”Oh boy.”

Ezran heard Mara before he saw Haytham, and for a moment wondered if something about the boy or his charge might have caused her alarm. He wasn’t Aladori, that was for certain, but given his approach he doubted there was any immediate threat of danger.

It struck him then that her exasperation was perhaps more directed at him. Indeed, after the momentary confusion he felt himself grow nervous again at the new face, bringing with it the promise of more interaction and more introductions, more opportunities for him to squander a rapport that didn’t even exist. Mara knew he’d collapse on himself even before he did, and could see from a glance that she’d turned away again to observe the crowd. Preemptive disappointment, even if she wouldn’t admit it. It would have been easiest then to just resign himself to it, stay quiet, let the two other boys talk and just listen.

But then, he already had a good thing going. Even with an extended silence, he’d been conversing with Brendan and thus far, things were nice. The boy had indulged his quieter demeanor, hadn’t belittled him or anything of the sort, would he really botch that so quickly?

”Hello.” Evidently not. Ezran extended a hand in greeting as well after Brendan had finished. He restrained the urge to apologize, as it stood the continued conversation also seemed on a more light-hearted track.

This new boy, whoever he was, was already more casual than most people he’d met in his life, with quite a tongue on him for the Grand Keeper. Brendan seemed to share the opinion, and to be honest, Ezran couldn’t blame them. The speech was long, even if it was livelier than most of the ones he’d heard back in Darkthrone, and it would have been a lie to say he’d preferred that to the social aspects of the day. He found himself smiling along, quiet still, but adjusting himself to stand at least in the conversation.

One last glance back at Mara showed a much different expression. She smirked, but kept herself occupied with the rest of the room.

— The Imperial Courtyard, The Conclave —

— 6th Day of Summer —

"Some people I am not," was the reply she received. "I wouldn’t quite say I am quite accustomed to it. However, I feel moping about the weather is so… without point. Wouldn’t you think it more pertinent to lament about the beautiful prison we have been sentenced to?"

Nebetah's eyebrow rose ever so slightly, and her eyes widened a noticeable bit. The thought of the Conclave being a 'beautiful prison' had never crossed her mind before. It was a rather morbid interpretation of this praised place of study where only the people of the highest of social standings could attend, but this opinion somehow intrigued her; a complete opposition to her father's thoughts on how the Conclave, despite the circumstances as to why he had sent Nebetah and her sister there, was an opportunity for nobles like his daughters to receive education incomparable to the lessons taught from home.

"A beautiful prison, you say?" she answered in a gentle tone. "An interesting interpretation, most definitely one I've never even considered before. Though, I wouldn't be one to actually lament over being sentenced to this academy; as of now, anyways. If there are consequences that I am now entitled to face, I guess only time will tell if I regret attending the Conclave by sheer will."

It seemed after those long replies that the two noticed it was about time they switched over to formal introductions. The prince that stood before her was the first one to speak up.

“My apologies, m’lady, I should have introduced myself before beginning to ramble. I am Prince Ydrian Kareth of House Hawkhart, the Lords of Kalcia and protectors of the River Edenbridge. If I may be so bold, may I make your acquaintance?”

"Your apology is equally returned, Ydrian," Nebetah began. "I myself have a tendency of upholding a conversation, though I will say it is highly dependent on the subject matter. But that aside."

Concluding her own lengthy introduction with a small smile, she finally spoke out her own name.

"Princess Nebetah Hahra. And yes, I have no qualms in rejecting your offer."

She noticed from the corner of her eye that another person had made an appearance in the courtyard; again, not someone Nebetah had fully recognised yet. Turning her head slightly she would wave to the blonde haired girl, making sure that, with a friendly smile on her face, that the noble standing a few metres away wouldn't be at all shy to strike up a conversation if they wished.

— The Imperial Great Hall, The Conclave —

Although he did not outwardly react, Prometheus was surprised that Rhelissa had caught the brief divergence of his eyes, an action performed in less than a fraction of a second and with such a substantial difference in height. She was much sharper than he had initially assumed, a useful quality in an ally but a deadly one in an enemy. If the previous conversation was anything to go by, it might inadvertently end up more so the latter...

"No, simply recognising a face. This conversation takes precedence at the current time. And, please, just Prometheus is fine."

The coldness in his eyes refused to dissipate and between the two of them, the atmosphere was icy enough to send small animals into hibernation, although neither of them seemed particularly disgruntled by it. While he couldn't speak for the princess, Prometheus was actually quite comfortable in this aura, a space devoid of suffocating double speak and politics. Thinking back on his less than stellar conversation with the Prince of Forlonia, he decided to take Kara's words to heart and attempt to build a friendship with at least a few of his fellow students.

"How are you finding the Conclave thus far, Princess Rhelissa? I haven't had much of a chance to look around as of yet."

The words seemed awkward to the prince as he spoke, even though to anyone else listening they were spoken with clarity and slight confidence. His instinct to find a secluded space and isolate himself flared again, but he forced it away. With any luck, he could make it through at least one conversation before his reclusive side wins out, his hands itching for the leather of his bow and the tension of its bow string. It was a defence mechanism he developed after his... incident; practising his archery to calm himself. 'Maybe I could invite Rhelissa along? I'm not if she would appreciate a brief show of archery, but it's the only other thing I can think off...'

Haytham took in the sight of the two as they spoke, certainly a contrast paired together. A one-word greeting, and a fifty word greeting, both punctuated with handshakes. He accepted them both at the same time, before switching hands and shaking them again, nodding along as the blonde-haired boy continued speaking. He sensed already that the arrivals this year would be far more interesting than his own class had been. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

While he cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Brendan's mildly violent servant, the only thoughts that accompanied the sight were of his own terrifying caretaker. Hopefully the errand he sent her on would last for most of this opening ceremony, although too much of a delay spoke of bad news. Bad news that he was not looking forward to receiving. Still, though, those were worries for when the problem was in front of him. For now, these two were the only potential problem he needed to focus on.

"To those of the desert you are all northern lords, I may call you North-Western though if you prefer."

He finally replied, when Brendan had finished speaking. While he had grown up in an isolationist kingdom, he wasn't so clueless as to the geography of the empire. Although he supposed they had no way of knowing his own origins, aside from his appearance. He would have to get used to saying his own name today, though the fact that the dark haired boy did not offer his did not escape Haytham.

"Haytham Avion, pleased to meet the both of you."

He focused his attention then on the quiet one. The blonde-haired boy had no trouble whatsoever making conversation, but the other... Either had no interest or needed some help. The former, Haytham could do nothing about, the latter however was remediable. At least, potentially remediable.

"Blades and boredom are both horribly painful ways to die, however I myself think that cold would get me before either. Brendan says you are from even further north than he is, raven-haired prince? Is it cold enough there for this 'snow' I've heard about? I both look forward and fear experiencing it sometime for myself."

— The Imperial Great Hall, The Conclave —

"A pleasure indeed." He repeated the phrase as he shook his hand before slipping into silence.

Brendan smiled back as the other prince shook his hand and then introduced himself. The blond prince gave no reply to whether or not he preferred being called a 'North-Western prince'. He didn't dwell on the question at all but the look on his face would give a suffice enough answer of 'no'. Leaning back on the wall behind him, he began splitting his attention between the two princes and his own thoughts and observations. Since Haytham had questioned Ezran directly, he didn't need to say anything for now. He made sure to listen closely though so he wouldn't look like he was tuning them out.

Haytham Avion. A prince from the South, and as mentioned by the prince earlier, in a desert country. He had rarely visited the kingdoms in the south making it hard for him to remember who exactly Haytham was. Although it was easy once he remembered House Avion was from Ohanior and he had heard of Isaiah talking about how there was only one heir there. A boy sent to the Conclave and left someone else on the throne when his father died. It was an interesting story but he never knew the face of the male who was carrying such history on his shoulders, and now here he was. But Brendan decided not to dwell on that. Politics be damned for now; this was social interactions and he didn't want to talk about Kings and Queens yet. Rather he's not mentally prepared.

His eyes caught onto the blonde princess that he considered his acquaintance. Aleandra had slipped past them and headed outside. Brendan had half a mind to excuse himself and follow her out, but ultimately decided against it. There were other times for them to finally get to know each other. He then instinctively started to search for the white haired male in the sea of nobles that were inside the Great Hall but no such luck. Perhaps he had already gone outside? Or he just wasn't looking hard enough. Rhelissa was out of sight too. Anareliea was another story as well. Perhaps the princess had gone back to preach about Gaea to other nobles? Or try to win some noble's approval for her to get on the throne?

He then looked back at the two conversing princes before he felt a tap on his shoulder. Rivellia beckoned for him to come closer before whispering something to him. With a mere nod, she had departed as if to search or to collect for something. Whatever it was, it didn't seem it would be revealed until she comes back.

— Imperial Courtyard, The Conclave —
— 6th Day of Summer —

As the phoeni princess introduced herself to Ydrian he had noticed out of the corner of his eye that another student had stepped outside away from the incessant chattering in the Imperial Great Hall. It was understandable given the circumstances they had been dealt, but he didn’t expect to have it been the particular woman he was still all so enamored with to join him and Princess Nebetah out in the courtyard— though truly he shouldn’t have been surprised considering the blonde-haired tromani’s particularly disdain for certain dalliances; a fact he was certain had not changed. He did wonder what the reasoning she was sent to The Conclave however was considering the reputation she had gained wasn’t one of a troublemaker and he was certain she wasn’t too eager to be trapped in books and lectures. Perhaps it was the master knights and paladins who sat at The Conclave as instructors? or perhaps his assumption was wrong and she had become a little more bookish in her teenaged years of her youth? A warm amusement lifted through his mind at the prospect to see Aleandra of all people buried in books; the girl who used to hit him with a wooden sword for fun.

The girl that had taken his heart.

But it would be rude to just push Princess Nebetah aside without mention. Perhaps a way to include both girls in a conversation? A thought that he would gladly execute, indeed. Without rudely dismissing Princess Nebetah he kept his wide friendly smile and nodded. “It is quite a pleasure to be granted as such, but not to be curt if I may be excused for just a moment?”

As he was likely excused he took a few steps forward to Aleandra and as confident as he may have seemed on the outside— it was not so internally as his thoughts and emotions began to fluster trying to break his composure and force him to act out of turn and possibly embarrass Aleandra in front of another. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t do such a thing no matter how emotionally compromised he actually was. As appealing as romantically confessing all of his feelings and affections for Aleandra to hear as the warm ocean waters splashed onto the stone walls that held up the large fences with the sun shining down on them, there was a way about such things and an appropriate behavior. Sure, he was a romantic and very intimate with those he viewed as friends and peers but he was not a fool of a jester.

“I suppose the Great Hall has pushed out another one of us.”

He was nervous but he couldn’t show it.

“It’s been a long time, Aleandra, I hope you’re taking to this place well enough? Would you care to join me and Princess Nebetah for a dialogue?”

Was that too casual of a re-introduction to someone who is a Princess of the realm? A lady of high regard? Perhaps it was rude to presume they were still on a titleless basis and he had done something inappropriate? He hoped not, but anxiety had a way of taking shape for him but what he said was said and it was too late now.

— The Imperial Great Hall, The Conclave —
— 6th Day of Summer —

She smiled as he continued to center his attention on her, a fact that was delightful for someone of her particular… mentality. In her time as a student of The Conclave she had forgotten what it meant to be approached without fear or anxiety as her “reputation” had not caught on with Prince Seldo thus she could plant her claws into him without issue; and given how he looked she was happy to plant them deeply so. As the amber-haired prince uttered a friendly albeit prideless speculation about what his relationship at the academy would bring her smile seemed to widen further. She wasn’t sure if he believed what he said about The Conclave defining him and deciding his worth as the heir to the throne of Forlonia; which to her was a ridiculous assertion despite the possibility of disinheritance as far as she knew about House Forletus the King didn’t have much choice to accept whoever his son became and hoped he wouldn’t bring the realm to ruin. After all, he had no more heirs to choose from.

As Seldo moved topic to her she twirled a finger around a loose strand of hair in flattered amusement.

“Alas I have not been home in many years, but yes you would be correct that it is the farthest of the kingdoms. But yes, ‘twas a long journey at the time and it did take time for me to settle in. But enough about me, what about you? You are new to this place, after all.”

— The Imperial Great Hall, The Conclave —
— 6th Day of Summer —

It felt strange uttering only a given name with no title, especially considering the lack of intimacy she held but the curiosity of the situation made her relent nonetheless and humor his unorthodox request given their circumstances.

“As you wish, Prometheus.” She replied in turn as she kept herself to the conversation.

"How are you finding the Conclave thus far, Princess Rhelissa? I haven't had much of a chance to look around as of yet."

A valid question, but one she wasn’t sure how she would answer given how new the academy she had been admitted to was to her— she wasn’t like those who were students before but she supposed with how she appeared confident in her surroundings it could make the illusion of such things. In reality she would’ve preferred to be in a quiet room reading over a tome, scroll, or book with minimal human interaction; but she was no fool and she knew a lot of the point of The Conclave was to make bonds and be sociable with others though she wasn’t sure how she was going to do just that when people believed her to be cold and apprehensive towards social behavior. So she decided to keep to the conversation with the ivory-haired boy in front of her despite her misgivings.

“I haven’t either.” She took a brief moment before adding on to her statement. “But it is as large as any castle so there is bound to be something of interest eventually. After all, it is said to be the greatest academic institute in the known world.”

The blonde princess saw the other princess's subtle request for Aleandra to join in on their conversation, in which she put her hand up and shook her head, turning towards the water once more. She didn't want to intrude, and figured it would be rude to pull away Ydrian from the conversation at hand. It wouldn't be as bad as her mind played out, although old friendly reunions should be done one on one. That's how she saw it. Somewhat surprising, Ydrian approached her this time. Interesting, although the other girl was behind him, Aleandra assumed he just had pardoned himself.

"Prince Ydrian, as much as I appreciate your time coming to me, I purposefully distanced myself from the conversation as to avoid being rude and to keep up professional mannerisms." Aleandra smiled to the prince, bowing her head slightly as she shifted her tone slightly. After all, he was a friend. But that doesn't mean she shouldn't present herself properly. Habits anyways. Aleandra folded her hands in front of her, before speaking up once more.

"My only concern with people around here is that some treat meeting strangers as if they were old friends separated by circumstance." She gently laughed for a moment, before her smile lit up slightly. Her tone began to shift to a more friendly tone, as she relaxed, though didn't drop her small indicators of formality. "With that in mind, It's been too long. It's been mostly entertaining, and I look forward to the whole experience. And you? How have you been?"

A part of her was relatively worried for this conversation, as Aleandra had already a bad experience with old friends gone astray. That being said, since he was already comfortable talking to her, things couldn't be that bad. Unless he somehow ended up becoming stuck up or blinded by power. Somewhat doubtful, although possible.

The Great Hall

@Gowi

As he spoke with Lyriel, Seldo got a better feel for her court demeanor, or rather lack thereof. She smiled more than most ladies would find proper, and she played with her hair in a childish fashion. Despite being in a room full of the most important youths in the realm, she was completely relaxed, not at all intimidated by the crowned prince of Forlonia. It was a rare trait to see in ladies, who often stood on ceremony even more so than the lords, but it raised a pertinent question: was it intentional, or unintentional? Relaxed manners could be a sign of a poor attitude and upbringing, or they could simply be a proper lady's preferred means of expression. Whichever was the case, Princess Lyriel had piqued Seldo's interest.

"I generally settle into new places well, and this does not seem to be an exception." Seldo said, allowing his tone and expression to transition from courteous to friendly. How would she react to that? Would she even notice? "The Conclave seems to have reasonable accommodations, though I will miss my wine with dinner." He spread his hands slightly and shrugged, as if to say, "It can't be helped." "My journey here was not nearly as long as yours, nor was it as long -- or cold -- as my trip to Aladore, so I suppose I can't complain about that. Ah, and speaking of Aladore, I was hoping to meet Princess Rhelissa, but I suppose we've missed each other in the crowd. The two of us spent a spell together a few years back, and I was glad to hear she would be attending as well. Meeting new faces is always enjoyable, but there's a certain amount of comfort in old friends, don't you agree?"

Potentially... remediable.

Haytham's enthusiasm quickly drained as the awkward boy seemed to freeze, and as seconds of silence grew to nearly a minute, Haytham chuckled nervously to fill the silence. His success earlier had been answered with a devastating failure of socialization, and it was already beginning to look like this year would be a repeat of the last: being practically shunned by his peers. With a scratch to the back of his head, he turned to the more talkative one of the two, who had also fallen suspiciously silent. Perhaps it was an engagement to withdraw from, for now.

"Heh, sorry if I'm interrupting something important here, I'll leave you two to finish, eh? Do try to enjoy yourselves here, it is your new home for awhile. I'm sure we'll bump into each other again."

As he walked away Haytham tried to shake the encounter from his mind. Could have been anything from bad timing, to indigestion that caused the failure, no use worrying over it before he knew for sure. If there was anything at all to worry about it would be the news that Swift brought him. He caught sight of her then, across the room, finishing her duties as fast as she always had, and with a small shake of her head she destroyed any chance he had of a peaceful night. With a sigh he began walking towards her, almost passing by Anareliea without a word.

Anareliea. Haytham had found her to be one of the most difficult people in the entire Conclave to interact with. The reason he could remain so casual with most people was simple: He was more or less a King in anything but name at that moment. There were many heirs that attended the Conclave, some to kingdoms of their own, but Haytham had encountered almost nobody that was above him in rank, even if he had met several who officially equaled him. Anareliea was a different story. Being Imperial put her above even Haytham, and she expected that difference to be acknowledge. It made interaction hard, to say the least.

Still, she didn't shun him like most of his peers seemed to, and he always tried to strike up a conversation, even if they usually ended in disaster. Gaea only knew how that temperament would serve her if she did actually manage to inherit the throne. Initially he had intended to avoid the Imperial Princess at the current gathering, but he supposed it would be even more rude to pass her without a word. They hadn't really spoken since the death of Theodoric, and she was currently relatively indisposed. Even his usual demeanor wouldn't embarrass her too much at that moment. He didn't know if she and her father were especially close, but...

"Hey, I know we're not really close, but your father... Well, I mean, I know the feeling, yeah? I'm sure you've heard a million condolences from a million different people, but... I wish Gaea had given you two more time together. Anyway, I just wanted to say good luck, I'll bug you more when you're not so much on display."

He would've added a bit about being available to talk about it with her, but he felt he was already overstepping his bounds as it were. Surely she was tired of the entire subject anyway, he knew that he had been in only a few weeks time. Besides, they both had the weight of rulership weighing on them- even if only potentially in Anareliea's case- and that took up more energy than could be spared for mourning.

Making his retreat with a bow towards the Princess, Haytham finally made his way over to Swift and the two began heading towards the doors, arguing in hushed whispers:

"So, did you find a wife yet my lord? Drooling perhaps over the prospect Imperial power with her Highness? That would certainly turn some heads back home considering your parents' neutrality."

"I get it Swift, children children children, save House Avion, yada yada. Look, isn't discussing the situation back home a little more important right now?"

"But my lord, your heir is a vital situation back home."

The older woman teased him so until they were finally out of the ballroom, and earshot, though the two continued to speak quietly.

"Baron Theodesus refuses to back down from his demands, and his allies have also stopped paying taxes in protest. The royal treasury depends on those cities, my Lord, and the barons continue to grow more bold."

"Have they threatened to raise arms?"

"No, they know as well as we do that they can't hope to match the Crown in rebellion. However, if we allow this to continue without a show of force..."

Marvelous. Haytham loved a fight but hated bloodshed, in particular among his own people. Still, it had been him that demanded to still have a hand in the affairs of his state while at the Conclave, and his regent was only complying with his wishes. Haytham, above anything, hated stress, and the first real test of his judgement was threatening to introduce an unhealthy dose of it into his life.

Perhaps sensing his apprehension, the woman added:

"Any misstep can be blamed on Ser Auric, he would happily take the hit to his reputation for you."

Haytham merely grunted in reply as he tried to get a bearing on his thoughts. Do or don't, worrying was useless. He would have to make a decision and deal with the consequences as they arose, inaction was a far worse choice in comparison. What had started as a fun day was quickly turning sour.

Then again, such was life at the Conclave.