Annan's arrival drew plenty of eyes. Black hair and black eyes... Of course they recognized the King of the North, whose star was rising after he had insulted every Legendary figure in the Royal Capital.
They watched Annan, while Annan watched a familiar face on the Dance Floor. Falu Barros's plump face was caked with greasy Mineral Powder. He danced comically, occasionally bumping other dancers aside with his backside to amuse the guests.
A sorrowful look entered Annan's downcast eyes, as though he were grieving for one of his own.
When the first King of the North stood at the pinnacle of the Northern Frontier, had he ever imagined his descendants would entertain Nobles like circus performers?
The noblewomen and young ladies looked at Annan with interest, but their superior airs and condescending gazes put him off speaking to them. He went to the dining table alone.
Annan tried a few Pastries. They were decent, though not as good as the Manor cook's.
Before long, Faru Barros emerged from the Dance Floor, flushed with heat.
"Annan, my nephew! How good to see you!" Without a shred of dignity, he snatched a glass from a passing maid's tray and drained it.
"Is all this worth it?"
Annan frowned as he spoke, having seen firsthand what Faru Barros put himself through.
"This is what happens to losers." Falu Barros picked up another pastry. "But I'm doing much better than those ruined Nobles. Ancestors above, urk—"
Falu Barros seemed to choke. Annan handed him a glass of juice, and after a few coughs, he continued. "Whatever you do, don't end up like me... I have nothing left. If—"
"Falu, why not have your friend perform with you?"
The voice came from a man in a gold-threaded Noble outfit, standing not far away.
Falu