Chapter 10

The ballroom was a magnificent spectacle, filled to the brim with nobles, each engaged in animated conversations that created a harmonious blend of laughter and murmurs. The air buzzed with excitement as elegantly dressed individuals adorned in luxurious suits and extravagant gowns mingled, showcasing their wealth and status. The women wore stunning jewelry, sparkling under the grand chandeliers, each piece carefully chosen to complement their elegant dresses. The scene was one of opulence and sophistication, a true reflection of the high society that thrived in this lavish environment. However, all that changed abruptly when the clear, resonant sound of a trumpet began to echo over the lively chatter of the nobles. Instantly, heads turned, their conversations fading into a whisper as they focused on the stunning staircase.

This grand staircase was draped in a pristine white stair robe adorned with intricate golden outlined patterns, while delicate silver roses elegantly wrapped around the railing, adding to the opulent atmosphere. At the top of the staircase stood a distinguished man, poised and regal, waiting for the perfect moment to capture the attention of the entire room. As he took a deep breath, he began to speak, his voice rich and commanding, drawing every gaze toward him and signalling the start of an extraordinary evening filled with anticipation and intrigue."Now entering, his Imperial Majesty! Emperor Maximus Julius Albuquerque! And her Imperial Highness, Princess Cassandra!" The grand doors began to swing open, and the opulent ballroom was instantly filled with a palpable sense of suspense and anticipation. Guests exchanged furtive glances, their hearts racing in unison as they awaited the entrance of the illustrious ruler.

At the top of the majestic staircase stood the Emperor, a figure of undeniable authority and power. He cradled the delicate form of Annabel in his arms, her cherubic face framed by soft curls and a faint smile. This unexpected sight caused a ripple of murmurs throughout the crowd. The Emperor, known to many as the God of War, was a man renowned for his steely demeanor and his reputation for being completely devoid of all emotions when he stood before his subjects. Yet, this very same man was now holding a child with a tenderness that surprised everyone in attendance.

As he descended the staircase, the guests could scarcely believe their eyes. The usually imposing figure of the Emperor, who commanded fear and respect, was now softened by the innocence of the child he held. The juxtaposition was striking; the embodiment of strength and the essence of fragility coexisted in that moment, leaving everyone in awe. The sight ignited a wave of curiosity and speculation among the onlookers, who wondered what this display of affection might signify. The atmosphere thickened with intrigue as the Emperor approached the floor, each step echoing with the weight of history and the promise of change.

It was then when the nobles remembered their places and quickly bowed or curtsied to their ruler as he reached the bottom of the grand staircase. The opulent ballroom, adorned with shimmering chandeliers and vibrant tapestries, seemed to hold its breath as they did not move. The Emperor, with Annabel still cradled in his arms, walked through the parted crowd, gliding gracefully towards a pair of extravagant chairs that sat in a prominent location where all could easily see. Not a single word had come from his lips until he reached those majestic chairs. "Here you go, Princess." He spoke gently to Annabel upon softly placing her down on one of the chairs, which was lavishly decorated with a few plush cushions, before turning to stand before the expectant crowd. His face was void of emotions, which made him resemble the enigmatic Emperor from Annabel's dreams and the countless books she had read. Yet, it felt strangely odd to her since she had grown accustomed to his sudden fits of emotion that he would express without warning. "You may raise!" His commanding voice echoed through the ballroom, granting the nobles permission to look upon him once more. All heads raised in unison, and not a sound was heard as they eagerly awaited the words that were to come. "I thank you all for coming on this joyful day!" The Emperor's voice was filled with such fervor and warmth that it captivated everyone in attendance, drawing their full attention to him. "Three months ago, my beloved daughter, who has been in a slumber for 100 years, finally returned!" As those momentous words were spoken, he took a step to the side while gracefully gesturing his arm towards Annabel, causing all eyes to shift and focus intently on her, filled with a mixture of awe, curiosity, and joy. The atmosphere was electric, anticipation hanging thick in the air as the significance of this moment began to sink in for everyone present.

Annabel sat beside the emperor, who held a wine glass delicately in hand, savoring the rich, deep crimson liquid as he took a few measured sips. The atmosphere was electrifying, filled with the chatter of the elite as they mingled and exchanged pleasantries. "I greet the grand sun of the empire, I am the Count of Ramburac." As they sat there, a steady stream of nobles approached them, each eager to introduce themselves, their voices a symphony of titles and accolades echoing through the grand hall.

"I greet the grand sun, I am the Countess of Ramburac." another noblewoman chimed in, as she stood a step behind her husband, pride emanating from their posture.

"I greet the Grand Sun, I am the Heir to House Ramburac." Followed a young noble, accompanied by their heir, an eager child barely able to contain their excitement.

This ball was a prestigious affair, exclusive for nobles and their heirs who had reached their first awakening if they were dragonoirs, or those who were deemed to be over ten years of age for their respective races. Among these were the elves and fae, known for their longevity, which allowed them to mature at a much slower pace much the same as the dragonoirs.

Nobles came forward in an orderly procession, from the lower ranks to the more distinguished, regardless of their race—the hierarchy was respected and observed meticulously. However, Annabel found herself drifting into a daydream, her eyes unfocused as she lost interest in the monotonous introductions.

"Greetings to the Glorious Sun, I am Arch-Duchess Brightwhisk." a voice rang out, jolting her back to attention. She glanced down to see the lush green hair cascading like a waterfall over the woman's shoulders as she curtsied gracefully.

"Greetings to the Glorious Sun, I am Arch-Duchess Brightwhisk's consort." a humble man bowed beside her, his demeanour reverent and respectful, perfectly complementing the presence of his wife.

"It's been a while, Arch-Duchess Brightwhisk." Annabel heard the emperor say, his voice warm and familiar. Her gaze darted to the emperor before returning to the woman, who lifted her head, revealing her striking features.

Standing at an average height, the Arch-Duchess had a pale complexion that seemed to glow under the grand chandeliers. Her large, plum purple eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, while her short eyebrows accentuated her expressive face. The lush green hair framed her face beautifully, with two delicate strands falling loosely at the sides, giving her an ethereal appearance. Her beauty was reminiscent of a forest spirit, enchanting and otherworldly.

This was the vivid description that Annabel had penned for the Arch-Duchess, a character that had captivated her imagination. Although Annabel had envisioned the Arch-Duchess as younger in her story, the resemblance was undeniable; this was truly her.

"I didn't know you would attend as you just had your child not that long ago," the Emperor remarked casually. But Annebel was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the Emperor say this. Child?

As her mind raced, Annebel recalled that in the story she had penned, there were two children born into the esteemed Arch-Dukedom of Brightwhisk. The timing of the Emperor's words suggested that it was the second child who had just arrived. However, this revelation was far from comforting since it hinted at potential complications in the narrative she had created.

"But did you not bring your firstborn?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. This question seemed to cause the Arch-Duchess's consort to become visibly nervous, quickly glancing at his wife for reassurance. "If I'm not mistaken, your firstborn is of age, right?"

"Yes, however, he was not feeling well and unable to attend," the woman replied, her voice laced with a soft smile as she spoke. If Annabel hadn't written the book herself, she might have genuinely believed that the excuse was sincere.

With a quick glance over to the Emperor, a chill ran down Annabel's spine. The expression on his face clearly conveyed his disbelief in her words. It made perfect sense, though; after all, the firstborn child was a boy, and it was well-known how much the Arch-Duchess despised male. Even her own husband she detested and one married him to birth an heir. That poor child must be living a terrible life.

Not that any of that was Annabel's business. She had her own concerns to think about, and the machinations of others weren't her responsibility. Besides, he would later become a very powerful figure in the future, someone who would play a pivotal role in shaping events to come. He would help Tylra navigate the treacherous waters of battlefieldand become a key member of his party. In the grand scheme of things, Annabel knew that her path would eventually intersect with his, but for now, she was focused on her own journey. The future was unpredictable, and the alliances formed today could shift dramatically by tomorrow. It was essential for her to keep her priorities straight and concentrate on what truly mattered to her.