They entered the smooth-hinge castle doors with eyes wincing from the lavish accommodation. Everything inside screams luxury and excessive indulgences. The tables were still still compressed with dishes even after the fact that the nobles rained them down a moon's worth of food.

"Well, Aren't this the group of all groups?" A woman of bolstered size met them, clad with a decorative armour of bulky metals trimmed with solid ice, her cape matching her golden hair and her eleven cubit spear on hand standing lanky beside her. The helmless woman approached the Ocmenian diplomat, each step emitting clangs from her set of heavy armour.

"Welcome to Graygreen, I am Geraldine Prudence." she gripped on the Ocmenian's hand as she try to get a feel of the man's strength, and he did not disappoint.

"Well met, You can call me Laguna Gazhafina."

All eyes inside the hall were set upon them; an Ocmenian Prince, his Sovenian Servant, a Silver Knight, The Nightshade Heroine, and her God-looking Son all bonded together in a contradicting commotion- the sight of the century.

"Such honour, we've been expecting the envoys of peace yet we weren't informed of the Blackmercys visiting us themselves." Geraldine gave them a bejeweled welcome, her spear grip still frim.

"Sister, my apologies for the confusion. They are the invited guests of the envoy." Drina explained.

"Very well, please, follow me towards the throne room. I gathered that our guests here are seeking an audience to the Kazer of Graygreen, yes?" Geraldine gestured towards the wide stairs. This is a group of extreme capacities, it is a must that she'll be the one escorting them.

They reached the wide Throne Room devoid of Candle haze and alcohol stench. From the farthest side of it is the entrance of the patio with six porticoes forthcoming to it. Miriam knows why the Throne Room remains dark, it may seem empty but Frostguards are positioned elusively everyplace.

They were led to the open patio with the longest table Sion had ever seen, yet with armed men stepping on their own shadows, holding torches to light up the night in every meter.

"Stay focused and stick to what we discussed, alright? Ought to know that this would be all for nothing if you let everything get inside your head too much." Hildred whispered to Miriam, brushing off the residuals of food from her hair.

"I'll just remain here..." Miriam leans on the cold column by the entrance. Her eyes fixed upon the Kazer seated at the prioritized edge of the table, his fresh bandages visible through his fine clothes of fur, she was the one who had put them. His face and chest are lined with familiar alleys of scars some of which were inflicted by the Alchemist herself some forgotten cycles ago. "Take care, Mum." Sion squeezed her hand before leaving for the banquet.

Miriam searched through the identities seated alongside the Kazer. Her eyes stopping on a slender lass with a face freckled as strawberries and pale as opals. Her cement-coloured hair healthfuly reaching the floor, adorned with leaves of lush basil and herbal flowers. But upon seeing her eyes, it gave everything away. She saw a specific spark in those grey irises, same as what Miriam's father had always seen from his daughter, that now, Miriam is seeing from the her.

"Welcome! Welcome! Please, feel free to join our supper." the Kazer of Graygreen invited the group. "Plenty are the safe pleasures so please make yourselves at home." the servants rushed in to serve them with traditional dishes and refreshments; Of honeyed fruits and ice-cold wine with hot broths and sauced meats offering mystical savoury and colours.

"You're most kind, this land is obviously prosperous if a generous Kazer rules it." Laguna replied with eyes trapped on dominos of crescent shaped breads that envelops a jelly of sovenian pulp-berries.

"This is the first time I dine with an Ocnenian instead of clashing blades with one, I must say, we are making history lad." Kazer Vallin raised his goblet to the diplomat.

"Indeed, we're not here to resemble the past. What's important is of the present and whatever the future holds for the benefit of us both." Laguna raised his glass to the Kazer, drinking it's wine upon the permission of Hildred.

"Ah yes! you're here to talk of trading opportunities as described in your letter."

"That is correct..."

Their conversations obscured from Sion's ears. If he were to bebasked, he only came here for the food which he could bring to the slum's plates. He had also never tasted any dish outside of Dirgean Cuisin, mostly consisting of seafood and shellfish and scale-flesh and mariner snack... his curious tongue is tired of the raw, salty oriental flavours.

Now, Graygreen's cuisine is a generous spring, from the land's large varieties of game meat to its famous assortment of herbs and fruits, even the trees here are found to be edible.

The people at the table haven't touched their plates yet, he doesn't know why and he's not waiting to know why they haven't. So he grabbed the warm utensils arranged beside his silver plate and proceeded to fork out meats and served himself some broths. Even snatching a bread or two down his satchel for Chacha and Sijno.

"My apologies, I see that I have kept one of our guests here waiting too much?" Kazer Vallin stared amused at the handsome man seated beside the diplomat. He looked at him like how a father is entertained by his toddler's silly behaviour. It is of known tradition across any country that the host of the party should take the first bite of the banquet before the guests could have theirs.

Sion stopped chewing, dumbfounded that he had grabbed everyone's attention. "Ah, sorry, the food here is too good-looking that my hands turned independent..." He pathetically excused, making the table flare into laughter as they find the boy too absurd to be true.

"The food is good-looking? Take a look at yourself, you're a fine-looking lad! Lads and lasses would beg your bed! Too damn fine!" The Kazer chuckled hard enough to break the ice.

"Come on now, don't be shy. I know you've been staring at these grilled Pheasant Breasts since you first sat down." the grey-haired woman seated across him dumped food on his plate like an undertaker to coffin.

"Don't fill the boy's plate too much Amanita." Her father reminded.

"And don't embarrass him too much, Dear Father."

Sion felt the blood rush from his cheeks up to his ears. The company of nobles here is warmer compared to the plaza earlier. He looked around the table only to see everyone looking back, even the hooded man, all except for one who is a familiar face that he had met earlier back in Dirge. Elliott Whiteraven was his name if he recalls correctly, his missing limb makes him unforgettable. He repeats the name in his mind again and again, it seemed so familiar.

Then he realized who he really is, making him wrinkle on his seat like soured milk. E.B. Whiteraven, the distinguished mathematician that authored the books that Sion often used for referential equations whenever he concocts risky mixtures.

"Let us feast then mates, we wouldn't want our friend here to feel bad now, look at him frown." the Kazer teased. "What is your name lad?" He inquired the sauce-stained boy.

"Sion." Drina answered instead, she knows that the boy's last name would turn this patio into a battlefield if learned by the royalties.

"That's a Sovenian name... so you grew up here?" Harinthal Graygreen asked.

"Ah yes. Raised in this snow country since I was a babe."

"Truly? you look foreign yet I can't distinguish from what race." the sovenian prince looked at him amazed.

"Indeed, I travelled every corners of Viridia as a diplomat and yet it's my first time to see a lad with crimson hair and emerald eyes like him." Laguna added.

"Maybe I'm part Sovenian, part Zhoutounian from my slanted eyes and pale skin?" Sion asked them as if they know.

"Maybe lad, but are you sure you're not Adastrielle? You can make a fortune out of that face-" the Kazer joked, "If I were you I would have wooed the Vestal Queen of Mezenia and have a rich country by myself!"

"You're not obliged to answer everything Sion, just enjoy the food. Your origins are of no importance- what matters is you're dining here with us." Amanita gleamed at the boy.

Of course, she knows mostly everything about the boy already to not be intrigued by his origins. From his first knickknack as a babe to the breakfast he had yesterday, she's aware of them all thanks to the hooded man seated beside her, slicing upon his meal anxiously that she wouldn't doubt if he managed to slice the silver plate into two halves later.

"So, where were we? Ah, you were saying that Ocmenia has a trade route from the east that can reach Dirge and Graygreen?"

"Ah yes, a new route by both land and sea through Akan waters..."