[Imperial Palace — Eshkaran Empire — Great Banquet Hall — Continuation]
The great bronze doors stood open beneath the watchful gaze of carved divine dragons.
Beyond them, the imperial banquet hall shimmered with the splendor of the Eshkaran Empire. Golden oil lamps hung from cedarwood beams, casting warm light upon walls adorned with intricate reliefs of ancient kings, victorious armies, and divine creatures. Pillars of polished black stone, inlaid with lapis lazuli and gold, rose toward the vaulted ceiling.
The fragrance of burning myrrh and frankincense mingled with the sweet scent of dates, pomegranates, and spiced wine. At the far end of the hall, upon an elevated dais, sat the Malik Zayrakh Azrath.
At the foot of the imperial dais, Vaerun came to a halt.
He bowed before the throne, his midnight-blue robes falling in a graceful sweep around his boots. The silver embroidery along his sleeves caught the lamplight, resembling the faint shimmer of moonlight upon a dark river.
Seyra bowed beside him. Well...she attempted to bow.
Her little body bent forward with considerable seriousness, though the result was somewhat less graceful than her father’s; she is still learning after all.
Nevertheless, she maintained the solemn expression of a princess graciously allowing the entire imperial court to witness her impeccable manners.
"May the Divine Dragon spread its wings above Your Majesty," Vaerun proclaimed, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "May its eternal flame guard your throne, its wisdom guide your reign, and its divine blessing endure through every passing year."
Seyra lifted her head; her violet eyes sparkled as she repeated the blessing.
"May the Divine Dragon bless Your Majesty with a reign so glorious that even the stars shall remember your name! May your enemies tremble, your people prosper, and your treasury overflow with gold!"
She paused.
Then, with absolute sincerity, added, "And may your birthday feast be so magnificent that no one dares serve you a tiny slice of cake!"
Silence, an absolute, magnificent silence. Somewhere among the courtiers, someone appeared to forget how to breathe.
Vaerun’s fingers twitched slowly; he placed one hand upon his daughter’s little shoulder.
"Seyra."
She turned her face towards him as she whispered. "What? I included prosperity."
Vaerun looked down at her; his expression remained perfectly composed, but the faint movement of his jaw suggested that he was reconsidering whether teaching his daughter court etiquette had been a worthwhile investment.
Malik, meanwhile, regarded the two of them from his throne. The stern lines of his face softened as his amber gaze descended towards Seyra.
"Your blessings are received with gratitude, Azram and yours, little one, are certainly... memorable."
Seyra beamed, not the innocent smile of a child who had merely pleased an emperor. This was the smile of someone who had just successfully completed the first stage of a highly classified operation.
’Hehehe...today, Malik, I shall make sure you receive the greatest birthday present of your life.’
Beside her, Vaerun glanced down.
"Something is happening inside that tiny head of yours."
"I am an innocent child, Papa."
"That is precisely what concerns me."
Seyra blinked innocently; she had no idea why her father was so suspicious. She was merely a harmless four-year-old girl.
A harmless four-year-old girl who happened to possess the strategic thinking of someone who had lived an entirely different life.
There was absolutely nothing concerning about that...nothing at all. Before she could defend her innocence, Vaerun felt a familiar gaze settle upon him.
It was not the hostile stare of an enemy measuring his strength. It was a gaze he had grown accustomed to feeling at every imperial ceremony, every council gathering, and every occasion when they stood beneath the watchful eyes of the empire.
He turned, and Malik was watching him. For a brief moment, the sounds of the banquet hall seemed to recede.
Silver met amber across the distance.
The Emperor’s expression remained composed, his posture befitting the ruler of an empire. Yet the warmth in his eyes betrayed something that no amount of imperial authority could conceal.
It was quiet, steady, and far too familiar to be mistaken for anything else.
Vaerun held his gaze and then—
"Greetings to Malik!"
The interruption came from the approaching footsteps of another noble house. Vaerun turned. Kassur Nabu approached with his son, Naram, his daughter-in-law, Eshara, and his grandson, Enlil.
The family advanced towards the dais, their garments woven from fine silk and embroidered with elaborate patterns of gold thread. Heavy ornaments adorned their necks and wrists, while the scent of expensive oils followed them.
Kassur walked at their head; his face was arranged into an expression of perfect reverence. Unfortunately, the satisfaction lurking beneath that expression was considerably less convincing.
The family bowed.
"May the Divine Dragon bless the Malik," Kassur proclaimed, his voice smooth as polished stone. "May its wisdom guide Your Majesty’s reign, its divine flame preserve your empire, and may this special occasion bring clarity to all who serve beneath your crown."
The final words carried a peculiar emphasis, not loud enough to be considered disrespectful. Several courtiers exchanged glances.
Malik’s smile disappeared, and the warmth that had softened his expression moments earlier vanished, replaced by the cold, imposing stillness that had earned him the dreaded name... The Demon of Eshkaran.
"Raise your heads."
House Nabu obeyed.
The atmosphere tightened.
Conversations faltered around them, and even the musicians seemed to lower their notes. The gentle melodies of lyres and reed flutes continued, but the hall had acquired the peculiar silence of a battlefield moments before the first arrow was released.
Malik’s amber eyes settled upon Kassur.
"You have chosen an interesting blessing, Lord Nabu."
Kassur’s lips curved slightly.
"I would not presume to offer Your Majesty anything less than what the occasion deserves."
"Then speak plainly."
A brief silence followed. Kassur folded his hands before him.
"I merely hope that, in the coming year, Your Majesty shall be surrounded by those whose loyalty is as unwavering as their public devotion."
His gaze shifted, briefly and deliberately towards Vaerun. It was a small movement, almost insignificant, but in a court where a misplaced glance could carry the weight of a declaration of war, nothing escaped notice.
Vaerun did not react; he stood beside his daughter, his silver eyes fixed upon Kassur with the detached indifference of a man observing an insect that had wandered too close to his wine.
Malik’s voice grew colder.
"And you believe my household lacks such loyalty?"
"I would never presume to question Your Majesty’s judgment." Kassur bowed his head slightly.
"Though even the most discerning ruler may occasionally find that affection clouds the view from the throne."
There it was...the accusation. Wrapped in courtesy, polished with flattery, and delivered beneath the sacred blessing of the Divine Dragon.
A rather impressive attempt at poisoning the imperial atmosphere.
Seyra’s smile slowly disappeared.
’Oh...so that’s how we’re playing.’
She looked at Kassur, then at Malik and then at her father.
’Ah...that old fox...’
Kassur was not merely questioning Papa’s loyalty. He was attempting to suggest that the Emperor’s personal attachment had compromised his judgment. In other words, he wanted the court to believe that Vaerun’s influence over Malik was a political weakness.
How convenient, how predictable, and how incredibly irritating. Malik leaned back against his throne, his gaze never leaving the nobleman.
"You speak as though you have uncovered some great truth."
"Only a concern, Your Majesty. A servant of the empire would be remiss if he kept such concerns to himself."
"Then you are fortunate," Malik replied, "that I have not yet asked you to explain them."
Kassur bowed again.
"Of course, Your Majesty. I would never wish to trouble your birthday celebration."
Malik’s voice was quiet, and the words settled over the hall like the shadow of an approaching storm. Vaerun felt Malik’s attention shift towards him once more; there was no question in that gaze and no accusation.
Only something heavier, tangled with the affection Kassur had just attempted to turn into a weapon.
Vaerun met his eyes without hesitation; he had stood beside Malik through wars, bloodshed, political conspiracies, and the countless burdens of an empire.
A few carefully chosen words from an old nobleman would hardly change that. At his side, Seyra’s little fingers curled around the fabric of his sleeve.
She looked from Kassur to Malik.
’So he has brought an ugly present to the birthday feast. How unfortunate...I had already prepared a present of my own.’
She would simply have to make certain that Kassur’s little contribution never reached the Emperor.
"G-greetings, my lady..."
The timid voice came from behind her.
Seyra turned and a few steps away stood Enlil Nabu. The little boy had his hands clasped tightly before him, his cheeks tinged with pink. His eyes moved uncertainly between Seyra and the intimidating adults surrounding them.
He seemed to be concentrating very hard on remembering how to stand properly.
Seyra’s eyes brightened.
"Enlil!"
The boy startled.
"Y-yes?"
She hurried towards him and slipped her little arm through his. "Come on. We have lots of work to do."
Enlil stared at their linked arms, his cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink.
"W-we do?"
"Very important work."
"Oh." He glanced at her, then quickly lowered his eyes. "I... I can help."
"Good."
Seyra nodded solemnly. "You have to do exactly what I tell you tonight."
Enlil’s mouth opened. He looked as though he wanted to ask several questions but could not decide which one should be asked first.
"E-even if I don’t know what it is?"
"Especially then."
A tiny pause, then he nodded. "O-okay."
Seyra smiled with satisfaction.
’Excellent, a cooperative assistant. A little shy, perhaps, but that could be overlooked. Nobody was perfect.’
Unfortunately, her father had noticed.
Vaerun’s gaze descended towards the two small figures, more specifically, towards the little hand currently wrapped around Enlil’s arm. His expression did not change but his silver eyes narrowed by the smallest degree.
"Seyra."
She turned.
"Yes, Papa?"
"Where are you going?"
"To play."
"With Enlil?"
"Yes."
Vaerun’s gaze shifted towards the boy. Enlil immediately straightened, the poor child looked as though he had just been summoned before the imperial executioner.
"G-good evening, Azram."
Vaerun regarded him and for a moment, he said nothing. Then his attention returned to his daughter.
"You can play here."
"But, Papa, we need privacy."
. . .
. . .
The musicians continued playing, a servant carrying a golden wine vessel nearly stumbled.
Vaerun muttered in shock, "A... privacy?"
Seyra nodded.
"Yes."
Vaerun looked at his daughter, then at Enlil and then at their linked arms. His four-year-old daughter had just requested privacy with a five-year-old boy.
For one long, silent moment, the Azram of Eshkaran looked as though he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this banquet.
"Seyra."
"Yes, Papa?"
"You are four."
"I know, Papa."
"And he is five."
"I know that too."
"And you are asking me to let you take him somewhere private?"
Seyra blinked.
"Papa, we have lots of work to do."
"A work?"
"Yes."
"What work?"
"Important work."
Vaerun stared at her. Seyra stared back, neither appeared willing to surrender. Finally, Vaerun spoke. "Then you may do this important work somewhere I can still see you."
"But—"
"Somewhere. I. Can. See. You."
Enlil shrank beneath the Azram’s gaze and Seyra sighed dramatically. Honestly, her father was becoming increasingly difficult to manage. She had only requested a little privacy. Was that so unreasonable?
"Fine."
She turned away with a tiny pout. "But you’re being very suspicious, Papa."
Vaerun’s expression remained unchanged. "I could say the same of you."
Seyra huffed.
Ravian, who had witnessed the entire exchange, leaned towards Vaerun. "Azram, they are only children."
"I am aware."
"Then perhaps—"
"Ravian."
"Yes, Azram?"
"Do not finish that sentence."
Ravian immediately closed his mouth, he had served Vaerun long enough to recognize the tone. It was the same tone the Azram used when someone suggested an exceptionally foolish military strategy.
And, apparently, when his daughter wanted to play with a boy.
Across the hall, Seyra looked back at her father. Vaerun looked at her and a silent battle of wills unfolded between them. One involved the Azram of Veyrath, a four-year-old reincarnated schemer, and a very nervous five-year-old who had absolutely no idea what he had agreed to.
At last, Seyra sighed.
"Fine but you’re being very unreasonable."
"Go."
She marched away with Enlil, still holding his arm. Vaerun watched them leave, his gaze followed the little hand wrapped around the boy’s sleeve.
Captain Ishtar waited a moment before leaning closer. "Would you like me to keep an eye on them, Azram?"
"No."
A pause.
"Keep both eyes on them."
Captain Ishtar lowered her head.
"Of course, Azram."
He wisely decided not to ask what the distinction was. Seyra led Enlil behind a row of towering bronze pillars, where the music and conversation faded into a distant murmur.
The pillars were decorated with carved lions and winged bulls, their imposing forms illuminated by the golden lamps hanging overhead.
She glanced over her shoulder, her father was still watching. And naturally she had expected nothing less. Once she was reasonably certain that the adults could no longer hear their conversation, Seyra turned towards Enlil.
She lowered her voice.
"Enlil."
The little boy immediately straightened.
"Y-yes?"
"Tonight, you have to do exactly what I tell you."
His eyes widened.
"E-exactly?"
"Exactly."
He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. "W-what if I do it wrong?"
"Then I’ll tell you what to do."
"Oh."
He looked relieved.
"Okay."
Seyra studied him. The boy was nervous, shy, and clearly unfamiliar with the sort of trouble she intended to create.
Still, he seemed kind and, more importantly, he was Kassur Nabu’s grandson. Which made him a rather convenient person to have on her side and she leaned closer.
"I need you to help me make something happen."
Enlil blinked.
"What thing?"
"You’ll find out when it’s time."
He hesitated. "Is it... scary?"
Seyra considered the question.
’Would it be scary? Well, depending on how one defined the word, perhaps.’
There was a possibility of embarrassment, political humiliation, a minor disturbance, and a very satisfying opportunity to make a certain old nobleman regret opening his mouth but no bloodshed...probably.
She smiled.
"Not if you stay with me."
Enlil thought about that, then he nodded. "Okay. I’ll help."
Seyra patted his arm approvingly. "Good. You’re my most important helper."
Enlil’s cheeks turned pink again, he ducked his head, a shy little smile appearing on his face. Seyra looked at him.
’Such a simple child.’
For a brief moment, she almost felt guilty. Across the hall, Kassur Nabu continued speaking with the nobles, his expression smooth and composed. He appeared perfectly comfortable, as though he had not just attempted to stir trouble beneath the Emperor’s own roof.
Seyra glanced towards him, her little smile slowly sharpened.
’You brought a nasty surprise for Malik. Let’s see how you like a surprise of my own.’
At the far end of the banquet hall, beneath a carved cedarwood arch, Master Belran Ashur stood with a golden cup in his hand. Unlike the other nobles, he did not appear particularly interested in the imperial exchange.
His attention was elsewhere and his eyes followed the little girl standing behind the bronze pillars, whispering something to Enlil Nabu.
For a moment, he watched them in silence, then his gaze shifted towards his own child. He leaned down slightly and murmured a quiet instruction.
The child looked towards Lady Seyra and a moment of hesitation followed. Then, after glancing once more at Master Belran, the little figure began crossing the crowded banquet hall.
Seyra remained unaware of the approaching footsteps, she was far too occupied with her own little conspiracy, nor did she know that another young schemer had just entered the game and before the night was over, two very different plans would collide beneath the golden lamps of the imperial palace.
The Emperor’s birthday celebration was about to become considerably more interesting.