The Griven delegation reached the Royal Palace of Othinia about an hour before sunset.
This was the second palace Oriana had seen in her life, and due to that, she thought she would no longer be shocked no matter how the royal palace of another kingdom looked. She was mistaken.
Imposing—this was the first word that entered her mind.
As their carriages approached the entrance, they were greeted by a large sandstone gate, intricately designed with ornate carvings that depicted tales of the kingdom’s history. Flanking the entrance gate were larger-than-life stone guardians, representing legendary warrior figures from the kingdom’s folklore.
Rather than trumpets preferred by Griven to announce an important person’s entry, drums were the preference of Othinia. Troops of Othinian royal soldiers, clad in uniforms of forest green and silver, stood on both sides of the road wielding green-colored flags to welco them. The royal crest of the Othinian Royal Family appeared to be a horned beast surrounded by fangs, representing an ancient hero who, according to the legends, united the lands devastated by warring tribes in the past.
Comparing first impressions, the Royal Palace of Griven was more of an exquisite art gallery with lovely gardens, while the Royal Palace of Othinia looked like a grand war temple where wild animals could prowl around.
A prince of Othinia, the King’s fourth son, ca to personally welco the Crown Prince of Griven. Due to the sensitive identities of the summit’s attendees, in order to not offend the monarchs and their heirs, only the direct descendants of the King of Othinia had been given the role of host to welco the guests from afar. They would be received irrespective of their kingdom’s national strength or relation to Othinia, but depending on the sequence of their arrival. This ant that since the Fourth Prince welcod them, then delegates from three kingdoms had arrived prior to them.
Arrangents were also made in that vast palace to ensure each participating kingdom lodged in separate mansions with similar grandeur as the residences of the Nefertiti Royal Family themselves.
Arlan stepped out of the carriage and was welcod by a young man in his twenties, with light brown hair and eyes, his radiant skin and dignified features showing he was of high birth.
"Nicholas Nefertiti welcos Prince Arlan Cromwell and the delegates from Griven."
Arlan accepted the greetings. "Thank you, Prince Nicholas."
Nicholas personally escorted Arlan inside the mansion prepared for him. The prince of Othinia gestured for one of the white-clad royal servants to bring them tea in the drawing room.
Similar to the majestic exterior, the inside of the mansion was decorated with antiques showing figures from folktales and the legends of old, be it the exquisite flower vases, the fur rugs on the floor or the paintings hanging on the wall. The ceilings were extrely high, reminding Oriana once more of temples. Subtle aroma of burning incense added a touch of mystique to the surroundings.
"We tried our best to make arrangents that Prince Arlan would like, but if there is anything more, please let know."
"I will."
"As for the welco banquet, I will have a ssenger inform you once the others arrive—"
After exchanging polite conversation over tea, Nicholas left the mansion to let the Crown Prince of Griven rest.
Imbert ca to him just as Arlan was about to head to his bedchamber.
"Your Highness, we received a ssage that the delegates of garis and Abetha will be arriving by tonight."
Arlan raised a brow. "I thought they’ll arrive a few days later. Did his wife get tired of sightseeing?"
Oriana hid a smile as she thought, ’I will get to see that woman soon.’
After a long journey, everyone was tired. Most headed to their assigned rooms to freshen up first, while others directly had a al before diving to their respective beds.
Inside the chamber ant for Arlan, the prince was ready to head to the bed.
Sleeping was never sothing he liked nor cared about. Unlike others, it was an unwanted chore for him. His mind changed ever since a certain little deer entered his life, curing his sleepless, nightmare-filled nights. Ever since they left Karlin, the prince undoubtedly followed a proper sleep schedule.
Good sleep was no longer a dream. Having her by his side was pure bliss.
As she watched him going to his bed, Oriana twitched her nose in displeasure.
’Even after a long journey, once again no sleep for .’
Unwillingly, she moved to get a chair towards his bedside but heard Arlan say, "That chair seems to be broken."
’Broken?’ She checked the chair and its foot was indeed loose and unstable. "How can they give a broken chair to a guest? Are they that poor?"
"For a peasant, you sure know how to complain about being poor," she heard Arlan remark. The prince was casually standing at the foot of his bed, his arms crossed over his chest.
’Are you saying that since I am a poor peasant, I have no right to complain?’ She swallowed her anger and looked around the room for another chair to drag.
There were no stools or chairs inside the room. Only a couch remained in the lounge area.
"Your Highness?"
"Hmm?"
"Am I allowed to sleep on the floor?"
"No."
"Must I really stay by your bedside?"
"Yes."
"Can I go outside for a bit to borrow a chair?"
"No. It’s late. Don’t disturb people’s sleep."
In the end, she had no choice but to move the couch.
She labored to move the couch towards his bed, sotis dragging, and at tis pushing with all her might from the opposite end. Her pace was slow, but thankfully, the floor had a thick carpet; otherwise, people downstairs would wake up from the noise of furniture being moved about.
Arlan rely watched her. It was fun to see her struggling but not giving up. She ought to thank his kind intentions. Sleeping on the couch, she could lie down on it instead of sitting all night like she usually does. He wished her tired body to rest comfortably.
Having a light smile on his lips, he lay on the bed. Oriana covered him with a quilt and went to sit on the soft couch, which later turned into her sleeping comfortably on it.
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