Music flowed through the grand hall like a living current, weaving between laughter, conversation, and the occasional burst of applause. Golden light shimmered across the polished floors, scattering into fragments beneath moving feet and drifting robes. Servants moved gracefully between guests, trays balanced with effortless precision, while nobles and elves alike basked in the warmth of the evening.
The celebration was in full swing.
Zave observed the elves carefully, noting how they reacted to the six of them, Mireille included.
So far, Mireille had been treated quite well. Several elves approached her, asking after her well-being with polite concern. Zave lingered on the sight for a moment before shifting his gaze away.
His eyes fell on Lloyd, who was surrounded by a cluster of elves. Their eyes gleamed with curiosity as they flooded the poor guy with questions. Lloyd's face was a masterpiece of disbelief, frustration, and confusion.
