The interior of Auric Castle was decorated with nothing less than grandeur.
Its imposing, vast halls were glowing today with magical lights. Colorful banners hung gracefully from the walls.
The air hummed with cheerful music, the laughter of people, and a gentle murmur of conversation.
A small play and performance had been arranged for the guests in the castle courtyard.
In one such play, some dwarves were seen enacting a strange war.
Everyone was laughing, except Lorian. It reminded him strongly of a show he had seen in his past life – a chilling memory.
In that show, there had been a similar setup, with the same kind of dwarves acting out a war.
However, at the end of that war, the prince had died of poisoning, and this single event had created a terrible snowball effect, leading to the rapid decline of the entire empire.
Lorian felt a cold dread, fearing something similar might happen today, right here.
Lorian was still working as a waiter, despite his parents' initial protests.
They had ultimately allowed it, seeing it as their son's natural "childish" tendency to play pranks.
Lady Seraphina, however, noticed her son's troubled state. Her sharp eyes missed little.
She quietly sent Gravil to inquire what was bothering him.
When asked, Lorian immediately turned to Gravil and, with an abruptness that caught the old man off guard, asked, "What if someone had poisoned the drink of his parents or any of the guests?"
Gravil was so taken aback by the sudden question that he was left speechless for a moment.
But there was such genuine conviction in Lorian's concern, such a strong belief in his voice, that Gravil couldn't simply ignore it.
He didn't ask what made Lorian think such a thing, but instead, calmly asked what Lorian would propose to do about it.
Lorian thought for a while, quickly reviewing his thoughts.
Then he asked Gravil what war the dwarves were enacting.
What Gravil told him next gave him a surprisingly clear idea of the history of the land, lessons he had completely skipped in the library during his studies.
They were acting out a war that had taken place 184 years ago, when the proud Noble Empire of Indoris was caught in a Bloody Battle of Expansion with the elegant Elven Empire of Beladhithl.
In the early stages of that war, the elves were being utterly steamrolled by the Empire's heavy cavalry, losing ground rapidly.
But then, after their initial setback, they cleverly changed tactics and began fighting a guerrilla warfare. This new approach turned the tide.
The war dragged on for far too long, and the Empire began bleeding. Its resources and manpower were being drained at an unsustainable rate.
At that time, seven of the richest duchies on the Wester Shore decided they had had enough.
They were not going to continue financing the Kingdom's bloody, needless war by draining their own wealth and strength.
The High Druid of Sylvanna Duchy, who was known to be close to the Elven Royalty, took the initiative.
She secretly met with the other six dukes, and together they decided to form a pact with the Elves, aiming to gain independence from the Empire. The High Druid, whose name was Sylvia, was ready to act as a mediator between the human dukes and the Elves.
High Druid Sylvia made a secret pact with the Elves of Beladhithl, and soon after, a rebellion for independence began.
After a series of drawn-out defensive wars, the King of Indoris was utterly frustrated. In his anger, he dispatched a great army to march on the rebels and raze them to the ground. A portion of the reserve troops that had been besieging the Elven Empire were also pulled away and sent to reinforce this subjugation army.
The Seven Cities fought together with tooth and nail, uniting their forces against the King.
Gold flowed like blood, attracting skilled mercenaries from the farthest corners of the continent to fight for the rebels.
Meanwhile, the Elves, noticing the Imperial reserve troops had left their front, started pushing back the human invaders with renewed vigor.
It truly seemed as though the massive human army was going to get crushed between the Anvil of the Seven Cities and the Hammer of the Elven Empire.
So, in the end, the Kingdom of Indoris had no choice but to submit to the demands of the Rebel Dukes.
However, the duchies were given independence on the promise that they would not intervene in the ongoing Human-Elven War.
This condition was well accepted by the Seven Dukes, as it suited their desire for autonomy, and the Elven leadership also had no reason to object to it.
Although the rebellion ended, freeing Indoris from fighting on two battlefronts (both east and west), it did not help the humans regain any more advantage against the Elves.
The greater battle between humans and elves finally ended when Emperor Gerantor died mysteriously.
The ministers quickly put the young Prince Amantor on the throne, and his very first order was to stop the bloody, draining war that had bled the Empire dry.
And that strained peace, born of exhaustion, has been maintained to this day.
The dwarves in the courtyard were enacting precisely the battle where the Seven Dukes had famously defeated the Great General Tahung in the Battle of Aria.
This history lesson from Gravil certainly satisfied Lorian's curiosity about the past, but it didn't calm the pressing issue that was troubling him in the present. He thought for a while, quickly, a plan forming in his mind. Then, he whispered something into Gravil's ear.
The old man's facial expression changed gradually as Lorian continued to share his idea with him, a mix of surprise and understanding dawning on his face.
Unbeknownst to all the guests, Elmsworth and Seraphina had been keeping a close eye on their son. This little conspiracy between Lorian and Gravil did not escape their watchful gazes either.
To Gravil's surprise, he did not oppose the young lord's plan for once; instead, he simply followed Lorian's instructions without question.
Gravil went back to Lord Elmsworth's side and carefully, subtly passed on the Young Master's suspicion, worries, and proposed solution—exactly as Lorian had instructed.
Elmsworth absorbed it all silently, attentively. He was both surprised and thrilled by his son's quick thinking and sharp thought process. There was something in his son's idea that unsettled him slightly, but it was so insightful that he couldn't just dismiss it as a child's fantasy.
As the dwarves' act came to an end, it was time for Elmsworth, as the host, to rise from his seat, address the dignitaries, and raise a toast.
After he took the first sip from his chalice, the rest of the guests would follow suit and drink from their goblets.
Elmsworth rose from his chair and gave his speech. But to everyone's surprise, he did not take a sip from his chalice. Instead, there was a sly smile playing on his face.