The central dining hall of the imperial palace in Auzelian was vast, solemn, and suffocatingly grand. Tall arched windows looked out over the darkened lower city, while crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, bathing the long table in a harsh golden light. Silver platters piled high with roasted meats, steamed root vegetables, and crusty breads stretched down the center, flanked by crystal carafes of deep crimson wine. Yet, despite the lavish spread, the air in the room was as cold and stiff as a tomb.
Alderon sat at the head of the long table, dressed in a sharp, high-collared velvet tunic with polished silver buttons that looked entirely too stiff for his frail frame. His hair was combed back with rigid precision, but the dark, heavy hollows beneath his eyes betrayed a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Across the table from each other sat the remaining guests, Yerel, effortlessly composed in a tailored dark blue coat, and the royal siblings from Solaric, Gillian and Iryna.
