A few hundred lords, ladies, dukes and noblemen gathered in the Palace's grand ballroom where the first night of the Festival had commenced. Dusk had arrived a few moments before and the last light was visible through the majestic glass windows nearly overpowering the hundreds of candles that were alit.
While Lulu may have been the one to design this year's festival wear for the princes, the Queen had taken it upon herself to pass the short winter by sewing the segments together. It was a noble effort. The design of Ehren's silver trim and royal blue tunic with elegant hand-stitched embroidery that flowed on the chest and arms was impeccable. Matched with a pair of blue trousers and a silver ore belt, it was no doubt that he was dressed to impress. Ehren caught the eye of many ladies, who complimented his outfit and the Queen's impressive abilities.
Although the Festival wear appeared to be flawless, the truth lay underneath in the stitching. Ehren scratched at the material around his collar, the fabric's wool lining itched against the skin of his neck. It always happened with each of his mother's sewing projects. He wasn't sure how, but the Queen always used the same, itchy thread in each outfit she made for him. Often, Gregor and Ehren would usually get away from the Queen's insistent need to make them clothes by appealing to the royal tailer or Lulu to make their clothes, but every year for the Festival, the boys were both pressured, unable to escape from their mother's sewing.
Ehren stood by the Queen who was in the middle of conversing with the twin countesses of the kingdom of Florine. The twins cackled at some petty upper class humour and the Queen smiled politely along to their jest. The look on her face was very calm and professional, however, Ehren knew that his mother was bored with the conversation and strained at holding a semi-interested smile.
The moment he noticed the look on her face, Ehren was cast in shadow and he turned to look up at the stranger that towered him.
"Grand Mage!" the Queen exclaimed, obviously delighted by the sudden intrusion. "How fares you?"
The Grand Mage bowed forward respectfully, "The Festival is truly a beauty to behold. With a sight like this, I can fare only happiness."
The middle aged countesses' faces grew pink at the Grand Mage's smile as he leaned in smoothly, "And that happiness has grown immensely under the gaze of such beautiful women."
"Oh ho ho," Countess Carlina chuckled seductively, her thick chin roll wobbled as her mouth wagged on. "You say such sweet words. Your Majesty, you are a lucky woman. If only the Grand Mage in Florine was as charming as the one you have here. Don't you agree dear sister?"
Her sister, Countess Corina stepped closer to the Grand Mage and beat her eyelashes at him, "I do agree dear sister. If he as charming as I believe, I do hope that such a gentleman would ask a countable lady for a dance?"
The Grand Mage gave a charming smile and his brows furrowed up as he spoke, "Perhaps at a later time in the evening. I owe my duty to the King. However, the night is still young and I dare say that anything could happen."
The twins giggled as the Grand Mage returned to focus on the Queen. "His Grace would like a word, my Queen."
"Thank you Meinrad," the Queen answered. "I will see to him now."
She gazed down at Ehren, who she suddenly remembered was there. "Go on," she encouraged him. "There are many young lords and ladies to attend to. You never know who you might come across."
She gave him an encouraging pat on the back before both adults disappeared into the weave of gowns and fine attire.
Ehren moved his way to the outer edge and walked around the large party. The music changed and the guests took the cue into the traditional dance. Lords and ladies split into two different lines, the women's dainty feet elegantly stepped over to their partners, and their arms caught one another in a gentle hold. The men led their ladies around in a small circle, leaning them back and twirling them around before the ladies abandoned their original partner and moved along to the next man in line.
