Chapitre 4: The Royal Court
The gathering of nobility was always a business that Snow found overwhelming. It was difficult enough having to remember everyone's face and name after not seeing many of them for months or even years. To have to do it in formal wear was even more of a hassle to him. While he could admit to the appeal of royal garb, Snow would have gladly been dressed in a less-than-flashy tunic and rider boots any day. Gold tassels, white breeches, an embellished corset vest, silk capes, ascots, and sashes just felt uncomfortable to him. His eyes would steal the sight of Prince Ali alongside his sister, Princess Paribanu in their affairs at the opposite end of the court, surrounded by subjects of either nation.
Neither of the two had to be beside one another to understand the other's dying interest in the party. Talking of nothing but government, trade, and law in the heat of what was supposed to be a celebration was tiring. The kingdoms are being united! Couldn't all the talk of politics not wait until all this had settled down, Snow wished.
Time felt like it had come to a tortuous halt. Being surrounded by the crowds grew to be suffocating after so long. He looked over among the guards, and locked eyes with his combat instructor, Fowler. The man nodded at him, and Snow nodded back, twice. Fowler was slow to respond but kicked himself from the wall he was leaning on and made for the center of the room.
Separate from either party, King Arthur sat beside Sultan Huran, accompanied by his vizier, Jafar, and his Queen, Ophelia. The two men had already begun partaking in intoxication, laughing merrily as if the wedding had already commenced, though it wasn't for another two days. They'd never admit it, but both were glad to be partaking in each other's company rather than having it deal with all the party guests. Yet, as happy as the two fathers were, for the sake of appearances they remained somber looking.
Queen Ophelia had always presented herself to be a woman of renowned presence and pose, never once letting a single wrinkle blemish her skin. She was very aware of herself at all times. A single thin eyebrow raised just enough to indicate her attention given as she gazed over the masses of her subjects and the royal court. She held her wine glass with refinement, nails crisp as they tapped around the outside of the glass before raising it to her lips. Not a drop was ever allowed to stain even the edges of her lips. Despite her sharp, snake-like exterior, the moment she opened her mouth to speak her voice rang with wit and charm, welcoming all within arms reach to partake in all sorts of conversation.
Years ago, there had been another queen. Snow's birth mother, Queen Scarlett, had passed away due to an untimely illness when he was hardly a teenager. Though stricken with grief, King Arthur had in turn taken a second wife some years, meeting her at a masquerade ball one evening. The event had been intended for Snow to find a suitable wife, but instead, King Arthur had found love, himself.
Ophelia had enchanted him from the first time they danced together. Wine flowed as free as spring water every night since their marriage, and now with a child of her own, having just come into the world, Stone Roll's royal family had been in the utmost celebration. It would seem their happy union would grow even larger with the addition of Sultan Huran's family joining them.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Fowler's voice erupted in the center of the hall. "Let us now begin our next display of fine entertainment. Is there any man brave enough to face each other in a friendly duel?" Without hesitation, either nation's bravest (or perhaps stupidest) half-drunken fencer stepped into the center of the hall with their blades drawn.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone