After Thaddeus finished speaking, a maid stepped forward, approaching Luiz and Kallen with graceful poise. Behind her, a male servant followed, carrying an ornate tray with a silver pitcher of wine.
Kneeling before them, the maid presented two exquisitely crafted, royal-silver goblets, their intricate engravings reflecting the cool light of the hall.
On Ares, where the world's unique color dispersion cast everything in a faint blue tint due to the blue sun, certain hues carried different values. Warm tones like gold, copper, and bronze were seen as lesser, overshadowed by the prestige of cool colors; silver, platinum, and deep blues, all considered symbols of true nobility and power.
Luiz and Kallen each took their goblets, their fingers brushing against the icy metal. With practiced elegance, the male servant poured the rich, dark wine into their cups.
Luiz lifted his goblet, turning first to Kallen.
"Cheers," he said simply, raising his cup in acknowledgment of his son's new mantle.
Then, he turned to the gathered guests, his voice carrying an effortless authority.
"Cheers," he repeated, a small smile curving his lips as he lifted his goblet toward them.
The hall responded in kind.
The guests raised their cups in unison, first to Luiz, to Kallen, then to each other, exchanging toasts with mingled warmth and courteous smiles.
And with that, the festivities truly began.
Clans began presenting gifts for the celebration; rare treasures, exotic minerals, ancient techniques... fragments, powerful skills, uncommon and special herbs, custom-made weapons, and more.
Beyond mere gifting, this was another avenue for opportunity. Events like these in politics, were when the affluent, especially the host, opened their coffers of treasures.
Interestingly, at least on the surface, lower-tiered families appeared to benefit the most. Though every clan presented gifts of high value, there was an undeniable hierarchy. The offerings from higher-tiered families were naturally more valuable, while those from lower-tiered clans, though sincere, were limited by their resources.
Yet, the Crimson family maintained a tradition of reciprocation, by giving souvenirs in exchange.The Crimsons, for all their dominance, understood the importance of fostering loyalty. Strengthening ties with the other families ensured a vast network of influence and control, making these exchanges a strategic investment.
For the powerful clans, the souvenirs they received were of comparable or slightly greater value than what they had given, a delicate balance that maintained mutual respect.
On the other hand, the lower tired clans received gifts of greater value. In general, the lower the tier of the family, the more generous the disparity in what they gave versus what they received. It was an unspoken rule that they couldn't afford to present excessively high-quality gifts in public. To do so would invite unwanted scrutiny.
If a lower-tier family possessed something truly exceptional, they wanted to present, they would usually offer it discreetly behind closed doors—unless, of course, they were making a deliberate statement. In such gambles, they could either receive the Crimsons' backing, ensuring their rise in status was acknowledged and protected, or they could be ignored, and paint a target to their backs.
For the elite clans, they played a different game, this exchange wasn't a loss. Unlike the lower-tiered families, they did not benefit from a great disparity in worth. Instead, their reward came in the form of political capital; the strengthening of alliances and the reaffirmation of their place within the Crimson family's inner circle.
Strengthening ties with the Crimsons was an investment, a deepening of alliances that could tip the scales in future conflicts.
If anything, it was the Crimson family that made the larger sacrifice, but that was the price of dominance—ensuring loyalty while reminding everyone why they sat at the top.
Scold the child with one hand and pull them close with the other: this was the philosophy the Crimson family embodied.
Through sheer dominance, they asserted their authority, ensuring no clan ever forgot their place. Yet, with equal finesse, they extended generosity and leniency, fostering ties that made subservience feel like kinship rather than oppression.
By being overbearing, they instilled fear and commanded respect. By being benevolent, they nurtured dependence and loyalty. It was a calculated balance, ensuring that no family could ever stray too far, nor ever desire to.
After a while, Kallen excused himself, and with the other children, they made their way to a grand, open garden within the castle, specifically prepared for this occasion. One of the many gardens of its kind.
Away from the veiled schemes and political maneuvering of the adults in the hall, the atmosphere here was lighter, filled with youthful energy and unspoken curiosity. Yet, while they had distanced themselves from the suffocating weight of their elders' ambitions, the reality remained that, this was their own political stage.
Here, alliances would be formed, rivalries would take root, and unspoken hierarchies would solidify. Beneath the guise of innocent mingling and harmless fun, the next generation's power struggles were already beginning.
"Happy birthday, Kal... or should I say, young lord?" a boy's voice rang out with a chuckle.
Turning around, Kallen saw Atticus approaching with his usual easygoing smile. He was dressed in deep blue robes that complemented his relaxed yet refined demeanor. Beside him walked a girl with striking cyan hair and sharp black eyes, clad in an elegant black dress. Two riff raffs trailed behind them, with goofy expressions on their faces.
"Thank you," Kallen replied smoothly.
He still remembered their first encounter and had already decided: Atticus would be his best pawn. He hadn't dismissed him entirely for that reason. As from the beginning, it was obvious Atticus sought to manipulate him.
By not dismissing him, it gave him the idea that he had left an impression on Kallen... well he had, but not in that way. By allowing Atticus to believe he had left an impression, he was feeding into the boy's own ambitions.
Kallen had no shred of human emotion toward anyone, save for Lyra, and perhaps Luiz, though what he felt for him was closer to disappointment and dissatisfaction than anything else. It still counted as an emotion though.
Even Azarel, his grandfather and Ariel, for all their wisdom and skill as good men and teachers, were nothing more than that... mentors, but never truly figures of attachment. The bond he felt toward Lyra was the only thing he couldn't quite understand, and perhaps never would.
His gaze flickered to the girl beside Atticus, one brow raising in silent inquiry.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward and spoke with crisp elegance. "Claire Emberblade. Daughter of Thorne Emberblade. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Happy birthday, young lord Kallen."
She executed a flawless aristocratic bow, her every movement exuding the grace and precision of nobility.
Kallen observed her for a moment, his sharp gaze flickering over her poised demeanor. Claire Emberblade. The daughter of Thorne. An Emberblade scion appearing before him so soon? Interesting.
Her introduction was flawlessly graceful and deliberate, carrying the weight of her lineage with practiced ease. He could see it in her posture, in the way she spoke, and in the way she assessed him in return.
Kallen simply nodded in return.
He returned his attention to Atticus and flashed him a smile that disappeared as it came in an instant, leaving him to question whether he truly saw a smile, and what it meant.
Turning to the two riff raffs behind, Kallen leaned back slightly, with a relaxed expression.