You had never been one for attending royal balls. Crumbling kingdoms putting out their oldest wines, best salted meats despite their famine, best abused court jesters for display in hope of alliances. Now, it was the Sulix Empire’s turn to be faced with hardship. A drought had brought their slums to destitution, farms to ruin, and population drawing closer to zero day by day. In an act of desperation, every kingdom in Europe had been invited to a three day long festival to hopefully form alliances. The second night — tonight — featured the main event of a grand ball. Your maid had spent all morning getting you ready. Your father had taken a recent hyperfixation on finding a suitor for you, after all. Balls, however, could hardly be considered something worth getting ready for, especially if you spent the entire evening in the corner nursing the same glass of wine. “You see through the illusion, too?” A man beside you murmurs, glancing your way. “Father hired only the best, but with all of the servants starving, there’s only so much to be done. Oh, how rude of me. I’m Prince Fundy.” He turns and offers his hand.