K I N G
MANDALORE
The demands upon him had been ceaseless. Every petition brought before the Court of Iron, every call from the Warhost, every whisper from allies who sought his time had pressed upon him until even the notion of respite felt like an indulgence. The Diarchy’s aggression had sharpened the pace of each day to a relentless edge, and so when Ze’bast extended an invitation, Aether accepted without hesitation, grateful for the rare chance to share a quiet evening with his elder brother. He expected their destination would be one of the familiar places that had served them well in years past, somewhere unassuming and steady where they could trade stories and enjoy the simplicity of food and kinship.
What met him instead was something wholly outside his experience. The name had rung in his ears as a jest when Ze’bast had first spoken it, but now, standing before the doors of Cake and Shake, he could not help but wonder if he had taken a wrong turn. The vibrant locale was alive with sound and color, a striking contrast to the tempered halls he was accustomed to frequenting. This was no warrior’s tavern nor a discreet dining hall tucked away from curious eyes, but a venue that proclaimed itself with flourish to every passerby.
Aether stood there with helm beneath his arm, studying the entrance with the guarded curiosity of one who had stepped into a realm unknown. He was no stranger to battlefields or political chambers, yet here, at the threshold of a place devoted to revelry, he felt a faint awkwardness stir within him. The air carried the scent of spice and sweet drink, the rhythmic thrum of music seeping through the walls, and for a fleeting moment he questioned whether his brother had played some elaborate trick.
Rather than stride inside unaccompanied, he lingered just beyond the threshold, his gaze turning to the horizon as he awaited Ze’bast’s arrival. Whatever plan his brother had in mind would reveal itself soon enough, and though the Mand’alor had never been one to chase nightlife or spectacle, he would not deny his kin the chance to lead him into unfamiliar ground. Tonight would be something different, and in that difference, perhaps, a moment of ease could be found.
What met him instead was something wholly outside his experience. The name had rung in his ears as a jest when Ze’bast had first spoken it, but now, standing before the doors of Cake and Shake, he could not help but wonder if he had taken a wrong turn. The vibrant locale was alive with sound and color, a striking contrast to the tempered halls he was accustomed to frequenting. This was no warrior’s tavern nor a discreet dining hall tucked away from curious eyes, but a venue that proclaimed itself with flourish to every passerby.
Aether stood there with helm beneath his arm, studying the entrance with the guarded curiosity of one who had stepped into a realm unknown. He was no stranger to battlefields or political chambers, yet here, at the threshold of a place devoted to revelry, he felt a faint awkwardness stir within him. The air carried the scent of spice and sweet drink, the rhythmic thrum of music seeping through the walls, and for a fleeting moment he questioned whether his brother had played some elaborate trick.
Rather than stride inside unaccompanied, he lingered just beyond the threshold, his gaze turning to the horizon as he awaited Ze’bast’s arrival. Whatever plan his brother had in mind would reveal itself soon enough, and though the Mand’alor had never been one to chase nightlife or spectacle, he would not deny his kin the chance to lead him into unfamiliar ground. Tonight would be something different, and in that difference, perhaps, a moment of ease could be found.
