As the oath swearing came to an end the self proclaimed system came back.
In which the shadows of dozens of attendance grew larger as they bled into one unified agglomeration forming on people's faces, shifting to form words.
It was as if the whole room was trying to spell the words, making sure they are big enough so that no matter what ,what I well see first ,well be those words engraved into my eyes, they say:
"Don't worry, I am always here."
It spelled ominously from bleeding black words.
It was unnerving.
My face paled, but I tried my best not to act on it, as no one seemed to notice the shadows.
But it didn't help bury his weariness, but patience was one of the few good traits he had.
The words shifted once more. They were more direct, less intimidating, as if actually trying to say something useful for once:
"Don't react, just read. You will need guidance if you want to last long."
For first time words seemed normal and filled with mischief
"Do nothing and wait."
After the words were written, the shadows moved next to me, morphing into a humanoid dark figure beside me as if waiting for something.
Immediately after that, chancellor stepped forward, tipping a tall hat, grin like a coin flash.
He wore a fitted purple tailcoat that caught the light in violet knives, a long coat-train rippling like a stage curtain. Pale blue hair braided down one shoulder, eyes bright and cunning.
He moved with magician's poise — flourished cane, a coy salute — as he announced:
"His Excellency now summons his house and vessels of his duchy to celebrate this grand day. Let today be a day to be remembered."
A dark liquid paper was pushed to his face.
"Give a small nod."
He did as it asked.
---
Not long after, they were in a completely different hall.
The new hall was larger. It smelled of spice and hot fat; steam rose in ribbons and settled like gossip against the rafters. The chamberlain's voice clipped the keyed hum into silence.
The chancellor was mostly in charge of readying the hall — a girl with amber eyes hard as hot glass. Long, ink-dark hair fell in loose twin ribbons, half-shadowing a face flushed with stubborn heat. was helping him in aspects related to supply.
I let them seat me. The chamberlain tapped the ledger at his belt with one neat finger. He counted the seats.
Sitting in the hall, beside me was an empty chair, and on the left side of me four kids sat, with the older being closest while the others were placed after him. They had a gloomy look on their faces unlike the rest of the room.
It did not take long for me to realize that, for some reason, even though I was acting unnaturally quiet and closed, they did seem perplexed. But they didn't dwell on it, as if it was somewhat expected.
After realizing that, I started observing my surroundings once more.
They guest where enjoy themselves,but they were to quite special for people enjoying a celebration , moreover some people where acting in weird way
On the table to my left, Critine Heliotrope sat, acting in a way that made me doubt my eyes when he sneakily took a coin that fell from a drunkard to himself. When he noticed me looking at him, he pretended he didn't notice. He was also giving the silver cups and plates a funny look. Moreover, he didn't sit for long; as the day moved on, he kept moving around, not sticking to one place.
Something else that caught my eyes was this:
At another table things were getting heated between two people. They seemed to hold equal status, as everyone was avoiding being caught between them and hoping they calmed down.
One of them was obviously drunk.
While the latter didn't even seem to be close to any mug or cup from the start of feast.
A slim figure, pale-haired and androgynous, tilted forward as he struggled to balance himself.
"Why is everyone so down? We are celebrating, aren't we? I know it's because of the duke. Most of you are afraid."
"Here we go again with this madness. You already— but let me spell it to you: of course it's a joyful event! It's just that unfortunate events happened before it, and we could delay the feast or coronation for obvious reasons."
He really didn't mean the joyful part.
"We just have to be considerate, but that doesn't mean you should not enjoy yourselves."
The man who replied had hair that was a matte black that never seemed tamed, strands slipping from under a soft cap to ghost around his temples. Pale skin and faint, restless circles under his eyes made him look younger than he should be.
"You say that, but everyone is so afraid of the brat that it feels like a funeral. The ungrateful — we are celebrating his rise...."
"... Your emotions and state aside, watch what you say. You're crossing a line. The irony of it being you, who let his mouth slip."
"Hey, loosen it a bit. You are proving I am right."
When he locked eyes with me and noticed me looking at him, he paled slightly.
But I pretended not to be confused, as if I had just started looking at him.
He visibly relaxed at that.
Wait — they think I am sad. But why? Is it because the previous duke is dead, or something else? First, not terrible news. It means my terrible acting did not backfire for once.
"You haven't eaten, Your Excellency," a familiar voice broke his train of thought.
The chancellor was giving him a tired look, but behind that look was something he rarely saw — genuine concern.
"I guess we all hoped for it to have happened differently. The sickness, and those traitors. If it wasn't for them... oh forgive me, I lost myself there. There is no point to dwell past or open old wounds I hope you forgive me