The nobles were struck silent, much like Alpheo and his companions, when the young Imperator rose from his throne and crossed the dais with unexpected haste, his imperial mantle sweeping like a flame across the marble floor, to embrace Alpheo before the latter could even bend the knee or utter a word of greeting.
A collective gasp rippled through the great hall.
The whole court stared, wide-eyed, at the sight of the two men locked in an awkward embrace beneath the massive mosaic of the Founding of Romelia.
Even Alpheo, who had learned to stand firm before warlords and assassins, found himself momentarily frozen, his arms hovering uncertainly before he managed to return the gesture with all the grace of a soldier trying to dance with a lady.
This was most certainly not how things were done.
