We arrived at the Royal Encampment as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange.
It wasn't a camp as I had imagined. It was a city built of canvas and silk.
Hundreds of tents spread out across a massive clearing carved from the ancient forest. However, dominating the center and rising like mountains were the Five Pavilions.
"What are those pavilions in the center?" I asked Mother, leaning forward.
She looked toward the towering structures. "They are for the Five Central Powers of the Kingdom, my darling. One pavilion for the Royal Family, and four for the Four Powerful Ducal Families… Our pavilion is in the center as well."
I scanned the layout.
"They all share the Gold," I whispered, noticing the heavy embroidery that linked the five massive structures. "But the hearts are different."
"Precisely, Aurelia," Mother said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Gold is an embodiment of power and unity, but each family has their own agenda and ambitions."
I nodded in understanding.
I looked to the North of the pavilions.
Separated from the main center by a respectful—almost hostile—distance stood an encampment of strategic perfection. It looked as if they had studied this terrain for years.
Their tents were sharp, rectangular structures made of stiff, oiled black leather. They were arranged in a flawless grid, the streets perfectly straight, creating a temporary fortress.
The poles were plated in dull gold, looking more like spear shafts than tent supports. The camp was eerily quiet. The guards stood perfectly still in front of the tents in heavy black armor, arranged in tight formations.
"You are looking at the North," Father explained, following my gaze. "It is House Valerius. Duchess Valerie Valerius, Aurelia. They are known for their military precision and discipline."
"And absolutely devoid of charm," Mother interjected, her voice dripping with disgust. "Look at them, Aurelia. Standing like statues in the mud. It is unnatural."
She snapped her teeth with a sharp click.
"Lady Valerie… she is a woman of ice. She treats her court like an army barracks and her family like soldiers. She is too rigid, too disciplined. She has forgotten that a Lady's true power comes from her grace and her wits, not just her grip on a spear. She acts less like a Duchess and more like a… well, a golem."
"So," I replied, "she is not someone we can talk to easily?"
"You cannot talk to a stone wall, my darling," Mother said dismissively. "She has no conversation, no subtlety. She despises the very concept of being a 'Lady.' I find her completely tedious."
I turned my gaze to the East.
It was a violent contrast to the silence of the North.
Smoke floated from massive bonfires, sending sparks dancing into the evening air. Even over the rumble of our carriage wheels, I could hear loud, raucous laughter. The tents were large, round, and chaotic, made of heavy red furs embroidered with thick gold threads. A banner depicting a Golden Axe on a Red Field snapped violently in the breeze.
"And that one?" I asked. "It looks more like a tavern celebration than a noble encampment."
"That is Romgardia, the House Aemilia," Father said, amusement coloring his voice. "Lady Eliana's domain. The Berserkers of the East."
Mother let out a long, suffering sigh, massaging her temple.
"The other extreme," she grumbled. "If Valerie is a stone, Eliana is a storm. She has absolutely no concept of manners. She treats a Royal Gathering like a village brawl. She is carefree to the point of reckless behavior."
"Well, her camps seem… lively," I ventured.
"She is unseemly," Mother corrected sharply. "She is too loud, too rough, and somehow, she clings to your father whenever they meet, calling it 'warrior's friendship'. It is exhausting. Maybe your father is the reason why she stays single."
She shot a look at Father. "I don't know what will happen if I am not around your father while she is around him."
I glanced at Father, who was wisely looking out the window, pretending to be fascinated by a tree.
"I think Lady Eliana and Father's relationship is like Aurelio and Alecia…" I interjected.
Father cleared his throat loudly, his face brightening. "Precisely! Just… comrades in arms. Nothing more."
Mother side-eyed him, her expression unimpressed. "Let us hope Alecia learns some manners before she grows up, unlike Eliana. One loud woman chasing your father is quite enough headache for a lifetime."
Father wisely decided not to respond. He desperately pointed to the South to change the subject.
"That," he said quickly, "is the camp of the South. Green for the fertile lands, Gold for… well, the gold they hoard. You will find the best wine there."
"The Duchess of the South," Mother said, her expression tightening as if she had sucked on a lemon. "If you value your peace, my darling, stay away from that woman."
"Is she dangerous?" I asked.
"She is dangerous to your sanity," Mother replied harshly. "She inhales air and exhales words. She simply cannot shut up. She will talk about everything: the price of her silk, the weather always being too hot or too cold, her precious dogs, and her husband—all in a single breath. She is a gossipmonger without a filter."
Finally, our carriage pulled up to the Center of the clearing.
To the right stood the Royal Pavilion, draped in majestic Blue and Gold. It towered over the others. I looked at my mother, waiting for a comment, but she said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes; she despised the Queen so much she wouldn't even grant her the dignity of an insult.
Directly opposite the Royal Pavilion, challenging its grandeur, stood our own.
It was a fortress of pure White Silk, brighter than the moon. It was heavily embroidered with Gold that shone brightly even in the gathering dusk. It didn't look like a military camp, a brawling hall, or a market stall. It looked like a palace brought to the woods.
"Home," Mother said, satisfaction in her voice. "Now this is how a Great House should present itself. Elegant. Imposing. Perfect."
The footman opened the door.
"Head up, darling," Mother encouraged me. "You look beautiful. Just stay close to us. The Opening Feast is in two hours, and I do not intend to let the Queen think she can use my daughter again like she did at the Grandeur Sparring."
I clutched my skirt. "I will be careful, Mother."
As I stepped out, greeted by Adel and Lady Octavi, I was overwhelmed by the identity of each Duke.
Blue. Red. Black. Green. And lastly, our own White.
These weren't merely colors. They were conflicting philosophies, all gathered in one volatile place.
…
Two hours.
It wasn't enough time to rest, yet it was too much time to think. It made me overthink everything.
I sat in the designated "sitting area" of our Pavilion—two plush chairs and a table set for me—clutching a teacup Adel had brought. The tent was a palace of white silk and gold, muffling the sounds of the outside world, but it couldn't muffle the noise in my head.
"You are trembling, My Lady," Adel said softly, standing by my right.
"I keep thinking about the Book," I admitted, keeping my voice low so my parents in the next partition wouldn't hear.
Lady Octavi, who sat opposite me polishing her sword hilt, turned her head slightly. "Does the Book speak of tonight, My Lady?"
I shook my head. "No. The Book only speaks of the Prize. It says the Prince gives the Stag to 'Her' at the end of the hunt."
I gripped the cup tighter, the porcelain warm against my cold fingers.
"But… think about it for a moment. A Crown Prince giving a stranger the Royal Prize… he has to meet her first, right? He has to fall for her before he catches the Stag. So it must not be someone who randomly appears at the end."
"If the ending happens in the woods… then the beginning must happen soon," I whispered. "Maybe tonight… or maybe weeks ago… or maybe months ago…"
"It is a logical deduction," Lady Octavi said in her steady voice. "If the Prize is the result, the seed must be planted beforehand. If not months ago… then tonight is the most dangerous night."
"Everyone will be there, My Lady," Adel whispered. "The Eight Dukes. The Four Powerful Dukes. The Royal Family. Even the minor nobles will be clinging to the edges. If 'She' is going to make a move, tonight is the stage."
I stood up, too anxious to sit.
I walked to the tent flap and peeled it back just an inch to look outside. Lady Octavi moved with me, her hand resting instinctively on her sword hilt.
Near the weapon wagons, I saw Aurelio.
He wasn't stiff or cold now. He was laughing.
Alecia was showing him something on her great axe—likely how to swing it without toppling over. Felix was leaning against a crate nearby, smiling faintly.
They looked like a family. A team.
My heart ached. He never laughed like that with me anymore.
"The horns have sounded, Aurelia."
Mother's voice cut through the moment.
She swept into the room, her eyes scanning me instantly. She reached out and adjusted the collar of my dress with precise, manicured fingers.
"Perfect. You look like moonlight given form."
She looked at Lady Octavi behind me. "Stay close to her, Octavi. The Royal Pavilion is hosting, which means the Queen controls the seating. I do not trust her not to place Aurelia next to someone… undesirable."
"I will stand behind her, Your Grace," Lady Octavi bowed deeply.