The bustling and lively music came into clear resonance as the carriage pulled over in front of the entrance hall. A delicate gloved hand reaching out, in an almost instinctual manner, as the coachman held the passenger and assisted her down the carriage. An escort had had readied an umbrella over her, providing enough protection from the soft evening drizzle.

It was then that the arrival of the Duchess of Stonia has been notified in court. Philomena carried herself with poise, an attribute that comes naturally to her, but more with the intention of attracting the good graces of her audience. She's no stranger to the process, thanks to the amount of times her mother pushed her to attend such events.

For all intensive purposes, Philomena partly attended solely on business. And by this, meaning that she would have to make herself available to the bachelors in court, to find a partner wealthy enough to enrich Stonia's duchy and most importantly, even ending a possible conflict between other countries. She did not principally come here to find romance, even though, that partly breaks the purpose of the seasons. Internally she would love to but appearances, expectations and the pressures of titles makes it for a difficult wish to achieve. Her father had high hopes for her, she wouldn't want to disappoint him even after his death.

Once her guide escorted her inside, Philomena was impressed by the lavishness of the place. Scoping the crowd she notices the different faces that walk amongst her. Some are familiar, and some are new to her. Yet this was unlike any seasons event that she had attended to, and truthfully, this is her first time attending outside Stonia. It's a rather refreshing change, she thought. After she was left alone the young duchess led herself towards the empty hall, in full view of the garden which caught her attention the most. She would examine the calmly view, whilst every once in a while making small talk with the guests that would stop by to greet her.

It was early that day, the sun had barely peeked over the windowsill and sneaked into the tiny room when her blanket was pulled off of her in a swift motion. The sudden coldness made her shiver and curl up to a ball to prevent her body heat from escaping more than necessary. The windows were being opened, more coldness swept into the room along with the noises of the outside; mostly birds but also the chatting of servants that had woken before Rowan, tables and chairs were being dragged through the doors right beneath Rowan's window.

A rough hand slapped her cheek in a 'wake up you fool' manner. Rowan groaned and turned away, but she opened her eyes and sat up slowly. She was well aware that if she didn't the next slap wouldn't be a 'wake up' slap anymore, but a hard one. "I'm up", she growled as she rubbed her hands over her face.

"Get out of bed or it will be you scrubbing the floors! You have ten minutes!" The woman left with just that. Rowan shook her head to prevent herself from lying down again and fall back asleep. She swung her feet over the edge of the hard bed and stretched her back and arms.

Eight minutes later she was washed with a sponge and ice cold water, her body was in clothes, her hair was brushed as best as she could with that useless brush of hers and she had managed to turn it into a decent hairdo. Rowan leaned out of the window and enjoyed the breeze on her face for a moment.

"Hey pretty lady." The voice made Rowan smile and her eyes dropped to the ground. A young man of twenty-three years with short messy brown hair and a line of dirt on his chin grinned up at her. "Are you looking down on all of us again?", he teased her with the most charming smile she had seen any man manage to pull off.

"I was hoping you would have figured out how to wash the dirt from last week off of your skin by now", she talked back to him. "Right there." She moved her finger over her own chin to demonstrate the position of the dirt.

His arm moved over his chin but the dirt stayed. "They made me clean out the shack", he explained and a smirk appeared on his thin lips. "Isn't that your job, little missy?"

Rowan raised her eyebrows at him challenging. "Because I am a woman?"

"No", he put on that charming half-smile as if to make his words even smoother. "Because you're Rowan."

"Oh you wait til I get down there!" She yelled down at him with a laugh in her voice, but yet some seriousness that made it clear that she would very much kick his ass in their next secret session of dueling with sticks. Not that she believed they'd have any time to duel during the Courting Season.

A loud bang on the door and both the man and Rowan jumped. "Coming!", she yelled at the closed door and could hear how feet left from in front of her door. She shot the man below her window another look and he pulled a jokingly worried face, she chuckled at him, shook her head and closed the windows.

---

You could have thought that the perfect setting, the perfectly clean floors and tables, the neatly planned out time schedule to finish everything just in time was enough to make this a rather relaxed day of work. After all the only thing that still needed to be prepared was the food and beverages for the guests. But it was far from that. As if the servants didn't spent all day the past three days cleaning every inch of the building - inside and outside - twice, they did it again a third time today with the very strict eyes of the Madam following their process. Rowan was lucky enough to not be cleaning today, she was directly pushed into the kitchen and had been sweating from the heat and the work. After hours of standing in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables, the Madam pulled her away from there, harshly told her to wash herself up real quick and then threw her into the big room where the guests would arrive in a couple of hours to arrange napkins correctly with a bunch of other women.

She was just folding up her 34th napkin when a woman approached her, she had forgotten her name. "I saw you this morning." Rowan looked at her with no interest as she continued to fold the napkins neatly. "You and him. You should be careful. The Madam wouldn't like this."

Rowan's eyebrows twitched but she prevented them from raising at the servant. "Are you talking about Evan? There is nothing going on with Evan and I." The woman shot her a look, but Rowan knew before she even said anything that the woman wouldn't believe her. "Trust me, you can have him." She left the table and left the woman looking after her outraged.

An hour later the Madam forced everyone out of the neatly clean room so they wouldn't destroy anything before the event started. She only kept Rowan behind and told her to fold a certain few napkins again, apparently they weren't folded in the exact size the others were. Rowan was smarter than to complain or try and argue. So she stood behind and started to redo the napkins the Madam had pointed her to.

Just about fifteen minutes into the redoing of the napkins, the musicians took their place on the little stage. They started rehearsing a very last time, soft music to play in the background while the attendants could talk, music to dance to later on, music to waltz to.

Rowan hadn't noticed when she had started but at some point she was swaying and the next moment she dropped the napkin she held in hands onto the floor and carried her body over the 'dance floor', her arms up as if to hold onto an invisible dancing partner. Her feet flew over the floor as she continued to waltz with herself to the music the band was providing. Her eyes were closed and if she only imagined hard enough she could pretend to be elsewhere, not stuck here, dancing with her princess back in the palace when all was peaceful still.

Smack. A hard slap had landed onto the woman's face, sounding so loud in the big empty room even with the music playing, and Rowan had gasped loudly. She held onto her burning cheek, hair hanging in her face. The Madam yelled at her for dancing once again, all that swirling and twirling was not appropriate for a woman like her, she grabbed Rowan by the arm harshly and pushed her away, telling her to leave before she was receiving 'another one of these'.

---

Rowan sat on the stairs outside of the kitchen that lead to a small, dirty courtyard. Evan came through the heavy wooden door into the back and sat on the stairs next to Rowan, he held an ice cold cloth to her cheek. Rowan made a disgusted face and pushed his arm away.

"It will show if you don't treat it", he said. "Do you want to be stuck cleaning the servant restroom's floor?" She rolled her eyes at that but took the cloth to put it onto her burning cheek. He was right. If the hand would show on her cheek she wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the attendants, which usually meant cleaning somewhere on all fours. "What did you do this time?", he wanted to know. There was no judgement in his voice and she was thankful for that part of his personality.

"I danced again, Evan", she replied and her eyes showed a spark. A spark that her friend loved to see. It made her glow, like a faraway star on the pitch dark ceiling of earth. "I danced and I felt like I could fly." Her eyes got dreamy and a smile appeared on her lips. "I couldn't help it, Evan. I would dance all night if I could."

He smiled and stood up. "And you will." Then he went back through the door that lead to the kitchen. Evan never worked in the kitchen, but he walked through it under the stern eyes of the others nevertheless. Rowan pouted for no reason in particular and held the cold cloth to her cheek.

---

Night had just begun. The stars were shining in the dark. It was raining outside, but Rowan didn't mind. She was scheduled to be inside and stay right in this room until further notice. She was lucky that the Madam didn't put her on some other duty after having her caught dancing earlier.

The room got more crowded with each person and Rowan was swirling around in the dresses the lady servants were forced to wear and offered drinks, picked up used napkins to secretly replace with perfectly folded new ones and made sure no glasses were left standing around. The music was playing softly in the background. No one had danced yet. She wasn't even sure if a dance was scheduled for today. She doubted that anyone attending here would be man or woman enough to actually start a dance on their own, being the first ones on the dance floor, asking someone to partner up with them for one dance. She didn't understand why people weren't intrigued to dance.

Not surprising to her, most people have ignored her and haven't even cared to give her a single look when they took an offered drink from her silver plate. Also not surprising to her, two men have eyed her and gave her their typical flirting behavior with servants. The 'You are pretty and I wanna look your body up and down and you better appreciate that I am even turning one eye towards you, I am being nice to you here, complimenting you in a very sexist way, you better know I am better than you and you should fall on your knees for me' kinda way.

She just walked away from the third man that thought he could look at her breasts and not hide it, because clearly she would appreciate it from a duke. The amusing thing was that she almost enjoyed having their attention and it irked her to lean closer and whisper to them that she was into women and watch their face change once they grasped what she was saying. Tell them all the things she wanted to do with a lady, maybe their lady of choice.

She moved over the floor smoothly to a blonde woman standing by the window side, looking out on the garden. "May I offer the lady a refreshment?", she looked at the woman and held out the silver plate a little on which the drinks sat. They were supposed to know who their guests were, but Rowan had no idea who most of these faces belonged to, had never heard of their names before. She didn't know much about politics or the people who were responsible for them. So she wasn't aware of the fact that the woman was Duchess Philomena Ceswick. She knew it was someone high ranked, of course. That she was here to find someone to get married to.

The air was thick with the scent of blood, amongst other unpleasant scents. Sweat and piss came to Vesa's mind as he unwillingly drew another breath, his face grimacing slightly as the salty, repugnant air assaulted his tongue. Almost as soon as he exhaled, he spat onto the damp, muddy earth beneath his steed's hooves, as if he were expelling the very taste and scent itself from his mouth and lungs. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove-covered hand, and took a look at the carnage around him.

It was hellish. Bloody and muddy corpses were strewn all over, with some more intact than others. Discarded weapons laid half-buried in the autumn mud, their blades stained with dried blood, or muzzles blackened from repeated firing. Looking down, just beyond the snout of his mount, Vesa could see a headless corpse with a puddle of blood pooling around where the head should have been. It disturbed him very little, and in fact, the scene did not disturb Vesa as much as the smell. After all, none of the corpses were wearing the dark grey uniform of his soldiers.

Still, despite the ease of the battle, Vesa knew that he had to count his blessings. It was one thing to fight a roving ground of bandits raiding one of his border villages, but it was quite another to fight them on their home turf, in their own camp, after a long, arduous chase. Vesa had no love for criminals, but he had to admit, they fought bravely despite the odds being stacked against them. In the end, however, their spears, swords, and archaic firearms were bested by Vesa's men and their modern weapons.

The sound of approaching hooves from behind drew his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder. "Everything in order, Okkava?" He asked, his breathy voice betraying the fatigue he had hoped to hide.

If Okkava detected Vesa's tiredness, he did not show it. The captain was taller than most Burlians, but he was still almost half-a-head shorter than Vesa, though he more than made up for that with his bulk. He had a slight grin on his face, as if he were amused by all that was around him, but Vesa knew him long enough to know that the affable captain simply looked that way. "Aye, sir." The captain replied with a nod, and tipped his hat in a belated salute. "Prisoners're all rounded up, though I say we best be off soon. Stonians aren't going to like us coming in uninvited."

Vesa frowned slightly. It was true; they had crossed the border some miles back, but Vesa highly doubted any self-respecting lord would sally out to confront anyone who was practically doing them a favour. Still, it was best to be cautious. "Agreed. I will address the prisoners, and then we shall ride for Raikkavar."

"Right this way, sir." Okkava said and pulled on his reins, turning his steed around. Vesa followed suit, and the two rode side-by-side through the battlefield. Occasionally, they passed a heap of charred rubble, or a crumpled sheets of canvas surrounded by wooden stakes. Both marked where a tent once stood, and as they rode through the battlefield, the two men passed easily a dozen of such markers.

The prisoners had been separated into two groups. One group was on their knees, wrists bound behind their backs, and were surrounded by a group of Vesa's men. The other, more curiously, contained both women and children, neither of whom looked like your typical brigand. They huddled close to one another beneath the paltry shade provided by a rocky outcrop. "Hostages?" Vesa asked, glancing at Okkava momentarily.

"Looks like," Okkava replied, and cleared his throat. "The lads found them in several tents. Some bound, some not."

"Our people?"

"Aye," Okkava said with a nod. "Mostly Stonians, though, and one or two merchants from elsewhere."

Vesa nodded slowly. "Right. Give them food and water if you haven't already. Those who wish to come with us may do so when we leave, except the Stonians. Point them in the direction of the nearest castle, and leave them some supplies for the journey." He paused, and looked at Okkava. "No one can say we abducted any of Stonia's people."

Okkava nodded. "Aye, sir. Got it."

With that, the captain peeled off to pass on Vesa's orders. The marquess carried on for a little while longer, and stopped in front of the row of kneeling prisoners. With an impassive face, he looked over all of them, running his blue eyes over each of them in turn. Though they were all caked in layers of dirt, mud, and perhaps even blood, Vesa could tell that none of them looked to be beyond thirty years-old. The youngest might have been even below twenty. "I will make this quick," Vesa said curtly. "You have all committed great crimes against the people of Raikkavar, and as their protector, I should have the lot of you drowned in the northern sea."

He paused for a moment, looking over the prisoners once more. Some looked scared, but others still appeared defiant. "However, I believe that all not all of you would have chosen to be brigands had you any other choice, and so I offer you a chance for redemption. Serve the people of my march as labourers, and you shall be released to do as you see fit, no questions asked. It may take years, but you have my word as marquess that when your term of service ends, you shall be released."

One of the prisoners spat on the ground, and glared up at him. "That's fucking slavery!"

"Call it what you wish," Vesa said dismissively. "But I will not make the same offer twice. Those of you who wish take it, make yourselves known."

Almost immediately, the youngest of the prisoners spoke up. "M-Me!"

Vesa nodded, and looked to one of the guards. "Unbind him and get him up." He said, then looked back to the prisoners. "Anyone else?"

One by one, four more voiced their acquiescence. The remaining prisoners, however, were all still unmoved, their faces filled with defiance and anger. It was a look Vesa knew quite well, and he was not at all perturbed by it. "This is your last chance. Anyone else?" He called out.

No one moved.

Vesa nodded, then looked to his guards once more. "Kill the rest," He said brusquely, as if he were discussing nothing more than the weather. When he looked back to the prisoners, all of them had shock written across their faces. Perhaps they had believed that they would be carted back to Raikkavar for sentencing, and that they might have time to plan some sort of escape. If that were the case, Vesa was more than happy to prove them wrong. Now, several of the prisoners began to cry out, voicing their desire to take up Vesa's offer, but he simply ignored them. It would simply be improper of him to go back on his word. "Make it quick," Vesa said, shouting above the clamour of the prisoners. "We move once they're dead."

Without another word, Vesa pulled on the reins of his horse and rode away, just as the first of many gunshots rang out.

---

The residence of Raikkavar's marquess was far from luxurious. Built from the same wood that made up most other north Burlian houses, and built in roughly the same, two-floored style, it simply looked like a larger version of the average home. Were it not for the banners hanging on either side of the entrance, each emblazoned with the coat-of-arms of Raikkavar, or the short flight of stairs leading up to the large, double doors, the house could have been mistaken for the residence of someone who was merely wealthy.

Vesa felt the comforting warmth of a roaring hearth greet him as he stepped through the front doors of his home. After a long hard ride through the northern cold, the heat felt like a quilt gently wrapping itself around him. He eschewed the throne - which was only a throne in name, if he had to be very honest - and took his seat at one of the tables on either side of the long, rectangular room, facing the hearth. Vesa had fond memories of hiding at a corner of the room while his father held court, giggling whenever a presumptuous village elder mistook casualness with laxness, and thus earning the ire of his father.

"Back from your hunt, then?" A woman's voice drew Vesa back to the present, and he looked up to see a lady standing on the other side of the table, her arms crossed and a displeased look on her face. She was dressed simply, wearing a plain, blue dress underneath a grey jacket. Though she dressed like a servant, and technically was one, Vesa knew better than to treat her as such. After all, it would be ungrateful of him to be rude towards the woman who had practically raised him from childhood.

"Happy again, I see." He replied, voice flat.

The lady sighed, and looked down for a moment, pressing a palm to her forehead. Drawing in a deep breath, she looked back up, this time with the hint of a smile on her face. Aside from the crows feet clawing at the corners of her eyes, she had a face that did little to reflect her thirty-seven years. "I'm sorry. I was simply worried." She admitted. "Welcome home, Vesa."

Vesa returned the smile with one that was just as small, but no less in meaning. "I'm happy to be back, Raiki." He said and gestured to the seat opposite him. "If there's anyone who doesn't need to stand on ceremony, it's you. Please, sit."

Raiki chuckled, shaking her head as she sat down. "There are very few people who must stand on ceremony with you, from what I've seen, so forgive me if I don't feel special." She paused for a moment, chewing her lip and glancing down at the table as if she was thinking carefully about what to say next. "A messenger from Hesey arrived while you were out."

"Are they finally giving me the men I asked for?" Vesa asked, scorn dripping from his words. Ever since he had taken up the mantle of marquess of Raikkavar, he had sent request after request to the capital, asking them for more ships to patrol the northern sea. He could deal with brigands on land, but pirates? He had only two warships, and even they were ageing and due for replacement.

"No," Raiki replied. "It's about Merriedge."

Vesa almost guffawed, but he settled for a scoff. "Unless I've been made the king of Merriedge while I was out, I don't see why I have to be informed about what's happening there."

Raiki leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest once again. "Don't play the fool, Vesa. You know full well what this is about." She said, eyes practically boring holes into Vesa's skull.

If there was one person who could make Vesa squirm, it was Raiki. Whether it was due to conditioning after years of being looked after by her, or if she was just simply that commanding, the fact remained that Vesa looked away from her gaze, covering his mouth with a hand to hide his scowl. After a moment, he looked back at her, and leaning over the table, he said in a slow and measured voice, "I said no the last time, and I'm saying no again. How can I leave Raikkavar now, of all times? You and I both know that Autumn is when the raids are at their worst. I'm needed here."

"You have Okkava, or Saka, or Oiskavin, or any number of officers you know you an rely on." Raiki replied, the frustration in her voice building with each word. However, at the end of her sentence, she let out a sigh, and looked at Vesa with a slight, almost wistful, smile on her face. "You're too much like your father. He always did like to handle things himself, as well."

"Best way to make sure things go according to plan," Vesa replied and leaned back in his seat, looking off to the side.

Raiki sighed. "You need an heir, Vesa. If you want to keep riding into battle, I can't stop you, but please, at least have someone you can pass your title on to."

At that, Vesa grimaced. Whether he liked it or not, Raiki was right. Having an heir was never something that Vesa had put much thought into, and whenever he did, it was always something he thought he could do later in his life. However, how many times has his life been in danger? There were simply too many incidences to count, too many times when a stray bullet or careless swing of the sword could have cost him his life. Of course, he could always do as his father did, and sire a bastard, but there was no telling how the other Burlian royals would react to having the bastard of a bastard be among their ranks. Vesa knew from firsthand experience that a regular bastard was already not something they accepted easily.

"I'm not saying that you have to come back to Raikkavar with wife in hand," Raiki said, though her words did not quite register in Vesa's head. "But at least try, Vesa."

What would happen if he indeed died on the battlefield during the next skirmish? Without a successor, it was highly likely that one of the neighbouring lords would simply absorb Raikkavar into their territory, and who knows how they would treat the people. Who knows if they would even bother with dealing with the roving bands of pirates and brigands terrorising the border settlements. Of course, there was just as much a chance of Raikkavar falling under the rule of a noble who would treat the people well and deal with raids, but that was not something Vesa wanted to leave to something as fickle as chance.

"Vesa?"

With a sigh, Vesa looked back at Raiki. "Alright," He said with a nod. "For the sake of Raikkavar, I'll go."

---

A good month later, Vesa found himself on the unfamiliar streets of Merriedge. The bustling crowds were certainly something that he was not used to, and something that discomforted him. He doubted that the entire population of his march could even come close to matching that of Belchester. That said nothing of the glances he received as he rode down the cobblestone streets, the hooves of his mount clacking against the smooth flagstones with every step. A Burlian might not necessarily be something to gawk at, but Vesa supposed that a Burlian in a soldier's uniform might be a little eye-catching. Still, the attention did not sit well with him.

Prior to his departure, Raiki had reminded him again and again that he was to wear his finest clothes during his first appearance at Belchester castle, but it appeared as if the Gods had other ideas. The fine clothes of soft fabrics and intricate designs were ill-suited for the rain, as light as it was, and that meant that Vesa had no choice but to wear his usual attire of a grey frock over grey pants, with grey gaiters cinching them tight around his calves and covering much of the brown of his boots. The only splash of colour on him came from the light brown waist and shoulder belts, and the dark blue band around the crown of his hat.

Vesa gave a silent thanks to the Gods. Fine clothes never did suit him, he found, and he felt quite certain that they would have been rather uncomfortable as riding wear. Still, he did make sure to shave himself cleanly that morning. Even though he looked like a soldier, Vesa was aware of etiquette enough to make sure he looked like well-groomed soldier.

If the city had not been enough to give Vesa a shock, the castle certainly did. The size of the castle notwithstanding, just the fountain alone was far more lavish and decorated than anything he had ever seen before. In fact, now that he thought about it, he could not recall the last time he had even seen a fountain. Such decorations were just unheard of in the bitter north. Then, he saw the carriages as he reached the castle's front doors. Each of the intricately decorated vehicles simply exuded regality. Vesa almost felt a slight sense of shame tug at his heart as he rode alongside them on his plain, brown horse.

That sense did not last long, however, as he found himself being amused by the memory of Raiki suggesting that he travel to Belchester by carriage. It was to add to his minuscule air of nobility, she had reasoned, but that idea was quickly dismissed in light of the horrible road conditions caused by the autumn mud, much to Vesa's delight. There was nothing quite like riding on horseback, as far as he was concerned. It also made him feel much better to ride alongside the men making up his personal escort, though he had long since left that escort back in a town just outside of Belchester. A group of armed Burlians might have otherwise caused unnecessary alarm in the city.

Vesa pulled back on the reins gently as he reached the front doors, and dismounted once his steed had come to a complete halt. Almost immediately, a servant came running out to take the reins from his hands. "Thank you," Vesa said with a tip of his hat, and was about to step inside the castle when the servant called for him.

"S-Sir!"

Vesa turned around, and his heart almost plunged when he saw that he had a carbine hanging from his saddle. Though that certainly explained the glances he got from the people during his ride through the city, the revelation gave him little comfort. He felt very certain that he had removed the weapon the previous night, in preparation for today's earlier-than-normal start. He groaned inwardly; his best guess was that muscle memory got the better of him, and he had fixed the carbine to his saddle during his early morning grogginess.

He cleared his throat. "Yes," He said and walked back to his horse, removing the carbine and slinging it on his back. "Apologies, I must have forgotten."

"It's no problem, sir." The servant replied, a smile coming back to his face.

Vesa gave him one last nod of acknowledgement before looking back to the gates of the castle. He drew in a deep breath, and took his first step inside. The interior was just as awe-inspiring as the exterior, although Vesa had to admit, such a display of opulence and splendour made him feel more than a little uneasy.

He shook his head to clear it. There was time to examine Merriedgean architecture later. For now, he had to find his way to the ballroom.

Cassiopeia was not happy, in fact one could even describe her as enraged. She was gazing at the man in front of her in a way that to the rest of the world would looked mildly annoyed but she was, in fact, seeing red as she reminded herself that she looked much better with her head attached to her shoulders.
“You come into my home, terrorize my staff, and attempt to bully and blackmail me into a marriage that would ruin not only myself, but also all the people who’s livelihood depends on me and you proclaim it is in the name of love? Do I look the part of an idiot Uncle?” Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at the man who she had despised most of her life. He was her relation in law only, but he had tried to insinuate himself in her life like she wasn’t his better. He was a baron, only to save Cassi’s aunt the embarrassment of marrying someone of common blood. Not that Cassi had any issue with his status but he was vile, the low of the low. He only proved this as he tried to blackmail her into a marriage with one of his business acquaintances. Her aunt claimed he has good qualities. Cassi claimed his only good quality was his acting.
“Cassiopeia, you are 20 years old, high past time you got married at your status. You cannot presume to think you can run the duchy by yourself!” Her uncle probably would have kept ranting if Cassi hadn’t held up a hand to stop him. He was red in the face as she poured herself a cup of tea, as it was finally cool enough to drink. He didn’t dare interrupt her though, and she took her time, mixing in sugar and bringing it to her lips, savoring the taste and relishing her uncle’s impatience with her. Finally she set the cup in the saucer with a gentle clink and deigned to respond to him.
“I am more than equipped to run the duchy and I do not need you or your sycophants trying to tell me how. I have no need for a husband, Uncle. I have no need for money or land, and I have two wonderful heirs in the form of your beautiful children. If I should marry it shall be for love, and that’s all I shall say on the matter. If you continue with these games Uncle, it would be a shame if I should call upon those debts you owe me. I hear that the food at the debtors prison is atrocious. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go find Mother, as we have other matters to attend to.” Cassi didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she stood and walked out of the parlor deeper into the house. Once she was sure she was quite alone, she screamed into her hands, resisting the urge to break something. She understood that she was not a male, and that she would always be treated as less but the amount of patriarchal bullshit that she is fed on a daily basis, was nigh on ridiculous.
Cassiopeia took a deep breath to compose herself before she did what she told her uncle she was going to do and found her mother.

Her mother was in fact, checking the last of her preparations for her trip to the capital. Half of her possessions were already packed in the carriage, but her mother was never one to let lie.
“Mother, I have more than I could possibly need. We haven’t forgotten anything and even if we had, the capital is less than a days ride away. I can send for anything I could possibly need.” Cassi reassured her mother who sighed at her daughter, but chose not to start a fight about it.
“I’m assuming your Uncle has been sent on his way?” Cecilia, Cassi’s mother, asked her and Cassi nodded, as she escorted her mother to the informal dining room.
“Yes, and hopefully he should stay away this time. If he does not, you must write to me immediately mother, and send it with our fastest horse. I will not have him harassing you while I’m indisposed at the Capital.” Cassi instructed her mother, as dinner was served to them. Her mother redirected the conversation but Cassi’s mood remained troubled all evening.

Cassi has arrived to the capital the day before the introduction ball, since she was quite close to the royal family and wanted some time around the castle before things got too crazy. She had taken the morning to socialize and the afternoon to get ready. She was a representative of her country, whether she was here for marriage or not. This was all derailed by her lady’s maid telling Cassi that she was pregnant.
“You’re...pregnant. I see.” Cassi said, her mind whirling a million miles an hour. She couldn’t keep her here, but she needed a lady’s maid. She also didn’t have the time to train a whole new lady’s maid. It was...an inconvenience. She of course didn’t let it show on her face, the girl already looked like she was about to pass out.
“I’ll need to keep you around for a few more days, if that’s okay. Does the father know?” Cassi asked her and Katherine shook her head.
“I only realized this morning ma’am.” Katherine told her and Cassi nodded slowly.
“Well I’ll need your help finding a new lady’s maid. Snoop around some of the palace staff, see if you can find any rough gems, otherwise I’ll send for one from a finishing school. I want you to turn over all my washing to the palace staff and I’d like you to move into my solar.” Cassi told her. It wasn’t uncommon for lady’s maid’s to sleep in the suite, but then Cassi had always been curiously independent, but this girl had been her maid since she was 13 years old, and she owed her everything.
“It wouldn’t be a problem for me to stay where I am m’lady.” Katherine protested but Cassi shook her head.
“I don’t want to take any chances, you are precious to me Katherine and I want you taken care off.” Cassi told the girl who smiled gratefully at her mistress, knowing it would be difficult to persuade her otherwise.
“Oh dear, I need to go down to the ball, I’m late.” Cassi took one last look at her face and hair, making sure everything was perfect.

Cassi entered the ballroom from a side entrance, relatively unnoticed. She observed the participants, it was still relatively quiet, and the dancing hadn’t started yet, although it would soon even if Cassi had to start it herself. She grabbed a drink, and started slowly sipping it as she took a few moments to herself, simply watching the room as everyone discovered each other.

For an event that was supposed to bring future husbands and wives together, there was awfully little courtship going on. Then again, Vesa supposed that he was not exactly the best person to decide what was considered courtship or not; he had only ever attended one other ball, and that was nowhere as grand as this one. It had not even been one of the kingdom-wide balls, held at Hesey, and had been just a small function hosted by one of the more well-known lords in West Burlia. In fact, now that Vesa thought about it, calling the alcohol-fueled, expletive-filled, fight-starting event a ball was an insult to all balls.

He snickered inwardly at the thought as he stood near the entrance of the ballroom, his arms stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he watched the various peoples. The nobility - easily spotted thanks in no small part to their elaborate clothes - clustered together, sipping on their drinks as they no doubt discussed matters of import, while servants flitted through the crowd, their presence either ignored or not even noticed, as they removed soiled cutlery and replaced them with clean ones.

Vesa drew in a deep breath, and straightened his back. Whether he liked it or not, he had just taken a month-long journey down from Raikkavar to Belchester, and he was not about to let all that effort go to waste. Even if he did not find a wide - as he himself suspected - he was going to have his fill of southern food and drink. He felt almost certain that it had to be better than the austere fare he ate on a daily basis back in his march.

He walked over to one of the tables, where a lady stood as she took sips from her glass (@Kaalee). "Excuse me," Vesa said, a little more curtly than he had intended, though his intent had been to be brief. Just as he wrapped his fingers around a glass, and was about to lift it, he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" A stern voice asked from behind.

Vesa shrugged the hand off his shoulder and turned around, coming face-to-face with one of the castle's guards. "Practicing flower arrangement," He replied dryly, and looked at the guard's unamused face with an equally unamused look of his own. "Having a drink, what does it look like?"

The guard folded his arms and scowled. "You have some lip, for a bodyguard. This is for nobles only. Go find your lord or lady if you want something to drink."

"I-" Vesa began, then remembered his attire. To just about anyone, he must have looked like a regular Burlian soldier, and he did not exactly have a nobleman's face or tongue. A sudden as it came, Vesa's indignation disappeared, replaced by a sense of dull amusement and relief. It would not be too much of a trouble to clear up the misunderstanding. "You are mistaken," He said, his face neutral and expressionless. "I am Vesa Kaivarri, marquess of Raikkavar."

The guard looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. He collected himself soon enough, and said, "Right, and I'm the King of Merriedge. Stop with your delusions and come with me. Raikkavar's not even a real place."

Vesa blinked once, then twice. Perhaps the guard had not been informed of the list of people attending, or more realistically, he could not remember everyone's name and title, but still, he felt rather surprised, and a little wounded, that his march was so unknown. "It is a march of Burlia," He said slowly, as if he were explaining something to a young child. "Eternal winter, hunger, depression, no?"

Whatever mirth the guard had disappeared, and his face turned hard. "Look, I haven't got all day. Come with me now, or we'll have problems."

Vesa could think of many problems, though most of them involved the consequences of him assaulting a Merriedgean guard, or even accidentally killing him. He let out a sigh of frustration, and glanced over at the lady beside him, hoping that she could somehow lend him a hand.

Cassiopeia moved a slight step back to move out of the man’s way. She glanced quickly over him and deduced he was from Burlia, which she thought was curious. The last time she had been at court there had been a baron from Burlia but she was quick to learn how rare that was. So far she was two for two with Burlian nobles, how serendipitous.
Then a guard was trying to remove him from the party, stating that the man wasn’t a noble but in fact a guard judged solely on how the man was dressed. Cassi was silent through most of the interaction until the man, Vesa, looked at her for help.

“I didn’t know that the palace guards were trained in all the noble fashion from the different kingdoms.” Cassi spoke up, raising an eyebrow who turned his attention to the duchess, attempting to make a rebuttal. She glared at him and any words he would have spoken died in at his lips before she continued her little tirade.

“Obviously whoever trained you was terrible at teaching or perhaps you were just a terrible student. While this isn’t the height of Burlian fashion, considering it’s raining so hard outside it’s soaking through people’s outer coats, the choice to wear something slightly more durable is a smart choice. Furthermore, do you doubt in the rest of the guard so much you thought you’d take it into your own hands? There are guards posted at every door into this room, correct? Double checking that they are in fact an invited member of the Gentry and not someone who just decided to waltz right in? Furthermore have you seen a Burlian guard without a Burlian noble in attendance? It happens very, very irregularly. They are very loyal to their country, a noble trait indeed. And since there are no other Burlians in attendance so far we must be able to deduce that this man is in fact a Burlian noble.” Cassiopeia asked him with a raised eyebrow as she took a sip of her drink, waiting for his response. He immediately took his hand off of Vesa and stumbled a few steps back.

“Of course, Your Grace. My apologies My Lord.” He said hastily before running off. Cassiopeia couldn’t help but laugh quietly into her cup before returning her attention to the Burlian lord.

“I do apologize for that, Lord Kaivarri, and I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m Cassiopeia du Fey, duchess of Ashyonberry. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Cassiopeia smiled brightly at Vesa, hoping he didn’t storm off indignantly.

Vesa's shoulders relaxed visibly, and he heaved an inward sigh of relief, as the guard released him. To sprinkle a little more salt onto the guard's presumably wounded ego, Vesa shot him a piercing glare as he straightened his coat, then proceeded to make a show of brushing off the shoulder that the guard had gripped. Still, despite everything, Vesa could feel a sense of pity for the guard. He was only doing his job, after all, and it was just his misfortune that he was both misinformed, and was on the receiving end of Cassiopeia's words.

"Make certain before you accost someone next time." Vesa said as the guard scurried off, sounding as if he were giving one of his own men a light reprimand. The guard gave no acknowledgement that he had heard Vesa's words, and the marquess honestly did not care much either way. He was much more intrigued by Cassiopeia's knowledge of Burlian culture. It was not everyday that he met someone outside of Burlia who spoke with such authority on anything related to the place.

First of all, however, there were the pleasantries he had to get past. If he did not go through with them, he felt quite certain that Raiki would jump out from some hidden corner to give him a very stern talking to. Vesa removed his hat and held it to his chest, and bowed, holding it there for a second before standing back up. "Thank you, my lady." He said, and introduced himself once more, this time in a more proper manner. "I am no lord, however. I am the marquess Vesa Kaivarri, marcher lord of Raikkavar, guardian of Burlia's north-western frontier. Pleased to make your acquaintance, as well."

He placed the hat back on his head, pulling down on the brim to make sure that it had a snug fit. With the pleasantries out of the way, he allowed himself to relax slightly, and picked up the drink that he had been intending to take earlier. He took a long sip as he looked around the room once more, savouring the sweet taste and aroma of the southern drink. "This is good, this," He said as he looked back at Cassiopeia, his face impassive, though his tone sounded more affable. At least, he hoped it sounded that way; being affable was not something he had to do in a very long time. "I mean no disrespect, but I was surprised that you knew much about Burlian culture." He began. "It is not something I imagined to be taught in much detail outside of Burlia itself."

(@Kaalee)

@DegenerateThree

“I believe it is from our southern neighbors of Curiour. A good vintage, of course I expect nothing less. We have to make a good impression after all.” Cassi replied, taking another sip, noticing with dismay that her glass was almost empty. Getting drunk tonight would not do, and so this was her only glass she’d be drinking tonight. When he asked about her knowledge of Burlia she smiled brightly at him.

“My duchy shares a border with your country, and I do business with your capitol as well, although I can’t say I’ve personally been that far north. I’ve been meaning to make the journey but another emergency always seems to happen just as I’ve found the time.” Cassiopeia was rambling, just a bit. Interacting with strangers is something she hasn’t done in a long while, and it was an art that needed to be practiced just like any other.

“Regardless of that, basic knowledge of all countries’ etiquette should be practiced, you never know when it could be needed. I’m also quite adept at sounding at sounding like an expert about things I know very little about. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Cassiopeia admitted, a slight blush painting on her cheeks. It wasn’t that she thought she was wrong in what she said, however she also wasn’t certain when she said it. His words confirmed what she thought she knew though, and it made her feel better.

“If you don’t mind my asking, it’s rare we see a Burlian noble at Court, let alone someone who I’m sure is as busy as you.” Cassiopeia deflected the attention back to him, curious to know the answer. Her business was mostly with the southern part of the country, and any dealing with the Capitol she met them halfway if she met them personally at all, so her knowledge of the northern, especially the northwestern, part of the country was sparse. She set her glass on a passing server’s tray, grabbing another one, already breaking her rule of one glass per night, but she was more out of element than she thought and another glass wouldn’t kill anyone.

A mirthless chuckle escaped Vesa's lips when she made mention of wanting to make a trip to his little corner of Burlia, or at least, the general region. "My lady, Burlia's northwest has little to see." He said, and immediately felt his heart grow slightly heavier. It must have seemed unprofessional - traitorous, even - for him to talk about his land in such a way, but the truth was the truth. Raikkavar, and the surrounding lands, had little to offer. "Unless you enjoy the cold, snow, and barren rock for as far as the eye can see, I cannot recommend that you make a special trip there."

He paused for a moment, feeling as if he needed to say something good about his homeland. "The fish, however, is exceptional. Fresh from the northern sea."

Cassiopeia's mention of her feigned expertise on Burlian culture almost brought a grin to Vesa's face. However, he kept his expression neutral, and merely nodded. "Knowledge is power, aye." He agreed. "Though I know little of areas outside of Burlia. Not enough for me to hold my own as you had done earlier, in any case. I am not flattering when I say that had you not told me that you were feigning expertise, I would have not known. You sounded..." He trailed off for a moment, thinking of the proper word or phrase to use. "Like you had authority on the subject."

Vesa did not answer her next question immediately. Instead, he finished his drink and placed it on the empty tray of a passing serving girl, thanking her as he did. Almost immediately, he picked up two small tarts from another passing servant's tray. Everything seemed so convenient here, with food and drink moving to the people rather than the other way around. The tarts were strange to Vesa, being filled with a yellow substance, almost like hard pudding. He took a bite out of one before offering the other to Cassiopeia. "Tastes sweet, so I suppose it is good." He said.

Only then did he answer her question. "As for why I am here," He began, looking down for a moment. Just how was he supposed to answer that question? He had no doubts that outing himself as a bastard would be a bad idea, even if he could assume that someone as high up as a duchess would have undoubtedly heard of a bastard ruling an obscure corner of Burlia. Neither did Vesa want to make himself sound like some sort of sour grape; that would leave a poor impression, as well. He was rough around the edges in terms of etiquette, but he was not completely lacking in terms of social grace.

"With pirates and bandits in my march, you are right in saying that I'm busy." He admitted, and looked back up at her. That was as much truth as he was willing to share for now, and he kept his face impassive as he continued, "But it has been a very long time since I had time to myself. My family has also been badgering me to..." He trailed off once more, gesturing with his free hand to the rest of the ballroom. "You know, whatever it is that nobles do, and so I decided to kill two birds with one stone."

(@Kaalee)

@DegenerateThree

“Ah I’m sure you sell yourself short, if the citizens of your march model you, it would be a lovely visit, regardless of the landscape.” Cassiopeia countered his harsh description of his land. Her duchy wasn’t the prettiest, since it shared a similar landscape in the north except for the southeastern corner.

“Thank you.” Cassiopeia took the tart deftly from his hand, trying not to squish it as she did. She didn’t know the name of these, but they were quite delicious. She popped it into her mouth, washing it down with another sip of her wine. The combination, however, wasn’t the best and she did her best to contain her wince at the taste.

“I understand, I’m here for roughly the same reason. Although I’ll admit, I’m not here to look for a match. More so to create new alliances.” Cassiopeia said, taking her attention off of his face and towards the ballroom. It was slowly filling up with nobles from all different corners of the world. Cassiopeia did know who Vesa was, in the most abstract of ways. She didn’t care, in fact his story had sparked the most ludicrous of ideas, if she didn’t find a husband at the end of this season.

Cassiopeia returned her attention to Vesa, before seeing something next to him.
“Ah, speaking of your fish.” Cassiopeia smiled as she grabbed two of them. They were breaded and seasoned cut into small pieces. Normally Cassi has these as a main course with some dip but this would do just fine. She handed one to him as she ate the other, it had just a little bit of heat to get rid of the previous combination she had eaten.

Vesa nodded his thanks as he took the piece of fish from her hand. While he had certainly heard of people breading and frying fish, it was not a style of cooking that he was accustomed to. "We usually cook them over an open flame," He said as he took a bite, feeling rather pleasantly surprised went he felt a tinge of heat spread across his tongue. One's sense of smell and taste were often dulled due to the low temperatures of the north, and so most dishes were quite heavy with spices. When they were available, of course. "Usually coated in spices to give them a nice sear, and a bit of warmth."

He popped the rest of the fish into his mouth, savouring the crunch of the fried coating. It was just too bad that wheat products were still in far too much demand for anyone to wish to waste them on making breadcrumbs rather than actual bread. "It's good, though." He said with an affirming nod, then took another glass of the wine, taking a long sip from it to wash the fish down.

"You are too kind to my people and I," Vesa said, in response to her appraisal of his land. "But I suppose you are right. I may have been too harsh with my words." Raikkavar did have it's own charm, rough and unpolished as it was. The early morning mists over the Northern Sea, Vesa recalled, were indeed quite a sight to behold. To anyone standing on the shore, it would feel as if the world had been engulfed by a gigantic cloud, and there was nothing but a cooling, grey mass for as far as the eye could see.

However, the beauty came with a very high price, and Vesa knew from experience that pirates often used the mist to cover their advances as they crept towards any one of the fishing villages hugging the Raikkavar shoreline. Such raids were often devastating; the mist prevented anyone from raising the alarm early enough for Vesa's men to sally forth, and the pirates knew that they only had the one opportunity to gather as much loot as they could, and so they were far more ruthless in their pillaging.

Vesa shook his head slightly to clear it. Now was not the time to think about the North Sea pirates, even though he would have liked nothing more at that moment than to ride back to Raikkavar to find out how things were. "I highly doubt that most people here are looking for a match," He said with a nod, and looked around the ballroom for the umpteenth time. More and more people were filing into the ballroom, and he could see that those who looked as if they were the most powerful were attracting most of the attention. "But better for there to be alliances than war."

He cleared his throat once more. "Ah, I have been meaning to ask, but I would like to know a little about your lands." He said with a little bow of his head. "If you do not mind, of course."

(@Kaalee)

A few guests would come and greet her, exchange a few schmoozes and either bold or discreet proposals from the lesser nobles. She heard it all before, and none of it was distinctly new, or even impressive to her. Not to the point that it would make her put an interest to that certain person. It's a repetitive cycle of Voromian courting mixed with the trivialities of politics. It was a world she was exposed to and honed to be the best in. All she's doing here is fulfilling her duties, and tonight, she'll make sure to do so well.

Not long since she arrived, she caught in the corner of her eye a man coming to her direction in officer's garbs of distinctly Stonian make. Graying hair as meticulously polished as his mustache, tilting with his smile as he gave her a respectful bow. "Ah. Lady Ceswick. Such a pleasure to meet you here." She allowed the captain to take her hand for a kiss.

Philomena greeted the familiar face, with an earnest smile she returned his greeting with a curtsy "Likewise, Captain Haugen." Captain Haugen is one of the heads of the Stonian army, an influential man and a good friend to her father. Since she took his place Haugen has been in collaboration with Philomena in the military aspect as far as ruling the duchy goes. Her father was deeply supportive of the army that he provide half of the duchy's profits to fund them, planning ahead of the brewing war they so look forward to.

"Finding other means in resolving our political matters my Lady?" he joined the duchess at her crowd scoping, his voice textured and nonchalant. "Only looking for opportunities that would save us the bloodshed, Captain. " Unlike her father, Philomena thinks, if it can be helped, that theres no need for wasting the duchy's resources in war, and would rely on the diplomatic way of settling it. Nobody wants to repeat that part of history, indeed an all out war between the countries would be the darkest Voromia will ever witnessed.

"I suppose it wouldnt hurt to try. Although if I were you I would not put all my hope to it." there was a tone of skepticism in his voice, turning to the young woman his voice now shifted in concern " And I dont suppose this is what your heart truly wishes." The duchess didnt move her current stare, and sounded more determined on her choice of words "It is not a matter of what my heart wishes, Captain. It's never been that. "

"Of course my Lady." The conversation fell into silence for a short moment. "But I know your father would have wanted that for you. I know the man well enough, and of course, you too." Captain Haugen smiled, showing the soft creases of his aged face, winking at the young woman who was frozen in surprise at his words. Could she be that obvious? If so when? As she recalls the many nights ago at a ballroom party, a celebration being held in Stonia's founding. Maybe she was less guarded after a few sips of wine, making herself obviously swooning over the beautiful red haired troubadour. But that was it as far as she knew.

After a few breaths the captain recommenced his words "That romantic commitment does not define you, instead you rule on your own. You know how to handle great power, and that's what makes you an exceptional leader, Lady Ceswick." Philomena felt a surge of relief. Of course he doesn't know, and as usual Philomena has a tendency to overthink this kind of matter.

"Thank you Captain Haugen. Your words bring me great encouragement." After keeping her company for a while the Captain excused himself, as one of his men asked for him leaving Philomena alone once again with her thoughts. The kind that worries and troubles her, even if it's not entirely necessary to. She was spaced out at the gorgeous view before her, roses that accumulated some dew drew sparkles from the moonlight.

A voice had cut her from her trance, looking over her side in an almost abrupt manner, a woman was now standing next to her. She offered her refreshments, a servant obviously yet at first glance she didn't think her to be. Collecting herself she took one from her tray, and unsuspectingly glanced at her face, more so lingering at her cheek with a faint mark, like a bruise she guessed. "So, is hitting servants a Merriedge national past time? How brutish.". There was a hint of sorry in her face but realizing that she was staring far too long she turned away. She wasn't as resolute as she thought she is, probably because of the long travel from Stonia had left her restless, or that the stress of this whole seasons was finally starting to stack up on her. "Thank you for the drink." she said. "I'm sorry miss, I did not mean to stare."

The noble woman she had approached turned to her and Rowan could now see her face. A beautiful, young face. Blue eyes. And those eyes were looking right back at her face. Rowan felt curiosity start to bloom inside of her. None of their guests had looked at her long enough to actually see her face. They either didn't care to look at the little servant girl or they were too busy looking at what was beneath her face, discreetly of course, they were nobles after all. But Rowan had noticed. She almost felt as though for the first time one of these noble people was actually seeing her as a person.

But the blonde woman's gaze on her face was lingering on one spot only, Rowan noticed. And in the next heartbeat she noticed that it was the cheek that had received a slap by the Madam earlier. She felt ashamed that she had even allowed herself to think someone in this room could look at her and look beneath the servants clothes she was wearing. Metaphorically, of course.

Rowan was quick to set a smile on her lips that was bright enough to hide that she might have been in pain before, but not bright enough to make it seem she was being too forward, too personal with the woman. Keep your distance. Don't attract attention. So many times she had heard those words.

Rowan could feel her heartbeat quickening. If the lady would bring it to anyone's attention that Rowan had a faint sign of a slap on her cheek, the night would be over for her. She would have to leave the ballroom and spend the rest of the night working behind closed doors where no guest would see her and feel 'discomforted by her appearance'.

When the woman spoke to her, Rowan was taken aback yet again. She apologized to her. And not only was it an apology, but she had just admitted that she had indeed been laying her eyes on her face for a little too long to be 'appropriate'. Not to mention that she had called her miss.

"It's my pleasure to serve you", Rowan answered with a smile and a slight bow to acknowledge the authority of the woman. She still had no idea who this woman was, but now she had peeked her interest. "Ma'am, you do not have to apologize." A moment later she decided to give an apology herself. "I am sorry if I caused you malaise." The servant didn't try to start a conversation, it wasn't on her to approach the guests with anything but the offer for refreshments and food. They ask, you answer. You do not talk to them otherwise. Rules, rules, rules. The night was young and Rowan already felt herself having trouble with sticking to the simpler rules.

Without having the intention to, her eyes skipped over to two other guests who had some trouble with a guard, but the situation seemed resolved and they were looking rather relaxed in their conversation. Rowan hoped that there wouldn't be complaints from the two nobles. Complaints usually didn't end well for the people working during this very important time. The woman caught her attention for a second. Rowan could hear the music playing so softly, her eyes drifted off to the dance floor and in her head she could see someone pulling her to the middle of the room and waltz with her and nothing else but the beautiful dance mattered. But that wasn't her reality.

Her eyes went back to the woman in front of her. Although her wandering eyes had only been away from the blonde woman's attention for a few seconds, she knew she shouldn't have let her curiosity on the situation with the guard get the best of her. Not paying your full attention towards a guest, even more so if they were talking to you, was considered extremely impolite and the Madam would be furious over Rowan's disrespectful behavior. Rowan scolded herself in her head. Her curiosity and seek for adventure and need for dancing have all gotten so much worse these past few weeks and it would be becoming a bigger problem if she couldn't learn to control herself. She knew she would be back to scrubbing floors and cleaning fireplaces by the next morning. Away from the music. Away from the dance floor, where she would hopefully be able to watch some of the guests dance so gracefully. It was the second best thing to dancing herself.

The woman seemed to be abashed by her staring, or the fact she had noticed the faint mark on her cheek. It was obvious that she made her somewhat uncomfortable, and a feeling of something else that she could not quite read clearly by her expression. Ashamed of course, or dismayed? What could it be she wondered. Either way it should be none of the duchess concern and as far as etiquette in social positions go, Philomena should just let her go and not further disturb them from doing their work. And servant or not it was rather shameful in her esteemed part to do something lousy as to uncouthly stare at her, it was rude, pitiful and a taint in her otherwise reputable decorum.

Philomena tried her best to gather her self, uncaring of the woman next to her, taking timid sips of her drink as if the encounter awhile ago never happen. Truly she did, but it proved to be a challenge when she saw the lustrous smile, curving from her lips. And oddly enough, she only noticed now how attractive this woman is. A moment later she finds herself staring again, the unfaze-able duchess is completely caught off guard this time. Displaying a forbearing aura in the most drastic of times was her best faculty, yet for some reason she made all the effort to even express her words straight to this charming woman before her.

Although there is still some regard of conduct in their exchange, having someone, a servant of all people, do so much as to warmly smile at her was something definitely new, though she finds it neither a privilege nor an insult to her status. It's just an encounter that is basically nonexistent to Philomena, as she gives out a rather entitled aura about her. Most of the time the lower classes even her own servants would steer clear of her, intimidated and even annoyed by her pampered demeanor and most of the time they are equally ignored by her.

Philomena then gave her a short nod, acknowledging her concern of her discomfort at the sight of the other woman's bruise"It's alright. And you did not." She spoke calmly. "I always believe the other desiring parts of the person is enough to mask their perceptible flaws, a tiny bruise on their cheek would be almost invisible to me." She said unawarely curving a soft smile. When realization came to her, Philomena was almost stunned by her own words. That sounded a bit...inviting, does it? And she swears she did not mean anything by it, even if she did it wouldn't be so brazen. Taking another sip of her drink she tried to "fix" the situation and caught up on her words.

"I meant to say it in a general sense. How one would perceive a rose in full bloom, so beautiful that it's ugly thorns would be barely noticeable. And even if they are it would matter little to the viewer, the bud itself is captivating enough to ignore the flaws it hides below." She stops midway, worried that she may be put off by her babbling at this point, and sooner she regrets her otherwise good use of analogy. She looked down at her drink in embarrassment.

Their exchange was shortly interrupted by the rabble, looking over to that direction to see the Marquess of Burlia having a quarrel with one of the guards. She knows him by name and by appearance since her mother had taken notes of the men who will be attending this evening's seasons and even gave her a list for reference. He was sooner joined by Merriedge's duchess, and the two seemed to spark up a conversation. From what she can discern things are looking quite well between these two.

Philomena returned her attention to the rose garden before her, and was instantly reminded how annoyed and embarrassed she is from earlier, yet all that was hidden beneath her calculating facade. Hopefully she looks convincing enough to the woman next to her. The duchess did not fail to notice though, at the other woman's glancing on the dance floor. How her eyes would glimmer at the people who waltz to the melody with their partners. Philomena herself did not care much for dancing, though she could see this woman may have a great passion for it. "Do you dance, miss?" she finally spoke. This was a timely chance to change the subject, if only to wash the awkward taste of her earlier display.

The words of the woman felt like a breeze. Something that was soft and careful. She had this way of talking, the way she chose words to form to a sentence. The same way of talking most nobles seemed to carry with them. Rowan didn't know how to do that. She didn't know how to phrase her sentences or how to make her words sound so... eloquent. It had always intimidated her when someone spoke like this.

Rowan couldn't hide the slight confusion and the curiosity on her face anymore. The woman had, yet again, straight forward pointed something out that usually wasn't acknowledged in the presence of servants, or maybe even at all. She had mentioned that Rowan had been hit in the face. The servant blushed slightly, she felt ashamed. It shouldn't have been visible in the first place, but now that the woman had mentioned it Rowan was more than aware of the fact that she also knew that Rowan had been punished for not doing a good enough job. And now she would know that Rowan wasn't a good servant. She would only think less of her.

But there was something on her face, something in the way she smiled that almost made Rowan certain that she didn't think less of her, that she didn't assume that it was Rowan's fault at all - but really it was. The way she smiled, it looked so honest and pure, was beyond charming. She started to explain what she meant with her previous statement and Rowan couldn't help but think... was she babbling? The woman's eyes dropped onto the drink in her hands and for a second Rowan was sure it meant she didn't like the refreshment... but then she realized that it was rather a way of hiding her face. What would she need to feel embarrassed for? Rowan felt puzzled.

Rowan scarcely noticed the lady's attention turn towards the man, the one next to that attractive brunette woman who dissolved the encounter with the guard earlier, and she wondered if maybe the blonde beautiful woman in front of her and the noble man over there would be the match made in... in Merriedge. So she was taken aback even more so when the soft voice of said blonde woman rang to her ear with the question if Rowan danced. Her cheeks burned and she knew she was blushing more than before. Was she meaning to pull the man's attention towards herself by dancing with a servant? No of course not. The noble lady... dancing with a servant girl. How ridiculous. I've been in my fantasies too much! She clearly was just interested in knowing if a servant could dance at all. It was a question, nothing more, just a question, never an invitation.

Rowan thought about her answer. She could be truthful and tell her that she got the bruise on her cheek from dancing at work, but that would give her a second bruise right when the Madam would find her. She had no doubt that the Madam would find out about the things Rowan talked about with the guests. She had eyes and ears everywhere, servants who rotted you out to her. She could lie and tell her she hadn't danced a single time in her life. But maybe that would make the noble lady less satisfied.

"I dance after my shifts sometimes. When I am not in the way of anyone." That wasn't exactly untruthful. But neither was it the whole truth.

A pain in her right arm told Rowan that her limb was getting tired slowly. She was still holding the silver tray with some beverages up, just like she was supposed to. She almost wished she could hand it to some other servant and indulge into the smile conversation with the woman some more.

​
Cassiopeia considered his words for a moment. She could describe her duchy, although it was remarkably similar to what he already knows, but she could spout facts about it all day long, as well as the rest of her country of course.
“My duchy was actually part of Burlia, many, many, years ago. When Merriedge formed, my ancestor pledged his loyalty to Merriedge instead of Burlia. The northereastern portion is similar in landscape, although warmer. My duchy also houses and technically commands the Royal Navy, although that may change soon. It seems they aren’t thrilled to have a female in charge, despite the fact that the I’m nothing more than a figurehead regardless of my gender.” Cassiopeia said before blushing at her tirade. He didn’t care about her internal issues, and moreover he probably agreed.
“My apologies, anyways Merriedge as a whole isn’t much of a farming country, although we do plenty. Since we’re centered on the continent most of our economy comes from trading. Our cities are lavish, but other than the capital they tend to run along the main roads running from country to country.” Cassiopeia explained, as the music for a minuet started. Cassiopeia smiled broadly.
"I know this is terribly improper but would you like to dance? The chance to dance is usually the only aspects of these balls that makes them bareable. Although meeting with you has been positively enchanting." Cassiopeia flashed a smile at Vesa, hoping for a positive answer.

Vesa listened attentively to her every word, nodding every now and then, his impassive face giving away little of the child-like curiosity bubbling within him. Learning about new lands had always fascinated him, and although his father had thought him plenty about the various Burlian provinces surrounding his, as well as the parts of Stonia his march bordered, the lessons had always been more for the purpose of familiarising him with the terrain should he have to join battle there. Learning about another land solely for the purpose of expanding his horizons felt so much more calming.

He tilted his head slightly at her mention of her gender and lack of actual power, but he held his tongue, waiting for her to finish before voicing his opinions. Interrupting felt improper to him, at that moment. In addition, he had to admit that he was quite entranced with listening to her speak. Perhaps it was her restrained enthusiasm to speak about her realm; from what Vesa knew, most nobles either were too humble, going to the extent of essentially cursing their lands, or were too proud, speaking of their lands as if the rivers flowed with gold and the skies rained ale.

"Lavish, indeed," Vesa agreed with a nod, remembering the well-kept buildings, properly maintained streets, and bustling crowd he had passed on the way to the castle. He cleared his throat, coughing into his fist, before continuing, "Thank you, my lady. That was all very interesting." He paused and bowed his head slightly. "My people were not thrilled when I replaced my father, either. He had thought me how to fight, but little on how to rule. It took me a long time, but I earned their respect, eventually."

He paused again, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face for a split-second. "I am not familiar with how your court is run, my lady, but I think that you will earn their respect, one day." He said, and bowed his head slightly again. He could already hear Raiki berating him in his head for speaking too much. He should have simply nodded, gave his brief opinion, and then changed the subject, her voice was saying. Doing anything more would make him appear as if he was lecturing someone above his station, or something like that. Vesa had not been paying much attention when she had tried to teach him the intricacies of courtly interactions; he had only caught the main points and bits here and there.

Just then, the music began to play. Soft notes floated over the murmuring crowd, slowly filling the air with a gentle melody. Even so, Cassiopeia's invitation caught him off-guard. Dancing had not been something that he had consciously thought of, though he supposed that that made him quite a fool. It was a ball, after all. "Likewise, my lady," He replied, then scratched his neck. "I would like to dance with you, my lady, but I am afraid that I am not a very good dancer." That was, in fact, quite the understatement. Apart from practice sessions with Raiki - the number of which he could count on one hand - Vesa had never actually danced with anyone before.

@Kaalee

“Not to something this slow, no I couldn't,” a wandering Whitmore came behind the two women off to the side, taking one of the wine glasses off the platter as she moved around to face. “Oh! Pardonne-moi mademoiselles, I am too brash. Mother would have my head had she seen me do that.”

Sam recalled her mother's warning. ‘For the love of God child, do not embarrass us!’ It was not among her priorities. Sam never felt herself a part of the bourgeoisie the company made them. The culture of the elite did not sit well with her. The wealth made life taste artificial. The wine tasted anything but. It was almost better than her father's whiskey, yet Sam was still one for a harder drink than wine. “Not,” she chuckled, “that it stops me very often."

Simply being out of the house was enough to make Sam more jovial. Mother’s perpetual disapproval was stifling ... not helped by Sam’s own willfulness. Some freedom to be more of herself was an enjoyable change of pace. For now that was all she needed to be happy.

Sam had of course forgotten to even think about the other people she had just walked in on in her excitement. “So who do I have the pleasure of meeting here?” She remembered this was a very formal event with high nobility and royals in attendance and tried to put forth some of the etiquette lessons she traditionally ignored.

(@KahleenCuthald@Congee)

In all blunt honesty Philomena has little to no knowledge in the art of dancing. Her understanding limits to the steady movement of one's limbs, with enough discipline to not appear lanky and awkward. It can be a struggle. Yet what Philomena lacks in that department her confidence and intellect would make up for it. Both of the latter seemed to be of more use to her anyway.

"I see." Her tone was understanding, and her words was more so directed at her being cautious of their exchange, as the duchess have already noticed. Such privileges were not common for servants, as simple as having to dance to a single melody seemed criminal. It is as it should yet the duchess felt some sympathy to the woman. A feeling of having deprived of simple happiness in exchange for something more essential, which she somehow relates to. Philomena shook off the thought and returned her stare at the woman, she observers her uneasiness, she wasnt sure what might have caused it but now she could only guess it's due to her hand almost giving out on the weight of her tray. She's aware that servants shouldn't disobey their tasks, but right now Philomena is tempted to just grab the tray and put it aside. She feels just as tired by just looking at her. Or better yet, leave her be to her work, as she should.

"Would you like to set down your tray?" Her words were surprisingly under confident as if she knew she was not suppose to say that, of all things. Of course she wouldnt set it down, it was her job after all. Certainly not standing around freely corresponding with guests as they have other people to serve aside from her. "My apologies, I should not be keeping you from your duties."

The conversation was abruptly interrupted, and had only caught a slender hand taking one of the wine glasses from the other woman. Her gaze followed to a blonde, woman behind them who was nonchalantly, talking about her mother wishing to decapitate her for doing what she just did. Philomena was astounded at how the woman moves and carries herself. Not as what the typical, ideal noble woman should be, and currently she was not quite sure if she should be offended or be impressed for lasting this long, having such a bearing.

Philomena momentarily was at a pause, but she knew better than to level with her or view on her dimly based on her responses alone. The duchess, in all her prim and properness, turned to the woman. "The Duchess of Stonia, that is who."she spoke in an aloof demeanor, at first glance the duchess may not have taken her for a noblewoman, and Philomena is very entitled and serious when it comes to status. "I am Duchess Philomena Ceswick." She gave an effortless curtsy, "And who might you be?" SHe spoke calmly, a faint smile going with her piercing stare, a cold and judging look that came with it. As the duchess' usual exhibit, albeit sometimes unintentionally in the beginning of unpredicted meetings.