With a breath that did little to steady my nerves, I followed my parents and sister through the towering double doors of the banquet hall. Instantly, we were swallowed by a tide of warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of stringed instruments weaving through the air. The sheer opulence of the room threatened to overwhelm the senses—golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over polished marble floors, and the scent of aged wine and expensive perfume mingled with the crisp coolness of mana-infused air.
The nobility of the Slatemark Empire moved like a well-rehearsed symphony, dressed in garments spun from wealth itself. Gowns shimmered as though woven from stardust, and suits were tailored with an elegance that spoke of old money and older ambition. Conversations flowed like fine liquor, pleasant and polite on the surface but undoubtedly laced with a thousand undercurrents of scheming and silent rivalries.
