Faidæn

The banquet hall was immense—large enough to hold hundreds of people (and things that were not quite people), who were currently dancing, breaking off into groups to discuss some incredible nonsense, flaunting their lack of talent, and competing to see whose was more impressive.

Faydaen stood in the far reaches of the hall, where the scent of aristocratic insolence was less stifling.
The music sounded like the death throes of a rabid beast, yet the people around him danced as if nothing were wrong, utterly blissful in their stupidity. Faydaen watched them, sipping his wine. He found the taste of the alcohol categorically distasteful as well.

After the assembly where the terms of the alliance had been ratified, he had intended to leave almost immediately, but he had been forced to stay: the bridge over the kingdom's largest river had collapsed during a flood. A humanity that took such pride in its artisans could not lay one stone upon another in a way that would keep a structure standing for even a year. And it was with this nation that Faydaen was forced to forge an alliance for aid. Humiliating.

Boring. Filthy, crowded, and meaningless.

Faydaen turned his head, meeting the gaze of the guest who had dared to breach his solitude.

— Your presence here is superfluous. Vanish.