Later, Seraphel saw the keep’s dining hall more crowded than it ever had been before. People bustled about, bowing to her, greeting the Duchess…and she sat in internal torment with a smile on her face.

Seraphel wasn’t looking forwards to the banquet. It was going to be tedious, filled with speeches if she was unlucky—she’d have to say something—and she would of course be on display. The only thing that would make it worse would be sitting next to the [Duchess].

Duty demanded nothing less, though. The [Princess] sighed. She sat, smiling, next to the [Duchess] who chewed with her mouth open as she berated Lantal. She sat there, as Lantal and Risel nervously had the five-course meal set before them. A doll in a chair, eating lightly and making smalltalk.

They had invited the [Knights] to dine, as well as some of the town’s more prominent members and some of Grishen’s escort to fill the lower tables. Seraphel watched, dully, as the first songmaster came to perform for her honor.

He had a flute. He was, in fact, a flautist. The man was in his late forties, and after a speech about the honor of being here—he played.

By himself. Alone, as everyone stopped eating and listened in almost absolute silence. The flute emitted a haunting, lonely melody. Something you could listen to while working. A song that made you feel—

Alone. Seraphel sat there, her smile frozen on her face. The people of Afiele, Grishen, chewing on some fat, even the one dog—they were all silent.

Contemplative. Listening to the sorrowful music. It spoke to them, giving them something.

It spoke to Seraphel too. But she didn’t want to hear anything it said.

Was this—her life? This music? This dreary place without color? The [Princess] stared at the [Flautist], who had closed his eyes to play. It felt like something in her grew old and died as she sat there.

“How wonderful. Thank you, Songmaster Beter. Who is next? Ah, from the village of Qet…”

Another person, a Songmistress with a lyre stepped forwards. Seraphel sat there as she began to play a slightly more upbeat song. Slightly.

She…was going to snap. The [Princess]’ eyes roamed the room. She wanted to excuse herself, but they’d probably wait until she returned. She had sat through worse events. But this?

To distract herself, Seraphel searched the room for something, anything. And her eyes alighted on a pair waiting to perform after the Songmistress from Qet.

There were two of them. One, a young woman, dressed in white and black like the rest of Afiele’s folk.

The other was different. Her clothing was casual, but bright, marking her as rich. Not from Calanfer.