DEATHWISH

Chapter 1

-10c -- 7:31 pm -- February 25th -- 2030 -- Frederiksborg Castle, Denmark

The Grand Ball at Frederiksborg Castle, held in the magnificent Riddersalen—known more commonly as the Great Hall—was alive with the vibrant murmur of royals and close confidants of Denmark's most powerful family. The hall itself was a marvel, yet not all guests remained within its opulent confines. Some wandered the castle's enchanting gardens, though the biting cold of the night soon drove them back inside.

A precise count of two hundred and forty-three guests graced the event, ranging from members of Denmark's royal family to influential friends and dignitaries from across the many continents. They had all gathered in this splendid castle, drawn to the largest and most impressive room in the entire estate. The Great Hall was distinguished by its immensely tall walls, polished wooden floors that gleamed so brightly they might even reflect the faces of those who gazed down upon them. The ceiling, adorned with intricate reliefs, cast delicate shadows that added a sense of depth and movement to the space. Ornate gilding caught the light streaming through the tall, arched windows, causing the entire ceiling to shimmer with a warm, golden hue.

The occasion was none other than the Grand Celebration of His Royal Highness, Prince Frederik of Rosenborg's 50th Birthday. At the head table, Prince Frederik sat in regal splendour, enjoying a sumptuous meal of exquisitely roasted rack of lamb, marinated in rosemary and garlic, and served with a rich red wine reduction. The lamb was accompanied by truffle-infused fingerling potatoes and a vibrant assortment of vegetables. Guests had their pick of any drink they desired, with attentive bartenders and servers weaving through the labyrinth of long, elegantly dressed tables that filled the hall.

In a quieter corner of the room, near the edge of the grand scene, stood a small cluster of the night's crew. Among them was the head event organizer, deep in conversation with her assistant, both observing the night unfold with a keen eye for detail and perfection.

As the trio huddled together, immersed in their quiet conversation, a waiter approached with a confident stride. He had short, thick blond hair that contrasted sharply against his flawless, pale skin, making his dark eyes even more striking. Dressed in the typical uniform for such grand events—a finely tailored, dark navy blue suit—he carried an empty silver tray, which he smoothly slid under his arm as he joined their circle.

"Everything alright, Eloise?" he asked, his gaze directed towards his boss—everyone's boss among the event staff, except for the security detail, who answered directly to the royal family.

Eloise, her face betraying the stress of the evening, barely looked up as she responded, "It's fine, Magnus. Get back to work; we can't afford to let anything fall behind." Her tone was brisk, each word revealing the tension that had settled into every pore of her skin.

Magnus nodded and slipped away, weaving expertly through the crowd of guests who stood mingling without tables. Once he was out of earshot, Eloise's assistant, Anya, broke the silence.

"You can relax, really. Everything's under control," Anya reassured her, a hint of amusement in her voice as she watched Magnus disappear into the throng. "Things are going fantastically. All I see are wealthy men and ladies—people who usually wear permanent frowns—actually smiling for once. You're doing great."

Eloise's expression hardened, her voice tinged with frustration as she snapped, "Anya, please don't tell me to calm down. We have two hundred and forty-two guests, all of whom live in castles and manors. They expect perfection at every turn."

Anya, unfazed by her boss's sharp tone, simply rolled her eyes and pulled out a small clipboard. "We've got forty-seven chefs and dishwashers in the kitchen, twenty-five waitstaff, four bartenders, thirteen handling cleanup and maintenance, eighteen for valet, and ten more for... who knows what. I think we're in good hands." She rattled off the list with practiced ease, trying to soothe Eloise's nerves. "Oh, and let's not forget—we've got twenty coordinators, so you can take a break at some point," she added, her voice softening as she tried to offer a small reprieve to her friend as much as to her boss.