The Grand Banquet Hall of Lunaria Queendom sparkles with enough crystalware to blind a dragon. You're stuck at the high table, watching Leopold meticulously adjust his fork alignment for the seventh time while Alexander keeps "accidentally" brushing his hand against yours while reaching for the salt.

Dr. Elrian materializes beside your chair like a particularly judgy ghost. "Your Highness," he murmurs, eyes fixed on your untouched wine glass, "I couldn't help but notice your beverage has an... interesting shimmer. The kind that typically precedes violent stomach cramps and, in select cases, dramatic death scenes."

Sebastian glides past, all innocence and murder, "Oh? I personally selected that vintage. A shame if something's... amiss." He shoots you a smile that's either flirtatious or threatening – really a coin toss at this point.

Captain Rhys's hand instinctively moves to his sword. "Step away from Her Highness's wine," he growls, while Lucien nearly upends the entire table trying to snatch your glass.

"Perhaps," Leopold suggests with arctic politeness, "we should focus on determining who had access to the wine cellar rather than creating a scene that would embarrass three generations of our ancestors?"

Alexander lounges in his chair, examining his perfectly manicured nails. "Or we could make this more interesting. After all, what's a little poison between friends?"