Gisela knelt before the altar of Naram-Sadai, a richly-decorated stone table carved with saints and supernatural figures. She wore a checked blue and red tunic, a sleeveless white doublet with a goose of goldwork thread embroidered on the breast, a shoulder-length ermine cape, white silk stockings, and a pair of pointed leather shoes. The chapel was mostly empty but for herself, Vulmar, who was standing a few feet behind, and a pair of Royal Guards who waited patiently at the door which led to the palace yard. The chapel was fairly small, and was lit by the last dying rays of sunlight which passed through the beautiful stained glass. A riot of color was cast helter-skelter across the flagstones that made up the floor. But Gisela was too preoccupied to notice the visual display before her.

She was praying, or at least that's what it looked like. Mostly she was just contemplating her activities over the last few days. The day before yesterday she was officially crowned, an event which coincided with the Feast of Saint Clovis the Lawgiver. Much of the city had turned out to see doddering High Priest Pius anoint and crown the new monarch in the Old City, as did the nobility of the Crownlands. Most of the next day she accepted fealty and homage from dozens of lords and ladies of every description. Today she had inspected the Royal Guard, had a brief audience with Lord Mayor Tomas and Metropolitan Razo, and then received the fealty and homage of her recently-assembled regency council. And between all these solemnities, a thousand feasts and a million babbling conversations. Or, so it seemed to Gisela. She was exhausted, not to mention stuffed with food, and were it not for Vulmar guiding her through every obscure ceremony and point of etiquette, she was quite certain she would have collapsed into a swoon before her coronation was even over.

She was unsurprised, then, when she heard her chancellor whispering at her.

“If it pleases Your Grace,” he said softly, leaning over her. “we should make our way to the Hall, now. Your Councilors should not be kept waiting.”

One more feast, Gisela thought wearily, and it's over. Things will be some manner of normal, then. At least for awhile, she hoped.

“Aye, my lord,” she replied, rising to her feet. “I am finished here.”

The young Queen bowed her head slightly toward Vulmar, who gently placed Ruby Crown of Viexmeur on the royal head. The gold and jewels glittered dimly in the gathering darkness. As they then made their way toward the door, the pair of guards lifted their poleaxes and followed after their charge. As she walked across the courtyard, Gisela briefly stopped to consider the shrine that stood on the grass. The slab had been there since time out of mind, and Gisela had heard it predated the construction of the palace around it by more than a century. Naram-Sadai, god of her fathers, crowning Clovis, her ancient forebear. After a brief reflection on religion, she continued walking toward the huge keep that made up most of the palace. Crossing the threshold into the vestibule, she strolled toward the stairwell before taking in the Great Hall.

The places were set on the dais for herself and her councilors. The central seat was accented with gold, and behind it was a banner bearing King Childeric's own personal arms. Artisans were still working on the replacement. She noted with satisfaction, however, that chairs had also been placed Sir Aldrich and Lady Valericka. Though neither were technically members of her Regency Council, she trusted them both and very much intended to include them in business of state. The food was not yet in evidence, however, and Gisela considered that she might not be so overstuffed as she though. Perhaps she could eat, a little at least.

"Ah, so the stewards do know I exist. How nice of them to remember me," the Archmage muttered under her breath.

She was surveying the feast table with a look of absolute dread. She was the first one into the room, of course, of the inner circle of Her Highness High Queen Gisela. She took it upon herself to ensure the entire room was secure, even despite the Royal Guardsmen stationed along the walls. She eyed those men cautiously as well, and caught their flinty, suspicious stares meeting her own eyes, a challenge there. Daft fools think I'm some sort of trespasser, trying to corrupt their queen or fancy fake religion. I know her better than they know their own families, I'd bet. She held a fair bit of disregard for those Royal Guardsmen. They hadn't proved themselves to be much other than decoration props with swords and halberds.

Still, it was all to be expected. She marched herself around the table, eyeing the places and committing the name plates to memory. Later, she'd be able to match names to faces. Easy way to know who everyone is, without a single bit of effort.

She heard footsteps. Spinning dramatically enough for her Archmage Robes to flare out behind her, in all their yellow-clothed, gold-lined, black-stitch brilliance, sparkling with runic magic stitched with glittering purple thread, she caught the entrance of the Royal Guardsmen that preceded Her Highness.

Lady Valericka Luxta doubted the High Queen noticed she was in the room, since she was somewhat hidden in one corner, as she padded her way throughout the room, and so made herself known for the queen.

Already dipping into a bow- courtesies were for Ladies, and not for Archmages, in this Archmage's opinion- the Grand Scholar greeted the young Queen. "My lady Queen Gisela, a pleasure it is to this one to see you. The room is secure from both mundane and magical threats. This one is sure you'll be happy to know this one is sitting to your right. Wouldn't do for those pesky stuffy men to leave out dear old Luxta from the graces of High Court, now would it?" There was a grin in her words, as there often were when she spoke to the girl, though she kept her face straight and earnest, her voice nearly toneless outside that hint of amusement.

Sweeping around the Guards around their Queen- all of whom tightened the grips of their weapons, of course, at the proximity to a foreign agent- she moved towards her seat. Luxta may or may not have changed the places so that herself and that pesky little man-child who had served as Gisela's night-and-day bodyguard sat to the High Queen's left and right sides. She was actually fond of that 'Aldrich,' but she'd never let him know it.

"This one recommends addressing the scone placement, however, Your Highness. There's not nearly enough torches to keep some assassin or the other from lurking about." She glanced to the corners she meant- the scones were placed entirely too far apart, in her opinion. Blotches of darkness hid between those beacons of light, of which there was usually a Royal Guardsman standing other. She made a face at the nearest one the moment the aged soldier caught her eye. She could feel the heat of his anger roll off of him, but that might've been her imagination.

"The other councilmen should be arriving shortly, my Queen. This one asks if there is anything you need of me before then?"

As was befitting a Knight of House Alistair, Rycherd arrived into the Great Hall wearing his full armor from the ride. His armored steps echoed down the hallway as he proceeded, a blue cloak billowing behind him as he passed through the huge doors of the Great Hall. Upon entering the Great Hall, Rycherd quickly took in the large chamber, his helmet turning as he noted every entrance, every guard, and possible vantage points for assailants. Only when this was done did Rycherd look to the Queen. In a few quick steps, though remaining at a respectful distance, Rycherd approached the Queen, bending his knee and bowing his head slightly.

"Your Majesty, it is my greatest pleasure to finally meet you. I am Sir Rycherd Alistair, Heir to House Alistair and the Province of Vrenal. I pledge my life, and the loyalty of my House to you, as we did your father. I have come to offer my council and support in these coming days. As he spoke, he let his eyes travel to the other figure of note in the room. From what he could tell, she wasn't a native. Her clothing was strange, though not entirely outlandish, though her hair was strikingly different from what was the norm in Vrenal, and the other Provinces from what he had seen. He noted the way the guards were on alert with her so near, and Rycherd had a mind to agree with them.

With the Queen's approval, Rycherd pushed himself back to his feet, before reaching up to remove his helmet. He locked eyes with the foreigner for a few seconds, before letting his left hand rest easily on the sword hanging at his hip. He walked over to the table set in the middle of the room, placing his helmet at the food of one of the chairs, claiming his seat. He was sure to place it towards the middle of the table, close enough to the Queen to offer protection if needed, and far enough close enough to the door that he could respond to any sudden threat. Years of constant warfare had taught him to always be vigilant, even in territory long since thought secured.

The evening air was cool as the carriage eased to a stop outside the palace, five figures stepped out. To them and how they looked, it was almost as if they stepped out into another realm the five individuals wore leather clothes and armor hidden under long green robes. Each robe was unique in its own way as they all had some sort of flower or grass growing in and around it, each had different necklaces adorned with bones, plant matter, teeth, and jewels, some made sound where others glistened in the ambient light. The group assembled with four flanking one in the middle, the four on the outside wore hoods and dark face paint to hide their faces while the last was wearing an animal skull, a great beast with horns and teeth sharp enough to rend flesh.

The five looked around the courtyard being mindful of the staring eyes of the guards and the other nobles, the middle individual muttered a word, and they began walking up toward the main door only to be stopped by a guard, “Halt, only those invited are allowed entry” his voice sounded shaky under that thick metal helmet. only the one in the middle spoke from beneath his bone mask, his many necklaces glimmered in the torchlight, “I am Kamahl Forest Walker, I am here to answer the summons of my queen.” The guard hesitated for a moment looking among the others then back to him, “Fine but only you can come” the five whispered among each other again in the strange language, “they will accompany me until I get to where I'm going then they will return out here with you and wait.” The guard sighed something about it seemed out of annoyance, “fine, but we are checking you for weapons first” the guard turned and led them through the main doors after checking them for weapons.

On the way through the impressive building the group began to sing, it was a strange choice for a song as it was an old song about the last time his people invaded these lands. The guard was clearly not a fan of this but continued to move them on ahead, Kamahl started singing first followed by the others.

“Echoes from the west, Great hammers will fall, Under high rocks all will, Answer the call.

Bring us your arms, Pariahs of yore, All faces turn now to war.

Exiles of the ash Stare through crimson glow, Guards of the north, Sing their songs of the snow.

Bring us the breath, Of the marshes and rain, Courage is rising again!

War will weather the souls of the lost, Stand together whatever the cost, Shields will falter and many will fall, Time has come for us all, To answer the call.”

The small procession seemed to have gotten closer, the singing didn’t stop or falter, these tribal people of the Far East where strange and likely the first of their people to come here. Music for these people was a way to pray and to cast spells, the greater the spell the louder the song and the number of priests required. Because of this the priests know many songs in many languages, but not all spells need music, just the strong ones.

“Pride of Summer's shores, Guide the voices of kings, Children of bark, They will tighten their strings.

Bring us the wits, Of the warm southern sands, Clouds over all of the lands.

War will weather the souls of the lost, Stand together whatever the cost, Shields will falter and many will fall, Time has come for us all, To answer the call.”

The procession made its way to the great hall, yet they stopped to finish their song, the four moved so that they could better protect the one in the middle. The enchantments in this place made it difficult to concentrate but something told Kamahl that it was never meant to ward off his spells. By the look of the few that had already arrived he could only assume that at least one of them would be a spell caster. Still, they would almost certainly notice that Kamahl was a bit more animated than the others, that and the tell tell signs of gathering energy and the fact that the once black eye holes in the mask he’s wearing are beginning to glow green would tell most he was casting a spell.

“White gold, Burning sky, For the souls of the lost, Purify

War will weather the souls of the lost, Stand together whatever the cost, Shields will falter and many will fall, Time has come for us all, To answer the call.”

With the end of the song the four others parted to reveal that Kamahl had finished the incantation and with a touch of the vines that crisscrossed his robes. The man’s hand began to glow yellow as did the vines. With his arms crossed, both hands touching the vines, he stepped forward from the others and dropped to one knee. All the others followed suit and when they did, the war priest put his still glowing hands on the floor. In an instant multiple small yellow vines shot out from his hands and snaked around the room heading for the queen.

The vines dipped and dodged past any who tried to get in the way but stopped just to the right side of the queen. The yellow vines gathered there for a moment, circling in on one another before growing together and spiraling up before stopping a few feet off the ground and blooming into a ball of flowering vines. These flowers soon lost their yellow glow and solidified into a colorful array of exotic flowers and aromas that seemed to calm those who smelled them.

He remained in his kneeling position for a little while, he was well aware that the people of this place where jumpy around them, but he had to fulfill his customs. A priest must always show that they are a priest at any gathering by casting some sort of spell, he figured a simple growth spell was enough. Once he was sure the others had settled down he stood and motioned for the others who turned and left. Again he bowed slightly toward the queen and slowly took the animal skull off his head, “My Queen, I am Kamahl Forest Walker, Son of War Chief Kam’Till Green Blade, War Priest of the Goddess Rosamund. I am here to honor the blood oath and alliance that our fathers struck together.” a short pause while looking around unsure of himself, "I know i introduced myself earlier but im not sure if i was supposed to do it again." He said what he needed to, "now what am I supposed to do?" he thought to himself.

The doors of the Great Hall were pushed open as two retainers dressed in fine gold threaded tunics stepped inside. They were quickly followed by two more wearing even more finely tailored tunics who made their way in perfectly matched step several paces forward before peeling off to each side, lifting horns to their lips and blasting a short refrain to draw the attention of everyone in the chamber, caring little that they were interrupting Kamahl's introduction.

As the notes died away another retainer, more resplendently adorned than any any of his companions marched up between them. "Presenting Onartu Sustrai María Carmella del Rosario Cayetana Laurens de Laurensia, third daughter of Maximillian Ferdinant del Marcasia Florentis Laurens de Laurensia III, Saritua Sustrai of the Laurensia Freeholdings, Ambassador and representing Council member of the most noble and esteemed Laurensia Freeholdings province," he announed in a loud bellowing voice which echoed from the far walls as he puffed his chest out pridefully before also stepping aside.

Rolling her eyes at the pointless display Carmella quickly strode up the hall with two handmaidens following her closely, leaving the retainers to scurry away out of the room, their duties completed. "I'm so sorry about all that," she said with a pained smile, "My father insisted we make a good impression for our new Queen."

Turning her eyes over the scene, Carmella saw the the war priest standing nearby and the mass of vines criss-crossing their way across the floor. "I'm dreadfully sorry, I appear to have interrupted something. Don't mind me, I'll just be over here." Following her pointed finger, Lady Laurens stepped over to the chair nearby beaering the sigil of her house, something her father had shipped ahead of time to ensure it would be ready for his ambassador's use when the time came.

Flicking her long gown around her hips Carmella lowered herself down as her two handmaidens pushed the chair under her before stepping back either side of their mistress. The Laurensi noble settled back, shifting from side to side as she made herself comfortable on the padded seat before looking over at the gathering with a satisfied grin.

---

---

Milo stood with an aggressive stance as he spoke to a man standing at a forge within the city, the man was attempting to work, making some kind of tool, Milo wasn't sure, honestly he thought the man was just bludgeoning the poor piece of steel to death.

"Boy if you don't get lost I will call the guards!" The man was obviously frustrated, but it seemed that Milo wasn't having any of it.

"What do I care, if you're the best smith that this blasted city has, then my jacket would probably shatter their swords." Milo was leaning over the counter at this point, every oppurtunity he saw to watch a competitor and maybe heckle them into a bad piece, never failed to fill an afternoon, besides, the stuff atmosphere of political settings was already starting to wear on him, a queen of thirteen, and a room full of pompous heirs and heiresses that barely can remember what it was like when their ancestor made their fortune, no, he should try to be polite, it was his duty as the third house to advise this young queen, a duty that he would rather have than let one of the snakes of the other houses have.

"Sir, please get away from the smithy." A guard in the city uniform came up and told him gruffly.

Milo turned to the guard and chuckled, "Fine, fine, I need to get back to the Palace anyway, the queen will probably be done, placating deities or politicians by now, I guess it's my turn." The guard looked confused, why wouldn't he at the moment a man dressed in a leather coat that hung to his knees, and relatively ordinary finery was saying he had an audience with the queen. Milo walked up to the counter again and say a large blade on it, he reached into his belt and quickly thrust a belt knife through the center of it, pinning it to the table, both the smith and the guard looked on speechless as Milo removed the knife and walked toward the Palace laughing.

---

---

Milo arrived at the front door of the Palace the guards looked him up and down, and just as they were about to say the generic denied entry line, Milo held up a hand.

"No, no, it's fine, you forgot already, I'm Milo Argentum, of Kagrenan, one of the councilors." The guards looked at him like he was clearly not the strangest thing they have seen today and judging by what could only be called barbarians walking from the palace he couldn't doubt it, "I'm going in if you don't mind, the sunlight is scorching me a bit." And with that Milo walked through the door, into the room full of lords and ladies, knights and mages, it was precious, some were seated and some still cooed around the new Queen.

Milo made his way over towards the new queen, nearly tripping over vines that spread about, he barely cared and just trod over them anyway, his heavy boots barely scuffing. He stopped a good distance, from the Queen, and bowed, a less than formal bow at that, not meant in disrespect, just one that showed the pleasantries were already done. "A pleasure again your Highness, Milo Argentum, Head of the third house of Kagrenan, and master smith of nine, at your service." His eyes traveled to the guards, picking out any and all flaws he could see in the steel, then to everyone, honestly he hadn't stopped, though for now, reintroduction aside, he took his spot at the large table.

Across from him he saw a few people that he had seen earlier, a few he hadn't, one being a knight sitting at the table, the armor was familiar, Vrenali, some of that stuff popped into market in Kagrenan, usually sold well, decent quality, this particular set looked specially made, as expected. The woman nearby also had fancy clothes, really the only one there that was less dressed up than him was probably the barbarian mage. Milo smiled, at least they seemed like a room full of characters.

"Your Excellency." A fully armored Samael was not only bowing, but kneeling, face on the ground, before the person in robe before him. He was not in the palace however and he did not bow before the queen. No master of the temporal was worthy of such a deep bow. He was kneeling in front of Pontiff Fleminus, general administrator of the church working right under the High Priest. Smiling, the old man with a small mustache and beard gave a quick hand gesture toward Samael, blessing even further a man blessed by god already. "Rise, my child. What troubles your mind?"

The pontiff could guess, Samael wasn't familiar with the politics of the city and yesterday he made a scene when he almost picked a fight with Kamahl Forest Walker. The paladin rose and removed his helmet, indeed showing a deeply concerned face. "Your Excellency, if I may be blunt..." The older man smirked and nodded his head. "The Queen... she is consorting with foul heathen witches! And pagan warlocks! Her education rather than in the ward of our church was made in the rancid dungeons of the wizards of the west!" And there was the matter. The council that had chosen Samael had been aware of this fact. Some doubted that Samael would be able to handle this whole thing and would get himself killed or thrown out the castle. Fleminus however had seen the man talk. He was a zealot of course, but he was more convincing than people gave him credit for.

"I do not doubt of the High Priest of course! She has been chosen by Naram-Sadai and his will shall be done, the path the righteous must walk is rarely the easiest one but... I am at a lost your Excellency." Samael raised his eyes toward the ceiling and closed them, taking a deep breath. The Pontiff raised an eyebrow but finally took this as his cue to talk. "It was the choice of her father Samael. What has been done cannot be undone. But, like all person of intelligence, the reason she ignores the faith is because she hasn't really stopped to ponder on it. You must open her mind Samael, be the spiritual guide she needs." Samael slowly opened his eyes and remained immobile for a moment, thinking and embracing the words of the Pontiff. There was a feeling, a hand on his shoulder (not that the Pontiff could see anyone in the room) and Samael smiled gently. Yes, the queen was more than he, above most mortals even so it was not his place to force things, he should be the voice that will make her see reason.

_____________________________________________________

Still, it was not easy. Samael saw them for what they were, the bestial Kamahl was a savage wolf disguised as a dog and if it was the character the guards and believers looked with the most open suspicion, it was not the person who Samael's eyes fixated when entering the room, for Kamahl didn't know better, maybe he could even be domesticated and converted to the true faith. Valericka Luxta. The others saw her as the charming ambassador, radiating by her intelligence in the arcane and other fields. But he saw her horns and her tail, she couldn't hide them from him. A snarky comment here, a parole of doubt there. To captivate the young mind of the Queen, she was the wolf in sheep's clothing.

Beside Samael, a nervous boy wearing a much simpler chain mail and tunic cleared his throat. it was his Squire, Nathaniel, who was hardly used to this situation either. "P-presenting His Beatitude, Paladin Samael of the order of the Holy sword!" His voice went up and down, he was sweating more than he did when facing a horde of heretic. When people looked at him with raised eyebrow, he swallowed loudly and was about to excuse himself to the Paladin for his poor performance. Samael however had removed a helmet and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, smiling to the 16 year old squire to reassure him he did alright before handing him an overdecorated Great Helm and turning to walk to the Queen, patiently waiting his turn to place a knee on the ground before the Queen.

"Your Grace. I hope the vigil I held with my Sword Companions to pray for your restful sleep was at least somewhat successful? In any case, I thank you and Naram-Sadai from the bottom of my heart that you would allow me to help you carry your burdens. I shall be at your disposal for all matters." Saying this, Samael awaited to be acknowledged before raising and going to the chair with the sigil of the church on it, sitting as his squire waited standing behind him if he had any need.

At the moment however, Samael didn't have his mind on court intrigue, it was a feast and not only that, but the patron saint of today was Saint Adalbert the Charitable and so he was eager to see what kind of Graces the Queen would say, though he was almost wishing he'd allow him the honor as he had practiced a speech in the morning just in case and reflected a lot on the deeds of this saint. Being from a religious order however, it didn't cross his mind that Saint Adalbert was... well, obscure to the non initiated.

Morons, the whole lot of them. Aldrich made a mental note to find out who was in charge of appointments to the royal guard and give them a competence booster straight out of his military days. Oh, sure, they looked nice and pretty in their armor, which they probably spent more time polishing than doing anything useful, but to be this lax on such an occasion wasn't just unprofessional, it was an outright disgrace.

Things had begun rather smoothly. Gisela had said her prayers, or at least looked like she had, while the table was set and the chairs were arranged. Aldrich shared Lady Valericka's sentiments toward them being permitted to sit at the table; she insisted on sitting directly to Gisela's right, and there was no way around the Chancellor taking the other side, which left him sitting two seats to the queen's right. It would do well enough, especially since in many other places he might not be allowed at all. But that was something to consider for another time, he thought, as the procession returned to the hall. Valericka all but teleported to Gisela's side, and Aldrich was shortly behind her. He didn't say anything, simply nodding to the young queen in a show of reassurance, before turning his attention to the newly arriving guests.

Which was when his mouth started thinning and his brow furrowing.

The first of note to arrive was the knight of House Alistair. Rycherd he called himself as he reintroduced himself. He looked at Lady Valericka with a bit of suspicion and disdain- in fairness, so had Aldrich before he got to know her- and then rose to his feet and started thumbing his sword. His damn sword that should have been removed at the entrance. Aldrich started to move toward him to rectify that, but then was distracted by the next, substantially larger blunder of the guards.

It was a procession of robed individuals, four of whom certainly had NO business being in the hall at that time, and they were all chanting something. Aldrich was nothing remotely like a mage, but time spent with Valericka had learned him enough about magic to recognize a spell when he heard one. Furthermore, the warlike nature of the chant instantly set him on high alert as he abandoned his intent to accost Ser Rycherd and moved between the priests and Gisela, one hand on his sword. As the vines snaked out and along the floor straight for the Queen Aldrich mirrored them, making sure that whatever this was would have to go through him first. Only when the blasted things stopped growing and the spell finished completely did he dare relax again, but even then he still kept a wary eye on the priest and his entourage. Once Kamahl, as he called himself, was finished with his reintroduction, Aldrich gave Valericka a curt nod to acknowledge that he was going to deal with things and headed toward the foreigner.

"Pardon me, Lord Priest," he said quietly, politely, and with as much restraint as he could manage, "But I am Sir Aldrich, one of Her Grace's personal protectors, and there are some things I wish to address with you. Firstly, I can't speak for your home nation's customs, but it would be greatly appreciated if you would kindly refrain from such... dramatic rituals during your stay and in the future. Secondly, if you would please dismiss your companions to the exterior? I'm afraid this gathering was intended for only yourself." he finished with a somewhat forced smile.

When he got ahold of the guards managing the front...

THE HIGH QUEEN

Gisela smiled genuinely at the Archmage as she climbed the dais and moved toward the high seat, suppressing a snicker. She sat down, two guards standing near at hand, and spoke cheerily.

“Aye Lady Valericka, And pleased I would be to have you for a dinner companion.”

And it was true. Gisela had grown very close to Valericka, and regarded her rather like an elder sister. The Queen was then about to respond to the issue of the sconces, but Vulmar, who was rounding the table to his own chair, cut in first.

“I had been telling King Childeric,” he said, “may his repose be eternal, that the Hall was too dark for almost a decade. He never did-”

And the Lord Chancellor himself was interrupted, as Sir Rycherd of Vrenal announced himself. Gisela nodded at his words, but, again, before she could speak, several things seemed to happen all at once. A band of pagan magicians filed in, weaving spellcraft across the hall. She was rather amused by this, though a look of concern crossed her face when some sort of vine darted to her left. At the same time, The Queen heard an announcement of Lady Carmella's entrance, and saw her moving up toward the dais. Lord Milo of Kagrenan before before her to remake his introduction, and the Paladin Samael knelt in likewise fashion. She managed to mutter a polite greeting to each of them, urging them to take their seats at the high table. Finally, Sir Aldrich made his presence known and began to challenge the Kamic visitors.

THE LORD CHANCELLOR

Vulmar had seen quite enough. The Aborimians were barbarians, it was true, but even they must have known such a provocative display of the arcane would be considered at best impolite. Perhaps they were more ignorant of courtly decorum than he had realized. Vulmar decided that he would have to speak about it to War-Priest Kamahl before the night was through. The Chancellor did note Sir Aldrich's speech to Kamahl with approval, however. At least one guard in this castle takes security seriously. However, for propriety's sake, Vulmar rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

“Order, please.” he began, speaking with an easy authority, “Assembled Lords and Ladies of the Council, do take your appointed places upon the dais. All others may sit with the servants and retainers, as it pleases you.”

As the Lord Chancellor spoke, servants, off-duty guards, retainers, and low courtiers of every description began filtering into the Hall. With them came serving-maids bearing trays and pots of food of great variety: roasted pork, lamb, stewed fish, large wedges of cheese, pottage, and many kinds of bread. Each place at the high table was set with fine silverware, while those below the dais would have to make do with their hands.

THE HIGH QUEEN

Gisela found to her surprise that she was quite hungry. And would have liked to begin eating immeadiately. Before she could, Vulmar hastily whispered into her ear. She turned toward Samael, the Paladin, and called out softly to him.

“Your Beatitude, though it is customary for the Lady of the Hall to say the grace, I hope you might do us the honor of leading us all in prayer.”

Just as well, Gisela thought. She was unsure which prayer would be most appropriate for the occasion.

.

.

As soon as the food was laid out in front of her Carmella's handmaidens went to work, each reaching for different meats and side dishes as they filled their Mistress's plate for her before one raised her chalice and the other pulled a nearby flagon closer and began to pour.

Skewering the meat carefully on her fork Carmella surreptitiously reached inside her bodice and pulled out a small vial, using the eyedropper contained within to dap a droplet of some unknown liquid onto the foodstuff before watching it with wary suspicion. As the droplet turned a bright blue Carmella smiled with satisfaction and stuffed the meat into her mouth, chewing happily as she savoured the juices running over her tongue.

Raising her chalice high the Laurensi lady looked over at the Lord Chancellor with a gesture of great respect. "A fine meal you serve for us this my, my Lord," She called out over the rising murmur of conversation beginning to fill the hall. "May I enquire where you obtained such succulent boar flesh? I'm certain the purveyor would benefit greatly from the opportunity to expand their consumer base." The thought of becoming a leading player in the distribution and sale of such high quality produce made Carmella's heart race for a moment as she awaited a response, her eyes darting over the gathered councillors calculating their worth as she did.

Confusion. Something odd was happening. He didn’t understand why he was being consoled like this. He had done everything he was told to do by his father… his father. Like a sack of bricks it hit him. The reason why it looked as though he had simultaneously pissed off everyone in the room. He remembered his father saying that he should treat this like any other large gathering of chieftains. Then the man remembered something about his father that he had forgotten. The man was smart but had a cruel sense of humor.

The look on Kamahl’s face turned from a look of confusion to annoyance. And turned his head towards the other priests to speak, “ba'slanar dayn.” A strange tongue, one that the other priests heard. Looking to one another one began to protest before being cut off, “ba'slanar!” the four hesitated for just a moment longer. Soon the four whispered among themselves, nodded, bowed, and left.

With a look of annoyance he turned back to the one who approached him, “Apologies. I have no thought, no. Knowledge of your customs or what is po…polite. I’m still learning… languages, language.” A thick accent pushed through poor vocabulary. However, his words were off as if what was spoken before was rehearsed, “Quick learner.” All the man seemed to do was shrug his shoulders and keep the look of annoyance. “Where I’m from we have no… papers. No documents. One must show who they are. One must have… others to back claim.” Gesturing towards where the other priests were.

His gaze shifted from the man standing next to him and back towards the table. Hearing the voice of one of the men next to the queen and the mention of finding a spot at the table. He gave the man before him a sheepish smile for only a moment. Taking a chair near the end of the table he would wait quietly. At least he could understand their language just fine if only their words didn’t feel so funny in his mouth. “I will sit here Qui… Quietly and try not to get me dead, no. get myself... killed”

Sitting back in her chair Carmella's handmaiden quickly darted forwards to wipe her mistress's mouth with a napkin before just as swiftly falling back into her assigned position. "I have to say, that was certainly a fine meal," the entrepreneur commented, her hand gesturing over the stack of empty plates piled in front of her, "But isn't it about time we turned the discussion to more important matters?"