Darius paced back and forth in front of the mirror and pulled on his cheek every now and then. There was this pit in his stomach, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. Apprehension or excitement? It wasn’t the first of the communal feasts hosted by Ironshade, but none in recent history carried quite the same weight. The feast tonight was more than a celebration, it was a statement. A signal to the rest of Kaldora that Ironshade was not broken. Not lost.
He stared at himself once more. That’s right. He was making history.
With a long breath, he ran his fingers through his hair again, not caring if they refused to settle. He wore a finely made brown tunic, the colour resembling polished mahogany wood. Its cuffs bore subtle silver embroidery, Ironshade’s crest woven into the sleeves with care. His shoulders were squared, though his chest was tight.
"Enough," he muttered, shaking himself out of the trance. He left the mirror and strode to the door, slipping out into the corridor. The scent of smoke, faint spices, and beeswax polish clung faintly to the air. Candlelight flickered on the old stones as he made his way to his office, boots echoing quietly with each step.
Inside, his desk was still cluttered. A few final documents regarding the banquet rested atop his notes, seating arrangements, last-minute trade confirmations, and a list of the honorary guests. He skimmed it, signing off the last line with a swift flick of his wrist. He was tempted to sit and gather himself, but a knock rapped against the door.
"Enter," he called, already guessing who it was.
The door opened, and in stepped Ryker, his second. The broad-shouldered man wore a dark forest green jacket, finer than his usual armor but not overly formal. His beard was neatly trimmed for once, and a silver clasp held his shoulder mantle.
"You clean up nicely," Darius said with a smile.
Ryker snorted. "Look who’s talking. I nearly mistook you for a wedding groom pacing his chamber."
Darius rolled his eyes but said nothing. Ryker stepped in fully and gave him a more serious look.
"You’ve done well, Darius. All of this, it’s not just a feast. You’ve steadied Ironshade when most would’ve let it crumble."
Darius opened his mouth, but Ryker surprised him. He stepped forward and gave him a tight, one-armed hug.
"You make us proud," Ryker said gruffly, then stepped back with a faint scowl. "Dot not tell anyone I said that. I’ve a reputation to keep."
Darius chuckled, the knot in his chest loosening. "It will go with me to my grave."
"Good. Now, come on. The horses are ready."
They rode together down the winding path toward Longdale, the late afternoon sun casting long golden rays across the path. Villagers they passed waved, some already bustling toward the center of town where music and laughter were beginning to rise. Colorful banners of pine green and wine red fluttered from stone windows and wooden balconies. Fires had been lit, the scent of cooked meats and sugared nuts already wafting into the air.
By the time they arrived, it was near dusk. Lanterns floated gently above the square, suspended by woven charm-threads that glimmered in the fading light.
Livia met them near the stone arch at the town’s entrance, her cloak dusted with flour and smoke. Her dark hair was pinned back tightly, and her expression was as unreadable as ever.
"Everything’s ready," she said, offering a small nod to both of them. "The main dishes are staged near the north tents. The Dawnbreak table is in the center, as requested. And we’ve lined the perimeter with the pack’s guards. There will be no accidents tonight."
Darius stepped down from his horse. "You have outdone yourself."
"I always do." Livia hesitated, then glanced behind her. "Though... Serena wandered off earlier. Likely taking a breath before things begin. She helped with the arrangements all morning."
Ryker tilted his head. "You let her help?"
"I insisted," Livia replied coolly. "And for once, she was not entirely useless."
Darius smirked faintly but said nothing. His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, then turned as a hush began to ripple through the area.
The Dawnbreak party had arrived. This text is hosted at N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
A line of dark-coated wolves and their retinue began descending from the road, flanked by their own standard-bearers. At the front, the delegate, young, finely dressed, bearing the sun-etched crest of Dawnbreak. Their approach was slow and deliberate.
Darius exhaled and squared his shoulders, nodding once to Ryker and Livia.
"Let’s welcome them properly."
Darius stepped forward, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel path that had been scattered with pine needles and fragrant herbs. As the Dawnbreak party approached, the festive chatter softened into a hum of anticipation. The Ironshade wolves instinctively parted, forming a respectful corridor toward the raised platform where the first toasts would be held.
Riven, the young delegate rode at the head of the troupe, a wiry young man with an elegant build, his golden cloak embroidered with the rising sun. His face was unreadable, though his eyes flicked with interest across the crowd. Behind him followed a smaller escort than expected, no more than eight, but each was dressed in ceremonial finery with sunstone pins fastened to their collars.
Darius stood at the edge of the platform, his hand resting lightly against the hilt of his belt knife, not out of threat, but tradition. Behind him, Ryker and Livia stood like stone pillars, unmoving and watching keenly. Ryker radiated calm strength, while Livia watched the Dawnbreak wolves like a hawk, her eyes were narrowed.
When the Dawnbreak group finally halted, Darius took a step forward and extended his hand.
"Welcome to Longdale, honored guests," he said. "Ironshade is pleased to share its table with you."
The young delegate dismounted, landing lightly on his feet. He stepped forward and took Darius’s hand in a firm grip. "And Dawnbreak is pleased to be welcomed," he replied, voice smooth.
Formality was done, the feast could now begin. The air around them seemed to exhale.