The Extra's Rise-Chapter 497: Lumiaren City (3)

Seraphina took control of Lumiaren with the same ease a fish takes to water. Her title helped, of course. Princess of Mount Hua wasn’t just ceremonial—it carried the kind of weight that made even stubborn officials remember their manners.

The day had been a whirlwind of inspections, meetings, and establishing Mount Hua’s presence in the reclaimed city. By late afternoon, we were both retreating to our chambers to prepare for the evening’s "farewell banquet" for Sun—an event he had naturally insisted upon before his departure to the Hwaeryun.

"Is it too late to fake a vampire attack?" I asked, eyeing the formal attire laid out on my bed with thinly veiled suspicion. Mount Hua had sent appropriate clothing ahead, anticipating the political demands of our position.

I snorted, picking up the silk robe. Unlike my usual practical clothing, this was clearly meant for someone with status. Deep midnight blue silk embroidered with silver threads that formed stylized clouds and mountains—the symbols of Mount Hua. The collar was high and formal, the sleeves wider than I preferred but appropriately elegant for the occasion.

A knock at the connecting door interrupted my contemplation of how many weapons I could conceivably hide in such clothing.

"Enter," I called, knowing it would be Seraphina.

She stepped into the room, and I momentarily forgot about the banquet, Sun, and pretty much everything else. She wasn’t yet fully dressed—her silver hair was up in an intricate arrangement of braids and loops secured with what looked like carved jade pins, but she wore only a simple white under-robe.

"I need help with something," she said, seemingly unaware of my momentary mental lapse. "There’s a formal outer robe that requires a second pair of hands."

I followed her back to her chamber, where her evening attire was laid out across a carved wooden stand. Unlike my relatively simple ensemble, hers was a complex arrangement of layers that looked like it would require an instruction manual.

"This is traditional half-elven formal wear," she explained, lifting the outermost robe. It was stunning—pale blue silk that shimmered with silver undertones when it caught the light, embroidered with white blossoms that seemed to float across the fabric.

The next fifteen minutes involved more complex fabric manipulation than I’d encountered in most combat scenarios. The traditional attire involved multiple layers, each needing to be arranged just so. The innermost was the white robe she already wore, followed by a second layer of pale silver, then a third of blue that was slightly darker than the outer robe.

"This goes under, then fold this part over—no, the other way," she instructed, guiding my hands through the process. "Now the sash needs to be wrapped twice and secured with the jade clasp."

By the time we finished, she looked like she had stepped out of an ancient painting. The formal robes accentuated her natural grace, the colors complementing her silver hair and ice-blue eyes perfectly. Small jade and silver ornaments hung from her hair pins, tinkling softly when she moved.

"You look..." I searched for an adequate word and failed. "I don’t think Common has the vocabulary for it."

A slight smile touched her lips. "Your turn," she said. "You can’t escort me looking like that."

My own dressing process was considerably simpler, though Seraphina insisted on adjusting the lay of the formal robe across my shoulders and securing the sash herself.

"There," she said, stepping back to examine her work. "Almost presentable."

"Almost?" I raised an eyebrow.

She reached up and ran her fingers through my hair, arranging it into something less resembling a battlefield casualty. "Now you’re presentable."

The banquet hall was located on the highest terrace of Lumiaren, an open-air pavilion with a retractable crystal roof currently withdrawn to reveal the early evening sky. Lanterns of colored glass hung from delicate silver chains, not yet lit but ready for when darkness fell. The stone tables were arranged in a crescent pattern, with the head table positioned to offer the best view of the city below. Musicians were setting up in one corner, their instruments a blend of traditional and modern—stringed erhus alongside crystal harmonics.

Sun was already there when we arrived, holding court among a group of city officials. He had outdone himself for his final appearance. His formal attire consisted of multiple layers of the finest silk in white and gold, with an outer robe of deep blue marked with the insignia of the Mount Hua sect. A golden circlet set with sapphires rested on his brow, and his black hair was immaculately styled with gold pins.

His eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of Seraphina, a momentary break in his composure that I found deeply satisfying.

"Sister!" he called, recovering quickly. "How lovely you look in traditional attire. I see Mount Hua has spared no expense for your wardrobe."

"Brother," Seraphina inclined her head with perfect poise. "Thank you for arranging such a splendid farewell."

"The least I could do before departing for my new post," he replied, not quite managing to keep the self-satisfaction from his voice.

The guests began arriving in earnest then—city officials in their formal best, regional nobles who had managed to survive the vampire occupation, and military leaders from both the imperial forces and Mount Hua. The elders from our delegation entered in their formal robes, creating quite the impression with their dignified bearing and the subtle but unmistakable aura of power that surrounded them.

We were seated at the head table with Sun at the center, Seraphina to his right and me beside her. The elders were distributed strategically throughout the hall, positioned to observe and engage with key officials.

The meal was served in the traditional Eastern style—seven courses representing the seven terraces of Lumiaren, each more exquisite than the last. The first course consisted of delicate crystal cups filled with chilled soup that changed color as it was consumed. The second brought plates of paper-thin pastry wrapped around spiced vegetables and mountain herbs.

Sun dominated the conversation, naturally, regaling the assembled guests with tales of his heroism during the vampire reclamation.

"The third terrace presented particular challenges," he said, gesturing with his crystal goblet. "The vampire nobles had established quite the foothold there. I personally led the final assault that drove them out."

I caught Seraphina’s eye briefly. We both knew the reality—Sun had coordinated from a safe distance while Mount Hua disciples and imperial soldiers did the actual fighting. But this wasn’t the place for corrections.

As the fourth course was being served—some kind of seafood harvested from the crescent lake below the city—the musicians began to play. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, combining harmonics with traditional Eastern scales.

"Ah," Sun said, setting down his goblet. "The ceremonial music begins. In Lumiaren tradition, the city’s leader opens the formal dances." He stood and extended his hand to a nearby noblewoman who blushed and accepted it with obvious pleasure.

They moved to the center of the pavilion where a circular area had been left clear of tables. The dance was elegant but relatively simple—formal steps that emphasized grace and precision over complexity or passion. Sun executed it flawlessly, of course, his bearing impeccable as he led his partner through the patterns.

Other couples joined them as the music continued. Elder Lin, surprisingly, accepted the hand of one of the regional commanders, moving with unexpected lightness for someone of her venerable age.

I knelt before Seraphina, "May I have the honor of this dance Your Highness."

"You may," Seraphina replied, taking my hand as I got up.

The musicians began a new melody as we took our positions.

We began simply enough, circling each other with measured steps, hands barely touching. Then came the first transition—a quick series of turns that required precise timing. Seraphina moved like flowing water, her robes swirling around her, the jade ornaments in her hair catching the light.

I matched her movements with the ease of long practice. We’d danced together so many times that our bodies remembered each other’s rhythms, anticipating shifts in weight and changes in direction before they happened.

As the music swelled, we moved into the most challenging sequence—a series of spins and counter-turns where our hands would connect and separate in rapid succession. Seraphina’s eyes held mine, a silent communication passing between us that made the complex movements seem effortless.

I was dimly aware that other dancers had stopped to watch, but my focus remained entirely on Seraphina—the subtle pressure of her fingers against mine guiding each turn, the grace with which she executed each movement, the faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

The final sequence brought us close together, one of my hands at her waist, the other clasping hers as we turned in unison. As the music reached its crescendo, I executed the traditional finishing move—a controlled dip that left Seraphina arched gracefully backward, supported by my arm, her silver hair nearly brushing the floor.

For a moment, perfect stillness. Then applause broke out around the pavilion.

I helped Seraphina back to a standing position, noting with satisfaction the tight look on Sun’s face. We’d danced well at court functions before, but never like this—never with this level of synchronization and emotional connection. We bowed to each other and then to the assembled guests before making our way back to the table.

"Well," Sun said as we reseated ourselves, "it seems you’ve been practicing. How... dedicated."

"All disciplines improve with devotion," Seraphina replied serenely. "Some things simply grow stronger with time."