The balcony was quieter than the banquet hall, though not completely silent.
Music drifted through the open doors behind us, accompanied by the occasional burst of laughter and the low murmur of conversations. Somewhere below, a servant was guiding a late-arriving carriage toward the palace entrance. Its wheels rattled over the stone before the sound gradually faded into the evening.
I rested my forearms on the railing and took a breath of the cooler air.
That was better.
The banquet hall had been warm, crowded, and full of people who seemed to consider a conversation unsuccessful unless they had learned something useful about the person standing in front of them. Out here, at least, nobody had approached me to ask about my family, my interests, or my opinion on some matter I had never heard of before.
I could appreciate that kind of peace.
"You look relieved."
The princess stood beside me, adjusting one of her sleeves after the breeze caught the fabric. She had been quiet for the last minute, looking out over the gardens, but now she was watching me with an amused expression.
"Was it that obvious?"
"A little. You looked much the same way when I suggested coming outside."
"I was trying to be polite."
"You looked at the doors twice before I finished asking."
I glanced at her. "I didn’t realize I was being observed so closely."
"You’re not particularly difficult to observe."
"That’s a troubling thing to hear from a princess."
She laughed softly and returned her attention to the gardens.
The palace grounds looked different from the balcony. During the day, they were probably full of gardeners, servants, and nobles taking leisurely walks beneath the trees. Now, with most of the paths growing dark, the lamps along the walkways had become more noticeable. Their light fell across the gravel and the edges of the trimmed hedges, leaving the spaces between them in shadow.
Beyond the gardens, the city was gradually settling into the evening. Lights appeared in windows, and the occasional figure crossed one of the streets below. The view wasn’t particularly grand from this angle, but I preferred it to the sight of another hundred people trying to appear interesting.
"Is it always like this?" I asked.
The princess glanced toward the doors. "A royal banquet?"
"I meant the people. Everyone seems to know everyone else, but they still spend half their time introducing themselves."
"Many of them know one another’s families better than they know the actual people." She leaned against the railing, looking thoughtful. "And some introductions are less about meeting someone than making sure the other person remembers that you’ve met."
"That explains quite a lot."
"Does it?"
"I was beginning to suspect that asking someone how their evening was going had become a complicated political decision."
"Sometimes it is." Her mouth curved into a smile. "Though I suspect you’re making it more difficult than it needs to be."
"I assure you, I’m putting considerable effort into making it as simple as possible."
"By hiding behind servants?"
I sighed. "I was hoping we could move past that."
"Why? It was rather effective until the servant walked away."
"That was the problem with the plan."
She laughed again, and I found myself smiling.
The conversation was easier than I had expected. Perhaps it was the absence of an audience, or perhaps the princess simply preferred talking when she wasn’t surrounded by people waiting for their turn to address her. Either way, I was grateful that she wasn’t treating every word as an opportunity to discuss politics or extract some carefully hidden information from me.
After a little while, she straightened and glanced back toward the hall.
"We should probably return. The formal proceedings are supposed to begin soon."
I followed her gaze. Through the open doors, guests were gradually gathering near the center of the room. A servant passed carrying a fresh tray of glasses, and another quietly asked a pair of nobles to leave the space near the entrance clear.
It looked as though the pleasant part of the evening was coming to an end.
"Shall we?" she asked.
"Of course."
I held the door for her, and we returned to the banquet together.
The warmth and noise of the hall surrounded us almost immediately. The music was clearer inside, and the scent of food lingered beneath the perfume and the faint smell of candle wax. Guests were beginning to leave their smaller circles, making room for servants as they prepared the hall for the formal address.
A few people turned when they noticed the princess.
Then they noticed me.
I could practically feel their curiosity settling on my shoulders.
Being seen with a princess was apparently enough to make a person interesting for at least several seconds. I hoped that would be the extent of it.
The princess seemed largely unconcerned. She acknowledged a passing noblewoman with a courteous greeting, then continued toward the center of the hall. I stayed beside her long enough to avoid making our entrance look awkward before allowing a little space between us.
That seemed sensible.
We were not close enough for me to follow her around all evening, and I had no intention of giving anyone a reason to think otherwise.
As I looked for a less crowded place to stand, I noticed a gathering near the tall windows on the opposite side of the hall.
Several young nobles had formed a loose circle around a man about my age. A few women were listening to him with obvious interest, while two young men waited nearby, occasionally joining the conversation. Nobody appeared to be forcing their way into the group, yet the circle seemed to attract new people whenever someone else left.
The man at its center had a great deal to do with that.
He was exceptionally handsome, with neatly arranged hair, well-fitted formal clothes, and the sort of composed expression that made it difficult to tell whether he was enjoying himself or simply being polite. He wasn’t speaking particularly loudly, nor was he making exaggerated gestures to hold the group’s attention.
He didn’t seem to need to.
When a young woman finished speaking, he listened until she was done before answering. A moment later, one of the men beside him made a remark that prompted a few laughs, and he joined in with a small smile.
It was an ordinary exchange, but something about his face made me look twice.
Then I recognized him.
My attention fixed on him, and the surrounding noise seemed to recede as a familiar image settled into place.
I knew that face.
Not personally, of course. I had never met him in my life.
But I knew who he was.
The youngest son of the Empire’s most influential councilor. The future bearer of the Golden Awakening. The protagonist of The Dragon Kingdom Slayer.
The man whose rise would eventually become one of the defining stories of the era.
For a moment, I forgot about the banquet, the princess, and even the uncomfortable clothes I had been wearing all evening.
He was supposed to become important after the Awakening Ceremony.
That was how I remembered it. The ceremony marked the beginning of his rise, the point at which his future started to separate him from the countless other noble sons in the Empire. I could recall the broad sequence of events that followed, even if some of the smaller details were less clear.
But I hadn’t expected to see him here.
I searched my memory for any mention of this banquet in the original story. Had there been a scene involving the royal family? Had the author described his early social life? Perhaps there had been some brief reference I had forgotten.
Nothing came to mind.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything. The original story hadn’t recorded every dinner, conversation, or meeting the protagonist had experienced before his Awakening. Most of those moments probably hadn’t mattered to the plot.
Still, the timing bothered me.
Either I had forgotten something important, or my understanding of the timeline was incomplete.
I couldn’t rule out the possibility that events had already begun to diverge, but I didn’t have enough information to reach that conclusion.
All I knew was that the man standing across the hall was someone I had expected to encounter much later, under very different circumstances.
And now he was here, chatting with other young nobles as though the future of the Empire weren’t waiting for him.
I looked away before I could spend the entire evening staring at him.
Whatever the explanation, I wasn’t going to solve it by standing in the middle of a banquet and studying his face.
Something shifted beneath my coat.
I stopped walking.
Oh, right.
I had completely forgotten about Asura.
A familiar black head emerged from the opening of my coat, followed by two ears and a pair of eyes that looked considerably less than pleased.
At last, he complained. I was beginning to wonder whether you intended to keep me imprisoned in there for the entire evening.
I lowered my eyes toward him.
You could have reminded me.
I did. Several times.
I couldn’t remember hearing him, although that was hardly proof that he hadn’t been talking. I had been rather occupied.
You were not listening, he continued. A regrettable habit, though hardly a surprising one.
"Good evening to you, too," I muttered under my breath.
His ears twitched.
Are you speaking to me?
"No. I’m speaking to the coat."
Asura gave me a look of deep suspicion.
Before he could respond, the princess turned at the sound of my voice. Her gaze dropped to the black dog peering out from beneath my coat, and her expression immediately brightened.
"Oh, you have a dog!"
I looked at her, then at Asura.
"Apparently."
She stepped closer to get a better look. Asura watched her approach with the wary expression of someone who had every reason to distrust the world.
"What’s his name?"
"Asura."
She repeated it quietly, then smiled. "That’s quite a name for such a little dog."
Asura went rigid.
Little?
I bit the inside of my cheek.
The princess reached out and gently patted his head.
"There, you’re all right," she said warmly.
Remove your hand, mortal.
She scratched behind one of his ears.
Asura’s eyes narrowed.
I am an ancient king. I have ruled over—
The princess rubbed the spot behind his ear once more.
He stopped talking.
I turned my face away, pretending to inspect the room.
"You seem to be enjoying this," the princess observed.
"I would never laugh at someone else’s misfortune."
"You look as though you’re trying very hard not to."
"Perhaps I’m overwhelmed by the affection on display."
She laughed and gave Asura one final pat before withdrawing her hand.
He watched her with the expression of a man making a mental list of grievances.
A royal attendant approached the princess and bowed, informing her that the formal proceedings were about to begin and that her presence was required.
"Already?" she asked, glancing toward the gathering near the center of the hall.
The attendant confirmed it.
She looked back at me. "It seems I have to go."
"Good luck with the speeches."
"Thank you. I suspect I’ll need it."
She gave Asura a small smile before turning away.
"Take care of him, won’t you?"
"I’ll do my best."
I require no care from you, Asura informed me indignantly.
"He’s very independent," I added.
The princess laughed once more, then followed the attendant into the crowd.
I watched her leave before looking down at the black dog in my arms.
You will say nothing about this, Asura warned.
"About what?"
You know perfectly well what.
"Of course. Your reputation as a fearsome king remains completely intact."
His stare grew colder.
I adjusted my coat to keep him comfortable and turned back toward the hall.
That was when I realized the gathering around the original protagonist was beginning to break apart.
The formal address was drawing near. Some of the guests were moving toward the center of the room, while others were making their way to the tables at the edges. The young nobles who had surrounded the protagonist were gradually dispersing, leaving him with only a few people beside him.
For the first time since I’d noticed him, he had a clear view of the rest of the room.
Including me.
Our eyes met again.
This time, he didn’t immediately look away.
I held his gaze for a moment before turning my attention toward a nearby table. I had no idea whether he had recognized me, noticed the princess beside me earlier, or simply happened to look in my direction.
There was no point guessing.
I started toward the table, hoping to put a little distance between us before the formal proceedings began.
"Lord Valerian?"
I stopped.
The voice had come from behind me.
I turned, and there he was.
The protagonist had crossed the room and was standing a few steps away, his attention directed toward me rather than the guests who had been surrounding him moments earlier.
Up close, the familiarity of his face was even more unsettling. I recognized him so clearly that it was difficult to reconcile the person standing in front of me with the character I remembered from the original story.
He gave a courteous nod.
"I thought that was your family’s crest," he said, glancing briefly at the insignia on my formal coat. "Lord Valerian, isn’t it?"
For half a second, I considered pretending I hadn’t heard him.
Unfortunately, that would have been a spectacularly poor start to any conversation.
"Yes," I replied. "That’s right."
"I thought so. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, though we’ve been in the same room for most of the evening."
His tone was perfectly ordinary. He wasn’t speaking as though he’d discovered some great mystery, nor was there anything particularly strange about his decision to introduce himself. We were both sons of prominent noble families attending the same royal banquet.
A greeting was hardly suspicious.
That didn’t make it any less inconvenient.
"You’re right," I said. "We haven’t."
He smiled and offered another small nod, acknowledging my answer before his attention shifted to the dog in my arms.
"And you’ve brought a companion."
Asura stared back at him.
"He’s not particularly fond of crowds," I explained.
I am not particularly fond of idiots, Asura corrected.
"Understandable," the young man said, apparently interpreting the dog’s expression as ordinary canine displeasure. "I imagine this isn’t the most comfortable place for him."
"He’s managing."
"Better than some of us, I suspect."
His remark was delivered lightly, without the strained enthusiasm of someone desperate to be liked. It earned a brief smile from me before I could help it.
That was unexpected.
I had spent so much time thinking of him as the protagonist of a story that I had almost forgotten he was also a person who could make ordinary conversation.
The realization should have made the encounter less strange.
Instead, it made it harder to predict.
His gaze moved briefly toward the place where the princess had disappeared into the crowd.
"I saw you speaking with Her Highness earlier," he said. "I hope I haven’t interrupted anything."
"No. We were just talking."
"I see." He nodded, accepting the answer without pressing for details. "She seemed to be enjoying the conversation."
I couldn’t tell whether that was a simple observation or whether he was more familiar with the princess than I was. His expression offered no obvious answer, and I had no reason to ask.
"We only spoke for a few minutes," I replied.
"Still, a few minutes of peace can be difficult to find at these events."
That, at least, was something I could agree with.
Before I could respond, a servant approached from the direction of the central gathering and quietly reminded the young man that the formal address would begin shortly.
He acknowledged the reminder with a nod, then looked back at me.
"I should let you go. It was good to meet you, Lord Valerian."
"And you."
He took a step away, apparently intending to return to the others.
Then he paused.
"Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you."
My attention sharpened before I could stop it.
He glanced toward the insignia on my coat again, then met my eyes.
"Would you mind joining us after the formal address? I’d like to speak with you properly, if you have a moment."
For a moment, I forgot how to answer.
There was nothing threatening in his expression. He sounded polite, almost casual, as though asking another noble for a conversation were the most ordinary thing in the world.
And perhaps it was.
But this wasn’t just another noble.
This was the man whose future I had spent the better part of the evening trying to keep at a distance. I had expected, at most, a passing glance. Instead, he had crossed the room, introduced himself, and now asked to speak with me again.
I couldn’t tell whether his interest had anything to do with the princess, my family, or nothing more than ordinary social courtesy.
I had no evidence to support any particular explanation.
That was precisely what made the situation uncomfortable.
Refusing a perfectly reasonable invitation at a royal banquet would be awkward, especially when the man extending it was the son of one of the Empire’s most influential councilors. Accepting it, on the other hand, meant agreeing to another conversation I had done nothing to seek.
I settled on the only answer that wouldn’t make the situation needlessly complicated.
"Of course," I said. "If the evening allows it."
"Good." He smiled. "I’ll find you after the address, then."
With that, he returned to the gathering, leaving me beside the table with Asura tucked against my arm.
I watched him go.
The conversation had lasted barely a minute, and nothing particularly remarkable had happened. He had been courteous, his questions were reasonable, and his invitation wasn’t unusual for a gathering of people who were expected to form connections.
Anyone else might have considered it a pleasant introduction.
I probably would have, too, if I hadn’t known who he was.
You seem troubled, Asura remarked.
I looked down at him.
"An astute observation."
Did the young man threaten you?
"No."
Insult you?
"No."
Then what is the problem?
I watched the protagonist rejoin the other nobles. Someone greeted him, and he responded with the same composed ease I’d noticed earlier. Within moments, the group had gathered around him again.
"The problem," I muttered, "is that I was perfectly content not knowing him."
Asura considered that for a moment.
And now?
"Now he wants to talk to me."
How terrible.
"You have no idea."
The attendants were beginning to direct the guests toward their places. Conversation gradually quieted as people settled in for the formal address, and I realized I couldn’t keep standing beside the table forever.
I adjusted my hold on Asura and joined the others.
Across the hall, the protagonist glanced in my direction once more. This time, I didn’t look away immediately.
Our eyes met, and he gave me a small, polite nod.
I returned it.
Then the master of ceremonies stepped forward, and the room fell silent.
I faced the front with everyone else, but my attention wasn’t entirely on the proceedings.
The original protagonist had learned my name, spoken to me, and arranged to meet me again before the evening was over.
Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps he was simply doing what any well-mannered noble would do at a royal banquet.
I couldn’t know that yet.
But whatever the reason, I was no longer just an unfamiliar face across a crowded room.
And the next time I met him, it wouldn’t be by accident.