Crashing the Party
For weeks now, the palace had been a hive of anxious activity, every corridor echoing with hurried footsteps and whispered instructions. All this fuss was supposedly for the little prince’s birthday, but everyone knew the real reason was to gather the continent’s most important people under one gilded roof. Nobles, diplomats, and merchants from every direction had been summoned, each one hoping to leave with more than just a slice of cake. The guest list grew so wild that even the palace staff seemed overwhelmed, scrambling to find beds for everyone. Some guests ended up in the spare rooms of distant relatives, others in the finest inns, and a few even paid a fortune to borrow a noble’s estate for the week, leaving the actual owners bathing in money in some crowded inn. It was all a bit ridiculous, really.
Even once everyone had a place to sleep, the real trouble began. So many different customs, faiths, and egos crammed together in one place were just asking for disaster. The king had to hire extra guards and even a handful of mercenaries just to keep the peace.
The kitchens worked day and night, hauling in crates of strange spices and delicacies from every corner of the world, just to keep everyone happy. The halls were dressed up with borrowed art and gaudy decorations, all in the hope that the foreign guests might feel a little less out of place.
Of course, all this extravagance was draining the kingdom’s coffers dry, but the king hardly seemed to care. He was too busy charming every guest who crossed his path, spinning promises and deals like a spider weaving its web. I wondered if he even noticed the cost, or if he just hoped someone else would pay for it all in the end.
Some such deals had already been made, as some guests had arrived weeks ago, with everyone finally arriving in the nick of time. The Territory of the Dwarven Expeditions, a human nation firmly under the thumb of the Dwarfs, and the Ivory King, leader of a tribal federation on the continent's northern coast, had arrived just the day before. Both parties had recently fought a bloody war, still boiling beneath the surface. They didn't trust each other at all and agreed to the passage on the Ainbeck river only if the King himself went, while the Territory of the Dwarven Expeditions, or TDE for short, sent its chief of state, accompanied by some of the most influential dwarves from the banking clans. Officially, it was to ratify a peace agreement and settle a border dispute between the two parties, with Armantis acting as a neutral mediator. But in reality, both parties were using this opportunity to seek allies who could help them settle this war.
Why the dwarven overlords refused to help their own colony, I couldn’t say. Maybe they just thought it was beneath them, or maybe they enjoyed watching their subjects squirm. Either way, it left the TDE looking a little lost and desperate.
The TDE’s ship that crawled down the Ainbeck looked more like a floating steel barrel than anything else. It was armored and squat, reminding me of those old Japanese turtle ships, but without any of the charm. It sat low in the water, heavy and graceless, as if it would rather sink than sail.
The Ivory King’s arrival was a different story. His longship was all sharp lines and open decks, with wide sails that caught the wind like wings. A thick metal ram jutted from the bow, slicing through the waves as if daring anyone to stand in its way. Compared to the TDE’s lumbering ironclads, it looked almost alive, ready to dance circles around them.
Apart from them, there were, of course, diplomats and nobles sent by the Emperor of Aquendria, a conglomerate of twelve nations in a gigantic river delta, also known as The Twelve-canal Realms of Aquendria, united under one banner in the name of free trade. Their lands stretched between the sea in the north, directly bordering the tribes led by the Ivory King, as well as the TDE and the Great Ocean in the continent's middle. They were firmly on the side of the northern tribes, as they needed their permission to build and operate their biggest canal yet, or they would risk constant raids and attacks by slighted tribesmen. Once completed, it would connect the two oceans and all their other twelve main canals into a single massive network, enabling trade on an unprecedented scale.
South of Aquendria was the Grand Duchy of Eichenherz, fiercely independent and stubborn as an old oak. I once tried to get Janus to explain why they still called themselves a duchy when they were their own nation, but after the fifth rebellion and the third change of rulers, I gave up. All I really remember is that they’re obsessed with their freedom and have a love for wood—every kind, every shape, every use. I suppose there are worse things to be known for.
Then there were the last visitors from this side of the Mountain range that divided the continent, the maritime city-state: Pearl Crown of the Two Tides, or more often simply called Salmaris after the Royal family's last name. They had sent their current acting queen while the king stayed home. She had arrived two weeks ago with a small fleet of slender azure catamarans pulled by a swarm of swordfish mermen armed with long harpoons.
And from beyond the mountain range came a delegation of Ibasan politicians. Because, despite the ever-present war almost every year, the Ibasans send delegates to officially declare peace. It had happened so many times that they were one of the country's most frequent foreign guests. I, of course, wondered why we even entertained such a circus, but the actual reason was simple, if infuriating. Many spices and goods exist only in Ibasan, or can only be "Acquired" on its surrounding island. It was pure greed that the Ibasans didn't even care about the troops they lost each year; it gave them a public reason to finance their raids and military. They used us as a boogeyman to scare their own population into obedience while sending slaves and former slaves, who had just earned their freedom by enslaving and murdering others, to die at our walls.
The other visitors weren't nearly as controversial. There were the Brotherhood Militia from the isle of Bragg, envoys from the great Zayr Nisa Al-Tajir's homeland on the southern continent's edge, and the Sultanat Tilal Khadra, known for its lush green Mountains on the edge of the world's greatest desert. Some Island Kings came from the Dragon Isles, a chain of volcanic islands that were once each home to migrating Fire dragons. A couple of merman tribes arrived as well, one even with their whole city in tow, carried by their leviathan. It was one of the largest hermit crabs in the world, with a beautiful shell for a house that shone in all the colors of the rainbow. It was so big that it could hold an entire city carved from coral, with tens of thousands of mermen living in it. All this made the other merman nervous, as hermit-shell tribes are often prone to stealing ever-bigger shells from other tribes whose Leviathans were hermit crabs or gigantic sea slugs.
Now, all these important people were packed into the palace, swirling through the halls in a blur of laughter, whispered deals, and clinking glasses. The air was thick with perfume and secrets. Just as I was hoping I could quickly enter and disappear in the crowd, the announcer’s voice rang out, calling everyone’s attention to the door.
“It enters Lord Janus Yuwen, future heir and Marquess of House Yuwen, with his wife, Lady Ruby Yuwen.”
A hush swept through the room, first among the local nobles, their faces frozen in disbelief, then rippling out to the rest of the guests. Suddenly, every eye was on us. I felt exposed, like a butterfly pinned to a board, and all I could do was stand there and wait for the world to start spinning again. The chatter slowly returned, but I could still feel the weight of their stares—especially from the women, whose glances were sharp enough to draw blood. I wondered if I would ever get used to being the center of attention, or if I would always feel like an intruder in their world.