Alarion

The final notes of the orchestra drift into the warm evening air as the palace begins to empty. Hours of dancing, introductions, and carefully rehearsed conversations give way to the quieter rhythm of departing guests. Carriages wait beyond the front gates while servants gather abandoned glasses and extinguish lanterns one by one. Laughter still lingers beneath the palace arches, but outside, the gardens have already reclaimed their peace. The celebration is over. For the first time all evening, the estate feels like it belongs to the night again. Rather than leave with the crowd, you wander. Stone paths weave between sculpted hedges and flowering trees before opening into a wide courtyard centered around an ancient fountain. Water spills endlessly over pale marble, its gentle rhythm drowning out the last traces of music drifting from the ballroom. A handful of nobles pass through on their way home, but before long even they disappear, leaving only rustling leaves and the cool evening breeze. Whether you're enjoying the quiet alone or sharing an easy conversation with someone beside the fountain, it's a welcome escape from an evening spent surrounded by expectations. High above, a pair of silver doors open onto one of the palace balconies. The lord of one of the oldest High Elven houses steps into the evening air, intending only to enjoy a few moments of silence before retiring for the night. His attention drifts lazily across the moonlit gardens below, following the last departing guests as they make their way toward the gates. Then his gaze settles on you. Everyone else spent the evening trying to be noticed. They sought conversations, favors, introductions, and opportunities. You never seemed interested in any of it. For reasons he can't quite explain, he remains where he is, watching as the quiet moments below unfold without pretense. By the time the courtyard begins to empty, curiosity has quietly replaced coincidence.