The brief interruption soon passed.
Boom, boom, boom!
The final barrage of drumbeats erupted, faster and heavier than any before it, like an ultimatum that brooked no refusal, urging the guests still lingering outside the Hall of Nine Voyages to hurry the hell inside.
Two attendants heaved open the Hall of Nine Voyages' heavy oak doors. The hinges groaned, and the night wind swept into the hall once more, carrying the briny tang of the Narrow Sea. The nearest rows of candle flames swayed together, casting restless light and shadow over the guests' lavish attire.
A group of figures in foreign dress filed inside.
At their head was a young man in his twenties, with black hair and brown eyes. He was reasonably handsome, but an unmistakable air of dissipation had eaten away much of that good looks-
His eyes were slightly sunken, his cheekbones too prominent, and his skin so pale it was almost translucent, as though he had not seen sunlight in a long time.
He wore an exceptionally sumptuous coat of deep purple velvet, with gold thread trimming its collar and cuffs, and a longsword in a jewel-studded scabbard at his waist. With every outward sign of grandeur, he strode through the hall with his head held high, much as Daemon had earlier, as though he were the castle's true master.
Unfortunately, while his attitude was similar, his presence could not begin to compare with Daemon's. Had he entered alongside Daemon, he would have been utterly overshadowed. After all, comparing the two... well, there really was no comparison.
Still, several attendants in similarly foreign attire followed him, carrying gift boxes of various sizes engraved with the emblem of the Titan of Braavos.
But the corners of those boxes already showed signs of wear, and their velvet linings