The Hydrangea Festival was one of the few occasions when the entire Zeppelin family was expected to sit at the same table.
It was an old tradition.
Older than most of the current royal customs.
Once every year, regardless of political duties, personal disagreements, or the increasingly complicated relationships between the royal households, the royals gathered for a formal family meal.
At least, that was the idea.
In practice, it was closer to placing twelve predators inside the same cage and hoping nobody moved.
The dining hall of the royal palace had been prepared accordingly.
A table of polished mahogany long enough to accommodate the entire royal family stretched across the center of the chamber. It was inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. The chairs were high-backed and carved, each one bearing the crest of House Zeppelin.
Silverware gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers.
Flowers from every province decorated the centerpieces.
Hydrangeas in blue, violet, white, pink, and green filled enormous porcelain vases.
At the far end sat the royal seat.
Normally, King Aldirk Zeppelin would have occupied it.
Today it remained empty.
The King had returned from the Privy Council exhausted after spending most of the previous night discussing the growing instability throughout Aerthos.
He had gone directly to his chambers. Which left the family to themselves.
To the right of the kings seat was first Prince Leon Zeppelin. His mother, Queen Irena, sat beside him. Leon wore white robes accented with gold, the colors of House Zeppelin.
Tall.
Handsome.
Confident.
He carried himself with the ease of someone who had spent his entire life being told that the throne would eventually belong to him.
Beside him sat Second Prince Viola Zeppelin and her mother Queen Amara. Viola's white robes carried silver accents. Soft curls flowed over her shoulders while side-swept bangs concealed her right eye almost entirely.
Her visible golden eye wandered lazily across the table.
She looked bored.
Very bored.
Behind her stood Heather.
Her attendant's posture was perfectly straight. Her expression was completely unreadable. Beside Heather stood Afloc, Viola's butler, who had been quietly studying the dining hall as though planning a military operation involving cutlery.
Next was Third Prince Phoebe sat beside Queen Seran, noticeably detached from the theater she had found herself. Lavender accents decorated her robes. Phoebe barely touched her food. Her distant, melancholic gaze drifted toward the flowers. She looked like she might fall asleep at any moment.
Beside her was Fourth Prince Kush, nineteen, sat with his mother, Queen Isolde. He was broad-shouldered and stern-faced, his gaze sweeping across the table like a general surveying a battlefield. His white robes were accented with crimson.
Next to him was Fifth Prince Mirelle sat beside Queen Mira. Green accents decorated her robes. Small and delicate with sharp, bright, endlessly curious eyes. Unlike everyone else, she seemed genuinely happy. She had already begun sampling the various festival dishes.
Sixth Prince Rowan sat beside Mirelle with his mother Queen Lyra. Blue accents marked his robes. At sixteen, he still possessed some of the softness of youth. His golden eyes repeatedly darted between his older siblings. He looked like someone who had walked into a battlefield and only realized it after sitting down. He fidgeted with his silverware, wearing the nervous energy of a boy who knew he was out of his depth.
Beside him was Seventh Prince Hermes Zeppelin and his mother Queen Nadia.
Lean and sharp-featured with a gaze as cold and calculating as a winter storm, his black-accented robes made his golden eyes appear even colder. He sat quietly with a smile playing on his lips.
Watching.
His sister, Eighth Princess Naomi sat beside him with her mother Queen Celeste. Beautiful, poised, and unnervingly deadpan, her white robes were accented with rose, projecting a cold, aristocratic aloofness that pushed everyone away. She looked as though she would rather be anywhere else.
Ninth Prince Orion Zeppelin sat next to them with Queen Vesper. Tall, handsome, and sharp-featured, his smile was wide, warm, and utterly open. His warm smile made him seem almost out of place among his siblings. His white robes were accented with amber, and he waved amicably at the attending servants with an ease that felt entirely too polished to be genuine.
Next was Tenth Prince Bjorn beside Queen Niamh.
His eyes were sharp.
Predatory.
Though masked behind a mask of childish innocence.
Eleventh Prince Selene sat beside Queen Tania. She was small and delicate, violet accents decorating her robes.
At ten years old, Selene looked deeply offended by the entire concept of lunch being eaten late.
And finally—
At the far end of the table sat an empty place.
Reserved for the Twelfth Prince.
Raileigh Zeppelin.
Viola stared at the empty seat.
Behind each royal sat their respective pair of elite attendants, statuesque and silent. Similar to how Heather and Afloc were moving for their own Prince.
Viola toyed idly with a silver fork, her expression a mask of aristocratic boredom.
'A year...'
It had been almost a year since she'd properly seen him.
A year since they'd shared a meal. A year since she'd heard him complain about palace food. She missed him. More than she wanted anyone to know.
'Where are you, little brother?'
She sighed for the fifth time. This caught Heather's attention who leaned leaned closer, her voice a low, disciplined murmur.
"Is everything quite alright, Your Highness?"
Viola didn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on the empty chair, on the silence that hung around it like a shroud.
"I wanted to see him," she murmured. "It's been so long."
Behind her, Afloc quietly approached carrying additional cutlery.
"If I may offer reassurance, My Prince, the young prince has always marched to the beat of his own drum. I am certain he will grace us with his presence eventually."
Viola glanced toward him.
"Are you sure?"
Afloc smiled.
"He has never been particularly fond of formal gatherings."
"That's putting it mildly."
Viola looked at the empty chair again.
"I hope so."
Then—Hermes, who had overheard them, spoke.
"I wouldn't count on it."
The table quieted slightly.
Hermes calmly cut another piece of meat.
"Speaking of our dear little brother," the Seventh Prince drawled loudly with false concern,
"has anyone actually seen him? Or has he decided to grace us with his absence once again?"
Several heads turned.
"He's not exactly the social type," Rowan muttered, picking at his bread.
"Not the social type?" Hermes's golden eyes glittered.
"Well I guess that's typical behavior coming from him. Some say he's just antisocial, but let's be honest—he's simply arrogant."
"Careful, Hermes," Kush warned.
"Am I wrong? Awakening an anomaly-class Trait like The Fool has gone straight to his head." Hermes leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the table.
"He challenged all of us for the throne. He declared himself a contender. And yet he doesn't have the decency to attend a family meal. He's the youngest by a wide margin. He needs to learn respect for his elders and the bloodline."
"He's young," Naomi said flatly.
"That being said we can't excuse his snobbish behavior." Phoebe countered.
"If I have to be here so does he."
"Let's not be too harsh," Orion chimed in with a dazzling, faux-innocent smile, his amber accents catching the light.
"He's had a difficult upbringing, after all. Without a mother to guide him..."
"Well said my dear brother" Hermes nodded.
"But let's not dance around the elephant in the room. Raileigh's lineage isn't just neglected—he is the son of the First Queen. If Father decides to lean on traditional primogeniture and sentimentality, Raileigh holds a legitimate, horrifyingly strong claim to the throne than even Leon does."
The moment those words dropped, the temperature in the grand dining hall plummeted. Even the queens, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, shifted in their seats. The princes exchanged glances. Hermes's words had struck a nerve.
But they weren't without truth.
The first queen. The king's beloved. The woman who had died giving birth to Raileigh.
It was not set in stone that the first born was the one to inherit. Whichever one he felt was the best selection would be chosen. Meaning First Prince Leon, the heir apparent could lose their struggle for power. If the king chose to base his succession on lineage—on the bond he had shared with his first wife—then Raileigh, despite his age and his eccentricities, was a threat.
Seeing the fragile peace shattering, First Prince Leon set down his fork and spoke, flashing a brilliant, reassuring smile that instantly drew every eye.
His voice was gentle but firm.
"Now, now, let us not indulge in idle paranoia," He said smoothly.
"This is a family festival. We are brothers and sisters, bound by blood. Sure, our ultimate goals may align along parallel paths, but we must not make such wild speculations—especially regarding our youngest brother."
Leon leaned back, adopting a tone of magnanimous pity.
"Just as our brother Orion mentioned, we must remember that his mother passed long ago. Because he has been effectively orphaned and left to his own devices, he sometimes acts... eccentric or immature. We should think nothing of his absence, show him grace, and simply enjoy our food."
The siblings, out of respect for him, nodded as the tense atmosphere slowly began to thaw.
"Agreed." Kush said.
"Of course." Orion smiled.
Mirelle immediately returned to her food.
Rowan visibly relaxed.
Even Bjorn leaned back.
The conversation shifted to safer topics—hobbies, the upcoming Continental Congress, the state of the festival.
But Viola remained silent. Her hand trembled as she raised a glass to her lips.
CRACK.
The crystal shattered an red liquid spilled across the white tablecloth. The sound echoed through the hall like a gunshot and everyone turned. Heather was instantly in motion, moving with terrifying speed to clean up the spilled liquid with a specialized absorbent cloth, while Afloc smoothly stepped away toward the side kitchens to procure a fresh glass.
Leon turned his head, his sharp gaze locking onto her.
"Is everything alright dear Sister?"
Viola offered a pristine, flawless smile, though a muscle in her jaw ticked. "It is nothing, Brother. Just a momentary clumsy slip."
Leon studied her for a moment longer, then nodded and returned to his conversation with Bjorn.
Viola's smile remained. Inside however, she was furious.
'How dare he.That cunning fox,' She seethed
'Hermes brought up the succession deliberately to fish for information and test our reactions, and Leon expertly hijacked the entire narrative! With a single speech, he positioned himself as the benevolent elder while completely belittling Raileigh, painting him as a pathetic orphan so none of us take him as a real threat!'
Her Arcane Eye, hidden beneath her side-swept bangs, twitched with barely contained fury.
Heather, without breaking her cleaning rhythm, leaned down just an inch and whispered in a voice cold as ice, "Calm yourself."
Viola took a slow, agonizingly deep breath, forcing her racing heart to steady.
"I am calm," she whispered back.
"I'm calm." she repeated adjusting her hair to cover the eye.
Hermes, however, wasn't done. A few minutes later he turned toward Orion.
"What do you think about the pause in trade from the Free Cities in the South?"
Orion considered the question.
"I heard that imports from Veridian are slow because some of their costal warehouses were attacked by the Red Maw Pirates. And there was something else about an Island sized fish though I'm not sure if that part is actually true." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Hermes nodded.
"True, the story about the fish aside, we need to really do something about the pirating problem. Administration could put measures in place so that our Fleet would leave the White Wall and patrol the Gulf of Ae to prevent further attacks. Oh..." He abruptly interrupt himself with a fake sigh of theatrical disappointment.
"Ah, speaking of administrative matters...I remember Raileigh once mentioned an interest in our Royal Fleet. Did you know that, Orion? The Fleets main duty is to guard against the monsters on the other side of the white wall while Nordhelm are supposed to be the ones patrol with their navy. If only he would grow up and attend family gatherings, we might actually have something to talk about."
"You're right," Orion said carefully.
"Raileigh does seem to enjoy... unconventional interests."
"Unconventional, yes." Hermes smiled thinly. "But perhaps that's just another way of saying immature. If he would just—"
"If I would just what?"
The voice came from the entrance to the hall.
Every head turned.
Raileigh Zeppelin stood in the doorway, his golden eyes gleaming. He had changed into white robes accented with shimmering silver. Beside him stood Elias, his expression carefully neutral, and Jamie who was digging aggressively into a pastry she had apparently snatched along the way and was already staring at the food on the table with undisguised hunger.
Behind them stood Todd, dressed in an immaculate maid's uniform, and Chad, wearing a butler's uniform with visible reluctance.
"I'll attend whenever the hell I want," a bright, unapologetic voice echoed loudly from the grand arched entrance of the hall.
"And it certainly isn't up to a bitter little vulture like you to dictate what I do, Brother Hermes. I'm going to be future king, after all."
Leon blinked, quickly recovering his composure as he stood up.
"Ah. Raileigh. How pleasant of you to finally grace us with your presence."
Raileigh flashed a dazzling, unbothered grin, strolling casually into the hall.
"Yes, yes, pleasant, I'm sure. I had some things to sort out. But I heard my name being discussed, so I thought I'd come see what all the fuss was about."
He paused.
"And thank you Brother Leon."
Leon blinked.
"For what?"
"For trying so valiantly to defend my honor in front of all our lovely siblings. But I am quite past the age of needing a babysitter, so you really ought to stop."
Raileigh delivered the line with an exaggerated, childish pout that was so blatantly sarcastic it left Leon entirely speechless.
'Wait', Leon thought, his mind stalling out.
' Did he just... mock me?'
Before Leon could process the insult, a shimmering, translucent bubble floated towards Raileigh's face. With a nonchalant flick of his finger, Raileigh casually popped it, the soft pop echoing sharply across the cavernous, dead-silent dining hall.
The bubble had descended from the ceiling, having been hidden among the crystals of the chandelier. The psychological impact was immediate. The table grew deathly tense. Every single Prince and Queen recognized what that bubble meant:
He heard everything.
He had been listening to their whispered plots and political dismissals the entire time.
Despite their bravado, some of the princes shifted uncomfortably. Others stared at Raileigh with barely concealed unease, suddenly remembering that this "eccentric orphan" wielded the terrifying authority of The Fool.
Viola, watching from her seat, allowed a tiny, razor-sharp smirk to touch her lips.
'Oh, my darling little brother.'
Leon's left eye twitched once—a violent, uncontrolled micro-spasm. He forced a stiff, tight smile.
"Do not just stand in the doorway, Raileigh. Come. Join us."
Raileigh turned to Elias and Jamie. "Come on."
Instantly, the royal guards stationed along the walls, moved to intercept the foreigners.
Raileigh waved a hand dismissively, his smile never faltering. "They're with me."
He took his seat at the far end of the table, Elias to his right, Jamie beside Elias. Todd and Chad took their places behind him.
Hermes leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing into slits as he stared at the two newcomers.
"And who are these two?"
Raileigh smiled cheerfully.
"They're my friends."
Hermes scoffed.
"Apart from your attendants, you don't have friends."
"Oh, Hermes, you really don't know anything, do you?" Raileigh said with a chuckle.
"Well its only fair that I introduce them."
Jamie had already started eating.
Raileigh gestured to her. "This is Jamie Thorne. Daughter of the former Hunter Chief of Blackwood."
Several heads turned. Jamie, pausing mid-bite of a honey-glazed tart, gave a casual, grease-stained wave. Elias leaned over toward Raileigh.
"Why on earth did you make us come here?"
Raileigh patted Elias's shoulder reassuringly, his smile radiant. "Relax, Ellie. I've got this completely under control." He whispered back.
Elias wasn't reassured but Raileigh continued anyway.
"And this," Raileigh placed a hand on Elias's shoulder, "is Elias Dukker. Son of Lord Alaric Dukker." He paused, letting the words sink in.
"My best friend."
The table went completely silent.
The princes exchanged glances. The queens stiffened. Even Leon's composure flickered.
Elias felt the weight of a dozen gazes. The tension was palpable but he didn't really understand why the gathered royals had such a reaction to him. And then it dawned on him what Raileigh had just done.
'Son of a—'