Since today’s banquet was meant to reintroduce Prince Corco into Medala’s society, he would have to meet the representatives of the empire’s estates. However, only few outside of the imperial family were allowed into the palace complex even in the best of times. With the city englufed in atense atmosphere, these were far from good times. As such, the inner city mansion of House Pluritac had been chosen to host the banquet in favor of Pluritac Castle within the silver palace.

After Corco had spent some more time with Elder Caelestis to recount his adventures overseas, he had met up with Primus to give him some much needed pointers before they had to make their way over to the Pluritac mansion. Although the prince would miss Fadelio’s support, at least young master Petrocilius was a noble heir, so any small mistakes could be chalked up to his inexperience by the other guests. Even better, Primus wasn’t an official part of Corco’s retinue and smaller missteps by his new attendant wouldn’t reflect back onto him. It was step one in Corco’s grand bullshit-avoidance plan.

Somewhat reassured of his choices, Corco’s eyes left Primus and turned into the well-lit and well-filled courtyard. If one were to look at the central courtyard of House Pluritac’s inner city mansion, it would have the appearance of a cloud: A flat base on one side and five large alcoves arranged in an arc to its opposite. While the structure guaranteed privacy for each of the individual groups inside the alcoves, it also allowed all guests to view the entertainment presented in the center of the court. At this moment, all assembled had the displeasure of listening to Spuria’s self-absorbed speech.

historical

"This empress had been too distraught at her dear husbands death, but then she heard the next piece of tragic news: She had also lost a son overseas..."

Even though he had been prepared for nonsense, they had been obstructed before the banquet even started. According to the rules of Medalan nobility, Corco couldn’t make his entrance until the head of his House had introduced him. To his great dismay, Caelestis had stopped being a member of his House when he joined the Ancestral Hall, so the role defaulted to the next most senior family member, Spuria. For now, they were stuck backstage, until the witch was done wasting his time.

Rather than listen to the woman’s nonsense and get himself worked up more, the prince thought back to his grandfather’s plea. In fact, he wouldn’t mind if his brother were to become emperor. Corco didn’t care much for the power, fame or responsibility which would come with the territory. Calm and steady work frombehind the scenes were much more his style, and his vision for Medala would remain just as possible. Getting his hopes up was a surefire way to be disappointed, Corco knew that. Nonetheless, he still hoped that he wouldn’t have to play target to anyone who would oppose change. Family was important after all. The least Prince Pacha could do was play human shield for his big brother. The more he thought about it, the more Corco hoped his baby brother would turn out to be reasonable, and susceptible to his own ideas. Considering everything Corco had heard about Pacha so far, the scenario seemed unlikely.

"Prince Corco, it is time." Primus poked Corco’s shoulder to wake him up. When he looked out into the yard, he realized that the shameless woman had finished her shameless speech. For now he laid aside his fantasies, took a deep breath and stepped out into the light with long strides.

__________________________

"Congratulations on your return, Prince Corco."

"This prince thanks Lord Fulcinius for his generosity." As he answered with simple pleasantry, Corco accepted yet another grape-shaped trinket from one of his guests. This time it was a wine cup in the shape of a grape cluster. Since the official start of the banquet, guests would arrive at his seat to offer their greetings and a small present. In principle, none of their actions were impolite, but the types of gifts he received were problematic. Grapes, grape vines and raindrops, the same motifs would repeat over and over. In Medala, any of these designs symbolized life and birth. Not only was it a subtle jab at Corco’s own blue wear, a defiance of his mourning, the presents also mocked the banquet’s official occasion.

Any social event in Medala had its own rigorous procedure which had to be adhered to by all participants. If they didn’t, they would be considered uncultured by other nobles. However, there was no official event to commemorate a family member’s resurrection. The organizer of the banquet would still have to find a proper occasion to call the lords of Medala together. Unfortunately for Corco, that organizer was the official head of House Pluritac: Spuria Ichilia.

Thus, Lady Ichilia did the only logical thing and announced his rebirth as a simple birth. All the gifts reflected the occasion, but were sent with obvious malicious intent. A look at the night’s schedule made Spuria’s provocation even clearer. After all, no other part of the banquet was in any way connected to a baby shower, all of it just a facade to mock her ’dear son’.

"Thus, this old man will take his leave. I toast on Prince Corco’s health and long life. Salute," said Lord Fulcinius and raised the cup in his hand.

"Salute," Corco replied in a flat voice and drank up his own.

As he watched the lord’s back disappear into the crwd, Corco’s face sank even more.

"They truly are too much," Primus spoke up. "Every last one of them asks Prince to drink. Such an obvious ploy."

"It’s a cheap trick. At least grandfather has been looking out for us." Before the start of the banquet, Caelestis had talked with Spuria and made sure that Primus would be left in charge of Corco’s wine throughout the evening. In light of the recent assassination attempt, the empress mother had been unable to refute the request. Thus, Primus now served water mixed with a hint of wine. Even then, he would barely covered the bottom of Corco’s cup with each pour. At this rate, the prince would drown before the lords could get him drunk.

"How plain it is of the empress mother to take her strategy from a tale even children would know," Primus said.

"I’m not even a king, let alone a monkey king," Corco replied in reference to the old Medalan fable.

"Still, does it not seem too obvious? Placing us in the leftmost alcove when we should be seated in the center, forcing Crown Prince to stand up and greet guests from such a deep chair... Never would I have expected the empress mother to be this cheap."

Whenever a guest showed up, Corco would have to get up from his seat to receive them in accordance with etiquette. Anything else would be deemed impolite. However, the seats in his alcove were built wide and deep, so he had to afford considerable effort every time he left the chair. It didn’t help any that he couldn’t use both of his hands, with his left arm still in a sling. To top it all off, the heavens had decided to make the evening especially grim. Even though teh clouds had been unloaded by last night’s storn, the clammy weather still covered the entire venue in a film of moisture. Made aware of his stiff fingers, Corco rubbed his hands together. Although the cultivation helped, the constant wetness still caused him great discomfort.

"For now that woman is just clearing the way. The real fun starts later."

His new mother would assume that the combination of alcohol, rudeness and discomfort would be enough for Corco’s calm facade to crack, especially with how aggressive he had been when they had met in the small court. Meanwhile, a great number of lords would always linger within the main court and spy into Corco’s alcove. Any faux pas from the prince would turn into public knowledge within seconds. Though even if none of these methods would work, they would still wear down his patience and make him more susceptible to whatever hurdle they might make him jump later. With minimal foresight, Corco had ignored the furia’s attempts to play benevolent mother after she had banished him into his corner. Apart from that, he had been forced into a passive position,busy in his attempt to ignore everything around him.

"Are you alright, my boy? Best not to do anything rash. For now, we shouldn’t be ambitious get through tonight without any incidents." From his other side, Sonco spoke up. The southern lord had helped his nephew with the greetings all evening, something the prince was more than grateful for.

As the guests trickled in, they would fill the seats within the alcoves at their leisure. With a sigh, Corco turned to check the seats in the back. Since the traditional and southern houses were on his side, Corco thought he would have a significant force, but only six of the total twenty southern houses had chosen his alcove. Since the war was still fresh on their minds, most would choose to sit away from any the princes, even if his uncle was the Governor of the South. As for the traditionalist faction, they represented the weaker estates in the empire. Since they would be the first lords to lose their land and status in times of great turmoil, they were more adamant in their adherence to the rules. They might have been many, but because of their weak forces and low reputation, the traditionalist estates couldn’t help him project strength.

"Prince Amautu has been fair and respectful, at the very least," Sonco continued after he hadn’t received an answer from his nephew for a while. This time Corco responded, even if it was with a sneer.

"And yet his people happily ask me to drink just like the rest. Politeness doesn’t equal respect. What I’m more interested in is when exactly that third brother of mine will show up."

Again his mood soured. Even when he had asked his grandfather for a pre-banquet meeting with Pacha, the brat hadn’t shown up at all.

"This does not seem unusual, does it? At banquets, the most important lords are to appear last," Primus recited back his knowledge of standard etiquette.

"If we go by the book you might be right, but consider this: The guy’s older brother, who was declareddead, has returned from a long journey overseas, alive and well. Even worse, only two days ago he was the victim of an assassination attempt. Pacha has been in the city for as long as my grandfather, yet even now he takes his sweet time as he prepares for his dramatic entry. Not to mention: Grandfather should have reminded him to play nice. If he’s out to win me over it’s a bad start."

"It appears your words have wings boy, and they have been carried all the way across the mansion," Sonco said as he motioned towards the approaching group. At it’s head walked the third prince of Medala, Pachacutec Titu Tertiu Pluritac.

While Pacha’s group still swaggered towards Corco’s alcove, the first prince rose from his seat to meet them halfway. True to his grandfather’s plea, he wanted to give his brother a chance at a proper first impression.

One look at his little brother and Corco realized that the rumors hadn’t been exaggerated. Prince Pacha was a true giant, no less than Fadelio. Still not fully grown, the prince was already a head taller than Corco, an impression he enhanced with his straightened spine and raised head. With his impressive physique, his lavish gold and silver armor and his long ponytail, he looked like a hero straight out of the old legends. In large strides, the hero closed the distance. When the brothers met at the edge of Corco’s alcove, Corco could feel all eyes focus on them.

"Welcome back, brother! I have truly missed you!" As he proclaimed his brotherly love for the entire court to hear, Pacha passed over proper etiquette to hug the older prince. Air escaped through Corco’s gnashed teeth as the hero’s paw slammed into his brother’s bandaged shoulder.

"Oh no, my apologies!" Pacha said, hand before his mouth as he stepped back. "This prince has been shocked to hear about that terrible attack, but in his joy forgot about brother’s injury. How is your arm, brother?"

He should have been angry at the hero’s clumsy assault or his horribly faked shock, but Corco was too surprised at how poor his brother’s acting was, especially compared to the boy’s shrewd mother. Even so, Corco smiled through the pain and tried to lighten the mood. Just as he had promised his grandfather.

"Please be careful, little brother. My arm’s still in a sling," Corco said as he plastered his face with a pitiable smile.

Though the first prince had tried to sound more affectionate with his choice of words, Pacha frowned as soon as he heard the term ’little brother’.

"Even if you are injured, this hero will not have you call him ’little’! It is a slight on this hero’s dignity and will not be tolerated!" Pacha blew up out of nowhere. In response, the older brother only managed to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

"Sure, whatever the great hero wishes. This humble mortal apologizes." Unable or unwilling to pick up on Corco’s sarcasm, Prince Pacha nodded his head, a smug smile on his face.

*Great,* Corco thought, *and the evening started so well.*