The banquet hall of the Lionhart Estate had been arranged with diplomatic precision, each table positioned according to centuries of protocol. The Patriarch sat at the ceremonial high table with Alex at his right hand—the place of honor traditionally reserved for those being recognized. Yet despite this careful arrangement, all eyes continuously drifted toward the family honor table where Klaus Lionhart sat.
"I've served three generations of continental nobility," whispered an elderly steward to his younger colleague as they prepared the first course, "and never seen anything like this. A recognition ball where no one watches the one being recognized."
Indeed, the evening's intended honoree had been all but forgotten amid fascination with Klaus's transformation. Military observers gathered in tight clusters, their conversations focused entirely on the implications of his changed state.
