The Sin Eater Chronicles

The throng parted with polite bows and quiet words of admiration as Aiyara reached the final step. Kida stayed close at her side, scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. Soft strings from the lutes resumed in the background, and a few whispered exclamations rose at the princess's regal appearance. One older noblewoman pressed a hand to her heart in what looked like genuine awe at the sight of the princess's gown. Several lesser lords—either from Masan or foreign lands—nudged each other, casting evaluating glances at her. In these fleeting moments, the mixture of curiosity, admiration, and faint envy around her was palpable.

Before she could greet any of them in earnest, Captain Roland, Kida's father, stepped forward. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore the polished breastplate of his station, complete with the wave crest insignia across the chest. Despite his imposing figure, a twinkle of warmth resided in his eyes when they landed on Aiyara. "Your Highness," he said formally, inclining his head, "the Queen and King-Consort request your presence in the eastern wing. There's been a slight complication with some of our newest arrivals."

Aiyara's gaze flicked to the queen, but Meilara was currently engaged in a stiff conversation with a dwarven ambassador, who waved a scroll emphatically. "Is it urgent?" she asked, a trace of apprehension coloring her voice.

Roland cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that a flight of dragons has arrived unexpectedly, claiming the courtyard. Meanwhile, the dwarves are eager to display their sculptures but find themselves overshadowed by the dragons' sudden landing. And we have foreign dignitaries demanding preferential seating. Suffice to say, your mother and father want you to witness how the palace staff handles these 'minor diplomatic fires.' You'll learn from the best."

Aiyara nodded, though her stomach tightened. Dragons were a rare sight, and their unpredictability made them either highly revered guests or dangerously volatile ones, depending on their mood. "Let us go at once," she replied, smoothing the front of her gown.

Captain Roland motioned for them to follow. Kida and Aiyara exchanged a look—half excitement, half anxiety—and walked behind him. The corridor leading to the eastern wing was wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side, lined with tall windows overlooking a moonlit courtyard. Through the windows, Aiyara caught a glimpse of a scaled, serpentine form shifting in the shadows. The dragon had obviously taken a physical shape that fit the courtyard's proportions, but even from a distance, the power radiating from that form was palpable. She noticed dwarves in the courtyard, their braided beards bristling with indignation, pointing to crates full of carved statues they'd intended to unveil tonight.

Roland led them not into the courtyard itself but into a large, airy chamber connected to it—often used for receiving important guests. As soon as they entered, Aiyara saw her father, King-Consort Masaru, standing in front of a large table where half a dozen scrolls lay unrolled. Queen Meilara was beside him, her arms crossed in a posture of concern. Two dwarves bickered in low, urgent voices with a palace steward, while a group of foreign lords stood off to one side, clearly vying for the queen's attention.

"Aiyara," Queen Meilara said the moment she spotted her daughter. "We hoped you'd join us. This is precisely the sort of problem you'll have to navigate when we sail west—multiple parties, each wanting to be heard, each believing their concern is the most pressing." She shot a meaningful glance at the dwarves.

The dwarves paused their argument. One of them, short and stout with an elaborately braided black beard fixed with iron rings, stepped forward to bow to the princess. "Your Highness, we come from the Ironpeak Halls. We brought sculptures—marble, granite, onyx—works of art we intended to display here tonight. But before we could set up, a flight of dragons landed, driving away our wagons. They occupy half the courtyard with their… massive forms."

"Now, now," interjected a lean, sharp-nosed foreign noble in elegant purple robes. He was presumably one of those demanding special seating. "Surely the dwarves' crafts are admirable, but let's not overlook the many distinguished guests from our various realms who have traveled a great distance to see the princess's coming-of-age festival. We require seats near the dais. We must be able to hear every word the Queen utters. It's an insult to place us in the outer rings."

As he spoke, Aiyara felt a surge of conflicting feelings. On one hand, she wanted to handle the dwarves' rightful complaint with fairness, ensuring their art received the attention it deserved. On the other, these foreign lords represented crucial alliances. If they felt slighted, it could sour negotiations for trade or for the upcoming expedition to the new world. Meanwhile, the dragons outside were an entirely different challenge—a dangerous or regal presence, depending on how they were approached.

King-Consort Masaru tapped a scroll in front of him. "We've drawn up seating plans that accommodate each realm's dignitaries according to their standing and previous alliances with Masan. We're re-checking them to ensure no perceived snub. However, we were not prepared for the dragons. They have… complicated matters."

A faint, wry smile twitched on his lips. Despite the tension, he had a certain calm about him, a practiced diplomacy gleaned from years of dealing with foreign courts. He was beloved in Masan for his loyalty to the queen and his knack for turning potential enemies into allies through patient negotiation.

Queen Meilara placed a hand on Aiyara's arm. "It might be instructive if you weigh in, daughter. Let's hear your perspective on how to reconcile these immediate conflicts."

Aiyara blinked, feeling the weight of responsibility drop onto her shoulders. Her mother was testing her, encouraging her to step into the role of decision-maker. She cleared her throat and glanced around the room. The dwarves stared up at her with a mixture of hope and frustration. The foreign lords watched her with narrow-eyed calculation, and palace staff waited anxiously for any directive.

"I, uh… first, I would have a steward lead the dwarves to an alternate display site for their sculptures, one that is no less prestigious than the main courtyard," Aiyara began cautiously. "Perhaps the southwestern colonnade—the vantage from there overlooks the gardens and might suit their works better than a cramped courtyard. We can string additional lanterns to illuminate the sculptures and direct visitors there throughout the evening. It should give them proper visibility and respect."

The dwarven representative's eyes lit up. "A separate space, akin to our own gallery? That could be quite acceptable if it's large enough for our statues."

Aiyara nodded. "We'll ensure it is. Captain Roland," she added, turning slightly to Kida's father, "could you detail a small group of guards to help the dwarves with moving and setting up? Make sure no one is interrupted by the dragons."

Roland gave a short, respectful bow. "Yes, Your Highness. We can see to that right away."

The dwarves exchanged nods, evidently relieved.

"And as for seating arrangements," Aiyara continued, now facing the foreign noble, "the dais is reserved for the highest dignitaries, of course. But we have additional tiers or balconies from which you'll still see and hear everything. I can assign a herald or scribe specifically to your delegation, so they can record or relay every word. That should prevent any missed detail. In return, we'll ask your cooperation in abiding by the spaces we've designated, so no realm feels overshadowed. If each visiting court tries to outmaneuver the others for the 'best seat,' no one will be satisfied."

Silence reigned for a moment as the noble weighed her words. Slowly, he inclined his head. "That… is a fair approach, princess. Having a personal herald to keep us informed might be acceptable. I suppose we can trust the vantage is adequate if it's in the second ring." His tone suggested lingering reluctance but grudging acceptance.

Aiyara felt a small surge of relief. She hadn't expected to dive into diplomatic negotiations so quickly, but it seemed to have worked, at least for the moment. She turned to her parents, expression hopeful. King-Consort Masaru gave her an encouraging nod, while Queen Meilara smiled faintly, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

"An excellent solution to these initial hurdles," the queen stated, her voice carrying that measured regality that could calm almost any storm. "We'll have the staff finalize the new seating arrangement, and the dwarves will be escorted to the southwestern colonnade. That leaves the matter of the dragons, which I suspect we'll handle personally. Let no one disturb them for now. We'll greet them properly soon."

Before Aiyara could respond, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. A breathless steward appeared, bowing at the threshold. "Your Majesties, the Dragon Empress herself has sent word she wishes to witness the festival in her human form, accompanied by four male attendants. They've already begun to shift. The dwarves in the courtyard were alarmed by the… transformation."

Aiyara's heartbeat quickened. The Dragon Empress was notoriously unpredictable—a mix of regal composure and fearsome power. If she had chosen to adopt a human guise, that suggested a willingness to engage diplomatically. Yet it could just as easily signify something else—dragons seldom announced their movements without reason. And from what Aiyara understood, the Empress was often accompanied by intimidating, heavily scaled guards who could quell an entire legion with a single roar.

Queen Meilara waved a hand calmly. "We'll have no panic. Captain Roland, proceed with the dwarves as planned. I'll talk to the Dragon Empress personally before her party mingles with our guests. Masaru, come with me."

At that, Kida visibly tensed—her father was about to leave, and with him, the queen and king-consort. That left Aiyara and Kida to handle any follow-ups or confusion. Aiyara felt a flutter of nerves but also a hint of pride that her mother trusted her judgment in these matters.

The queen glanced back at the princess with a slight smile. "Daughter, you've proven tonight that you can think and act decisively. Use that skill as you continue greeting our other guests. Soon, we'll make the formal announcements in the main courtyard. Ensure you're prepared." With that, Meilara swept out of the room, Masaru following closely behind.

In the hush that followed, the dwarves began gathering their crates, the foreign lords drifted away to finalize their seating, and the palace staff scurried to coordinate it all. Aiyara felt the tension in the air lighten, replaced by a hum of businesslike energy. Kida exhaled, removing her helmet and wiping the faintest sheen of sweat from her brow. "Well done," she whispered. "Your first real diplomatic tangle—and you resolved it in minutes."

Aiyara managed a small laugh. "Barely. It feels like a hundred more are waiting around every corner."

Kida nodded. "That's royalty for you." Then her tone turned sympathetic. "I know you'd rather be celebrating. But these moments show you're ready for the throne, even if you don't realize it."

The princess looked down at her embroidered gown, remembering how just minutes ago she was worried about trivial things like which hairstyle to wear. Now, she was in the thick of managing dwarves, foreign dignitaries, and dragons. Already she sensed a sort of shift in her mindset—a delicate thread of pride tugging at her heart, telling her that yes, she belonged here. She forced herself to remain humble, not wanting to stoke any undue arrogance. Yet the feeling was undeniable, like a small spark of warmth in her chest that glowed brighter every time she successfully handled a challenge.

"Let's keep going," she told Kida, steeling herself. "The festival's only begun, and there are many more guests to greet."

As they left the receiving chamber, heading back through the marble hallway to the main atrium, Aiyara found her thoughts drifting back to her mother's words: Ensure you're prepared. Prepared for what? she wondered. Tonight's festival was about more than a coming-of-age celebration—it was the crossroads of her future. The notion that in a single evening, men from across the land might step forward to declare themselves worthy of becoming her consort felt surreal. But with each successful test of her diplomatic skills, her confidence edged higher.

And with that confidence came an undercurrent of pride—an emotion that both fueled her resolve and made the corners of her soul uneasy, as though a potent force slept there, waiting for the right moment to awaken. She brushed the thought aside for now. With the queen and king consort temporarily occupied, it was up to her to represent Masan in the hours leading up to the final announcements. Thus began the real heart of the festival.