The grand hall of Veridion's palace hummed with quiet activity as the King reclined on his gilded chair, a thoughtful expression resting on his weathered face. He tapped a finger against the armrest before turning to the steward at his side.
"Send word to every noble house in Veridion," the King commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We shall hold a grand gathering at the palace. A celebration for Duke Lucien D'Aragon, for regaining his sight. Let no household be absent."
The steward bowed low. "At once, Your Majesty."
Within the hour, swift-footed messengers sped through the streets and countryside, bearing elegantly written invitations to every house of rank and title. The city buzzed with the news — a palace celebration was rare, and one held for Lucien D'Aragon even rarer.
At D'Amore Manor, Lady Celeste received the royal summons with an arched brow and a faint sigh. "A party," she murmured, setting the letter on the table.
