The Banquet

The history books and scrolls portray the Frostborn as arrogant, self-righteous, and prideful. Unlike others on the continent, they have successfully repelled the Empire's assaults for centuries, even at times launching attacks of their own. Their methods and ways remain shrouded in mystery; their kingdom are guarded by the titans' divide, and little, if anything, passes through.

The Frostborn are known to wield a different form of magic, ancient and enigmatic, far older than the Empire's. They regard our magic as unholy and our powers as cowardly. Such disdain has garnered them no favors, and if they ever fall, it is likely that many across the kingdoms would celebrate.

I once harbored such prejudices myself, but as one of the rare outsiders who has gained entry into their kingdom, I have seen their world firsthand. I have walked their roads, dined on their food, drunk their ale, and engaged with their scholars.

In light of my experiences, I must concede: their arrogance is indeed earned.

— Comer, A History of the Frostborn (698 AE)

JOVIAN

The Banquet

The great hall of Icecrown, Frosthold's castle was an immense place. Marble columns adorned with ancient runes and delicate frost patterns rose to meet a ceiling rich with a masterpiece of coffered panels and painted frescoes, telling the tales of the creation of the first men. The floor was a sweeping mosaic of colored stones, cool underfoot and glinting in the light of numerous bronze candelabras. Bronze statues of the great guardian beasts lined the walls, their lifelike gazes fixed on all who entered, casting long shadows in the flickering candlelight.

At the far end of the hall, a raised platform held a long wooden table where my family dined, our banners hanging proudly behind them. Tonight, the usually silent hall was filled with the lively sounds of celebration, as the kingdom gathered to mark my 17th birthday.

I stood at the door, observing the nobles interacting and noting the undercurrent of politics even now. With a sigh, I entered the hall, and the scattered voices gradually quieted as they noticed my presence. My white toga, embroidered with silver threads, swished softly as I walked with an unhurried gait.

I moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings and receiving birthday wishes from nobles, warriors, and common folk representatives alike. Despite my formal education and upbringing preparing me for such interactions, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. My heart swelled with pride as I made my way to the head of the table, where my father, Imperator Cato Nix, awaited with a barely controlled grin on his face.

"Father, thank you for this grand celebration," I said, my voice reflecting both gratitude and the formality suitable for the occasion.

Father stood up, smiled warmly, and placed a hand on my shoulder, then kissed my head. "You are the future of Frosthold, my son. Tonight, we honor your coming of age, your official recognition as the heir, and the future of our kingdom, even in these times of war. Now sit and feast with your family."

The table was laden with roasted meats, fresh fruits, and fine wines. The air was thick with the aroma of spices and the warmth of family. The festivities resumed as I took my seat, surrounded by the people I loved most.

My uncle, Aemilius, leaned over with a grin. "The pup is now a wolf, they say," he teased, ruffling my hair. "But you'll remain a pup to me until you know the touch of a woman and have shed blood with your own sword." His words earned a mix of chuckles and gasps from around the table, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"You know he's right," my father added, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "A man must prove himself in more ways than one."

"Ah, leave the boy be," my grandmother Gaia interjected, her voice warm and soothing. "He's grown up to be a fine young man. Your mother would have been so proud, Jovian." Her words brought a lump to my throat, and I nodded, grateful for her kindness.

Fabius and Fabiola, the twins, were next to speak. "Don't let Uncle Aemilius bully you too much," Fabius said, winking. "He's just jealous because he never got such a grand celebration." Uncle Aemilius scoffed.

"And we all know you're twice the man he was at your age," Fabiola added with a smile. "You'll make us all proud."

My favorite cousin, Marcia, raised her glass with a playful grin. "To Jovian, our future and our hope! May you lead us with strength and wisdom—and maybe one day, finally beat me in a sparring match," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But don't worry if you don't; I'll always be here to keep you on your toes.".

"Oi," Father interjected at the table. "Stop talking about me like I'm going to die soon. I'm still full of vitality, vitality you hear me," drawing laughter around the high table.

My little sister, Selene, sat quietly beside me, her eyes thoughtful. She had always been more reserved, but her presence was a comfort. She leaned in and whispered, "Happy birthday, brother. You'll do great things, I know it." Her words were simple but filled with the confidence I sometimes lacked in myself. I smiled at her and kissed her head.

"Thank you all for your kind words," I addressed the table. "I will give my all to meet your expectations."

As the evening progressed, we dispersed to socialize with the other nobles. I found myself in conversations about the ongoing war with the Obsidian Empire. Seasoned warriors and advisors recounted past battles and discussed future strategies.

"May the guardians protect you always, Princeps," Lady Eldar said, raising her glass in a toast. "And may you lead us to many victories," she added, her voice filled with conviction. I nodded, feeling the weight of her expectations.

"The empire's forces are formidable, even more so than ever before," Lord Varian remarked, his tone somber. "But our walls and our spirit remain unbroken."

I listened intently, aware of the significance of being involved in such discussions, absorbing the gravity of their words. A mix of pride and responsibility surged within me, aware of the challenges that lay ahead. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a fork clanging against a metal cup. We all looked toward the sound.

Imperator Cato stood at the head of the hall, raising his goblet. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

"Tonight, we celebrate not just the birth of my son and his coming of age as Princeps of Frosthold, but the enduring spirit of our kingdom," Father proclaimed, his voice resonating with authority. "The Obsidian Empire may strike at our borders as they have done for five hundred years, but we stand resilient. Our walls, our people, and our guardians have never faltered. We will prevail, as we always have. Raise your glasses, for Frosthold!"

The guests erupted in cheers, their spirits lifted. "For Frosthold!" reverberated through the great hall. I felt a surge of pride, looking up to Father and my uncle as ideal men. Father embodied the wise and strong ruler, and my uncle, Aemilius, the loyal and invincible warrior. I hoped to one day live up to their legacy.

Just as the toast concluded, a messenger burst into the hall, his face pale with urgency. "My lord, the Verdant Hollows have fallen," he whispered, though the hall carried his trembling voice. The celebratory mood vanished, replaced by a tense silence and palpable disbelief.

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The imperator is the kingdom of frosthold equivalent to a king.

The Princeps is the heir to the Imperator; can be male or female.