~Where Shadows Step Before the Light~
Kel walked the final stretch of polished marble that led toward the largest ceremonial hall of House Rosenfeld.
The Grand Lunar Hall.
Even from a distance, it was breathtaking.
Not the kind of beauty meant to dazzle—but the kind built to endure ages. A testament to power that did not scream, but existed silently through centuries.
The corridor widened gradually, forming a half-moon vestibule before the doors. Tall pillars of white granite, etched with silver veins, lined both sides. Even under dim torchlight, they shimmered faintly—like frozen moonlight embedded in stone.
The walls were ancient darkwood, aged to near ebony, polished so flawlessly they reflected passing silhouettes. Carvings danced across the panels—dragons entwined with thorned vines, spears angled against crescent moons, histories carved in secretive detail.
Above, the ceiling soared into a vaulted arc—painted not in vibrant colors, but in gradients of grey, silver, and muted twilight blue, illuminated by glowing moonstone orbs held in iron cradles. Their light was soft, solemn—not to brighten the space, but to echo the night beyond.
It didn't feel like entering a hall.
It felt like crossing into the memories of a dynasty.
Kel slowed his pace.
🌫 Kel's Thought
Grand Lunar Hall…
A location bound to pivotal events in every run of the game.
He paused and observed the arch framing the entrance.
Where alliances formed. Where betrayals first took root. Where rising characters became noticed.
Where Kel von Rosenfeld rarely stood.
Because his story was not written to last beyond this event.
But tonight was different.
The Kel in this timeline stood with both feet grounded—not because he expected acceptance, but because he understood rejection.
And had accepted that he would walk through it anyway.
🏛 Detailed Architectural Description
As he drew closer, the full grandeur revealed itself.
Two giant doors of blackened oak, each at least three times his height, guarded the hall. Silver filigree ran across their surfaces, forming patterns resembling constellations—subtle, purposeful, constant reminders of the world beyond the roof.
Directly above the entrance, suspended by four sculpted dragon talons, hung a massive crescent moon crest, forged from some ancient alloy. Its metallic surface reflected each torch in flickering arcs, casting patterns along the floor like ghostly ripples on water.
Beneath the moon emblem was a Latin inscription, carved so finely it almost disappeared from sight.
"In nocte vera rex probatur."
In the night, the true ruler is revealed.
Kel narrowed his eyes.
Appropriate.
The floor beneath him was laid in a mosaic—cold marble against pale stone, forming subtle images only visible from high elevation.
From above, one would see it clearly:
A sleeping dragon coiled around a single seed.
Strength born from endurance.
His boot heels clicked faintly against it.
🧥 Character Detail (Kel)
His formal attire moved with elegance as he walked:
Long black coat, high-collared, embossed with muted crimson trimming
Tailored vest, silk-lined, giving structure yet flexible
House emblem pinned along heart side, silver dragon encircling thorns
Hair loosely bound, strands falling across his temples in calm softness
Gloves perfectly fitted, matte black, hiding the tension of his fingers
His expression remained composed—neither impressed nor dismissive.
Only quiet acknowledgment.
Like someone reading an opening to a chapter he'd already seen, but intended to rewrite.
💭 Monologue — Strategic Reflection
Nobles will measure appearances first.
Then lineage.
Then weaknesses.
I must not provide reaction… only presence.
As he drew nearer, he sensed subtle shifts in air pressure from within the hall.
Laughter in poised tones. Clink of glasses. Low discussions layered behind rehearsed smiles. The familiar tension of hierarchy games unfolding.
Kel did not tense.
His aura remained condensed.
No display.
Only endurance.
He stood before the doors now.
A pair of Rosenfeld knights, dressed in ceremonial armor, stood guard. They glanced his way.
And for the briefest moment, confusion passed their expressions.
They weren't expecting him.
One knight straightened quickly, bowing instinctively.
"Y-Young Master Kel," he greeted softly.
Kel gave a curt nod—minimal motion.
Not friendliness.
Not arrogance.
Acknowledgment without vulnerability.
The knight stepped aside. His fellow followed.
No announcement.
No herald.
Kel's steps forward were his own introduction.
🌒 Final Approach
He looked up at the crescent moon emblem above the doors one last time.
"In the night, the true ruler is revealed."
He exhaled softly.
Then let the night begin.
His right hand reached gently toward the door.
He did not push it.
He waited.
He turned his palm up, the lantern light catching the silver emblem on his coat.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
Opening the banquet hall myself holds narrative risk. Let them open it to witness my entry.
Understanding the silent signal, the knights stepped forward.
With synchronized motion, they placed their hands upon the iron handles.
And the doors began to open—
Slowly.
Deliberately.
🎭 Atmosphere Shift — Arrival
A wave of light and conversation spilled outward.
The vast lunar hall came to full view.
But Kel did not move.
He allowed the hall to reveal itself.
Gasps were not heard.
But breaths paused.
Heads turned.
First one. Then three. Then more.
Just fragments of attention, scattered like drifting embers.
Kel stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Not slow.
Not hurried.
An unbroken, controlled stride.
The polished marble reflected his steps in perfect clarity—as though the hall itself wished to record them.
He passed the threshold.
The moment Kel von Rosenfeld entered, torches flickered subtly.
Not by magic.
By change.
Only visible to those who looked twice.
He did not glance around.
Yet he sensed it.
This hall bears witness.
Tonight… it will remember I walked.