The Sapphire Palace of Myr was alive with lights and entertainment as the evening banquet was about to begin. This was the first time that such a large event happened in Myr but so far it has been going well. Thousands of lanterns illuminated the high crystal dome of the Grand Hall, where the Imperial banner hung beside the banners of each Viceroyalty and territory. Musicians from Qarth played various types of songs from across Essos and a few from Westeros. Acrobats from Volantis performed along the silk ropes that hung from the upper balconies, while the fire-dancers from Lys moved between tables, spinning various types of flaming tools.
A single table stretched the length of the hall, wide enough for three men to walk side by side on it. Long sections were set with roasted phoenix birds, smoked fish, plates of scorpions imported from the Shadowlands, and fruit from the Summer Islands. Goblets the size of a man's skull were filled and refilled by servants all around as the lords and ladies laughed and chatted amongst each other.
Seated at the center on a slightly raised dais was Maximus, flanked by Merlin, Lyra, and Lilith, while behind them stood the Imperial Guard in ceremonial formation. Maximus ate a little bit of the phoenix bird but left his goblet untouched.
On his left, Robb Stark sat beside Lord Rodrick of the Vale. Their conversation was quiet but from what he could see it was a respectful talk between the two. "We'll never be kin," Rodrick was saying, "But I'll admit, you hold yourself better than I thought, Stark."
Robb gave a nod. "I've had to. The life of a lord in the Empire doesn't tolerate softness. And neither does the Winter. Both require a person with a strong will and a good upbringing."
A few seats down, Mace Tyrell's son Luthor leaned too close to Arianne Martell, his words slurred from too much wine. "Your grace," he said, "Has anyone told you how dangerously beautiful you are?"
Arianne gave a cruel smile. "Only a dozen times today. But never by someone who smells of plum rot and horse sweat."
Luthor's face twitched. Before he could respond, a dark-robed witch, seated nearby, leaned in with smile. "Careful, Lord Luthor. Some women bite back."
At the far end of the hall, Lord Edmure was in conversation with Lord Alester Tyrell, who wore his clothes to impress the ladies that would be present at this gathering. "You think there'll be more titles given?" Edmure asked.
Alester grinned as if he already had some thoughts about this. "Always. So long as men keep bleeding for crowns. The trick to bleed in the right direction."
Edmure frowned at his words. "You talk like loyalty is a game."
"It is," Alester said, sipping his wine. "Just a matter of remembering whose board you're on."
Nearby, a conversation unfolded between two younger lords, one from Westeros, the other from Essos. "I don't see why we should answer to these Eastern nobles." muttered Ser Torrhen of the newly established House Mooton. "Our fathers died in the field. We should have a greater voice in how the lands ruled."
"You're not in the Reach anymore," replied Lord Corvin Ular of Lys. "Here, it is not bloodlines that decided. It's relevance. And Myr is a city swimming in gold since being conquered by the Emperor. The Ghosts of dead lords will have no effect on Myr's or any other Cities loyalty." Ser Torrhen understood what he was saying but he still didn't agree with it.
At the main dais, Merlin leaned toward Maximus. "The nobles are growing confident from this gathering. Some of the new ones from Westeros, mostly minor houses, think this gathering is the start of their rise in politics."
Maximus shook his head, "Let them think so. The illusion of power will soften the sting of their reality. Once they realize where the real power lies, then their dreams of power will disappear." Merlin nodded, agreeing as such was the way of young lords who get a taste of power.
At the doors to the hall, two giants stood guard, watching over the gathering as a show of force to the rest of the lords. Some witches had brought them plates of food to eat as Maximus wouldn't fill right to make them watch everybody else eat and not be able to feast themselves. The plates they got were naturally bigger than normal plates as they were giants, and so were the portions.
Throughout the hall, music was playing and dancers provided entertainment for the lords. It was forbidden to touch the dancers, so when some lords did, they were immediately warned by one of the Imperial Guards that if they do it again then their hands would be cut off. Yes, it was a harsh punishment, but when an order was given by Maximus himself, there was no room to disobey that order regardless of one's status.
After an hour, when the plates had been scraped clean and it was clear the Reachmen would win the night's drinking, the hour of toasts had arrived. In the center, Maximus stood up, and the servers cleared the table of all the plates and other dishes. The room quieted as the lords and ladies waited for whatever he was about to say.
Maximus raised his goblet in the air and began. "My lords, and my friends from across the sea, a great man once said, 'History is written by the winners.' Here tonight we write that history again." While he said great man, he knew that the man he was quoting was not without his flaws and controversy. He wasn't even a great man, Maximus just said that to make what he was saying sound better.
"The old order of these two continents is no longer. From this day forth we shall all live a new order ushered in by the Imperial Union. No matter where you come from, whether it be the East of the bone mountains or from the North of Westeros. As long as you are sworn to the Imperial Union, your future will be guaranteed." The lords and ladies started clapping at his words.
"Now let us do a toast." he said raising his goblet. The others did the same.
"To all who call the Imperial Union home. And to us, the authors of tomorrow's world." The lords had raised their goblets in turn. "To the Emperor" voiced a hundred noblemen followed by the entire room.
Behind him, Arianne, who had come to sit next to him leaned in close. "Impressive words, my Emperor," she whispered. "But you should save some fire for the bedroom. Tonight, I'm in the mood for conquest." his entire body shuddered at those words.
For the next 2 hours, the Wine continued to flow, and the room was filled with the laughter of drunk lords.
At the end of the feast, the lords and ladies had retired to their rooms, some within the palace, while some had rooms onboard the airships that they arrived on. Maximus was dragged back to his room by Arianne, Merlin, and Lilith. The battle he had to fight was tough, but ultimately, he managed to win and conquer the three women who tried to conquer him. He was glad that he was a demi-god, because if not, he would have one hundred percent lost.
As the next morning rolled around, the Sapphire Palace of Myr had already been cleaned up and transformed to prepare for what would happen today. The grand hall, where only hours ago goblets and dancers danced, was now redressed in a ceremonious style. The banquet tables had been cleared out, replaced by a broad marble stage facing a thousand seats that sat beneath the crystalline dome.
The hall was adorned with the banners that bore the sigils of the Viceroyalties, the Imperial Heartlands (Essos), and the Emperor's own House.
Maximus stood atop the central platform, clad in ceremonial robes of black and silver, the sigil of the Imperial Union glowing faintly across his chest. The Imperial Guard stood like statues behind him. Merlin stood to his right, holding a long ceremonial staff adorned with steel from the ruins of Valyria. On his left, Lilith and Lyra watched from slightly behind, dressed in ceremonial black dresses with silver runes stitched along the hems.
The great hall was filled with Nobles, military commanders, priests of the various Churchs, and minor officials. The audience was silent, except for the low murmur people talking and incense being lit by masked priestesses in each corner.
After a few minutes a horn sounded across the hall.
From the back of the hall, the first of the honored guests approached Commander Varros of the Third Legion, a burly, bronze-skinned veteran from the Eastern front. He walked with pride, his armor covered with dozens of scratches, each one a memory of war.
Maximus nodded to Merlin, who stepped forward and unrolled a scroll.
"In recognition of his service during the Battle of Yin, for bravery beyond measure and unwavering discipline, the Emperor bestows upon Commander Varros the Crown of Steel and Laurel, and names him Marshal of the Eastern Border." Maximus started clapping followed by the rest of the room as they congratulated the newly appointed marshal.
A silver crown, shaped like braided laurel leaves, was placed upon Varros's head by one of the guards. Then Maximus stepped forward, unsheathing his ceremonial blade and tapping it gently upon the man's shoulder.
"Stand tall, Marshal of the East," Maximus said. "Your name now lives forever in the walls of Heaven's Reach."
Varros bowed deeply. His face filled with pride as he stood before the Emperor.
One by one, the heroes of the campaign were called forth — veterans of the Yin campaign, knights who held the line during the siege of the demons, sorcerers who helped repel the R'hllor fanatics during the battle of Volantis. Each was given a title, a laurel, or a medal of the Union.
Once the final commander was honored, the hall went silent again. Merlin rolled open a second scroll. "Let the Viceroys be called."
Now came the moment of real importance; the swearing in of the new rulers of the former Westeros Kingdoms.
The first to step forward was Robb Stark, clad in dark steel and fur-trimmed robes. He knelt before Maximus in front of all.:
"Do you, Robb Stark, swear fealty to the Imperial Union, to the Emperor Maximus Invictus, and to the order that binds these lands together in eternal unity?"
Robb's voice spoke clearly. "I do swear."
"Do you swear to govern the North as its Viceroy, not as king, nor prince, but as steward of the Emperor's law?"
"I swear it."
"Then rise, Viceroy of the North and Lord of Winterfell."
Robb stood as the crowd applauded.
Next came Lord Rodrick of the Vale, followed by Doran Martell representing the Dornish coast, and then Mace Tyrell, whose smile and overly flamboyant bow earned a few laughs. When Edmure Tully approached, he tripped slightly as he knelt but managed to recover without embarrassing himself too much. Each took their oaths in turn.
After the major Viceroys, a number of lesser regional governors, some of Essosi origin, others newly appointed Westerosi lords, were brought forward to swear loyalty to the Union and accept their new seats. There was Lord Rolf of Crackclaw Point, Lady Maela of Tumbleton, Viceroy Joffen of the Iron Isles, and others, all kneeling before Maximus in full view of their peers.
By the time the final oath was spoken, nearly an hour had passed.
Maximus raised both arms, called for silence.
"You now wear your titles as armor," he said, "And I remind you, armor is not worn for pride, but for protection. Protect your lands, your people, and this Union, or lose both your titles and your heads." Everybody was quiet as they understood the consequences of what disloyalty would bring.
"Now, Let the games begin," Maximus finished, stepping down from the dais.
The grand procession moved outside into the outer palace grounds, where the afternoon games were already prepared. The massive arena beneath the Palace Walls was filled with Myrish citizens, visiting dignitaries, and lower-ranking officers now crowding into their reserved sections.
A tournament of knights commenced first, featuring jousts between select champions from Westeros and Essos alike. The crowd grew louder as each match ended. The final match was won by a dark-skinned knight from the Golden Empire, who bowed deeply before Maximus and offered his victory to "the peace that holds the swords sheathed."
Afterward came duels of honor, more symbolic than violent, with pre-arranged rules. Ser Torrhen of House Mooton and Lord Corvin Ular fought, but the match ended in a draw, both men bowing in mutual respect.
Then came the most awaited event, the Magic Exhibition.
On a raised stage, members of the Witch Tower performed controlled displays of their magical prowess.
One of them conjured an illusion of the Battle of Yin, painting it across the air for all to see just how brutal the fight actually was. The most cheers came from when Maximus was fighting against Pol Qo.
Another one had conjured flames and bent them into the shape of a lion and made it leap over the heads of the crowd. Children had gone wild with the display and started to chase the lion through the crowd.
Another Witch had darkened the sky above the arena, then filled it with lights that gave the crowd a show. It reminded some of the fireworks that they had seen the previous night, which was already a shock for them as this was the first time they saw such a thing.
As the sun began to set, the games came to an end The Viceroys and other nobles retired briefly to prepare for the evening feast. The people of Myr did the same as they went to prepare for another night of festivities. With the amount of food produced from the farms around Essos, they could afford an entire week of festivities before they would need to worry.
But this gathering wasn't meant to last a week, and it would soon be over after two more days.