The silver rains of my infancy might as well have been a lifetime ago. Now, the only silver I see is in the clatter of goblets, the glint of chandeliers, the forced smiles of courtiers under a sky woven with artificial light. Another Moonlight Ball in Virellia. Another performance.

I adjusted the embroidered cuff of my tunic, the silk felt heavy against my skin. My father, bless his tireless spirit, believed in these displays. He thought the grand spectacle reinforced our kingdom's strength, its prosperity. Perhaps he was right. But tonight, the echoing music and swirling gowns felt like a cage, gilded though it might be.

I watched a delegation from Eldoria subtly eyeing the placement of our guard. A representative from Northwood is already three glasses deep into the Elven wine, his laughter a touch too boisterous, his gaze a touch too lingering on Lady Seraphina. Everyone was playing a game, and I was expected to be the most graceful player of them all.

My mother would have seen right through it all. Compassion is not weakness, Leo. I could almost hear her voice, a melody more comforting than any the orchestra could produce. Her death… it was a blow that carved a hollow space inside me, a space that no amount of finery or flattery could fill. No, I don't think anyone quite understands the weight of that emptiness. Not even Father.

A sudden commotion, a ripple of whispers cutting through the orchestral melody. Two dignitaries were embroiled in what seemed like a heated debate, their voices rising above the din. I saw a figure weaving through the crowd, a young servant, judging from the simple uniform they wore. They carried a tray laden with goblets, their movements careful and precise. And then, disaster.

Forced to sidestep the squabbling nobles, they lost their footing. A collective gasp arose from the surrounding guests as they stumbled, their trajectory set on a collision course with… me.

I braced myself for the impact, the reflexes honed by years of swordplay kicking in. But instead of anger or annoyance, a strange sense of calm washed over me. The goblets clattered, a few shattering on the polished floor, the crimson wine staining the marble. A collective intake of breath swept through the room. All eyes were on us.

The servant, their face flushed with embarrassment, immediately bowed low, their voice barely a whisper as they apologized profusely.

My knights, of course, were already moving in, their hands instinctively reaching for their swords. But I hold up a hand, stopping them.

I looked at the servant. Their hands trembled as they tried to gather the broken pieces. They were young, barely more than a kid, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. They were not wearing silks or jewels. They were not concerned with politics or power. They were simply… real.

And in that moment, amidst the glittering artificiality of the Moonlight Ball, they were the most genuine thing I have seen all night.

Instead of reprimanding them, as protocol demanded, I surprised even myself. I knelt, the stiff fabric of my trousers digging into my knees, and began to gather the fallen goblets. The gesture felt… natural. It felt right.

I offered a small smile, a genuine one this time, and spoke softly. "I believe that was my fault. Are you alright?"

Their eyes widened further, surprised by my lack of reprimand. Perhaps everyone else would have reacted with anger. Perhaps the night would bring some change. I smiled once more.