The air was warm, the lighting dimmed, and the violin music soft and heartfelt. The smell of the fresh bread hung in the air. The king of the elves couldn't have been more pleased.
Some of the noblemen and women chose to dance to the music, the swirling colors of dresses and tunics entrancing any who gazed upon them. The rest found it impossible to resist the allure of the hot golden rolls and crystal bowls filled to the brim with fresh fruits which ranged from bright reds and blues to pastel yellows and greens to exotic purples and pinks.
This all came crashing to the ground when a lone Elf threw open the elegant double doors opposite the king. The elf locked eyes with the king for a brief instant, the terror etched on his features already setting off alarm bells in the king's head.
The elf was lean, even for one so young, and the dark forest green armor he wore marked him out as one of the scouts that watched the edge of the forest from atop the trees.
"The barriers have been breached Sire, the enemy treads on our land as we speak! I must take you below ground!"
Everything seemed to stop for a moment. The musicians stopped playing their instruments, the patrons stopped dancing and feasting, all of the cheerful talking ceased.
Someone screamed, breaking the spell, and suddenly they remembered that they could move. The mass of partygoers fled, some going to secure families or children, some just to hide.
The king looked down at the scout that now stood before him. "I'm not going, my son. Tell the watchmen to sound the alarm, and see to it my armor is brought to me."
The scout stayed rooted to the spot for a moment before lowering himself into a deep bow. "Yes, my Liege. It will be done." The scout turned on his heel and ran for the door, disappearing around the corner leaving the doors to close behind him. The bang of them closing together sent an echo to pulse around the room.
The king was left to sigh. He'd known the mages couldn't hold out forever, he'd simply wished he could have had more time. But the king saw wishing for things that one could not have as a sign of ignorance. It was the wise who took what they had and tried to improve it.
He stood from his thrown, just as a siren begining to wail in the distance. They had an hour at most before the enemy would be at their doorstep, less if the Shadowrunners were involved. The elves had survived peacefully for longer than he had been alive, and he hoped that the soldiers had not become weak. For if they had, their chances dropped from slim to none.