The guest quarters exceed anything I expected, making my swamp house look like the mud hut it basically is. Vaulted ceilings, tapestries depicting heroic battles (mostly humans defeating monsters, awkwardly enough), and furniture that probably costs more than everything I owned in my previous life combined.

  "Well, this is fancy," I say to no one in particular as a small army of servants brings in our belongings. They dart nervous glances at my lieutenants before scurrying away like mice avoiding cats.

  The moment the door closes behind the last servant, I turn to my lieutenants. "Did you guys see it?"

  "The fragment," Gorthal confirms, metallic skin patterns pulsing slightly. "Small, but unmistakable."

  "Embedded in the royal crown," Nerk adds, tactical eyes gleaming. "Center position, between larger gemstones. Deliberately disguised as decorative element."

  I knew I wasn't imagining things. When King Arlen greeted us in the courtyard, I spotted something on his elaborate crown that made the crystal lens around my neck grow warm. Not the powerful reaction we get with larger fragments, more like the magical equivalent of recognizing a distant relative at a family reunion.

  "I thought I felt something," I say, touching the crystal lens hanging at my chest. "But I wasn't sure if it was just nerves."

  "It is definitely a fragment," Morrigan confirms, her transformed features thoughtful. "Small, likely not particularly powerful on its own, but still containing the essential energy signature. The crown appears designed to channel and focus whatever capabilities the fragment possesses."

  "Any idea what it does?" I ask, crossing the plush carpet to stand by the window. From here, I can see Crystallis in the courtyard, surrounded by nervous servants who seem unsure how to provide hospitality to a massive crystal drake.

  "Difficult to determine without closer examination," Morrigan replies. "Royal artifacts typically enhance authority, bolster leadership perception, or provide protective capabilities. Fragments adapt to their containers and users, developing functions aligned with intended purpose."

  I consider this information. A crown fragment is an unexpected discovery, though maybe it shouldn't be. The elves had fragments, the dwarves had fragments, even underground crystal people had fragments. Why wouldn't a human kingdom have one too?

  "So the king's got fragment-enhanced leadership mojo?" I ask, trying to simplify it for myself.

  "Possibly," Morrigan acknowledges. "Though the fragment's small size suggests limited power. More symbolic than functionally significant."

  "Still," I muse, "a fragment is a fragment."

  "Considering acquisition options?" Nerk inquires, always thinking several steps ahead.

  "Maybe," I admit. "Though stealing the king's crown probably isn't great diplomacy."

  "Numerous potential approaches," Nerk offers immediately. "Trade negotiation, fragment exchange for military support, targeted extraction during night hours, formal request citing fragment research requirements..."

  "Let's put a pin in the theft options," I interrupt hastily. "I'd rather not get executed for treason on my first royal visit."

  Gorthal's deep, layered voice adds to the discussion. "Crown fragment likely ancient. Family heirloom. Historical significance beyond power level. Extraction politically complex."

  "True," I sigh, watching a servant below tentatively offer what appears to be an entire cow carcass to Crystallis. "But it's worth keeping in mind. If the king needs our help as badly as I think he does, maybe there's room for negotiation."

  Before we can discuss further, a sharp knock on the door interrupts us. Gorthal immediately moves to a protective position as Nerk calls out, "Enter."

  A nervous-looking royal courtier steps in, bowing deeply before addressing us. "Monster Lord, His Majesty requests your presence in the Grand Hall. The banquet is prepared and awaiting your arrival."

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  "Already?" I glance out the window, surprised to see the sun already low in the sky. "Time flies when you're plotting to maybe someday ask for someone's crown in a completely legal and diplomatic way."

  The courtier blinks in confusion, clearly unsure if I'm joking.

  "We'll be there shortly," Morrigan assures him smoothly. "Please inform His Majesty we are honored by his hospitality."

  After the courtier leaves, Morrigan turns to me with a critical eye. "You should change."

  "Change? I'm already wearing the fancy outfit," I protest, gesturing at my burgundy and gold formal wear.

  "That was for travel," she explains, already pulling something from one of our trunks. "This is for the formal banquet."

  What she holds up makes my travel outfit look practically casual. Deep midnight blue fabric with silver embroidery that seems to catch light from angles that shouldn't be possible. The collar is even higher, the decorative elements more elaborate, and there appear to be actual gemstones sewn into specific patterns.

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "The formal banquet is a statement of diplomatic intent," Morrigan explains patiently. "Your appearance communicates your perception of the occasion's importance."

  "Fine," I grumble, taking the ridiculously ornate outfit. "But if anyone laughs, I'm blaming you."

  Ten minutes later, I'm staring at my reflection, hardly recognizing myself. The outfit transforms me from "guy playing dress-up" to something approaching an actual lord. The fabric doesn't just look expensive; it feels it too, light and comfortable despite its elaborate appearance. The gemstones, I now realize, are arranged in patterns that subtly echo the markings on my skin, which glow slightly beneath the fabric.

  "Not bad," I admit reluctantly.

  "Acceptable," Nerk agrees, himself now wearing more formal armor adorned with symbols of goblin kingship. "Projects appropriate authority level."

  Gorthal has similarly enhanced his appearance, his metallic skin patterns now highlighted by dark armor with blood-red crystal accents that pulse in rhythm with his patterns. Even Morrigan looks more formal, though her evolved form requires fewer adjustments to create an imposing presence.

  "Everyone ready to go make nice with the royals?" I ask, adjusting my collar one last time.

  "Diplomatic objectives clear," Nerk confirms. "Assess political situation, identify king's motivations, maintain vigilance, project strength through discipline."

  "And try not to freak anyone out too much," I add. "Let's go."

  The palace corridors seem even more impressive in the evening light. Crystalline lamps illuminate our path, casting warm golden light across polished stone floors. Royal guards stand at attention, their expressions carefully neutral despite the obvious tension in their postures as we pass.

  Our courtier guide leads us through a series of increasingly grand hallways, each more elaborate than the last, until we reach a set of massive double doors carved with scenes of Dawnhaven's history.

  "The Grand Hall," he announces with practiced formality. "His Majesty awaits within."

  As the doors swing open, I have to force myself not to gawk like a tourist. The Grand Hall deserves its name, a massive space that could easily fit several hundred people. Towering columns rise to support a vaulted ceiling painted with celestial scenes. Enormous windows line the walls, their stained glass depicting heroic figures from the kingdom's past. Crystal chandeliers hang at precise intervals, their countless facets throwing rainbows across the marble floor.

  At the far end, a slightly raised dais holds the head table, where King Arlen sits on what is essentially a throne, though slightly less imposing than what I'd expect in the actual throne room. Around him are who I assume must be important court officials and nobles, all dressed in their finest.

  The rest of the hall contains at least a dozen large tables arranged in careful hierarchy, each seating perhaps twenty or thirty people. Every place setting gleams with silver and crystal, fine tableware that probably costs more than my entire treasury. Servants stand ready beside each table, their livery immaculate and matching the royal colors.

  More nobles and officials fill most seats, their curious gazes fixed on us as we enter. The conversations that had filled the hall moments before die away, replaced by expectant silence. I spot several military officers by their uniforms, merchants by their slightly different style of finery, and what must be court wizards by their distinctive robes.

  And beside the king sits a beautiful young woman who can only be his daughter, the crown princess. There is a slight resemblance to King Arlen, though softened by a youthful and feminine vibrance all her own.

  Great, just what I need, a beautiful girl to make me even more nervous. Let’s just ignore her, pretend she doesn’t exist…

  "Monster Lord John and his distinguished lieutenants," announces a court herald in a voice that carries throughout the hall.

  Every eye in the place is on us now. I straighten my shoulders, trying to project confidence I don't entirely feel. I'm just a regular guy wearing fancy clothes in a royal palace, about to have dinner with actual royalty.

  Totally normal Tuesday night.

  The king rises from his seat, and the entire hall follows his example. He extends his arms in a welcoming gesture, his crown catching the light from the chandeliers above.

  "Welcome, honored guests, to the Grand Hall of Dawnhaven Palace," he calls out, his voice projecting royal authority. "Tonight, we celebrate new friendship between our realms."

  The fragment in his crown pulses once, almost imperceptibly, and I feel my crystal lens warm slightly in response.

  Game on.