[H2][center]☆•°♚°∵ 𝒜𝑒𝒹𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒∵°♚°•☆[/center][/H2]
Aedrianna stood just inside the Pavilion’s grand entryway, beside the quiet, armored presence of Lord Edwin Stormcrest. The murmur of voices from the main hall spilled around them — a blend of laughter, clinking glass, and the faint hum of mana channels running through the walls.

Her attire reflected the evening’s refinement: a silvery-white gown threaded with faint blue and violet filigree that shimmered under the crystalline lights. Split panels along the skirt revealed a practical alchemical weave beneath, giving the ensemble a balance of elegance and readiness. The Belmonte crest rested at her collar, a sapphire gem catching every flicker of the Pavilion’s glow.

From the small satchel at her hip, a tiny white-and-blue mana beast pup peeked out. Its fur glimmered like fresh frost, eyes bright as it curiously watched the crowd before retreating back into the safety of her bag.

In her hands, Aedri held a folded flyer — the same one that had been plastered across notice boards and tavern doors all over Aslan during the past week. The metallic ink gleamed faintly as she tilted it, the elegant four-pointed crest at its top revealing, in the right light, a faint seven-pointed star hidden within its design.

[color=#f7b6d9]“You wouldn’t think something tied to a cult would look so big and flashy,”[/color] she murmured, voice soft enough to be lost beneath the ambient noise. [color=#f7b6d9]“I wonder how closely this family’s actually involved… or what they’re even trying to do with all this.”[/color]

The pup gave a quiet chirp from her bag, and Aedri smiled faintly but didn’t look away from the crowd.

[color=#f7b6d9]“When we found this flyer earlier in the week, I thought it might’ve been coincidence,”[/color] she continued, tone even. [color=#f7b6d9]“But that same pattern — the one that was etched into the coin you took from that cultist — showing up again here? It’s too deliberate.”[/color]

She folded the flyer neatly and slipped it into her belt pouch. The Pavilion was alive with color and motion: contestants adjusting displays, nobles exchanging pleasantries that dripped with competition, attendants darting between stations trying to maintain order. The atmosphere was bright, but beneath it, something thrummed — like static before a storm.

[color=#f7b6d9]“So we’ll blend in. Register like everyone else. Let them think we’re just another pair chasing recognition.”[/color] Her voice lowered, calm and deliberate. [color=#f7b6d9]“Whatever they’re hiding, it’ll show itself sooner or later.”[/color]

Her gaze drifted toward the registration counters across the hall, where a small line had already begun to form.

[color=#f7b6d9]“Let’s see what kind of people come here to show off their pride.”[/color]