Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Culture

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Culture

(Aaron's POV)

This could score as my best night in this kingdom. Everything is so entertaining and I have Kaelia beside me. She had that wide-eyed look again, like a girl seeing magic for the first time.

“Is that… a floating crystal dragon?” She whispered, eyes trained upward.

I followed her gaze to where a performer manipulated translucent magical threads, weaving the glowing form of a dragon that danced through the sky, wings rippling with illusionary sparks.

“Yeah,” I murmured, smiling. “This is only the beginning.”

The emcee, a bard with an obnoxiously high plume in his hat, stood center stage, spinning dramatically. “Noble guests! Warriors! Outsiders and beloved blood of Valeria! You’ve tasted our food, now behold our spirit!”

The crowd roared. Kaelia flinched at the volume, then laughed softly when I nudged her shoulder.

“I told you Valerie was lively,” I said.

She nodded, her lips curving faintly. “It’s beautiful.”

Then the music changed to slow and earthy, like a heartbeat wrapped in strings and wind. From the south entrance, women stepped into the arena barefoot, dressed in layered flowing garments dyed in twilight hues violets, reds, and coppers that caught the firelight like flames.

They began to dance.

Not delicately, no. This was warrior dance. Arms slicing through the air, backs bending in deep arches, bodies spinning, striking, then pulling together like a pulse moving through them all. Their movements told stories of goddesses rising from flame, of queens banishing armies with chants, of wolves circling prey beneath a blood moon.

One woman flipped over another’s back mid-dance and the crowd gasped. Another cracked a whip of enchanted light, forming glowing symbols in the air that shimmered then faded.

Kaelia leaned forward, eyes wide. “They’re not just dancing, they’re fighting with movement.”

“They’re warrior dancers,” I said, grinning. “The best are trained in illusion and offense. That one—” I pointed to the lead — “has never lost a real match. She once disarmed a rogue general in front of a crowd.”

Kaelia whistled low under her breath. “Okay… I’m impressed.”

“Now imagine one of them as your mate,” I teased.

Kaelia flushed, bumping my arm. “Shut up.”

We laughed.

The warriors bowed, then stepped back as the fire dimmed, giving way to another spectacle. This time: magicians.

A man cloaked in sapphire walked forward, holding nothing but a simple staff. Then the earth rumbled faintly. Pebbles lifted from the ground, orbiting him like moons. He raised one hand and fire spiraled upward, transforming into a flock of glowing birds that scattered, then rained golden feathers over the courtyard.

The audience clapped, enchanted.

Then came a duo — twins, perhaps — who juggled glowing orbs while spinning illusions of famous Valerian battles in the air above them. Tiny soldiers made of mist clashed swords, and as one side won, the illusion exploded in silver dust that fell gently on the front row.

I looked at Kaelia again. She blinked, stunned, her eyelashes catching a bit of the illusion dust. She looked ethereal, momentarily part of the magic.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Alarion watching.

Not watching the illusion.

Watching Kaelia.

I nudged her, teasing. “You’re getting stares.”

Kaelia glanced up, meeting Alarion’s gaze across the open air. The crowd’s noise faded for a heartbeat, even the music seemed distant. Something passed between them, just a moment. Heat… or maybe I'm being too attentive.

Then Kaelia broke eye contact, inhaling shakily. “It’s nothing.”

But I could feel it.

The bard returned to the center. “And now! A wrestling match, not of war to win or lose, but celebration! Women first, then men. These are matches of honor and joy, not injuries. But place your bets, nobles, or forever hold your peace!”

The ring cleared again. A girl in golden braids, no older than twenty, stepped into the center. Across from her, a broader woman wearing bear fur over her shoulders cracked her neck, grinning like she’d already won.

The match was brutal and brilliant.

They slammed, rolled, grappled, tossed each other with shocking strength. Kaelia yelped when one of them flipped the other over her shoulder so hard she landed with a loud thud.

But the fallen one leapt back up, bloodied and grinning.

The crowd roared.

Even I was on my feet by the end, cheering with the nobles. Kaelia was beside me, both of us yelling like idiots when the smaller one somehow pinned her opponent flat with a sneaky leg hook.

“That was insane,” Kaelia gasped, breathless with laughter.

“Valerian girls don’t play around,” I said proudly.

“And the boys?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Just wait.”

A trumpet blared. The arena shifted again, and food was brought out, roasted meats glazed in wild herbs, colorful fruit trays carved into birds, desserts shaped like moons and stars. Servers moved like dancers themselves, weaving through the rows with silver trays.

Kaelia reached for a pastry and gasped. “It’s warm!”

“Fresh from fire ovens behind the gate,” I told him. “One of their best-kept secrets.”

The music softened for a while as the crowd ate and mingled. But the arena never lost its magic, light illusions glowed in the corners, a floating flower petal display drifted above us, and the torch flames shifted colors to the rhythm of the bard’s lute.

I took a deep breath, letting the scent of spiced wine and roasted pepper meat fill my lungs.

The firelight shimmered like molten gold across the courtyard, licking the edges of every silk banner and jewel-studded tunic with a living glow. I shifted in my seat beside Kaelia, pulling my embroidered cloak tighter against the soft breeze. The night was cool but not cold, it's the kind of air that made you want to linger.

Alarion hadn’t taken his eyes off the performances since they began. Or maybe not the performances.

I didn’t blame him.

Kaelia looked... otherworldly. Even without trying.

Dressed in navy and silver, with soft embroidery at her cuffs, her eyes shining with quiet awe. I found myself smiling. She still believed in wonder.

And Valeria delivered it.

“Next up,” boomed the commentator from the central dais, “a performance that will twist your vision and maybe your sanity. We welcome illusionists from the Eastern Temple!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, nobles and warriors alike leaning forward.

Kaelia gasped. “I’ve read about this sect,” she whispered, eyes wide. “They train with blindfolds and mirrors, spend years learning how to bend light and shadow.”

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” I asked, half-teasing. “Okay, it is impressive. I can barely bend my cousin’s stubbornness.”

Kaelia chuckled softly, but her gaze didn’t leave the stage.

The fire dimmed.

The music shifted into soft windpipes and a low, eerie hum, as five figures in mirrored cloaks stepped into the ring. With a flick of their wrists, smoke curled from their sleeves, floating and shaping into... birds? No, dancing women made of ash, spinning with impossible grace.

The commentator added flair, voice playful:

“Ah, and here we have the kingdom's most eligible bachelorettes! Gentlemen, careful — they’ll turn you to dust if you look away!”

Laughter burst from the crowd. Even the King smiled faintly.

One illusionist clapped his hands and the women scattered into feathers. Then reformed into wolves, stalking in circles around the fire before bursting into a rain of floating petals.

I heard Kaelia whisper, “That was beautiful.”

Her voice... it held this raw childlike excitement. She is beautiful.

She turned to the platform, as if to check if Alarion was seeing the beauty on stage too.

The illusion faded. The world narrowed to two lovers in a sea of stars and firelight, and I felt like an intruder.

But just as quickly as it happened, Kaelia looked away, cheeks flushed.

A new beat of drums snapped us back into the present.

“Clear the stage!” the commentator bellowed. “It’s time for the moon-dance!”

Kaelia perked up. “Oh gods. This one’s sacred. I know it.”

Dozens of dancers flooded the stage in flowing fabrics: silvers, whites, faint blues. Their movements rippled like water under moonlight. They danced in circles, forming a living sigil, hands weaving in synchronicity, faces lifted as a hymn filled the air.

Ancient Valerian tongue.

I didn’t understand the words, but I felt them, like they’d reached inside me and touched something old.

Beside me, Kaelia’s lips moved in perfect silence, mouthing the words like everyone else.

A woman stepped forward from the circle, painted in celestial symbols, arms raised. She called lightning into her palms — real lightning, crackling white — and released it into the air, letting it burst into a thousand soft lights that hung suspended like stars.

The entire courtyard gasped.

“Did you see that?” Kaelia whispered, grabbing my wrist like a child at a fair. “She split the charge without a chant!”

My head couldn't register her words fast enough. It's like everything slowed down. She was glowing.

And across the fire, Alarion saw it.

The corner of his mouth lifted, small, soft, and private.

And Kaelia? She smiled back before quickly looking down at her lap. These two are insufferable, they just won't frickin stop staring at each other. Poor me, third-wheeling still.

Another act began: flame jugglers who manipulated fire like puppets, painting stories in the air: a tale of an ancient wolf, cursed to roam until love set him free. The crowd cheered. The commentator made another joke — something about “romantic beasts” and “impatient brides.”

Kaelia laughed beside me, brushing tears from her eyes.

The scent of roasted meats, sweet wine, and fresh honeybread began to fill the courtyard. Servants emerged with trays, setting small portions in front of each noble seat.

“Here comes the feast,” I muttered.

“But I don’t want it to end yet,” Kaelia said, voice soft. “This... this is the most alive I’ve felt in weeks.”

I looked at her again.

And I thought — she deserves to live like this forever.

But joy, as we know, rarely lasts.