The Grand Banquet (2)
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
A long procession of carriages rolled in, each one flaunting the prestige of its kingdom as they entered the imperial palace.
"An imperial banquet... it's been ages since the last one."
"By the records, it's been over fifty years."
"Not sure if you can even call it a banquet—more like a celebration party after a bloodbath..."
Unlike the older generation, who remembered the terrifying days of the empire's dominance, the princes and princesses knew nothing of its past. Dragged here against their will, they grumbled about the party.
"Dad made me come, but why do I have to stand around as window dressing?"
What did the empire's grand banquet have to do with them showing up? Especially against an empire recently dismissed as weak. Not only were they bowing and scraping, but they had to empty their treasuries for gifts too.
'The empire's scary? That's just Dad's generation. Times have changed... hasn't it?'
And word was, the emperor wasn't even hosting this one—it was the crown prince. Even if it were the emperor, it'd be insulting enough. The crown prince? Utterly ridiculous.
They'd heard he was a good-natured fool. What the hell was he thinking?
As their resentments piled up, the endless line of carriages kept pouring into the palace.
"Welcome to the heart of the empire. We hope you enjoy your time here."
"..."
Those stepping down from the carriages caught sight of the knights' menacing auras and promptly erased "enjoy" from their minds.
The weaker the kingdom, the stronger this vibe got.
On the flip side, one person strode into the palace without a care.
"Hm, so this is the heart of the Bellos Empire."
Valerian, the saint of the Lomper Holy Kingdom. He couldn't wait to meet the crown prince.
'How much has the crown prince changed? And why did he eliminate two of my rivals?'
What was his game?
As various thoughts swirled, the empire continued receiving the procession, meticulously sorting gifts and escorting royals to the annexes one by one.
Of course, some weren't thrilled.
"Why am I not getting a palace...!"
"Apologies, Your Highness. With the numbers, we must ask for your understanding."
They grumbled at first but quickly backed down under the following knights' pressure. Swordmasters—rare gems in ordinary kingdoms—seemed commonplace here. Stirring trouble would only end badly.
Maybe that's why, despite gathering nobles from every nation, not a single disturbance arose.
Finally, the banquet day arrived.
VIPs from each country began filing into the grand hall.
"The Kingdom of Land...!"
The entrance order was strictly hierarchical: lower ranks first, higher last. The empire had set the ironclad rules.
'Ugh, this is insane. Is this a banquet or the empire reasserting continental order?'
'Why do we enter before them? Do they know something we don't?'
'We should be first by protocol... but last? Do they suspect our hidden forces?'
'The empire's been gutting itself lately... how do they know all this?'
The invitees plunged into confusion, unable to decipher the empire's ordering.
Especially...
"The Maselin Kingdom...!"
Everyone gasped as Maselin slotted in midway. They should've been near the front—second or third. Why was the crown princess entering mid-pack?
'What's changed so much?'
'What does the empire know, and how far does it go?'
Such thoughts were fleeting. One by one, the VIPs entered the hall.
At last, the finale.
"Noble blood of the Bellos Empire!"
"His Imperial Highness, Second Prince Bedin Bellos, makes his entrance!"
Not the crown prince, whom everyone awaited.
Second Prince Bedin, rumored to be a fool, appeared. But he looked shrunken somehow—restrained, his presence neatly contained. Passive fit him perfectly.
"Thank you all for gathering to celebrate the empire's changes."
The hall fell silent the moment he appeared. In the suddenly ordered atmosphere, Bedin walked to the center, raising his glass.
"To the eternal glory of the empire."
"To the eternal glory of the empire!"
Then came...
"Let the imperial banquet begin."
The toast and official start. Music swelled, and the stiff crowd began mingling.
But their eyes kept flicking upward.
'Why did the second prince take the podium?'
'Who's sitting that throne overlooking the hall?'
Bedin hosted from the center, not the throne.
'Not on the throne—does that mean the crown prince arrives late?'
'Why isn't he here yet?'
'What's the reason for this delay?'
Haha, hoho. Amid the nobles' chatter and laughter, eyes and minds kept rolling.
Of course, even with the noise...
"Mirne, you look great from here."
"Your Highness, is it okay to come straight to me like this?"
"Hehe, who cares? Isn't a banquet for relaxing?"
Bedin's face lit up at Mirne. He invited her to dance.
"By the way, do you know why the crown prince isn't attending?"
Mirne accepted gracefully, whispering slyly.
"Oh, hyung... said he was heading north, but seems like more work there than expected. He's running late."
So the crown prince was in the north. Filling the vacuum after killing the Northern Duke? Abandoning the palace—and the banquet—for that?
'That casual about it? Just winging it?'
What was going on? Was this just a simple invite-all, eat-and-party deal?
Too bland for such a grand event. Was the point really just celebrating changes and parading props?
'Not impossible.'
With the empire shaky, hide it by flaunting power with foreign props. But hosting this extravagance for that? Something felt off. Gathering everyone meant imprinting something big. Yet the star was absent.
As thoughts churned, the banquet rolled on—from songs to feasts proving the empire's vitality.
"Impressive as always."
"Your Highness looks so handsome."
"Has he been close with Maselin all along? Straight to her the moment it starts..."
"This new spinning toy from Maselin is quite useful..."
The longer it went, the more relaxed everyone got, chatting freely.
Without the crown prince, Mirne filled the void—from Bedin to Valerian of Lomper, and others inexplicably drawn to her.
They vied desperately for her attention. What charm did she have?
As the mood loosened...
Thud!
The music cut abruptly.
Ahem.
The herald, holding position, cleared his throat.
"All, observe proper etiquette!"
Thud!
The hall doors flew open.
The crown prince appeared leisurely.
"H-Huh... Huh?!"
Some froze in terror at his sight.
Thud.
Others collapsed, legs giving out.
"H-Hiiiik...!"
Some screamed outright, forgetting decorum.
No one judged them. Everyone understood.
"..."
In the midst of a jolly feast, a blood-splattered crown prince emerged. His indifferent eyes clashed with his ferocious aura—like he'd waged war alone. His zweihänder still hummed with faint heat.
Who shows up to a banquet like that?
No one dared comment.
Swish.
Sheathing his sword slowly, he stepped forward.
"Sorry I'm so late, everyone."
Heading to the empty throne—no one else's seat—he sat casually, gazing down.
"Mirne of the Maselin Kingdom."
Calmly.
"Would you consider an engagement with me?"
The real chaos began.