CHAPTER 14: THE GALA

It was good to be back home.

Riley opened the front door, ran to the bathroom, sat down, and dumped all the baggage he’d been holding in since the trip to the Wasteland.

That was both literal and figurative. If he hadn’t started to unzip his pants while running, he would have had a lot of cleaning to do after. But he cleaned himself up meticulously. Big night ahead.

Back in Wyrmfall, Riley was never comfortable doing private things in public. While others had mastered the art of being discreet and strategic about things like relieving themselves, bathing, or brushing their teeth, Riley had only recently learned how to change his undergarments with the help of wrap-around wool blankets.

After all, who among the magical creatures even bothered as much as humans with hygiene protocols? Hands down, humans won.

Though whether that was something to be proud of—when the others could clean themselves magically—was another matter entirely.

But why the fuss?

Ideally, nothing much. It just so happened that tonight was the long-awaited (not) gala spearheaded by the MBE.

Representatives from different territories and species were invited for an evening of socialization, allegedly to deepen and forge better relationships.

Allegedly.

Because the only things these beings ever seemed interested in deepening were their pockets, their grudges, and occasionally their physical entanglements with some random creature.

And this was just their excuse for all of it.

And yet, why did the MBE keep holding such an event?

Was it for monitoring?

Tradition?

Or something even more sinister?

Who knew. But what Riley knew was how tired he would usually be the next day. And yet, somehow, he was looking forward to seeing how different it would be this year now that he had that ring and sigil.

Surprisingly, no magic had been cast to contain the sounds from the hall. Maybe it was to liven up the mood, or maybe because a quiet hall would have felt eerily unsettling.

Not to mention how those who came prepared wouldn’t have liked it if they weren’t appreciated by everyone.

After all, in their human forms, the partygoers showcased their talents and culture in the hope of outshining their rivals.

The gala itself was already in full swing by the time he and Kael arrived.

The grand hall was illuminated with magical light, glittering stars, and floating lanterns. The elves had outdone themselves with this delicate illusion.

For dramatic effect, they had covered each dining table with table runners that subtly changed colors based on each guest’s mood or aura.

The cloth beneath Riley’s plate initially turned a warm yellow as he sat, the edges faintly tinged with green. That made sense. He was anxious as a party organizer, and trying to blend in with all these magical beings wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do when you were the aide of the Dragon Lord.

So yes, yay for that small green tinge—that was his hope. Hope that the gala wouldn’t end in a bloodbath.

On the other hand, Kael’s color was blue at the center with silver at the edges. He kept his emotions in check and projected a calm demeanor, trying to remain detached and indifferent.

Honestly, humans would have hated these color-changing runners, because just imagine how all those plastic people with their backhanded compliments would have shown up as clear contempt.

But for magical beings, it was usually a good thing to have so they didn’t end up dead by trying to talk to those who clearly didn’t want to socialize but were only there out of duty.

Like his boss, who managed to stay calm only because Riley took care of matters whenever he couldn’t be bothered.

Such as pacifying everyone’s ego and recognizing their efforts to make today’s gathering better than last year’s.

And so Riley remembered the dwarves, who—determined not to be outshone—had unveiled a massive stone griffin in the center of the hall, enchanted to blink and spread its wings every so often.

Mead was served specifically, and Riley observed the mead-giving gesture and told himself, We’re off to a good start. May it stay that way until the end.

Kael glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but, as usual, said nothing.

As they made their way into the hall, Riley walked a half-step ahead, like the professional aide he absolutely, undeniably was.

He had already memorized the entire guest list the night before, learning from past experiences when the guests had changed the day before and he’d fumbled with the wrong names.

He’d even written little notes saying things like smiles too much, hides teeth? or do not mention mead tax hike unless you want a riot.

It was the human way. When you didn’t have magical power, you prepared.

"Lord Kael Dravaryn," Riley announced evenly, his voice cutting across the murmuring crowd. "Head of the Ministry of Balance and Enforcement."

The room quieted, just for a moment, as Kael’s presence filled it. Riley caught the faint ripple of heat and shot him a sidelong look.

"Tone it down, My Lord," he murmured under his breath. "We’re here to mingle."

Kael didn’t reply, but he relaxed a little. Riley took that as a win.

The first guest to approach was a tall elf dressed in gleaming white robes. He bowed low and long, gesturing with his long fingers adorned with rune-inscribed rings.

Riley leaned slightly toward Kael and murmured, "As a refresher, that’s Councilor Thalen of Silvara. Likes to work runes into everything. Very proud of his marble quarries. Never lets anyone forget it. Probably enchanted half his outfit himself."

Kael’s lip twitched just slightly—whether in approval or irritation, Riley didn’t know.

Thalen straightened and greeted Kael warmly. Kael nodded once, silent as ever.

Riley, unseen by most, offered Thalen a polite half-smile and muttered just loud enough, "The cuffs are a nice touch, Councilor. Silvara’s best, I assume?"

Thalen beamed at the compliment and glided away, satisfied.

Kael glanced down at Riley and murmured, "That was unnecessary."

"Maybe," Riley said, scribbling a mental note. "But he won’t complain about you in the papers tomorrow, so you’re welcome."

Next came a dwarven delegation. The lead was a stocky woman in a jeweled breastplate who looked like she could bench-press the stone griffin in the center.

"Guildmaster Orla Stoneforge," Riley supplied smoothly, just before Kael could ask. "Like before, she still runs the artisan quarter. Still very proud of her enchanted brewery. As a precaution, please do not insult the foam on her ale. Ever."

Kael said nothing as Orla clasped his hand firmly, her grip clearly testing his. Kael didn’t flinch. Orla grinned like someone who’d just met a worthy opponent and moved on.

Sometimes Riley thought about how these beings still acted like this every time they met. Even after years, they were still like this.

Riley exhaled softly. "We’re doing great. No one has been incinerated yet."

Kael gave him a flat look.

As the evening wore on, Riley kept pace at Kael’s side, quietly supplying the names, quirks, and conversational hooks he’d prepared.

Technically, Kael probably knew all of this. With his memory, he must have known. But Riley was aware that unless he voiced it, Kael would elect to forget such details and do whatever he wanted.

And that was why Riley reminded him every year—or every time—so he couldn’t pretend not to know and blow someone up.

Every now and then Kael would mutter some quiet critique—"Too eager," or "Talks too much"—but otherwise let Riley cut in with a polite joke or a non-controversial question. With a practiced smile, Riley steered the guest away before Kael lost his patience.

At one point, Kael murmured, "You try too hard to please them."

Riley only smiled faintly. Clearly, as a top dog—well, lizard—he was unaware of the struggles of those like him who needed to please magical beings to survive. "I believe I’m just doing my job, Sir."

They stopped at the refreshment table briefly, where an elven chef had enchanted trays of hors d’oeuvres to float above the table and circle guests gracefully. Or at least, that was the idea.

One tray of sizzling fire-pepper bites had apparently gone rogue, darting through the air like a drunken bird and dive-bombing anyone who reached for it.

Riley reached up and plucked one of the pepper bites clean out of the air just as it tried to buzz past Kael’s face. He popped it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully through the heat, and gave the tray a flat look as it hovered sulkily nearby.

"You’re welcome," he muttered to Kael, brushing his hands off on his coat.

Kael arched an eyebrow. "You have a remarkable tolerance for humiliation."

"Yes, I’ve been told, My Lord," replied Riley, licking his finger.

He smirked faintly and whispered back, "Better me than the Dragon Lord getting nipped on the nose by a rogue canapé. Don’t think the papers would recover from that one."

Kael almost smiled.

As the music wound down, the dwarven guild master raised her glass. "A toast to new accords!"

Riley leaned in and murmured, "Good time to say something inspiring or polite. They’re all waiting for a rejoinder."

Kael, faintly annoyed, lifted his glass. "To balance, and to those willing to keep it."

Everyone with glasses raised them to toast. Riley was relieved. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

Now they just had to deal with the latecomers.

The real troublemakers.