(OOC: Let's try this again...)

At that moment, the entire hall erupted with noise and lights. Tables materialized as if from nowhere, magically transported from a hidden chamber somewhere in the citadel, with food already laid out on it, steaming as if fresh from the ovens. From doorways hidden by tapestries and the armored guards who probably could've been mistaken as decorated statues came servants and dancers, and probably servants dressed like dancers for several of them pirouetted around the tables, producing from their flowing scarves and drapes goblets and glasses of wine and juice and scattered flower blossoms and sweet smelling perfume into the air. Music filled the air from what seemed like the ceiling, bouncing around the hall with upbeat, pompous melodies, and sparkles drifted down from above in an endless rain, light as snowflakes.

Lights illuminated dark corners of the hall, revealing stages already decorated with flowers and performers poised in the opening dances that would precede many that night, spurred into dance by the lights themselves. Illusions of butterflies cascaded off of the stages and dancers in synchronization with the music followed by illusions of flowers and birds that even chirped sprouting out of the very banisters and balcony that the three royal families sat on. Even the food seemed to be magicked to accompany the taste of the two vastly differing nations, their scents alluring to even those who weren't even hungry. And thanks to the thousands of specially created wards attached to just about every chair and table in the room, even those who were even slightly allergic to the magical energies found their sneezes and coughs suppressed to nonexistence, that even they couldn't help but be immersed in the hall that was literally magicked to captivate everyone's awe. The mages of the fortress probably devised some sort of magical device to even evoke that experience in anyone present.

All the visitors quickly found themselves reoriented to face one of the tables, and the gawking and 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of the nobles and middle class quickly turned into the clinking of dinnerware, forks and knives bumping into glasses, and the gnashing of teeth. Whole chickens, lambs and pigs were torn apart, salads and soups quickly vanished, glasses filled with wine were quickly emptied only to be replaced and refilled by servants and dancers with an inexhaustible supply of food and wine. Conversations filled every table, even those tables that shared both nobility and middle class found their exclusive snobbish nature dullened by the good will in the atmosphere and the wine. Those who could eat no more sat back to watch the performers or stare at the dancers or rose out of their seats to participate in the dances held at the wide stretch of space at the center of the hall, hundreds of people performing the traditional group dances probably rehearsed weeks before the actual occasion. And then they returned to their seats for more food that continued to reappear, hot and fresh.

There was a conglomeration of noble women and girls as well as a few dancers clustered around one end of the table that sat the Peltian high nobles and officers, most of whom were old men who saw the world through battle hardened eyes. None of the women cast their attention toward those men, however, looking instead on the only fair, fresh and young face that belonged to Cedric Lowell. There was a half dozen empty glasses strewn about his dinner plate smeared with the grease of food and a rosy blush to his entire face. His blue eyes glimmered with the tale he spun on his smiling lips and the women listened on with increasing attention.

"...And sure enough, there they were! Bandits, planning to lay siege to the city." He turned sharply toward the nearest woman with a pretty face, a movement that coaxed a light gasp of surprise from all the woman there. "Now imagine this, my lady... I am standing a top the hill, looking down upon the pathetic dirt camp of the bandits, my sword in hand, and the bandits all turn toward me and bared their swords."

One of the ladies placed a dainty gloved hand to her lips, leaning closer to Cedric. "My goodness, what happened then?"

Cedric grinned, his eyes turning toward her. "My dear, there may have been a dozen bandits against I, but they are still a band of ruly, uncultured and brutes who have never really known the sophistication of the sword." He lifted his hand, grasping at the air like he would a sword and gave a few effortless slashes in the air, then flashed a brilliant smile. "It took me a minute to unarm three of those rogues and they all fled from me, screaming for their mommies!" He let out a laugh.

Arthur Lowell let out a scoff, sawing away at the piece of meat on his dinner plate. "I didn't know that my son had grown to become such an adept storyteller."

Cedric turned his head toward his father, but spoke to the women around him. "My father here is jealous that I tell my exploits better than he."

"Cedric, that's enough." The woman beside Arthur turned a sharp eye toward Cedric. Her gray hair was streaked in black and her gaunt, wizened face regarded Cedric with scrutiny. "Besides, don't you think that these tales you tell are far too heroic for the likes of a simple city border patrol?"

Cedric's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Simple indeed! Then men of the city border patrol couldn't tell bandits from residents if those men were brandishing sword and demanding them their gold!" He laughed loudly, the women chiming in with their giggles.

"What was a man of your caliber doing aiding the 'simple' men of the city border patrol?" One of the ladies leaned down, effectively placing herself between Cedric and the maiden that was clinging to his arm. "I would've thought such a refined young man wouldn't associate himself with the lower class."

"My lady, it would be unbecoming of me if I hadn't aided them." He slid an arm around her back, pulling her onto his lap. "Besides, I have a responsibility to all the people of Pelta Lunata to protect them, and if it means so much as fighting off uncultured mountain men, then so be it!"

"Oh, and what you do you say about our glorious treaty made with the mountain nation of Grisworld, eh lad?" The man seated across from Cedric's father turned to the boy, a flush of wine on his face as well, except his speech was less slurred than the boy's. "There isn't much use for heroics now that the war is over.

"Oh yes! I suppose there won't be as much bandit attacks on the fair cities of Pelta Lunata now that our beautiful Lady Lannister has been wed to the Prince of Griswold, eh? I should suspect that she would be doing most of the protecting in that union, she seems far more capable than the fair prince!" Cedric laughed.

One of the ladies playfully pushed against Cedric, smiling. "Please, Cedric. I'm sure that what he needs is a fair bit of support from his subjects now that he is to be made King of Griswold."

"A fair bit, I'm sure! I suppose I'd have to keep an eye on him lest he prove to be as incapable as the city border patrol as he seems!"

"That's enough, Cedric." Arthur's voice cut into Cedric's laughter, and perhaps even any conversation around their table would've been silenced as well if there wasn't already so much noise in the air. The smile around Arthur's eyes had faded, replaced with sterness. "I would not have you speak of the Prince in this manner, especially when in his presence."

Cedric cast a glance up to the balcony where the Prince and Princess were sitting, a look that bordered on envy and disgust. "Please, Father. They cannot possibly hear us from such a distance. Besides..." He turned his attention to another lady who had edged in beside him, his face softening into a seductive smile. "Kristopher Vilenthrope appears to be more suited for needlework and embroidery than ruling an entire kingdom. Griswold is in need of more capable men, don't you think so, my lady?"

"Cedric!" Arthur pushed back in his seat and stood up, turning to stare down at his son and all the women who clung to him. "That is enough! You will not speak of His Majesty Vilentrope this way!"

His wife quickly followed suit, rising from her seat to wave her hand. "Enough pleasantries this evening! Away, all of you!" she snapped and the woman all scattered, throwing back glances and smiles in Cedric's direction.

Cedric frowned, watching the women go. "You have scared away tonight's company, Father."

"And you have had far too much to drink!" Arthur sat himself down, taking the wine bottle from beside Cedric's plate and placing it between himself and his wife. "You can hardly tell what is polite in this situation, speaking ill of the groom on such an auspicious occasion."

"Auspicious, is it?" Cedric faced Arthur, his handsome face twisting into a scowl. "The great war between Griswold and Pelta Lunata ending in something like a treaty? Ending in a marriage which we've given over our Princess to them and gained nothing but assurance that they'll not attack us!" He crossed his arms. "I can't believe we've conceded to the demands of a nation where a woman is Commander! It's preposterous and dishonorable to all those veterans who died before us! Fighting for the glory of our nation!"

"The men who died on the battlefield were fighting for the peace that we have now gained. And you can hardly speak of glory and war when you've spent more time womanizing and showing off than studying war," Arthur retorted.

"Well, there isn't much reason to study war now, is there, Father?" Cedric stood up in his seat, his fouled mood showing clearly on his reddened face.

"Where are you going?"

But Cedric didn't answer his mother, only stalked away, fuming. She let out a sigh, placing her silverware down on the table. "You know Cedric is a sensitive boy, Arthur, there was no need to be so harsh."

The man across from Arthur chuckled, reaching over to take the bottle of wine. "Hardly a boy, now Lady Cornelia. He's become quite the lady's man. I'd say he fell as far away from the tree as possible, wouldn't you say Commander?"

"Arthur, Darius. We're not in a war anymore."

Darius laughed, wiping the sweat off of his brow. "What, so I can't flaunt my own title as Colonel anymore?" He leaned forward, turning to Arthur who was staring at the food on his plate as if it had gone rotten. "But, really. Amazing what a little bit of wine will do to bring out any man's true thoughts, eh Commander? I mean, Cedric was all for the marriage only this morning!"

Arthur placed his knife and fork down, pushing his plate of food away. "The stupid boy hasn't ever realized what war is like. He has no idea the sacrifices both nations have had to make in order to get here and just how valuable peace is to the common people. All he's interested in is women and wine," he muttered, his eyes following his son into the crowd.

Cornelia sighed, tossing the folded napkin onto her plate. "He's just angry that he can't get every woman there is in Pelta Lunata now that Princess Hilde is spoken for. Hasn't he had that pubescent fantasy of her since she started her ridiculous ocean conservation program?" Cornelia turned to Arthur, only to find that he had straightened up in his seat, his hands laid flat on the table and his eyes fixated beyond Darius. "Arthur?"

There was a crash followed by the tinkle of shattering glass loud enough to capture attention from nearly every part in the room. Cedric's voice boomed in the silencing hall, "What do you think you're looking at, commoner?" There was a servant on the floor amidst scattered shards of glass and food, but he wasn't the center of attention for Cedric. Another man in a plain black suit was looking down at the servant before turning to face Cedric's drunken gaze. Cedric stepped closer to the man, waving a fist. "Do I look interesting to you? Maybe you want to chance your sword against me, huh?"

The man took a step back, his posture cautious, but a wry smile still spread on his face. "Of course not, my lord." His eyes darted to the side where the nearest guards had turned to look in their direction. "I'm afraid that we'd break something more valuable than either of our prides."

"Is that so? You think I'm capable of losing my pride here? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Should I?"

Cedric's eyes flashed with the insult and his hand fell onto the hilt of his sword. "Are you mocking me? I am Cedric Lowell! Son of Arthur Lowell, Commander of the Pelta Lunatan's Naval force!"

Arthur rose from his seat. "Unbelievable..."

The man lowered his eyes. "Forgive me if I do not sound intimidated, my lord. Neither of these names have much meaning to me."

"Perhaps, I shall give them meaning for you then!" He unsheathed his sword, the blade glowing a vibrant purple hue. Sight of the blade caused several nobles to gasp in surprise and retreat as far back as possible and a number of iron knights stepped forward, spears at the ready, but Cedric didn't seem to notice them at all. He waved his sword about as he spoke, creating streams of light in its path as he made a few fancy strokes in the air. "Behold!! Years of martial training under the tutelage of the Legendary Gregory the Quick, hero of the Battle of Yaga Plateau! The might of Cedric Lowell!!"

Cedric's spun in a circle, whipping his sword out. The man, and just about everyone in the hall covered their faces as a gust of wind swept through the hall, throwing aside napkins and empty dinner plates and spilling most of the beverages to the carpeted floor. Cedric rushed forward, the light gathering at the tip of his sword before he swung it at the man who leapt back in surprise. The light gathered was released in a series of flashes, energy striking the man so that he was thrown to the floor. Cedric's sword whipped up above his head and began it's descent on the man, stopped only by the streak of another flashing sword.

Blade clashed against each other, Cedric's redirected to strike the ground in a brilliant flash of golden light and what sounded like an explosion. Almost everything in that room was pushed back with the impact, chairs falling over and even a few nobles losing their balance and crashing down on others behind them. Screams echoed the hall following the deafening explosion, including the stamping of several armored boots and shouting, once belonging to Arthur who now stood before Cedric, blade pressing Cedric's blade tip to the floor.

Arthur brought one hand down in a fist on Cedric's blade hand, then whipped the sword out with his own sword before ramming a shoulder into Cedric and throwing him to the floor. Cedric struck the ground, though not hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and his sword clattered noisily across the floor to where the guards had formed a circle around the entire situation, weapons poised. Arthur sheathed his weapon angrily. "Cedric Lowell! What is the matter with you?! You would dare turn a sword against a citizen of Hagar when we are in the hospitality of King Ascoth?!"

Cedric pushed himself up on an elbow, one hand pressed against his chest as he glared up at his father.

Arthur returned Cedric's glare with an intense one of his own, making the boy turn away. Several of the guards approached Cedric before Arthur stopped them. "Wait, I will have one of my men escort my son out, there is no need for you to leave your station. Darius!"

"Yes, Commander?"

Arthur turned to the ex-colonel and his wife who had followed him from the crowd. Cornelia knelt down to Cedric, helping him rise to his feet, but Cedric just shrugged her off. "Take Cedric back to the carriage, and make sure he doesn't do anything else recklessly. I'll be there shortly to deal with him."

Arthur watched as his son, Darius and Cornelia hurried away, acutely aware of the silence of the hall and the embarrassment burning in his chest at that very moment. He turned around to face the balcony where the King of both Hagar and Pelta Lunata stood, watching as his family sped away in shame, and pushed one fist against his chest in salute. "Forgive me your Majesties, for the damage and trouble my son has caused."

King Ascoth laughed. "That's quite alright. Perhaps we have served too much wine this evening, isn't that right Vesper?"

The king of Pelta Lunata managed to crack a dry, unhumorous grin on his face. "Yes, perhaps so."

"Well, we cannot spoil the occasion on account of drunken belligerence can we? Let us serve some water and continue with the festivities!" Ascoth disappeared behind the railing of the balcony, leaving the King of Pelta Lunata to throw a disgruntled look down at Arthur.

"Keep your son in check, Arthur."

"Of course, my Liege. My deepest apologies." Arthur bowed deeply once more, relieved that the sound of conversation and movement was beginning to return once more to the hall. He let out a sigh once both kings were away, finally looking down the man who was Cedric's unfortunate victim of the night. The man had yet to rise yet, probably shocked by the closeness of the final strike, his gaze fixed on the mark where Cedric's sword had struck the floor. "I must apologize to you as well, are you alright?" He bent down, offering a hand to the man.

The man turned his head, and for a second, Arthur was taken aback by his violet eyes. The man grasped Arthur's hand, pulling himself to his feet and looked brushed himself off, smiling. "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you for protecting me, I feared for my life for a moment back there," he laughed a little too casually for Arthur. "I think I may have provoked him unknowingly, so I must apologize for everything that has happened."

The commander smiled, studying the man's eyes again. They seemed normal now. He wasn't sure what he saw in that split second that the two made eye contact. "No, I should have kept a better eye on him. Are you positive that you are unharmed? Ah..."

"Oh, August. Dr. August Zachariah at your service, my lord." He pressed a hand against his chest, bowing. "And I am fine. Your son's technique was more a show of magic and light than anything," he said laughing.

Arthur shared the laugh, but couldn't help but feel more annoyance in flower in his chest at the second insult directed toward his son.

"I find it fascinating however. What skill your son must have to have sculpted such an interesting pattern on the ground with his attack."

"Eh?" Arthur followed August's sight to the burn mark on the ground. It was in the shape of a cross, one end stretched toward the balcony the royalty sat on.

"It looks a bit like a sword, does it not, my lord?"

Arthur felt his smile falter. He had rescued someone who was certainly unusual, to have treated that encounter as something as trivial as cloud-watching. "Yes... Well, I must take my leave. I hope that you are well and bid you a good night."

"Yes yes! Please, do not let me hold you." August grinned, watching as Arthur turned around and marched toward the staircase leading to the outside. He turned again to the pattern on the floor which was already being cleaned up by a myriad of servants. "Truly fascinating, the course fate has chosen for me."