SWNOVELXO Chapter 426: The Formal Serewyn Reception (1)
The royal carriage rolled into the Courtyard of Alchemic Flame, its wheels rattling gently against the cobbled stone in a deliberate, stately pace. The great courtyard itself was awash in color, lit by ever-shifting mists that curled and danced in the evening air, remnants of Serewyn's centuries-old protective wards. For a moment, the swirling hues reminded Mikhailis of a living tapestry: vibrant blues and shimmering greens wove around pillars of pale gold and rose, forming a mesmerizing haze that lent everything an ethereal glow. Peering through the ornate carriage window, he felt a jolt of wonder stir inside him.
These people really know how to put on a show, he thought, silently taking note of every detail—the intricacy of the runic symbols etched into the courtyard's perimeter, the faint hum of arcane resonance in the air. Silvarion Thalor, his home kingdom, boasted wonders of its own, but this was an entirely different flavor of magnificence. Perhaps it was the way the illusions held steady, shifting fluidly but never seeming chaotic. Or maybe it was the knowledge that, at least in part, he and Elowen stood at the heart of why tonight's spectacle was so joyous.
He stole a quick glance at Elowen, seated beside him in the carriage's plush interior. Her posture was typically regal, but he detected a certain ease in her stance—something that hadn't always been there on prior diplomatic visits. She seemed to sense his gaze and met his eyes with a knowing smile. "They're all here for you," she teased softly, the corners of her lips curving in that gentle, half-hidden way that always made his heart flip.
He answered with a playful smirk. "No, they're clearly here to see if the queen they've dubbed 'the Queen of Light' truly outshines her reputation." He watched her eyes narrow, just a fraction, at the mention of that new moniker the people of Serewyn had bestowed upon her.
She scoffed lightly, but a small smile persisted. "I blame your alchemical success for that nickname. I only helped sign the treaties and reassure the frightened masses. You, on the other hand, gave them something far more tangible—hope in the form of real cures for their mist-poisoned lands."
Outside, the swirl of colored mists parted like a grand curtain, revealing the majestic Castle of Tenfold Veils. It dominated the horizon, carved from luminous silverstone that shimmered beneath the moon's pale rays. Rows of tall spires ascended toward the sky, each crowned with greenhouses brimming with rare herbs or libraries housing ancient knowledge. The castle's approach was divided by ten imposing gates, each gate symbolic of a different branch of alchemical mastery. Mikhailis's gaze flicked between them—one adorned with the insignia of gold, signifying life elixirs and healing arts; another wrought in iron, representing enhancements of the body; yet another formed of crystal, shimmering under the starlight, denoting illusions and memories. He felt a flicker of scholarly admiration. Here, in Serewyn, alchemy reigned supreme as both an art and a foundation of daily life, intricately woven into their culture.
Elowen shifted slightly, the carriage seat creaking beneath her as she leaned toward the window. "I'd heard rumors of how grand the castle was," she murmured. "But it's beyond anything I imagined."
Mikhailis responded with a quiet nod, taking in the ephemeral glimmer of wards that pulsed across the castle's walls—a sign that formidable magical defenses remained ever vigilant. "After everything that's happened, I suppose they wanted to welcome us in a style that matches the magnitude of what's been accomplished."
Indeed, the two kingdoms—Silvarion Thalor and Serewyn—had forged a new bond because Mikhailis's discoveries had saved Serewyn from a creeping ecological disaster. Toxic mists had spread across their southern provinces, corrupting soil and withering crops. Where even Serewyn's famed Alchemist Twins had failed, Mikhailis had found a solution to cleanse the earth, aided by Elowen's unwavering support. The people, grateful and relieved, began calling Elowen their "Queen of Light" and Mikhailis the "Consort Alchemist." It was a recognition that had taken him by surprise, but it also carried an immense sense of fulfillment.
As the carriage glided to a stop at the wide stone promenade, a ripple of cheers coursed through the crowd gathered to greet them. Mikhailis peered out to see countless smiling faces. Men, women, and children alike gathered in clusters, colorful lanterns hovering above them. Those floating lanterns spilled petals and motes of soft, luminescent energy—symbols representing rebirth and renewal, which typically only appeared when a nation recovered from a grave crisis. For a kingdom once on the brink of devastation, the atmosphere now felt radiant, almost like a festival in full bloom.
He stepped out first, adjusting his tailored suit—cut in the style of Silvarion Thalor's court, but with discreet embroidered patterns that hinted at his own alchemical background. Instantly, a roar of applause erupted, echoing against the courtyard walls. He turned and offered his hand to Elowen. She descended gracefully from the carriage, the delicate train of her gown trailing behind her. The crowd's cheers heightened in volume, voices melding into a warm wave of gratitude.
Mikhailis leaned closer to her, a playful spark in his eyes. "Remember when the only applause we heard was for your morning address back home?" he murmured. "Times have changed."
She gave his hand a light, affectionate squeeze. "And you're enjoying every second of it," she teased back. Yet there was no denying the soft glow of pride in her eyes.
They passed under an archway draped with fragrant blossoms—orchids grown in the newly cleansed soil, a gift, no doubt, from the local horticultural guild in thanks for the restitution of their land. As they moved forward, Mikhailis noticed how the crowd parted politely, a sign of deference toward their queen and her consort. He heard snatches of whispered conversations: "The Consort Alchemist saved us," "Even the Royal Twins couldn't manage that," "He's the reason the festival can be held again." It was a curious sensation, to be placed on a pedestal for something that had once been dismissed as impossible.
Elowen lifted her chin, offering gentle nods of acknowledgment to the kneeling nobles and bowing commoners. Despite the regal composure, Mikhailis could sense the relief beneath her facade. She'd carried the burdens of negotiation and bridging two kingdoms' interests on her shoulders, and now here they were, ready to seal a new era of alliance.
The interior of the castle proved no less breathtaking than its exterior. They entered the Hall of Reclaiming Mist, a name Mikhailis guessed referred to the castle's storied role in cleansing the realm after various historic calamities. The hall was circular, its immense dome lined with shimmering mosaics that depicted celestial bodies in an endless cosmic dance. Delicate alchemical enchantments projected these images so that they drifted and shifted along the ceiling, as though the entire galaxy was alive just above the watchers' heads.
Underfoot, polished marble floors glowed with embedded runes, each representing the storied families of Serewyn and the major events that had shaped the kingdom's fate. With each step Mikhailis and Elowen took, the runes responded with a gentle pulse of color—memory echoes that would record their visit for posterity. He found the notion both thrilling and humbling, realizing that centuries from now, future generations might stand where he stood, reading about how the "Consort Alchemist" and the "Queen of Light" first arrived to seal an eternal bond of friendship with Serewyn.
Elowen, ever observant, leaned nearer, her voice subdued with awe. "Look at these statues," she said, gesturing to a row of life-sized figures against the circular wall. Each statue softly glowed in a distinct hue, attesting to the elemental domain of the legendary alchemist it represented—someone who had left a permanent mark on Serewyn's history. One statue flickered with a gentle turquoise aura, hinting at water-based enchantments. Another pulsed in shifting orange-red embers, marking mastery of fire.
"I've heard about them," Mikhailis replied, recalling volumes he had studied about Serewyn's alchemical heritage. "Each one was a pioneer in a different branch. People used to say the kingdom's stability depended as much on these luminaries as on any royal dynasty."
Nodding in agreement, Elowen lowered her voice. "It's no wonder they take so much pride in their wards and illusions. This entire place is a living testament to the legacy of alchemy."