Under the open sky, the night had arrived dressed for celebration.
A full moon ruled the heavens, round and luminous, its pale light spilling like warm milk across the palace gardens and stone balconies. Stars scattered themselves freely above, blinking and swaying as though caught in a slow, eternal dance. The air carried a gentle warmth, the kind that settled against the skin without clinging, rich with the faint perfume of flowers cultivated for beauty rather than utility. It was a perfect night, almost suspiciously so, as if the world itself had decided to hold its breath.
Inside the royal palace, the gala unfolded in tones of gold and amber.
The great hall glowed beneath towering chandeliers whose crystals caught the light and broke it into soft rainbows that shimmered across silk, velvet, and polished marble. Music drifted through the space in careful harmony, never demanding attention, only enhancing what was already there. Every note seemed chosen to soothe egos and loosen tongues, to remind those gathered that this was a place of safety, wealth, and order.
The gala was in full swing.
Nobles moved in slow, graceful patterns, gathering and separating like tides obeying invisible currents. Conversations overlapped in murmurs and laughter, each word weighed and measured before release. Goblets clinked softly, servants passed with trays held perfectly level, and smiles bloomed and faded with practiced ease.
Near one of the long banquet tables, Lord Varrick Silvain stood among peers, speaking easily as he gestured with his glass. His laughter rolled out warmly, blending into the surrounding noise without standing apart. He appeared every bit the respectable nobleman, his posture relaxed, his expression pleasant, his presence unremarkable in the way only powerful men could manage. He spoke of trade routes and seasonal yields, of civic improvements and charitable ventures, nodding thoughtfully as others offered their opinions.
None of them suspected a thing.
At the opposite end of the hall, elevated slightly above the rest, stood the King and Queen of Colorada'Sierra. Together, they formed a composed and dignified image, their movements synchronized through years of shared rule. They greeted nobles as they passed, offering warm words, subtle blessings, and measured smiles. Eventually, without ceremony or announcement, they ceased their circuit and settled into stillness, choosing to observe rather than perform.
Beside them stood Princess Stephanie.
For once, she was not locked away in her chambers, but tradition had placed her here, directly at her parents' side. Her gown shimmered softly under the chandeliers, layers of pale gold fabric falling elegantly around her frame, the craftsmanship undeniable. Yet none of it did anything to soften the tension in her shoulders or the restlessness in her eyes.
Her younger brother was nowhere to be seen. He had long since escaped into the crowd, laughing with other noble children close to his age. Their voices rose a little too loudly at times, but never enough to warrant reprimand. They all understood the boundaries well enough to push against them without consequence.
Her older brother, however, was conspicuously absent.
Prince Aurelian Goldenleaf had not attended the gala at all. Immersed in his studies at one of the Great Magic Academies, he had chosen arcane theory over courtly obligation. Those academies, ancient and formidable, had been founded by House Arcanveil itself, their deans wielding authority so absolute that even kings tread carefully around them. Intervention was rare, knowledge paramount.
Stephanie envied him with a bitterness she barely tried to hide.
Her gaze drifted across the room, dull irritation curling tighter in her chest with every passing second.
Gods, this place is boring, she thought sourly. I could die here, and these people still wouldn't know what fun was if it bit them in the ass.
Her eyes moved instead to the guards.
They were everywhere, placed with silent precision along walls, balconies, and entryways. Their presence was subtle but overwhelming, a net of steel and vigilance cast across the entire hall. The palace was locked down tighter than usual, not because of a visible threat, but because tonight mattered.
Rowen, her personal guard, stood far too close for comfort.
She shot him a sharp look clearly annoyed, he did not stop gawking ,either brazen or just stupid.
Nearby stood Commander Cedric, head of the royal knights, stationed at her parents' side. His posture was rigid, his expression carved from discipline and duty. He watched the crowd with a predator's patience, seeing patterns where others saw nothing at all.
Stephanie swallowed, her thoughts drifting despite herself.
Can you really pull this off? she wondered. This insane plan of yours… is this really my only chance? The question made her stomach twist unpleasantly.
She wanted a blunt so badly it felt like a physical ache, a pressure building behind her eyes and at the base of her skull. All she could do now was wait.
The Queen noticed her daughter's restless scanning and leaned toward her gently.
"Is everything alright, honey? You've been looking around quite a bit. Do you need something?"
Stephanie's response came too fast, too sharp. "As if you care. Your selling me off, remember?"
The words hung between them like a snapped string.
The Queen's smile wavered, pain flashing briefly across her features before settling into something softer, sadder. She understood too well. Once, long ago, she had stood in the same place, facing an arranged future she had not chosen. Fate had been kinder to her in the end or so she thought.
Stephanie's path was far less forgiving.
"I'm here if you want to talk," the Queen said quietly.
Stephanie scoffed and turned her head away.
The King noticed immediately,
"What is going on?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with authority. "You better not be trying to cause trouble, or so help me I'll—"
The words were swallowed whole.
The massive doors at the far end of the gala hall swung open.
Sound came first.
A bold, brassy call surged through the hall, rich and resonant, slicing cleanly through conversation like a blade through silk. Gasps rippled outward as heads turned in unison, attention seized by the unexpected intrusion.
What entered next felt unreal.
Twelve towering avian creatures strode forward in perfect formation. Their bodies resembled elegant storks, long-limbed and poised, but their feathers told a stranger, more wondrous story. From their heads rose ornate crests shaped like trumpet pistons and valves, metallic in sheen yet unmistakably alive. Their wings stretched wide, each feather tipped with delicate curves resembling musical notes frozen in mid-song.
Their beaks were long and narrow, shaped like an anteater's snout, flaring outward at the end. Beneath each throat hung a gular pouch, much like a pelican's.
As they advanced, the creatures dipped their heads in unison, drawing air deep into those pouches before expelling it through their beaks. The sound expanded outward as the beaks flared, producing tones as rich and commanding as a polished brass ensemble.
They played in flawless synchronization.
The melody was regal, triumphant, and impossibly precise, each note layered upon the next with such perfection that it bordered on arrogance. These were Aurelihorns, an extinct species restored through the restoration and development efforts of House Arcanveil, drawn back from the forgotten skies of Aurevane.
Flanking them marched elite guards of House Arcanveil, clad in obsidian armor etched with faintly glowing sigils. Their banners bore the house crest, held high as they formed two immaculate lines. A red carpet unfurled smoothly between them, as if the palace itself had learned obedience.
The Aurelihorns raised their heads and played once more.
The hall stood transfixed.
Outside, within the palace processional court, hired adventurers tasked with guarding noble carriages paused mid-conversation.
"Do you hear that?" one asked, frowning.
A distant roar answered.
Then it appeared.
A Runebound Luxmotor, long and imposing, glided into the court. Its form echoed an 2020 Lamborghini SUV Urus ,all sweeping curves and commanding presence. The body shimmered in deep crimson chroma, polished until it reflected the world like a mirror. Golden-edged rims turned smoothly, while rune-etched lines glowed subtly along its sides, casting light beneath it as it moved.
At the hood stood a solid gold emblem bearing the Arcanveil crest.
Crafted by House Everune, this model—the Everune Sovereign Aurex-Class—was a masterpiece of luxury rune-engineering.
The adventurers stared openly, awe and disbelief written across their faces.
The Luxmotor came to a stop.
The driver stepped out and opened the door.
First emerged a woman clad in tailored armor, her gaze sharp as she scanned the surroundings before stepping aside and bowing.
Then came the wives, seven in number, each graceful and composed, their finery whispering wealth rather than shouting it. Behind them followed two concubines, equally poised and silent.
Finally, he stepped out.
Young. Confident. Smiling behind shaded glasses worn indoors without apology.
He wore a modern royal suit, sleek and sharply tailored, its dark fabric threaded with subtle rune-lines that caught the light only when he moved. A high collar framed his face, and a chain of gold rested casually across his chest.
He looked at the palace and smirked.
"Hmph...you call this a palace, so small," he remarked. "Let's go claim our prize, ladies." He said smiling.
"I can't what to meet own new sister." One said their laughter followed him inside.
Within the hall, the announcer's voice rang out clearly.
"Announcing the arrival of Lord Caelum Aurex Valerian Arcanveil, accompanied by his wives—Seraphine Arcanveil, Elowen Arcanveil, Nyssara Arcanveil, Calienne Arcanveil, Virelle Arcanveil, Isolde Arcanveil, and Maerwyn Arcanveil—and his concubines, Lysa Vale and Mirren Kade."
Princess Stephanie felt her stomach drop.
Her resolve at that moment hardened like steel, she was getting the hell outta of this place.
Far beyond the gala and city walls, choas continued ravenous seized the land while smoke crowded the skies, and dealers and adventures bellowed and cheered into the night.