it from there, but that would have been a bit inappropriate, to say the least.

  I respected whoever had taken on the challenge of painting it; it must have been an excruciatingly tedious job, but patience had paid off.

  Now, anyone who entered the theater could admire a grand depiction of His Excellency the Emperor, seated upon his throne, surrounded by soft, white clouds with dragons soaring in the background.

  If one looked closely, they could make out, beneath the throne and the clouds, the tiny silhouette of the Azure Fortress and the faint outlines of the city.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Picking out finer details was practically impossible, since it was all too small.

  The city portrayed in the fresco didn’t look quite the same as the one we could see nowadays.

  Most likely, the artist had painted Ardelar as it had been in his time.

  The fact that the city had changed enough to make those differences noticeable, yet remained recognizable enough that there was no doubt it was Ardelar, was oddly amusing.

  The painter must have been quite skilled.

  “Impressive fresco, wouldn’t you say, young master?” Lelya had stepped beside me to observe the ceiling.

  “It’s beautiful indeed. A shame they painted the Emperor so small,” I smiled wryly.

  Lelya stifled a chuckle, covering her mouth with a hand. Bianca, intrigued, joined us, asking what we found so amusing.

  “We were just having a good laugh at the Emperor’s face being plastered right in the center of the hall,” I explained.

  Only now did it occur to me that openly criticizing the Emperor in his city might not be the smartest idea.

  There were rumors out there, tales of tongues being cut out for comments that were only mildly inappropriate regarding the person of sovereigns.

  Here in the Empire, we prided ourselves on being open-minded and valuing freedom of speech, but I had no desire to be the first to test the limits of such freedom.

  “Yeah, it is kind of funny,” Bianca admitted, a thin smile tugging at her lips.

  To external watchers, we must have looked like complete fools, standing there with our heads tilted back like that.

  “The theater was commissioned by the Emperor himself,” she added. “That’s why they thought to dedicate a fresco to him.”

  I had no idea where she got that information, but good to know, I guessed. I cocked a questioning brow at her, but she cut me off before I could ask her about it.

  “If you’re wondering, I just overheard those gentlemen on our left say it. No, don’t turn to look at them—”

  To our left, a trio of elderly gentlemen were discussing the hall, just as we were. I quickly looked away as they turned their heads toward the entrance.

  Undeterred and unbothered, I continued my search for hidden details in the fresco. For instance, in a corner, a dragon was clutching a scroll in its talons.

  It looked like there were letters etched on it, ‘M. A.’.

  Lost in my scrutiny of the fresco, I failed to notice when complete silence fell over the hall.

  I heard the rustle of fabric, followed by a short sigh.

  “I did tell Michaelis that making it smaller would have been just fine, didn’t I? Don’t you agree it would have been better that way?”

  A voice I didn’t recognize—male, smooth and vibrant—broke the silence right beside me, an unmistakable attempt at striking up conversation.

  “Perhaps a little smaller would have been more discreet, yes,” I replied absently, lowering my gaze to my new interlocutor.

  A striking pair of large, iridescent eyes studied me with curiosity.

  They seemed to shift colors constantly, fluctuating between the palest gray, green, and deep blue. I couldn’t decide whether it was his eyes or his white hair, streaked with hints of blue, to be more mesmerizing.

  He looks familiar, though, I thought, puzzled.

  “Forgive my rudeness, but have we met before?” The man appeared to be in his forties, though if not for the faint hollows beneath his eyes, he could easily have passed for half that age.

  With a thoughtful air, he tapped a finger against his lips. “I’m not sure. I’m rather good at remembering faces, but yours, I’m fairly certain, is new to me.”

  I turned to glance at my parents, hoping they could help. Perhaps he was someone we had encountered during our journeys, and I had simply forgotten.

  Everyone in the room was kneeling, their heads bowed in respect. Mother raised her head just slightly, shooting me urgent looks.

  I flicked my gaze between the figure in the fresco and the man before me.

  Ah. That’s where I had seen those eyes before.

  “Arda…” Bianca hissed through clenched teeth, tugging insistently at my sleeve.

  “Young master, get down…” Lelya added in a whisper.

  “Didn’t you learn to lower your gaze in the presence of the Imperial family?” A new voice growled, laced with a tinge of anger.

  A rather intimidating man glared at me, but the only thing I truly noticed about him was the full set of azure armor he wore.

  The baritone voice rang out once more in the silence of the hall. “Don’t make such a fuss, Zoltan. The boy was simply distracted. He meant no disrespect, I am positive of that.”

  I found out I could get on my knees rather quickly.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” I managed to say in a breath. “I failed to realize you had arrived.”

  Watch your tongue. Arda, watch your tongue…

  From down here, Emperor Areyon Velys seemed even taller than he already was.

  Before turning away, he gave me a wink. “Arda, was it? I’ll see you later, then.”

  In the complete silence of the hall, the rustling of his robes and the footsteps of the Imperial Guard were almost deafening.

  I’m screwed.

  Also, if you're enjoing the series, please consider leaving a rating and/or writing a review, it could give the story a great boost in visibility.

  Take care and see you on Friday!