Gabriel and Damian moved through the banquet hall with the same effortless dominance they had displayed on the balcony. Every step was trailed by holo-cameras hovering discreetly along the perimeter, projecting highlights of the evening onto translucent ether-screens suspended above the crowd. Nobles adjusted their suits and gowns under the glow of engineered chandeliers that shifted from warm to cool light in rhythm with the music, as though even the atmosphere bent to the empire's design.
The nobles orbited them like satellites, voices lowered, words careful. Foreign envoys, some connected through sleek translation devices pinned to their collars, leaned forward with carefully curated smiles. Their aides tapped quietly on ether-tablets, cataloguing every gesture, every response.
Gabriel's dry wit made them laugh when they least expected it, while Damian's rarer words struck like heavy signatures: permanent, binding, and impossible to misinterpret.
