Chapter 628: Restored Glory
The great hall of the ancient fortress had seen almost no use in more than a century since the Vale of Mists fell to Cellach Lothian. Even when Nyrielle returned to the Vale, staining the waters of the River Luath red with blood as she and her forty-seven prodigy purged every human conqueror and settler from their lands, there had been no feasts or grand celebrations in honor of their victory, only the long, bitter years of reconstruction as a trickle of Nyrielle’s people returned to the lands of their birth.
For decades, the great hall had been carefully maintained along with other unused areas of the ancient fortress, awaiting a day when the Vale of Mists returned to its former glory... or faded at last into the oblivion of history.
Now, however, while the entire fortress had undergone tremendous changes to accommodate the sudden arrival of an army more than a thousand soldiers strong along with more than twice that number in family members, merchants and allies recruited to Nyrielle’s cause, the great hall seemed to have become the center of all of that change, shining in a way it hadn’t for over a century.
The stone walls had all been freshly washed, then painted a soft, subtle grey reminiscent of the Vale’s mists before skilled artisans added harlequin patterns of alternating midnight blue and emerald green to sections of the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. Where the walls weren’t painted with bright colors, they displayed tapestries pulled from storage rooms and carefully cleaned so they could be displayed in all their glory.
Some said that the tapestries had been woven by Madame Zedya herself, and they depicted scenes from around the Vale of Mists and far beyond. Notably, one tapestry depicted a dark, foreboding swamp, filled with trees covered in thorns, supporting vibrant vines with even sharper thorns. Another tapestry prominently displayed something that seemed to be the exact opposite, presenting the frozen vista of a Frost Walker fortress, though the bright whites and icy blues of the tapestry conveyed a feeling that was every bit as dangerous and foreboding as the dark swamp of the Briar.
High above, more than a dozen gilded chandeliers had been polished until they gleamed, each one filled with enough oil to burn for an entire night and hung with more than a hundred crystals to reflect and refract the lamps’ soft, golden light. On the floor below, fresh cedar boughs covered the cold stone floor, filling the room with their sweet, earthy scent and muffling the footfalls of hundreds of people moving about to find their places.
At the entrance of the great hall, Kaisen stared in open-mouthed awe at how much the ancient fortress had transformed since his own days serving in its halls. Next to him, Helga fidgeted nervously with her simple blue dress, adjusting the polished amethyst pendant hanging from her neck while her eyes darted around the great hall for anyone dressed as plainly as they were.
They had already spent several minutes standing in line, waiting for one of the servants to guide them to their assigned seats, and Helga was already feeling incredibly underdressed after seeing the glamorous dresses and elaborate jewels worn by a trio of women from the scaled clan, to say nothing of the palpably mysterious aura that radiated from a group of sorcerers whose robes were embroidered with cryptic runes in thread of silver and gold.
In fact, ever since their arrival at the Ancient Fortress, she hadn’t seen a single person attending who wasn’t at least the Village Elder of a village or a proud warrior carrying weapons that looked impressive enough to be the work of master smiths from far across the mountains. Her eyes searched the crowds constantly, hoping to find a sign of some other common folk who had entered the prestigious banquet because of a family connection, likely seated at a table far to the back of the great hall, but she had yet to see a single person who fit that description.
"Relax," a gruff voice said from behind her as her father-in-law cast his own gaze around the hall. "You saw how the guardsmen at the front gate reacted to our invitation. No one will look down on us for how we’re dressed tonight. We aren’t here to impress these people anyway," he added pointedly as he tugged on his gray beard.
"Most likely," the old man concluded. "Little Heila just wants a moment to introduce us to the Seneschal. We’ll have a few minutes of polite hellos and then she’ll be too busy tending to her mistress to bother with us."