The main hall of Wanger Castle shimmered that night with breathtaking opulence. Crystal chandeliers reflected light like a thousand falling stars, while deep crimson carpets stretched across the floor with an elegance that demanded every guest lower their heads in respect. Severin von Wanger stood in the center of the hall, his wand raised, eyes fixed on the perfect symmetry he envisioned in his mind. To him, magic was pure mathematics: every angle, every vibration of energy, had to align with near-obsessive precision.
At the other side of the hall, Anneliese von Hirtzen smiled gently at the diplomats and nobles gathered. Her warm aura seemed to radiate the chandeliers' light itself, making the guests feel welcomed despite the subtle rivalries between their clans. As Severin began chanting a complex protective spell, Anneliese leaned slightly forward, flicking her hand gracefully, and subtly infused a touch of soft light into the spell, just enough to make the atmosphere feel more "friendly".
Severin furrowed his brow. "Anneliese! Your wand angle is off by 0.5 degrees!" he shouted, voice taut with tension. His hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but because even the smallest mistake for Severin was an unforgivable catastrophe. He twisted his wand again, trying to realign the energy, but nothing went as he expected. Instead of forming a magnificent shield to cover the entire hall, their magic collided with absurd results.
In an instant, the crystalline barrier transformed into… ducks. Not just one, but hundreds, all made of sparkling crystal. And these were no ordinary ducks: each opened its beak and began singing opera with a shockingly piercing, ear-splitting voice. Some guests ducked in fear, some covered their ears, while the braver ones tried patting the ducks, hoping they would disappear. But the crystal ducks hovered, twirling, and performing as if on the grand opera stage of Wanger City.
Anneliese struggled to hold back her laughter. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the chaos unfold. "Look on the bright side, Sev," she said, bowing slightly and stifling a giggle so the guests wouldn't hear. "At least they're sparkling, and no one is talking about boring politics anymore. And their voices… aren't they kind of… impressive?"
Severin stared at her, eyes nearly bulging. "Impressive?! This is a diplomatic disaster, Anne! The foreign delegates are demanding explanations, and our entire protective shield has turned into… into… opera-singing ducks!" His hand trembled again as the magical energy in the hall spun wildly, bouncing off the bodies of the crystal birds.
From the corners of the hall, their friends began to chuckle at the sight. Leopold von Narwitt, wearing a wide, confident smile, patted Wilhelm von Puttberg on the shoulder and whispered, "See, even the most perfectionist can become a laughingstock. But look at them—they're oddly charming, aren't they?" Wilhelm nodded, maintaining his authoritative expression but hiding a small smile at the corner of his lips. Pauline von Krütz, standing slightly behind, quickly jotted notes with curious eyes. She wrote, "Observation of chaotic magic phenomena: interaction between precision energy and social intuition — public response and comedic side effects noted."
Anneliese walked over to them, waving. "See that? The ducks add a dramatic touch. I'm sure the guests will remember this event for the rest of their lives!"
Leopold laughed loudly. "Or they'll go home and write reports: 'Never attend a diplomatic ceremony at Wanger Castle when Severin is casting spells.'"
Severin slapped his face with his palm, as if trying to erase the mistake from existence. He felt every atom around him moving out of place. "Anne, please stop this! Every misalignment of energy could cause permanent anomalies!"
Anneliese just looked at him, amused. She tilted her head and lightly touched the tip of one floating crystal duck, secretly adding a touch of warm light. The duck suddenly emitted a high-pitched note that sounded like soft human laughter. "See, Sev. They look happy," she said, smiling.
Severin stared at her, frustrated and bewildered. "Happy?! Happy? I don't want them happy! I want them safe!" He raised his hands again, trying to gather the magical energy, but every attempt produced sillier effects: some ducks began mimicking drums, while others made annoying flute-like tones.
Meanwhile, their friends tried to manage the "damage control." Dietrich von Jirwalt calmed panicked guests, raising his hands with authority. "Please remain calm. This is just… a Wanger cultural attraction," he said. Friederike von Tanghausen, with graceful steps, placed her hands on some guests' shoulders and said, "Yes, they are remarkable. Truly… artistic. Like kinetic art installations."
Theodora von Terstedt tried to soothe Anneliese, who was starting to giggle watching Severin's panic. "Anne, just let him experience a little chaos. Sometimes perfectionists need a bitter dose of entertainment," she whispered, smiling reassuringly.
Severin took a deep breath, attempting to realign his calculations. He pictured every angle, line, and energy flow that should have been perfectly arranged. But each time he tried, the ducks performed a new, absurd choreography, twirling in the air in formations that defied any diagram Severin had drawn.
Anneliese approached him, patting his shoulder gently. "Sev, look on the bright side. We've created a moment no one will forget. Isn't that what every diplomatic ceremony is meant to do?"
Severin looked at her, half-eyes bulging, half-melting from frustration. "Diplomatic purpose is **not to entertain crystal ducks!**" He tried desperately to contain his emotions, but the energy that escaped formed a ring of light shaped like a heart around them both.
Leopold couldn't hold back his laughter anymore. "Sev, you have to admit, they're funny," he said, pointing at the duck mimicking opera with comical notes. Wilhelm added, firm yet smiling subtly, "At least they're coordinated. This is chaos… but elegant."
Pauline added another note to her journal. "Interesting phenomenon: extreme rigidity clashes with social intuition, resulting in unconventional magical responses. Comedic effect on guests successfully distracts from diplomatic protocol."
Finally, Severin gave up for a moment, sitting on the floor with a defeated expression. "Anne, how do we fix this? Every attempt I make just adds more ducks!"
Anneliese smiled, bowing her head and brushing her hair back. "Let's just wait for them to finish singing. At least we get a free crystal opera concert. And Sev, trust me, everyone will remember tonight."
Severin looked at her, half-wanting to cry, half-wanting to laugh. He began to realize that maybe, just maybe, there was a certain joy in unpredictable chaos. But for a perfectionist like Severin, that awareness came slowly, shadowed by guilt over the failed protective shield.
Some guests, initially terrified, began to laugh softly. A foreign diplomat tried imitating the crystal ducks' operatic notes, and soon the hall was filled with laughter mixed with astonishment. Dietrich and Friederike exchanged small, knowing smiles—they understood that the "diplomatic crisis" had transformed into an extraordinary aristocratic comedy show.
Anneliese moved among the sparkling ducks, flicking her hands so a few of them spun in elegant spirals. "See, Sev," she said, eyes sparkling, "not so bad, right? We've managed to impress everyone… in a very unique way."
Severin exhaled slowly, lowering his head as he brushed the floor with his hand, trying to calm the wild energy. He knew that to truly fix things, he would have to adjust his calculations. Yet, somehow, amid the chaos, a small smile crept across his lips—a smile he had long denied himself.
Leopold approached them, pointing at a duck forming a strangely symmetrical circle. "Sev, I must admit, that's the most creative symmetry I've ever seen."
Severin glared. "Creative? This is a disaster!"
Anneliese laughed softly beside him. "Ah, Sev. Perhaps tonight we've learned one important thing: even the strictest precision can find beauty in chaos."
That night, the hall of Wanger Castle was no longer just a venue for diplomatic ceremonies. It became a crystalline opera stage, where hundreds of ducks sang endlessly, danced in the air, and carried both guests and young magicians into an experience they would remember forever. Severin sat in one of the chairs, gazing at the ceiling with half-closed eyes, contemplating every angle and line that should have been perfectly aligned. Anneliese stood beside him, laughing gently, realizing that perhaps, just perhaps, chaos had its own kind of precision—a precision hard to accept for a perfectionist soul, yet delightful for the heart.
Amid the laughter, sparkling crystals, and ear-piercing opera, Severin realized one thing: tonight, perhaps for the first time, he had learned something no book or formula could ever teach—that magic, like life, sometimes needs a touch of uncertainty to be truly beautiful.