Back in the banquet hall, pandemonium had rooted itself like a plague. Long tables lay overturned, silver platters scattered like fallen shields, goblets crushed under trampling boots. Wine and blood slicked the marble floor into a treacherous mirror. Nobles shrieked, their jeweled finery useless armor as they clawed for the walls, while steel clashed in a deadly rhythm that drowned out music, land laughter.
Reuben stood surrounded by guards, his mother at his side. Helga's face was a mask, carved in ice, though her voice cut firm through the din."Keep the formation tight! Move toward the antechamber!"
But Reuben's eyes strayed across the hall. Knights he had known since childhood—men who swore oaths on steel and blood—now turned their blades upon their brothers. The heraldry of loyalty gleamed on their tabards, but their swords carved treachery. Betrayal flowed across the marble like a second wine.
