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Theodoro overlooks the dim lit gardens below from his balcony. Already dressed, he was quietly contemplating about the event for this evening. Although he was prepared, he was not wholly looking forward to stepping out there, expecting the different royalties from different kingdoms, and mostly partial with bad impressions for the country and to him personally. He had done this a number of times before but he always felt so nervous every time, even though he stands high and confident from the outside. All that is for show, truth be told.

"It's time sir." A low, soothing voice vented from the double doors, interrupting his meditation. Probably his mother had sent for a personal butler to call him down the ballroom, the queen regent could've have grown tired of fetching him personally as usually Theo h the attitude of making people wait for him. His nervousness had became a stronger factor because of it.

And the fact that the seasons was basically the last ditch effort to finally have some closure between Vertiron's neighbours and as much as possible, the evasion of another war. Pride and self preservation not withstanding, Vertiron could not handle another blow as they have lost aplenty of resources, and allies during those dark years 20 years ago. And it's for everyone's benefit that everyone should see the pursuit of peace with utmost value.

"Tell mother I will be down shortly." glancing at his side, he responded, a voice that's gruff yet gentle, in a manner that he rarely use normally. The butler gave back a nod, and went his way. For one last time he loomed over the view from his balcony, taking one full breath of the cool air before he would leave his room. On the way he took his ceremonial sword and it on his side. He glanced at the mirror and took a final study of his overall appearance. It would be just like the last time, he thought, adding assurance to the notion to calm his nerves. Though he expect a few things that will be different this time around, good or ill, he had already prepared himself for whatever comes.

---

Theodoro came down the steps of the ballroom, late enough to realize that the guest have almost packed the room. They made the custom formalities, and introduction of the king as he went down, all masterfully rehearsed. On his way he politely greeted the guest, shaking hands with the nobilities from highest to lowest, all treated the same level, the same equable mood and the same gentlemanly manner all the while making him self conscious and tired from the tedious task. He perched amidst the crown and finally caught sight of his mother, as the last guest had left him alone he walked towards her, greeting her with an elegant bow. "I apologize for my tardiness, mother." He started, in a mellow tone only exclusive to the Queen regent.

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Florence could not widely believe what she got in the mail in the last few weeks. It was a letter from the Astarian ambassador, noting of their honor on behalf of the Astarian court, for inviting her to an event this coming week at Chateau de Monfort. Opening the intricately designed envelope, the smell of lavender emitted as she opened the flap. It was an invitation, fresh out of the Vertirian manuscript tables, for the upcoming seasons being held at the Chateau. Florance did not know how to feel about it, was the court subtly hinting, urging her to get married, or was she there on business. Either way, it was nice to be invited on such an exclusive event. There's always a first for everything, she mused. And out of propriety's sake, and representation on behalf of Astaria, which she considers as direct flattery in all honesty, Florence decided to go to this year's seasons.

And here she is, a few weeks later, dressed to her best composing of the customary Astarian ball gown. A blouse just revealing enough expose her collar bone, and over is a teal coloured buttoned up coat giving off a formal energy, merely for her own personal preference and a long skirt that falls gracefully down and a quirky top hat designed with laces and feathers on the side. The valet took her gloved hand and assisted her down the carriage. She was firstly greeted by the magnificent structure before her and she could not help but look up and marvel at the detailed architectures. The valet lead her inside, giving him a slight bow as he left. It was indeed her first time partaking in Vertirian customs, she could not contain her nervousness and excitement and it shows evidently.

"My lady, Vertiron has such an ostentatious aesthetic do you not agree?" A older gentleman had noticed the wide eyed Florence, and gave him a chance to spark up an idle conversation. From the looks of him, he might be one of the Vertiran military man, with her custom highranking uniform and sword sheated at his side. "I do, and it says a lot of kingdom's reputation for the arts perfectly. " the servant's offered her a goblet of fine wine, which she accepted with a polite nod, taking few measly sips to take in it's spicy flavor. "Dark and magniloquent." she amiably glanced at the gentle man, giving him a chuckle and an agreeing nod at her interpretational. She engaged further conversation with this man, who introduced himself as Sir Fontaine, in a range of topics of the local Vertirian arts, admiring and criticising both just enough to make the conversation more interesting.

It was then the man had to excuse himself, "It was an engaging meeting, Miss Florence. I have never met someone who is equally well versed in the Vertirian arts and architecture. But then again I forget I am talking to an Astarian scholar." he took her hand to his lips " Likewise Sir, I'm equally honoured to share a moment with Vertiron's finest general." The old man smiled, visibly blushing a contrast to his stoic military man image "We shall see each other again. For the meantime, please enjoy in Vertiron's honored courtesy."

Florence was left alone in the crowd, taking small sips of her wine as she scoped the crowd one by one.
Not long the king finally arrived. The guest greeted the King of Vertiron with bows and clapping, Florence stood half frozen. The great king of Vertiron, she thought, ["he looks younger than I initially thought. And way good looking I might add." she said to herself, taking another small sip of wine.

Finn has done this whole party thing enough times to know what to do. Back at home, shaking hands was not much of a thing, and was in more rural villages even looked down upon as a "Vertirian" custom. In every foreign court he has visited, however, the gentlemen of the wider world seem to insist upon every seeing them to clasp palms. He almost wanted to greet this man the way his people did, in which two men meeting for the first time would shout at the top of their lungs at each other. Looking around, though, it was perhaps not the best idea. After all, wasn't the whole reason for his grand tour to absorb the mannerisms of the more "modern" cultures?

As quickly as Finn thought about it, it was done. The guests quickly began to mingle, as guests tended to do, far as Finn's limited experience with guests went. None of the men he saw were kinlords, chiefs, or lairds of any capacity. These were dukes and barons, and their way of doing things were, as many have said directly to his face, "more dignified". In a less formal setting, he might have laughed. He certainly wasn't in Caer Comarinn anymore. This was grand Vertiron, and he must do as the Vertirians do. He looked around the room, using his lankiness to full advantage, taking in the architecture and artistry. Who ought he talk with first?

Pari would be quite disappointed if she were on time. It would mean she would get lost in the crowd of people and then where would she be? Forgotten. A mere smear of color amongst the masses. She had come here to create alliances and perhaps find a potential partner. No, it would do much better to be late. Then all would see her come in, all her glory and beauty displayed before them. People would look and remember. Men would go to bed with her as the last thing on their minds. She came to make an impression.

This was why she had chosen a decadent outfit of red and gold dress with a long matching veil. Her jewelry was magnificent and only served to brighten the deep bronze of her flesh. A nose ring of a large hoop connected with decorative coins hanging from a chain to her ear. A large gold circle encrusted with a ruby hung over her part and emblazoned over her forehead. Her fingers were bejeweled with rings and both her ankles and wrists carried bangles and bells. Every step she took conveyed a soft jingling sound of musical quality. Not only would they see her, they would hear her. Despite all her finery she herself, in her magnificence and confidence, appeared to be worth more than all the gold that decorated her body.

It had taken her maids an hour to wash her body clean and apply scented oils of opium to her flesh giving her a deep, sexual scent. They had combed her hair and done it up in intricate and weaving braids around her head and down her back. The princess’ eyes were lined in kohl to accentuate them, but no more make-up was required for her already perfect looks. Her clothing and jewelry were placed with care. Three hours it took for the princess to look her absolute finest.

During this time, she had placed her first brother Rahman, for it would take him far less time and concertation to get ready, in charge of the tiger cub Lal - first son and only child of Pari’s closest friend and guard Lavanya. For, who better to keep safe a wild and exotic princess than a wild and exotic tiger? Unfortunately, Lavanya herself had to stay home for now. These people would have been terrified of her and she would have loathed staying cooped up in the inn.

She stepped from her room in the magnificent inn which specialized in entertaining foreign dignitaries. There were carpeted halls and a bath with hot water in every room for those that could afford it. The beds were lush and soft, and the serving people (notwithstanding her own excellent servants) polite and accommodating. Pari turned to her head maid with a furrowed brow and asked “To where has my brother gotten? He should have been waiting to meet me.”

The sound of heavy cursing drifted upward from the garden outside, the deep sonorous tones letting Pari know that Rahman was not happy. The specific words were indistinguishable, but a small yowl let her know that the tiger cub was causing trouble. She felt a moment of worry, not for her brother for the man could certainly care for himself, but for the tiny beast that had been left in his care. Rahman had endless patience for ambush, but very little when it came to anything else.

“Bloody feline…” The cursing ended at last and she could hear him muttering as he made his way up the stairs and into the carpeted hallway. He was wearing a black robe that fell to his feet, red trim neatly highlighting the edges. A white keffiyeh fell to his shoulder, held in place by a ring of gold inlaid with black obsidian and a single row of glittering stones. It was fancy dress for Rahman and he fidgeted with the golden belt about his waist. He glanced up as he crested the stairs and his dark features split into a broad smile as he laid eyes on her.

“Ah, little sister. You are as beautiful as a summer breeze.”

She smiled in return, glad to see him well after hearing his discomfort with Lal. “Darling brother, I hope the son of my heart gave you little trouble,” she spoke in a delightful and musical tone. “Where is the dear little one?” she inquired, coming close. Her hand rested upon his chest as another concerned look crossed her face. “Lavanya would so so sad to learn I lost her first son.” And so too would the King when his gift did not arrive, though she was sure he did not expect it. “You still have him?”

He could feel his heart quicken as she laid a hand on his chest and cupped her small face with one scarred hand, a thumb running gently across her lips. “I have not lost him, though he did attempt to escape, making the outer lawn before I ran him to ground.”

He lifted the edge of his robe to show a small series of frantic claw marks that had shredded the lowest hem. “He managed to defend himself with great honour.” He laughed. “I was certain you would be proud.”

She laughed lightly and nuzzled her cheek against his palm. “Oh, I am quite proud that he should prove himself to be all his upbringing should dictate.” She kissed her brother’s palm before looking about. “What have you done with my darling nephew?” He should now be in the basket to be brought forth by the slaves. “I hope you did not wound him.” She pouted delightfully and pressed herself close to her brother. “I would be most upset”

“Fear not,” he replied with a charming smile he shared with few, “I gave him up to those who would bring him to the party. He is kept safe in his basket crate.”

Pari glowed with glee as she threw her arms about her brother’s neck and nuzzled her cheek against him. “You have been most doting and adoring. Thank you for your part in this.” The princess kised his cheek before linking her arm through his. “It is likely well past time that we got to our destination.”

It was a delightfully short carriage ride from the delegate’s inn to the castle. More so for the servants holding the beast than the two royals. Her brother patiently listened to the young woman chatter about her hopes and expectations. He was surprisingly calm about her court chatter for a man who had spent most of his life upon the battlefield. Despite this rift in their upbringing, Pari had a knack for relating somethings in military terms. She understood quite well the sort of gentleman she should charm, after all. Her only hope was that she might catch a stupid one so that she might have a chance at rule. Pari knew, despite her wild ways, she could rule a kingdom from the shadows as her great mother had taught her.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Rahman lead her from the carriage as any diligent brother might, but the looks on the servants faces at their late arrival made Pari scowl. “It is as if they were kept on the edge of a coin of punctuality,” she muttered in Urso. “Have they never experienced the dignified entrance of those of Usamolia?” While in many countries poignancy of arrival was a must, lateness for the sake of beauty was common among the Usamolie; a party always started an hour or two later than the appointed time. And a royal was always expected late. To see their underhanded glares made Pari huff. “Rakta,” she muttered beneath her breath as she was escorted inward by he brother.

She could feel the stale silence. All eyes were upon her as she had anticipated. She paused a mere moment to speak to a servant so that he may relay their entrance. At first he was hesitant, but Pari removed herself from her brother to bring one hand to the man’s chest and the other to the back of his neck as she muttered in his ear. He turned a light red, though she spoke nothing more than her request. It was the mre proximity of her touch that had him bothered - though in her world such touch was meaningless.

The red flush vanished the moment the servant met the gaze of her brothers dark face, so unusual in this crowd of pale ones. His features shone like polished ebony in the light of the room , the candlelight flashing off his gold crown. He towered above her, eyes probing the room, taking in the faces, the glances, judging and searching for others in the crowd. He recognized more than a few and was pleased to see a number of attractive women present. There were several pale ones in his harem but none worthy of making a wife.

The servant scurried his way to the King and the Queen Regent before introducing the pair to the room. Arm in arm the siblings arrived before the royalty of Veritron. Pari carried herself with aplomb to the end of the stage. With a graceful and theatrical curtsey, her body jingled and created a courteous invite to look.

“Your royal highnesses,” she said in a musical tone, “I thank you most graciously for your invitation to your grand ceremony. I look forward to meeting you and your most elegant and artistic peoples.” Pari stood tall, as much as a small woman could, and proud as she eyed the pair of rulers. “It is custom amongst my people to bring a gift to those that host us. From my country I bring you Lal, the first born son and only child of my dear Lavanya.” She held out a sweeping hand and a group of servants brought forth the basket which shook wildly with an angry low throated growl.

Once the lid was off, a young tiger cub of black with white stripes peeked his head over the top. “I do so hope you enjoy our gift. And if it pleases your majesty I would be thrilled to teach you the ways to upbring such a beast.” Once again Pari curtsied low before taking the young beast from her servant’s hands. The cub chuffed and snuggled against her neck, a familiar scent against many foreign ones. She placed the small creatures in the King of Veritron’s arms. She gave him her most regal and kindest of smiles before whispering, “I hope you find me soon,” and then returned to her sibling who had offered a stiff bow in his own fashion.

She hoped perhaps the King understood. She not only was giving him the first born but the first born son. This signified the sort of bed she and her people were willing to get into. Even if he chose her not as a wife but perhaps her brother as a confidant… Her intention was to create a grand relation. Would he see that?

He patted the young, very pregnant hound on the head as he sat in a comfortable chair beside the fire. He was staying at one of the estates he owned in Veriton. A snifter of brandy was held in his other hand and a book lay open on his lap. He was already dressed and ready for the party. He had hoped to have an hour or so of solitude before all of the noise of a grand ball. Mars sipped the last of the alcohol from his glass and set it on the small table beside him. The tome soon followed. "I suppose I should be on my way then, huh Kimberly?" he asked of the beast. She merely stretched on her side with a groan, exposing her very full belly. Mars gave her one last scratch before he made his way to the door.

His valet stood ready with his deep blue jacket which would help darken his eyes to a pale, stormy blue. It also matched the gold brocade waistcoat he wore and stood out against pale cream pants. His long hair was fastened at the nape of his neck with a piece of leather to keep it from his well-defined face. The valet handed him his top hat and cane and with that Mars was ready to mingle.

Mars had been tempted to ride a horse to the palace but his valet had reminded him that women did not generally enjoy when their suitors smelled of the barn. He laughed, admitting the man was right and instead hired a carriage to take him to the gates. It was still quite early and only a handful of guests had arrived. Not even the queen regent and King had appeared. Tut! Were they taking a page from their Usamolian neighbors? Mars grabbed himself a glass of wine and set about talking to many familiar faces and being introduced to new ones. He laughed and charmed in only the way a man of his years could.

At long last, the Queen Regent arrived with all her fanfare. Not too long after so did the son. He greeted the King warmly, shaking his hand - surprised at this rather informal way of doing things. As a man who had experienced war and hardships, he could hardly say he minded though. Next to make a grand entrance were the First Prince of Ursamolia and the tiny Princess Vanya Parinaaz Myra. The princess had really outdone herself - all glitter and bells. And to even present the king with a tiger of all things! The girl knew how to get attention.

When the pair stepped away from the Royals, he made a bee-line for them. "Prince Rahman, Princess Pari!" he shouted in good humor. He was about the reach out for a handshake when he realized his mistake, considering where they were, he cleared his throat and bowed stiffly to the prince. "Greetings, royal highnesses," he said in a gruff and serious way. His face was turned into a scowl that would rival Rahman's. It did not last long before his usual boisterous smile returned. He heard Pari giggle and he took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. He had to bow low in order to reach the hand properly. "Lovely to see you as always, my darling."

"It is too good to see you as well. Too long, in fact. You make my heart weep in your absence." The young woman pouted at him but there was a playful touch to her lips and eyes.

"Had I known you were coming I would have put you both up in my house. Though I do not know how the hounds would have done with a tiger." He stayed for a little while to chat and catch up a bit when across the room the most elegant and gorgeous of scowls caught his eye. He paused his sentence, shook his head and turned back to the pair. "I beg you would forgive me. I have merely spied the most adorable and grumpy little strumpet. It is my sworn duty to go and bother such a cute frown. Prince Rahman, you should drop by the house sometime so we may talk of old times." He bowed, this one much more elegant than his joking formal one had been. "Peace be upon you," he said in Urso before making his way across the room.

On his way to the pretty, dark-haired snake, Mars acquired another glass of wine. He settled his face into a frown that matched hers and came to settle against the wall beside her. It first he said nothing, simply sipped his wine and glared much in the same way she did. Finally, after a couple of minutes of glaring and glowering, he said, "How many people do you suppose we can terrify into thinking we have cursed them by the end of the night?" The frown could not hold. Mars' lips spread into an open and congenial smile. "Honeycutt, at your service madam." He reached for her hand so that he could bow his tall frame over it and brush a kiss across her knuckles. "And may I ask the name of the enchanting lady here? And the man who causes her to frown, so that I may challenge his stupidity."

Everywhere he looked, Finn saw a glass of wine. People were sipping them, clinking them, in red, clear, and golden. He suddenly realized just how thirsty he was. Was it the dense population, or was the palace always this hot and stuffy? He looked around for someone, anyone, who seemed to have plenty and enough to part with. His prayers were answered when he spied a man dressed in a silly looking outfit, carrying around a platter of something yellowish. If fortune were to smile down at him even more, the contents would be some good Bridgemontese beer or whiskey.

"Hey! 'Scuse me!" Finn shouted, running up to the costumed man, bumping and jostling a couple of idling guests to cries of outrage. He turned, and his eyes seemed to widen at the rapidly approaching figure. Finn jogged up, breathing heavily from his parched throat. "Sorreh, Yer . . . Sir . . . ness?" he said between breaths. The man stared blankly at him for a few seconds, and answered.

"Yes . . . my lord?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I jus' happened to notice yeh . . . had a bit of the drink," Finn said. This was quickly getting awkward. "If yeh don' mind . . . could I take a drop of what yer having?"

". . . Certainly. It would be an honor . . . my lord?" he responded, once again waiting a pause or two. Was this custom here in Vertiron? The man pulled a cup from the platter and handed it to Finn, who eagerly emptied the glass in a single gulp. This nearly caused him to gag. Whatever it was, it certainly was not Bridgemontese beer! The drink was thick and sweet and cloying. It felt like drinking a cake. Still, though, it did little to satisfy his thirst.

"Could I perhaps take another, Yer Sirness?" Finn said, and the man quickly offered him another one, which met the same fate as the first. "Thank ye kindly," Finn said, setting the two cups down. The man bowed, and left quickly, probably to refresh his friends. Finn grinned at the receding figure. What a nice, generous fellow. Perhaps, he wasn't feeling so eager to return home later, he could change his course a little and pay a visit to the man's estate for a few days or so. He began to wonder about the costume, and it made him worry a bit. Was everyone supposed to have one?

---

Vertion. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. Or at least, that's how it seemed to Sigfast Ogmundsson. To any other outsider it must have looked beautiful, but he failed to appreciate it. Of course the buildings were impressive, but it was too warm. Where was the snow? Did they even have snow here? Clad in the hide of some poor creature, probably a bear he skinned, his forehead was red with perspiration. He did look out of place in the streets of Vertion, leading to the Chateau de Momfort, where he was expected to spend the upcoming social season. He was much taller than most, with large hands and feet, not wearing the finery that most of the other nobles were wearing. If he removed the bear pelt, he may have fit in, but he wanted it to be known that he was not of the same ilk of every other noble.

As he entered the Chateau he began to regret his decision to visit Vertion. He wanted to get revenge on Vertion, as they had abused his people for years, but surely there was a better way than to go to their social season. He told himself to calm down, he was only nervous because this was his first time. He stood in the entrance, doing his best to observe what the other people did. They seemed to be greeting the royals. Ah, yes, he had been given a drinking horn to present the royals as a gesture of good will.

He turned to the servant, murmuring "'Scuse me, do y' think y' could announce me? That's what most people do, right?" The bemused looking servant nodded. Sigfast gave his name, which the servant yelled with gusto as he descended the stairs. He nodded at the servant, narrowly avoiding tripping over his own feet.

He made his way over to the table where the King and Queen regent were sitting, awkwardly kneeling. "Y' royal highnesses, my name is Sigafst Ogmundsson, the Prince of Grimmrheimr, one of the most powerful clans in Lygarthien. Vertion has been a worthy ally for many years, and we should like to give you this gift as a sign of goodwill." He placed the ivory drinking horn on their table, before standing and bowing his head. "G'day, y' highnesses." He hoped that he seemed confident, but he kept stuttering.

He walked into the crowd, trying not to look at his feet. He found himself sitting next to a red haired woman wearing the most amazing hat he had ever seen. Well, he thought she was a woman. She was sipping wine, studying the royals. He decided he may as well find an ally, so he leaned down to whisper to her "I must say, y', um, hat is very unique. Um, but in a good way. It's very, what's the word, ebullient, if y' can call a hat that. It suits you, I think." His lips curled into something approaching a smile. "I'm Sigfast Ogmundsson, of Lygarthien. And this is my first social, so sorry if I offend y' in some way." He took her free hand in both of his, firmly squeezing it before releasing it.

_{Chateau de Monfort
Q U E ⇌ Q I U
↪ Collab between @cerozer0 & @murdoc}

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Que had been counselled against letting his guard down too readily. He’d also been warned that coming here would be akin to stepping into a den of lions, though perhaps wolves would be a more fitting description. Back home, his circle of advisors had recounted with varying degrees of horror stories about the perilous courts of Vertiron. There was no doubt that many were here to further their own interests, and those of their families as well. After all, it’s what he and Qiu were here for.

Standing off to the side, he had an excellent view of the people milling about. His cane was rather unwieldy, and so, he preferred to hover somewhere where he would not get in the way. The ballroom was filled to the brim with tittering debutantes and dashing young heirs – not quite the wolves he’d been expecting. While many believed that a man of his interests would find the world of politics an impossible riddle to decipher, Que had always been a fast learner. He wasn’t quite as adept as his sister, of course, at maneuvering among nobility, but he was no dullard either. From the moment he was born, his entire life had been about playing the role he was given, and he was very good at doing so. He was a dutiful son and brother, first; then a soldier, and finally, a Marquis. Had any of this been what he wanted? It’s hard to say, though what he wanted would likely remain a mystery for the foreseeable future, even to himself.

Sensing a shift in the air, many from Euhijan had seized the opportunity to join the annual gathering at Vertiron. It was just as well, Que supposed. The Kingdom of Euhijan had made far too many enemies in the past, devouring neighbouring lands and beyond with all the force of a tsunami. If they were to make amends, it would be wise to commence their efforts sooner rather than later.

“So, what do you make of all this?” Que asks Qiu in their native tongue. More than anything, it was a rhetorical question, and as he speaks, his gaze is drawn up towards the huge, crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. “It’s a little extravagant for my tastes.”

To match the ceremony that was apparently required, Que was likewise clad in some of his own finery. There were no padded doublets or stiff, heeled shoes; instead, he wore a many-layered, loose-fitting robe dyed a dark shade of indigo, its collar crossed diagonally, left over right. The sleeves were embroidered with golden thread in an intricate design of waves that gleamed against the light of the ballroom. Tied around his waist was a silk sash, dyed a dark navy and fastened at the back. The hem of the robe came down to his ankles, concealing the brace around his left leg. On his feet, he wore a pair of flat cloth shoes, useless for anything more vigorous than a leisurely stroll around the courtyard.

The whole ensemble was quite a bit heavier than what he was used to, and he shifts his weight from one leg to another, tightening his grip around the handle of his cane. Seeking a distraction from his growing discomfort, he lets himself lean closer to Qiu, voice tinged with a droll sort of humor that he reserved solely for his sister. “See anyone that catches your eye?”

“They certainly have a domineering aesthetic in Vertiron.” Qiu’s voice was tinged with something akin to distaste; confusion, perhaps, or maybe just an irritated sense of curiosity. She was only in this Court for one reason and one reason only, and that was to ensure some sort of kinship with another royal of another kingdom. It was a simple enough task, one every young man or woman would perhaps have to go through, and honestly Qiu had a small flicker of hope in her heart for something exciting to come from this visit, but so far she has been steeped in the traditional formalities that have been suffocating her from birth.

She stole a glance at Que as the two of them walked beneath glittering chandeliers and painted ceilings. He looked regal despite his slower gait, though the cane might as well have been a glittering sign of his weaknesses. Like her brother, Qiu was dressed in fashionable layers popular within the lands of Ehujian. She contrasted his dark, cool colors with a visage of the height of autumn. A white blouse, silken and shiny in the unnatural light of the hall, was tucked into a long, dragging skirt that matched the bright red color of her robes. Layers of stiffer fabric looped around her shoulders and hung in front of her skirt, depicting scenes of trees in death and cranes flying through a sunset-red sky. It was not the fanciest garb she owned, but it was enough to make a startling first impression, especially in a court where no one seems to appreciate the concept of an empire waist.

At Que’s comment she huffed, eyes narrowing and scanning out toward the many men and women who dawdled around them. Most were attractive, as it was their place to be. She was caught, for a moment, by the King of Vertrion, and a rather impressive looking lady with shiny red hair. Her eyes returned to Que, smoldering like dark coals.

“Most of them catch my eye, brother. I could ask the same of you.” She said, offering him a sensible arm to hook on to if he so needed it, “I will be surprised if you actually have a fascination with anyone, though. You have not spoken to me about matters of romance before.”

“That’s because, sister, I have no wish for half the kingdom to learn who I find attractive.” Que scoffs, but takes the proffered arm after a moment’s hesitation. Truth be told, he held little hope of finding love; even a decorous marriage seemed far out of reach for someone like him. Yes, he’d been a great swordsman in the past, and now, he had a title that granted him a modicum of respect from his peers, but things were no longer be as they used to be. So much of his life had been spent practicing the art of war – Father would only ever truly smile after a victory – it was laughable how easily everything crumbled after the incident. And yet, as his gaze sweeps across the room, he feels himself drawn to some of the charming lords and ladies present.

“Besides, no one in their right mind would want to spend the rest of their days with a cripple.” Even Que himself is startled by the bitterness of his words, though he quickly recovers, playing it off with a humorless huff of laughter. “You know, you should really be off socialising instead of staying here playing nursemaid to your brother.”

Qiu’s reaction to her brother’s cruel words was sudden and vicious. Her grip tightened on his arm, vice-like, curling like a snake, and then she released him. Like the waves receding, she pulled back and flared, roaring internally as she struggled to find the gentle words to tell him to shut up, to keep an open mind, to stop being so depressed--

God, she needed a smoke. Qiu pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her eyes. ”I am not playing nursemaid; I don’t think that highly of myself.” She said, ”But if you’re going to be a sad sack maybe I should go off.” Her words were harsh, cold. She didn’t really mean them but she couldn’t help but let them spill. Her heart still shook with some sort of guilt every time Que spoke lowly of himself. If only she could speak to him, actually speak to him. If only she could have been there to save him. If only she wasn’t stuck in a court full of people expecting her to be absolutely emotionless.

She bit down on her lower lip, lifted her chin, and said, ”Smile, brother. We must look very happy and peachy for the happy and peachy court, right?”

“I’m afraid that's rather beyond me, at the moment.” Que retorts, though he does make an effort to smooth out his expression into something a little more approachable. Whenever Qiu was around, the matter of his leg always seemed to be a touchy subject. Que, on the other hand, saw no point in dancing around it. Fate had dealt him a bad hand, and that was that.

“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about me.” Voice dropping to a murmur, the corner of his lips quirk up into a smile he hoped was reassuring. In spite of their differences, they were still twins, and he wanted nothing but the best for his sister. If that meant having to set aside his self-pity for the time being and striking out on his own, then so be it. He couldn’t very well spend the entire night standing here by himself, could he? And Que’s presence next to his sister certainly appeared to have the unfortunate effect of dissuading potential suitors from approaching.

Reaching out, he steals a glass of honeyed wine from a passing servant, and downs its contents a single swig – for courage, if nothing else. He grabs another before taking his first step towards the thick of the crowd, though this one he doesn’t drink quite just yet. Instead, he turns around to fully face Qiu, and offers a suggestion. “There’s all sorts of interesting people here. Why don’t you go talk to them? See what you learn, and you can tell me all about it after.”

”... Fine, since you’re so stubborn about it.” Qiu scowled, taking her own glass of wine and tipping it back in a rather unladylike manner. Once drained, Qiu returned the glass to another passing butler and bows sarcastically to her wallflower of a brother. ”See you around, my dear brother.” And she turned and vanished into the surrounding crowd, instantaneously adopting an air of regalness and approachability once out of Que’s radius.

---

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"Your Majesty."

Liu turned at the sound of Mai Mei's voice. He watched her approach, warily (though he did a spectacular job of hiding it), acknowledging her with a nod. "Lady Mai."

To say that Liu was not happy about this arrangement was...an understatement. Everybody knew that the Duchess of Mei'an desired his hand in marriage. It was the way things were done, amongst the nobles of Euhijan; women married up. And men married in whatever direction they chose.

Of course, as a duchess of one of Euhijan's most prosperous regions, there was no up save for one of the king's advisers, a prince, or the king himself. And seeing as the king's advisers were all currently married, well-there you have it.

In other circumstances, perhaps, Liu would not have been so hesitant to marry the duchess. But there was the small matter of her former husband, the Duke of Mei'an. He'd died in a hunting accident, apparently. Liu didn't think that the fact this "accident" had happened just a few months after the duke killed his daughter as a pledge of loyalty to the former Regent was a coincidence.

There was no evidence of any wrongdoing on Mai's part, of course, though Liu would not have put it past her. I suppose I should have thanked her for arranging for the duke's death, you know, he mused idly to himself. He was one of Jiangli's supporters, after all.

Her dislike for Jiangli aside, though, Mai was still too dangerous to marry. Her father wanted the throne, had always wanted the throne, and Liu was no fool-he knew why Mai's father kept insisting on the marriage. It was fairly obvious, really.

The real question was whether or not Mai wanted to do what her father said.

He hoped that the time they would spend together in Vertiron would give him an opportunity to answer this question. Frankly, Liu had no intention of marrying one of the princesses from the other kingdoms, and having Mai on his arm during the official events would help dissuade any princess or noblewoman who sought to make a name for herself by marrying the frigid King of Euhijan.

And if any of them thought to win him over with their "womanly charm"?

I'd like to see them try, Liu thought, amused. His cold eyes flitted over to Mai, who was standing next to him, waiting for their gift to the Queen Regent and King Theodoro to arrive. I wonder how long it will take her to figure it out. Oh, I've no doubt that she will realize it, eventually; Mai Mei is a smart woman. I suppose there will be some part of her that is relieved, mmm. I imagine that her wedding night was not particularly pleasant, given the duke's...proclivities.

Liu was drawn from his thoughts at the arrival of the gift. Two servants held a box made from gleaming rosewood between them. The box was simple but elegant; the surface was not cluttered with intricate carvings or bright paint, but anybody could see that it was made of some of the finest wood in the entire world and had been polished to perfection.

Liu arched an eyebrow, turning slightly so that he was facing Mai. "Shall we?"

Mai gave him a small, sly smile. "After you, Your Majesty." Her voice was soft; she gazed up at him from lowered lashes.

Something in Liu's expression hardened as he turned away and began walking.

*****

A short while later, the pair had reached the ballroom. A herald announced their presence, and Liu took the opportunity to scan the room, taking in the sights and sounds that were so different from those of Euhijan.

Liu knew that he must have stood out among the other guests, if only for the severe nature of his attire; he wore dark gray robes, almost black, with a high collar and long sleeves that left only his head and hands uncovered. Those with a keener eye for fashion would see that his clothing was made of very expensive fabric, despite the complete and utter lack of ornamentation.

Liu was perfectly aware that the other kingdoms wore black at funerals and for mourning purposes, yes. He also didn't particularly care.

Mai, on the other hand, wore deep crimson silks, tastefully decorated with swirling gold embroidery. She had painted her lips the same rich red color as well, and her black hair was sparkling with jeweled hairpins. The red went beautifully with her hair and complexion, Liu noted, though there was something vaguely threatening about the color. Looks more of a blood-red than crimson, Liu thought to himself.

As they made their way to Queen Theresa and King Theodoro, Liu began to study the other guests in attendance. There was a red-haired woman who looked Astarian, and who held herself with too much energy to be a typical noblewoman, although her blouse and skirts suggested that she was of noble birth. A lanky man with the same red hair downing a glass of wine-Not Astarian, that's for sure, Liu realized as he and Mai walked past him. That accent is....strange.

Liu thought he caught a glimpse of the golden-haired crown prince of Astaria at some point, although his attention was drawn away from him by a black-haired woman wearing a gown with a neckline so low that it rivaled Mai's. He could practically feel the duchess mentally arching an eyebrow as they swept by.

"I suppose she does not care for tradition, either," Mai murmured, referring to the color of the woman's gown.

Liu gave her a slightly amused look. Mai had spoken in the dialect of her home, a dialect so different from the Euhijanian spoken in the capital that it may as well have been an entirely different language. "I suppose she does not," Liu whispered back in the same dialect. He studied her reaction-a small glint of wry amusement appeared in the duchess's eyes for a couple of seconds.

Two can play this game, my lady, Liu thought, idly.

Ahead of them, there was a small commotion centered upon something black and white and furry. A tiger? Liu gave a small snort. The Usamolians. Of course.

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Mai followed Liu's gaze to the tiger cub the Usamolian princess had just gifted the King and Queen Regent of Vertiron. A bold gift, she acknowledged, a ghost of a smile playing over her lips.

The King of Euhijan tensed, beside her. The movement was subtle, and would have been imperceptible to the others, but Mai noticed it. She realized why he had done so a split second later; he had caught sight of the crown prince of Usamolia, Abd ar-Rahman III.

Mai knew of him, as did everybody in Euhijan. Out of all the foreign devils, Rahman gave Vincento Corelli a run for his money when it came to "most hated".

Mai knew that King Liu despised the three kingdoms more than most. He'd adored his older brother, and the war had taken both the crown prince and the former king of Euhijan. Jiangli had risen to power-some would say "seized the throne"-after that, and, well. There was no question in anybody's mind that Liu really, really did not like the former Regent of Euhijan.

Mai herself could not say that she was any fonder of the Usamolians than Liu. My sympathy goes to the woman he decides to make his wife, and even more to the women he decides to add to his harem so that he can fuck them when he doesn't want to fuck his wife, she thought to herself, resisting the urge to curl her lip in disgust at the thought of being a part of a harem. Or, even worse-having her husband's affairs be part of a long-standing custom, legalized through centuries of tradition. She wondered, briefly, if the Euhijanian woman he'd taken was still alive. Whether or not she'd committed suicide, yet.

In her peripheral vision, Mai could see a tall, blond-haired man bade a fond farewell to the petite Usamolian princess before making his way over to the woman in black, a glass of wine in his hand. Mai had heard of a pale-eyed foreigner assisting the Usamolian forces during the war; had heard of a White War Elephant who'd killed a general her father had been close with. She suspected that this was him.

To their left, a woman wearing the familiar bright red of home swept by. Qiu. The countess' skirts were much more voluminous than Mai's, and her neckline higher. Mai discreetly let her gaze follow the other Euhijanian woman as she strode in the other direction. Looking for a husband, is she? Mai thought to herself, amused. She cast her eyes about for her brother, Que, but she could not see him from her vantage point. Hmm. Well, he's bound to be here somewhere. In truth, I was rather surprised to learn that he would be...attending. Given the accident, and all.

"You haven seen the countess's brother?" came Liu's voice, completely devoid of emotion. He spoke in the dialect of Mai's hometown (something that she noted with great amusement), and when Mai looked up at his face, the king's eyes were as cold and as stony as ever.

Still...there was something, there. A tautness in his jaw, a rigidity in his posture. Ah. He doesn't like them much, does he? It figures; their father supported Jiangli, after all.

Mai paused for a moment before responding. She gave Liu a coy look. "Perhaps," she murmured, a small, sly smile forming on her lips. Liu gave her a cool glance before turning his attention back to their hosts, who were scarcely ten feet in front of them.

The man currently presenting his gift to Theodoro and Theresa was wearing a bearskin. A bearskin, of all things. He must be sweltering, Mai mused. Poor man. His gift was an ivory drinking horn, and Mai learned that his name was Sigafst Ogmundsson, the Prince of Grimmrheimr. From Lygarthien.

Soon enough, Sigafst was done, and it was Mai and Liu's turn. Mai let Liu do all the talking; he was the King of Euhijan, after all.

"Your Majesties," he said politely as Mai curtsied-the Western way, of course. "It is truly an honor to be here today. I'm glad to see that you are both in good health, and the ball is...lovely." Liu's voice was pleasant and amicable, as if they were doing nothing more than discussing the weather, and there was a bemused smile on his face.

He paused delicately before beckoning the servants forward. They placed a fine rosewood box in front of Theodoro and Theresa, and Liu removed the lid to reveal a sheathed sword. The hilt was rather ornate, decorated in a very Vertiron style.

"A gift for Your Majesties," Liu told them mildly, letting the King and Queen Regent take in the sword, and its...relevance. "A sword, found on the battlefield twenty years ago. I came across it in the palace, one day, and it took me a moment to realize where it had come from. When I learned it was of Vertiron origin, I immediately knew that it had to be returned to its home." He paused, deliberately. "A gift of peace, if you will." Liu's voice was as pleasant as ever.

Mai had to admit that it was a bold move on Liu's part. What looked to be a peace offering on the surface was, in reality, also a reminder.

Besides, Mai thought. What use do we have for swords, let alone Vertiron swords? We have guns.

With the greetings done, Liu and Mai left in search of something to do. Mai watched as Liu slipped away to Qiu, heard him give her a mildly interested "Hello, countess. I trust you are well?" before Mai cast her eyes about for a likely conversation partner.

She found Prince Rahman of Usamolia, alone. Mai made her way towards him at a leisurely pace, picking up a glass of wine on the way. "Prince Rahman," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a warm smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes. "I hope you don't mind the company?"

For all the fiery resistance to the domineering will of her mother typical of Sam, this time she sat in silence across from the perpetually-dissatisfied woman, finally conceding partway through the carriage ride ... or so Mother thought. The reputation of the untamable Samantha Whitmore would not be proven false on this night, or any other night upon which Sam drew breath. Mother father and daughter all wore the frowns residual of the night’s previous argument. The gaudy red hat, giant bow, and sparkling gold ribbons in her braids were obviously not Sam’s idea, and the girl would not stand for anything that was not her idea. To do so would subject her to being paraded in front of men like merchandise on display, with her value being reduced to whatever last name she could be compelled to take. This trip was no different, so thought the parents. She had other plans. She always had other plans.

Both her parents had important business to attend to back home during her time attending. Zero parental supervision. That was honestly low hanging fruit. Was she not supposed to use this time for her own adventures? No, that is exactly what she was going to do. Maybe she’d flirt a bit with some cute guy, but this was mostly going to be about her. ‘Noblewoman’s grace’ was out the window. This would be one of the few and treasured times when the wild side of Sam Whitmore could take center stage.

She wanted her hat back. Not the hideous crimson umbrella with a massive bow that made her look like a bloody christmas present Mother had forced upon her head, the slimmer black hat that matched the jacket Mother had also taken. The thin gold trimming on the brim looked far better on her head than tacky ribbons. At least if she couldn’t take the braids out it would match her hair too. It naturally matched with the cuff embroidery on the jacket that prevented her dress from feeling like the apparel of a streetwalker. That would need to be taken back too, lest the undecorated top advertise her bosom constantly.

The displeasure wagon came to a halt out front where a greeter promptly opened the door for the arriving guest. Sam seized upon the opportunity and tossed the abhorrent red frisbee at Mother. In a single swift motion she stood, reclaimed her choice of wardrobe, and exited the carriage. Mother lurched after her but did not set foot to the ground. Father had seized her by the arm, knowing better how to pick battles with their oxheaded daughter. “Samantha Meredith Whitmore you bring that back here!” she bellowed in the distance.
“You never did care for my fashion choices Mother, but I care for yours even less,” she goaded back.
Mother wouldn’t stand for a public spectacle, especially not right before her daughter appeared before lords and kings. Sam would, though, and the defiant girl knew that. “It’s not worth it,” Father pleaded with his wife, and he was right.
With both of them returning to Chesterford at once, there simply was no time or point fighting a battle over wardrobe here and now. It was unlikely one they would win. Mother conceded the contest and slammed the carriage door shut. “Where did I go wrong with that child ...” she mused aloud.

Sam was already halfway to the chateau by the time the carriage pulled away, and was pulling at the ribbon woven into her head. Were the braids smaller she might have been successful, but instead of using only a few locks Mother had the bright idea of putting her entire head of hair into a crown braid that wrapped around the sides of her head and then came together in a single large rope. That had to go, and the sandpaper-like quality of the ribbon frizzing her hair with every pull wasn’t helping either. Thus the braids were gone by the time she reached the door, her hands incessantly combing it out for a down-but-wavy style.

---

She was no royalty and garnered no special introduction. It suited her though. She would take the spotlight on her time, not anyone else’s. There seemed to be enough women who favored a crimson red for her to not immediately stick out. There would be a time for that soon enough. For now, the periphery was populated with random gentlemen only worthy of a glancing inspection, nothing more. It would take more than title to catch Sam’s eye, and more than a fashion statement to hold her attention.

She paced through the room, catching the occasional stare. ‘Let them stare,’ she thought to herself, caring not what a few petty noblemen thought of her choice of outfit. She had paired a brilliant scarlet dress, of full collar and quarter sleeves floor length as typical but split up to the knee and wide enough to spin a perfect circle, with an unbuttoned black men’s jacket with gold embroidery on the cuff. Her affinity for hats withstanding, she topped the outfit with a relatively short flat-top hat in a matching black. Her hair being down lent a much more appealing caramel color to the mix where the gold ribbon had simply been tacky. The trademark style of Samantha Whitmore struck an odd balance between provocative and reserved, with a mandatory dose of unconventionality ... and a certain overtness as a result.

She kept her brisk pace along the perimeter, passing by the uninteresting folk rambling on about something inane as far as she cared. There seemed to be a handful of interesting parties floating around, much as she was. Some of them had managed to gather together, likely gossiping in the same pattern of the uninteresting rabble. It left her selection of potential acquaintances irritatingly small, but that was the price for being as ultra selective as she was. At least Mother wasn’t here to parade her in front of every drab, half-inebriated and overly handsy noble in the manor.

Collab with @ayzrules

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Rahman found that, while he disliked pomp and ceremony, he was going to enjoy this particular event far more than he might have thought. He could practically feel the energy throughout the room. There was no doubt that any number of sexual partners were being considered but the intrigue and distrust that seemed to ooze from the assembly reminded him very much of negotiating on the battlefield. He suspected his little sister was right and the event might be more familiar than he had anticipated.

Pari, bless her heart, had done all of the talking as the siblings had previously agreed upon. He would prefer to be underestimated in this social scene than not. As she had introduced the small bundle of fur to the King of Vertiron, Rahman had studied the man. Almost twenty years his junior, the King was a handsome and youthful man, even Rahman could see that. Rahman had studied the reports carefully prepared for him by his fathers spies before attending and knew that the King of Vertiron was no warrior, but he had certainly taken great pains to become a formidable statesman. He was a man worth watching, and a man worth watching closely.

The Ursamalian's withdrew, leaving the King with the furious bundle of tiny fangs and claws in his arms to allow the next guest to approach. They had not gone more than a few paces when a familiar voice hailed them across the room. "Prince Rahman, Princess Pari!"

Rahman turned and his face split into a genuine smile at the sight of the tall blonde haired man making his way toward them. Sir Honeycutt, Rahman still wasn't sure if it wasn't some private joke given the man's true sex, was welcome in Rahman's presence no matter the time of day, a unique privilege accorded to very few. The two had fought together in the Great War and The White Elephant had been knighted personally by Rahman, whose amdiration had only grown when he discovered that Honeycutt was a woman. It was Rahman’s order, and fear of his retribution, that assured the silence of the Doctor and the men who had brought Honeycutt to the surgeons.

Honeycutt nearly forgot that the pair were not on the field of battle and was about to offer a hand, a grave deal indeed in Usamolia since one did not touch royalty in public. Instead a grave frown creased the handsome face, which Rahman knew was a mocking version of his own, and a bow which he returned with a hint of amusement. Pari, as was her fashion, quickly became the focal point of the reunion and the two carried on happily while Rahman continued his study of the room.

There was no shortage of young faces, unscarred, handsome, pretty, whatever you wanted to call them, the faces of young people who had never truly felt the bite of a blade, or the fear and glory of battle. He hated them for it, knowing even as he hated them that it was irrational. It was not their fault they were young, but he certainly did not think they had any right choosing the future of great nations as they pranced about like dandified pixies.

Rahman half heard Honeycutt excuse himself, and then Pari, with a small smile, slipped away into the crowd. His gaze was drawn to a tall blonde man who had stepped forward, a bearskin across his shoulders. A Lygarthien. They were formidable warriors by reputation and he knew well the promise that had been broken to them. He caught the mans name, Sigafast Ogmundsson, a powerful chieftain by the sounds of it. Rahman would have to ensure he sought the man out to discover his feelings about their hosts. He took two steps and then stopped in his tracks as the Euhijan made their appearance.

His first impression was once again of youth, but one had to be careful with the Euhijan, they often looked younger than they really were. He made eye contact with the King, Liu, he was fairly certain, and saw the others gaze harden. There was no love lost between the two nations and Rahman returned the gaze with a carefully blank expression. The woman at his side, wearing a red dress as vibrant as Pari’s also shot a glance his way but he ignored her. Her time would come, as would Lius’.

Rahman would have needed a soul of stone not to enjoy the Euhijan gift however. Even he knew it was likely to a diplomatic disaster. It never did well to remind your enemy of your previous quarrels when the whole point of the meeting was to make friends, or at least try to initiate somewhat positive relations. Still, the gift has sass, and he admired that in people.

The Euhijans made their presentation and stepped back before splitting apart. To his surprise the woman, he knew her to be Duchess Mai, made eye contact with him and began to walk in his direction. He noted her fine dress, almost gliding over the floor, her petite frame reminding him of the Euhijan woman he had taken into his harem.

"Prince Rahman," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a warm smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes. "I hope you don't mind the company?"

“Duchess,” he did not smile in return but offered a short nod. “Your company would be most welcome on such a night as this.”

The duchess arched an eyebrow, her eyes dancing with playful mischief. “Really,” she replied, a hint of sly coyness slipping into her expression. “I’m glad to hear it.” She paused for a moment, taking a dainty sip of the wine and pursing her lips.

“Your sister is well, I hope?” asked Mai, tilting her head to the side in a bird-like manner. “She looks absolutely lovely. And I’m sure King Theodoro and his mother simply adore the tiger cub that she gave them.”

“Always, one tends to wonder where she gets her energy from.” Rahman said with a thin smile. He was not drinking at all himself, to many close calls with poison attempts, a common method of removing a hardened enemy in his homeland.

“They are welcome to the creature. I suspect he will seem less like a gift and more like a curse when he is grown. Not, perhaps, unlike the gift of a certain sword.”

“She probably needs all that energy to deal with tiger cubs, mmm,” Mai agreed with a light laugh. Although her tinkling, clear-as-glass laughter appeared casual and careless, her eyes remained sharp and shrewd. At Rahman’s comment about the sword, Mai gave him a sweet, innocent smile. Very direct, is he not? she thought wryly to herself.

“Pardon me for being forward, Prince Rahman, but you are completely wrong. I can assure you with the utmost certainty that a fully grown tiger will be much harder to handle than a mere sword.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, a cheerfully teasing twinkle in her eyes as she leaned in slightly. “Just think about all the lovely furniture he could ruin! And gowns, and paintings!” Mai gave a small shudder.

The duchess drew away, smiling slyly. “Of course, you must be wondering why His Majesty would decide to remind our gracious hosts of such…trying times,” she murmured, the smile never leaving her face as she looked up at him from under lowered lashes. “And to that, I would like to ask you-how does one move past such events without being reminded of them? I have always thought it important to find it within myself to let go of old hatreds while understanding the exact cause of them.” A delicate pause. “Don’t you agree?”

Rahman gave a genuine chuckle as Mai outlined the damage a tiger would wreck on the unwitting hosts. He himself had several on his palace grounds and rather enjoyed feeding criminals to them when the occasion demanded it. It did a man a world of good to watch a thief or liar get his internal organs torn apart by a hungry six hundred pounds of claws and fangs.

Mai’s attractive features and coy eyelash glances were not lost on Rahman but he knew well the power that her Kingdom wielded, just what sort of suggestions she might be floating, and carnal satisfaction wasn’t one of them. He paused for a moment after her question. She would know, as well as he did, that these things were not forgotten and old hatreds were never died. Perhaps there was something beyond the basic interest. Euhijan and Usamolia had more in common culturally with each other than they did Astaria or Vertiron after all.

“Old hatreds never die duchess, I think your gift was a blunt reminder of that.” He gestured to where the blade was being cleared away by servants. “As for moving past the events to which you refer, it will take generations for a world to exist where they are but footnotes in our history.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced about the room again. “Though, having said that, there are only a handful of us here who actually fought in that war. The rest of you,” He looked down at her. “Have no idea what it was like. Those of us who fought, lost friends, saw cities levelled, it will be much harder for us to move on. Perhaps you have some wisdom to offer on the subject?”

Mai gave another one of her light, clear-as-glass laughs. “Is that so?” She gave the Usamolian prince an inquisitive look. “I assure you, I had no part in choosing the gift. Personally, I think a painting or a vase or some jade hairpins for the Queen Regent’s hair-she does have such beautiful hair, you know, and the jade would have brought out her eyes-would have been just fine, but...” Mai shrugged nonchalantly. “Alas, it was not my decision. Although I must admit that I do quite like the…sentiment behind the one my king has chosen.” Mai’s eyes glittered with something dark, then (though even Mai herself could have not said what it was exactly), and her voice dropped to a murmur. “Perhaps you are correct in that regard, Prince Rahman. Though our gracious hosts do not seem to agree with you. Why else would we be here today?”

Mai’s lips curved up into a small half-smile at Rahman’s next set of remarks. “You are correct again, Prince Rahman. I certainly did not fight in the war.” She tilted her head to the side, pretending to seriously consider his words. “Neither did King Liu, in fact. But his brother did.” Mai’s widened her eyes innocently. “Why don’t you ask him about his brother?”

Something close to savage fury rippled across Rahman’s black features at the mention of King Liu’s brother. The King had been partially responsible for the destruction wrought on Usamolia, though ultimately the task had fallen on his first cousin, a man Rahman had personally slaughtered in the Great War.

“I would have killed the man myself if I’d been able.” With a supreme force of will be brought himself back to the present and relaxed. The war was over. At least for now. “A worthy adversary to be sure. I believe that he, and your King, died in the same battle that nearly claimed my own father. My forces arrived in time to complete the rout and returned their bodies to Liu.”

Mai felt a flicker of satisfaction at the reaction she elicited. My, my. Prickly, are we? Don’t worry, my prince. So are most of the men I know. You’re not much different from them, are you?

She gave him a sweet smile. “Yes. A worthy adversary.” She paused, deliberately, feigning surprise at Rahman’s next words. “Oh, you did not hear?” asked Mai, her voice soft. “During the former Regent’s trial, there was evidence of foul play on his part when it came to His Majesty’s father.” She gave him a conciliatory look. “Don’t worry, though. Prince Anzhou’s death was mostly unplanned for.” Another sweet smile flitted across her features.

In Euhijan, it was common knowledge that King Liu was very bitter about the war. Mai knew that he blamed the war-and the three enemy kingdoms-for putting the former Regent on the throne. Mai personally would have tried to remain indifferent about such events, if not for the fact that her dearest husband had given up their daughter in the Regent’s twisted game of politics.

Rahman gave an indifferent shrug. It didn’t matter to him how the enemy ended up dead and buried, even less so if it was petty squabbles among Euhijans. Privately he was disappointed it hadn't claimed the entire filthy clan but wishing rarely made it so.

“I well aware of how it has been investigated in your courts. I will be blunt with you duchess, I give no shits for how your royal line chooses to die, as long as they keep to their side of the damn river.” He was tiring of the games she was trying to play. He had no doubt she had was an interesting woman, and would undoubtedly look lovely flat on her back, but this verbal duel was not his speciality and he knew it.

An amused expression slid onto Mai’s face. “Fair enough,” she replied. She paused deliberately, as if she were deep in thought.

“My apologies if I’m wrong, Prince Rahman,” she began, widening her eyes slightly and idly playing with a strand of her hair, “but I do believe Lady Hua is distantly related to the royal family. Mm. She’s someone’s second cousin, I think.” A sly smile. “I assume that you don’t mind if she does not die on our side of the ‘damn river’?”

Rahman looked genuinely confused for a moment, his eyes shifting so that she could could almost see him thinking. Then his eyes brightened and a charming smile rarely seen outside of Usamolia displayed teeth shockingly white against his black skin.

“You mean Hind bint 'Utbah! No one has used her Euhijan name in twenty years, herself included. No, you are right, she is always welcome in my home. I shudder to think of how my life might have been without her, despite our… How would you Euhijans say… Unconventional relationship.”

The woman in question was his first concubine, she was nearly 55 now, immensely fat, happy, and installed in her own small villa where she was living out her days in luxury. She had borne him two fine sons who were the same age as the duchess, and no longer shared his bed but continued to run his household with an impressive efficiency. By her own choice she had no contact with homeland or its people, preferring to embrace the life thrust upon her.

Mai watched Rahman’s expression change shockingly quickly, and she smiled along with him when she heard the genuine affection in his voice as he spoke of Hua-or Hind bint ‘Utbah, Mai supposed. She seemed to be enjoying life, and for some reason, hearing that was immensely gratifying.

Still, though, thought Mai, giving her a choice would have been nice. Though that’s the way it is, with noblewomen and marriage. There’s never a choice. Mai’s inner thoughts were much too bitter and much too raw, and she paused for a moment to ruthlessly banish those emotions before she responded to Rahman.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her voice was dry; amused. “So does your attitude about your concubine extend to her kin?” She gave him a curious look. “Like King Liu, perhaps?”

Rahman sensed her pause and wondered if she was thinking of her daughter. He knew of the death, his spies had kept him informed of the goings on and he truly felt sorry for her. In Usamolia is was taboo to kill ones’ own kin with your own hand and he suspected that there might be a greater depth to this diminutive woman than she let on.

“No. It does not.” He said flatly. “Your people still have much to answer. Though,” this time he paused as a new idea formed quickly. “There is always a chance for a new generation to forge a new path.”

Mai resisted the urge to let out a derisive snort. Instead, she gave him another overly sweet smile and batted her eyelashes at him. “If you say so, Prince Rahman. If you say so.”

She tilted her head to the side and openly considered him, meeting his dark-eyed gaze. When she spoke, her voice was spider-soft. “You speak of forging a new path,” she said, “but are you willing to take part in it yourself? His Majesty was no more than a boy, twenty years ago. Yet you seem to blame him for a number of things.” Mai gave him a thoughtful look. “Quite contradictory, no?”

“Someone has to bear the blame duchess,” Rahman said calmly. “And Liu will bear that blame until he can prove he is not a bloodthirsty megalomaniac like his predecessor. He stands in the shadow of monsters.” He held up a hand to stop the casual retort about his own past before it could be uttered. “Yes, I am aware of my own history and I have no doubt there are southern tribesmen who say the same about me. Such is the irony of being a ruler.”

“Mm. So you agree that you and your ‘predecessor’ are ‘bloodthirsty megalomaniacs’ and ‘stand in the shadow of monsters’ as well? That is good to know.” Mai flashed him a brilliant smile. “Well, I must say, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Rahman. I’ll not disturb you any longer.” And with that, Mai glided away, wondering if she would prefer Princess Pari’s ceaseless energy to her brother’s arrogance.

Rahman watched her go, not bothering to reply. The woman, no, girls, youth and immaturity had managed to rear its head right at the very end, reminding him once again of how out of place someone of his age was at this function. At least her sarcastic quip had served to destroy any sort of positive attachment to her. He gave a silent mirthless chuckle and made his way for a balcony.

---

Alice stared despondently into the full-length mirror that gave a vivid reflection of her finished look for the evening. She sported a simple gown — a charming neckline that came up to her collarbones and wrapped around her arms to fully expose her broad, toned shoulders. The gown was a deep red color with white, laced trimming along the skirt and the neckline. Golden buttons lined up the corset of the gown, matching the golden jewelry that she paired the dress with. Alice was sure to emphasize a non-poofy skirt since she never liked to attract attention to her discomfort in formal attire. Although she felt the look exposed her masculine features enough, it was completed with an elegant updo to prevent her from trying to hide in her mane of golden locks.

She sighed as a knock on the door sounded through her natural-lit chambers and broke her melancholic moment, "M'lady," a soft, maid's voice followed the delicate knock, "I've been told to make sure you're all right."

With a deep breath, Alice turned to walk out the door, startling the short maid as she faced her, "Tell my father that he needn't worry and that I'm heading there now." She ended with a gentle smile. With that, the maid gave a simple bow before turning on her heel and leaving to do as she was ordered.

Since Alice's quarters were not far from the event, she decided to walk through the courts to get there. With each dreadful step, she tried to dismiss her nervous feelings and replace them with care-free ones. Alice was never the type to delve within the rumors and gossips of the nobles -- she had no interest in it, nor did she have the time for it. Although, now that she's been unable to participate within the military affairs, she has a great amount of time on her hands. Nonetheless, she doesn't plan on filling it with the stereotypical dramas of the noble life. On that matter, it was suggested, and encouraged, that Alice were to attend this years ball for the sake of her new beginning as a noblewoman, rather than a militant.

Once she reached the Chateau, she could hear the sounds of the music and the chatter of the nobles inside, booming out from the tall windows and echoing through the beautiful courts. The architecture of the building never ceased to amaze Alice every time that she'd come across this building, but her girlish dream of attending balls in exquisite gowns was always beneath her lionhearted spirit and her longing to protect. Now, given the opportunity to live a different lifestyle, she felt anxious and unprepared — taken from where she felt most comfortable and thrown to a den of wolves in which she couldn’t readily defend herself.

"There you are," an older man's voice sounded, stirring up a sense of safety from such a comforting, familiar voice.

Alice turned, a smile stretching across her rosy cheeks as she eyed the man's tall, brawny stature that would intimidate nearly every audience. Though it wasn't just his muscular build, it was his military uniform that he sported with several adornments of badges and insignias that all displayed his high status and devotion to Virtiron. "Father," she sighed in relief, walking closer to take his arm in hers as they entered inside, "I didn't know you were going to be attending as well."

"I couldn't leave you to be so miserable with the rest of the nobles," he replied with a heartfelt chuckle as they pressed onwards. Alice tripped slightly, staggering a bit from keeping a quick pace compared to her father’s, seeming to have overlooked his cane that he required to support himself. Thus, she moved slower until they finally reached the doors. Her father looked to the guard with a nod as they were announced in a respectful manner. Her father being introduced as 'Military General Sebastian Allaire' and Alice as his daughter 'Lady Alice'.

The announcement of their names were enough to turn heads and stir about gossip from Alice's participation within the army. It was shocking to many to see her out of the comfort of her armor and dressed, instead, in a formal attire with expensive material and jewelry. Although she is easily unrecognizable, the announcement of her name gave away her identity to save from people’s confusion. However, the nobles believe that she isn't worthy of owning a noble title since she has no true significance to political matters, but she was given the title by the respect of the people since they appreciated her accomplishments and victories. Alice couldn’t help but scoff, "I'm already ready to leave this dreaded place."

Alice's father rubbed her arm reassuringly, trying to keep her spirits high, "They just don't know you, yet."

Alice shook her head and took this time to gaze around at the diversity of the room, eying the people of the many other countries that she would've once seen as her enemies. This left her feeling subconsciously defensive, taking in the appearances of any figure that could be of any future threat. She quirked a brow at the sight of the King of Euhijan, definitely being a rare sight to see due to the tension that dated back for years. Alice's eyes scanned past the other Euhijan nobles to meet with a blatantly obvious Lygarthien since he proudly fashioned his heavy fur -- another individual that casts an aura of apprehension, backed by a history of clashing with Virtiron. Her eyes finally darted to a familiar, heartwarming sight at Sir Fontaine, a person that would actually know and respect Alice.

Before she knew it, she was stepping up to meet with King Theodoro and his mother, a moment that she wasn't quite prepared for. A rush of memories resurfaced and took over her mind, dating back to when Alice and King Theodoro would play as children, all the way to when she fell for his charm and kindness that only seemed to grow with age. Each moment away from him seemed to chip away at her heart like an axe to the trunk of a tree, until it would eventually break -- but the numbness and her once-busy lifestyle helped her dismiss this terrible feeling. Now, as she was about to stand before him, she became harshly reminded of what her life was like prior to her military participation - a passionate and genuine longing to be with the King, a crush that she couldn't shake off. As the group in front of them passed, she stepped forward with her crippled father and faced the rush of memories, the lingering heartbreak, the vulnerability - she faced him.

Alice looked deep into his eyes and stared past his royal attire, past his throne, and past his crown to become lost in an abundant series of childhood times that reminded her of the innocence that they once shared. She couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment from being ashamed of the woman that she became instead of a woman more fit for a King. Seeing King Theodoro well-suited within his chair with gifts lying around him made Alice mesmerized and enthralled by his status which only added to his charm, setting a near-impossible standard for any lucky woman to be his bride. It seemed that Alice could only dream of being in that position, but for this moment, she let the reality hit her like the trampling stampede of Euhijan’s calvary. “Theo,” she would mumble under her breath, nearly inaudible as a mixture of bitter-sweet emotions broke through to her expression, causing her brows to furrow and her lips to bend.

Alice’s father nudged her to break the moment of silence that seemed to last for hours to Alice. She took a quick breath, “I apologize, Your Majesty,” she spoke with a shaky voice, bowing her head slightly and moving her eyes away towards the ground. Alice reached into a hidden pocket on her dress, pulling out a necklace with a dazzling, gold chain that complimented the big and shining emerald stone that was socketed beautifully. She offered it with both of her hands in respect, “A bright, emerald jewel that was mined from the great mountains of Lygarthia. I came across this rarity on a conquest not too long ago — I figured it’d be an excellent gift as it’s said to help bring prosperity.” Alice smiled gently, refusing to look into his eyes as he would accept the gift. Due to a long line of nobles awaiting his welcome, they were rushed aside to join the party and celebration.

Alice’s father gave her a confused expression, “Maybe I shouldn’t ask what that was about.”

Alice simply shook her head as they sat an empty table towards the edge of the room.

_{Château de Monfort
P I K E
Interacting With: @Congee, @Silence Sounds}

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The Chateau was bustling with life as Pike walked invisibly back to his room. To the servants, all that mattered to them was overturning sheets, or hot food, or aged wine. A man who appeared a few years prior and gained a phony title was nothing to these busybodies. Sometimes, it was nice to be nothing.

Pike moved with purpose, as he usually did. There were bound to be countless guests now, all kissing the hands of the Queen Regent and King, and he was late to his very important job of watching such things happen. His room was present among other guest rooms often used for nobles coming it from out of the country, pressed into the white-walled halls of the second level of the chateau.

Inside, he had taken the liberty of redecorating the once silky periwinkle walls and satin bedding to fit his usual tastes, leaving in his destructive wake navy blue paint, black sheets, and an array of silks and curtains hanging wherever he could fit them. A low-standing table he had managed to bring in from home was placed at the foot of his bed in lieu of his trunk, which he had pushed to sit next to his closet and was currently overflowing with dirty, lacy shirts. On the table were his cards, a multitude of animal bones, unpolished crystals, and a few gold trinkets he had snatched back in his pickpocket days.

A beautiful outfit, which he had picked out days prior, laid on his messy bed. It was a dusty pink, almost mauve in the right light, and it was so soft that it could have only been ordered by one of noble blood and worth. It had been a gift from the queen. Somehow, Pike despised it, and yet he pulled it on without hesitance. It felt nice. He deserved to feel nice.

Below his feet was the rumble of voices and footsteps, a reminder of where he was meant to be and what he was missing. With a final peek around his room, Pike crouched by his table and snatched a rough pink stone and a more smooth orange jewel, both of which he slipped easily into one of his breast pockets. He left the room within the next second, and began reciting his story on the way down to the gathering.

’My name is Alexander Pike.
I am the Baron of Monfort.
I am a friend of the Queen Regent.
I am personable and friendly and kind.
I am unassuming.
I am air.
But I am always there.’

Pike slipped into the party after a pair of Astaria nobles, keeping his head high but his hair calm, cool, neutral. He was snake-like in his weaving of the crowd, and ever shoulder he accidentally brushed against he punctuated with a soft apology and a gentle cup of the elbow. Eventually, he climbed after a line of gift givers, and once present in front of the familiar faces of Theodore and Theresa he bowed low and regal.

”My King, a gift of magic.” He said, and he pulled the orange stone from his breast pocket. He pressed it into Theodore’s hand and rose with a wink, ”It is sunstone-- good for intuition and vitality. A long life to you, My King.” He bowed again to Theodore, and then swiftly took the hand of Theresa, on which he pressed a kiss to the ring on her finger.

”For the Queen Regent, a gift of loyalty. I am always apart of your court.” He rose from the bow and gave her his ever professional smile, and then slipped off to the other side and returned to the ballroom floor. His smile remained, though as he picked a glass from one of the passing servants it took on a more sauve air, and he mingled among the party goers as easily as a wolf in sheepskin.

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Theresa sat there and saw multiple people come up to herself and Theo, giving them their welcoming along with some exquisite gifts. She continues to smile towards the noble guests that were coming up to greet them but one of them did get her attention, Pari. Theresa coursed her gaze into her direction and ears twitched at her ending comment. "We'll enjoy it with pleasure." Whenever Pari was out of view, she rolled her eyes then looked over to Theo to get his reaction. "You do not need her, dear. She throwing herself at you." Theresa whispered towards him as the next guest came up to them.

She eyed him with an arched brow as he seemed to look like a Viking or something of the sort. She was sort of intrigued by his appearance then listened to him with much interest whenever he started to speak. "We will continue to keep the alliance strong, my dear." She muttered as she eyed Theo whenever Sigfast walked away. Her eyes were kept on him until he went out of her sight then she turned back towards Theo. "Is he a Viking, Theodoro? If so, that explains no gift." She snickered at her words then looked at the next guest, well guests, that was coming towards them. She knew some Vikings and found their ways a little too vile for her tastes.

It was then they were greeted by a duo, Mai along with Liu, and she could not help herself while she smiled towards them. "Welcome and thanks for the compliment, my dear." It was then that Liu presented them with a gift and her eyes widened with amazement as she took the sword and studied its features as Liu went on to explain about it. Thank you for returning it, Liu. Peace shall be stored indeed." Theresa ended the following words with a soft smile then handed the sword to a guard beside her. That was really something for them to do, honestly to bring back a sword that originated in their Kingdom, Vertiron.

Theresa eyed Alice whenever she came up and spoke to Theo first. She did do a little side eye motion then turned her gaze back towards Alice, who apologized. "No need to apologize, dear." She said then eyed the necklace that Alice had presented towards them. Another exquisite gift from a good person and she accepted it with a smile. "We thank you, Lady Alice and hope that you continue to be in good prosperity, too." Theresa smiled as Alice trailed away from them to join the celebration that was going on. "I've always liked her, Theodoro. She'd be a good, strong woman for you." She informed Theodoro then looked as Pike was the next guest to greet them.

She blushed a little at his presence then looked at the sunstone he handed Theo with sparkling eyes. When Pike grabbed her hand, of course, she let out a soft gasp then giggled whenever he kissed her ring. "Oh, Pike, your loyalty is all I need." She really hoped that Pike knew what she was talking about. When he exited from their view, a soft sigh came from her as she grabbed Theo's hand a little.

"I am going to go mingle, Theo. You continue to take the gifts and make an impression." She muttered towards him as she stood up after tapping him on the hand. It seemed that everything stopped when she rose up from her seated position and started to walk around the ballroom and eyes peered around her as she searched for noble people to interact with.

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"Of course." Theodoro gave a gentle nod, her mother being candid as ever. He continued to keep his eyes on the crowd observing every new guest that entered the great halls of Cheateu de Monfort. Socialising became more of an obligation to him than a pleasure. He didnt like that he had to make an image of himself, instil this imposing and respectable aura on him with fake smiles and hand shaking.

But people expected that from him, they wanted to see another version of his father leading Vertiron to glory. Else the the other nobilities will swarm over the throne like bees on a honey, vying for control over it. And that would only bring chaos to within the court than anything positive. Plus his dear mother will greatly refuse it. The major reason why he still stays was his great effort to save her a big disappointment of a son.

The first of the high esteemed guests had arrived, one would most notably be Usamolia's Prince Rahman and Princess Pari. "An honor to have you both here" Theo stood to really notice the woman's petite height, she truly caught his surprise when the Princess reached out a tiger cub from a basket. The King certainly was not expecting to receive such a... unconventional gift.

His eyes widened when he carried the cub with his hands, a mix of caution and confusion drawn to his face. "It's.." the little thing met Lal's round eyes as he let him settle comfortably in his arms, his heart skipped a beat. "Thank you for giving me such an honourable gift." he said "I will make sure Lal will be personally cared for by yours truly." He gave Pari a genuine smile, quite a rare gesture from the king. Theo regarded his mother's comment, "Did she now?" Theo has always been slow on taking social hints, and especially of the intimate nature.

Theodoro has became quite busy with the guests as more of them came to the throne. He met a man that stood with uncanny grace, shaking his hand as if they were comrades that met on the streets, but did not really mind it. He learned that his name was Sir Honeycutt, quite a dashing gentleman he is. Then followed by an imposing young man, by the looks of him he was obviously Lygarthien. The servant gave an introduction to Prince Sigfast Ogmundsson. ""They are Lygatthiens, mother. He corrected, the queen has a preference with the more, civil of nations hence her distaste for them.

The time Vertiron was heated with the Lygarthien people Theodoro was way too young to take part in the affair. At the recent death of the former king, mostly Vertiron's military took care of it, and made quite a poor job at insinuating diplomacy in court. Hopefully a new generation of leaders meant this new age for peace, and as a start Theo had maintained his accommodating pressence to the Grimmrheimr Prince, thanking him for his gifts.

Amongst all the guest King Theodoro find the Euhijan King the most intriguing. Considering a violent history between the two nations, it was the first time they officially set foot on Vertiron soil since the war. There were murmur amongst the Vertiron courtiers, half of them still have not forgotten or forgiven their former King's murderers. If not for the treaty Theo will have all the right to keep them under close watch. But such suspicions is now irrelevant, and Theodoro aims for peace between their nations. And he will do so no matter what it takes.

Theodoro returned the Euhijan King's compliment with a stern nod"Vertiron presents the finest for it's honoured guests" When the king handed to him his gift, Theodoro was at a break. His expression was incomprehensible, his jaw turned tense. The design was ornamentally made, a sword made for the nobility but he was not quite sure whom it belonged to. Though King Liu might have all the right intentions for it, which Theodoro can earnestly respect, it inflicted a rather personal blow on Theo "I appreciate you returning this to us." he said "Though our kingdoms shared a tainted history, I hope henceforth will truly be the new age for peace between us."

Theodoro stayed next to his mother for a while, his boredom is mostly killed by the tiny tiger playfully nipping his fingers. He had not let go of him even at the servant's insistence. As the night went on the later guests had only arrived before the throne, as Theo heard the servant's introductions, he looked over to see a familiar blond haired maiden amongst the crowd, as she moved closer it all became apparent to him. "Alice." Theo bolted upright, Lal still in his arms, as he fazed at the sight of his childhood friend.

Throughout the introduction Theo was stood imposingly, albeit with a tiger cub in his arm, he did not pay mind the words around him even as she spoke, as he was fixated on her, examining her. Alice looked very different, almost as if he's looking at a total stranger to him where in fact he knew her very all throughout his childhood. He nodded and gave Lal to the servant, then received her gifts and still Theo did not leave his eyes off her, but she was not looking back.

Theo glanced at his mother for awhile, he wasn't quite sure but she was giving of a sheer glow than she usual does. It was odd, but quite a nice surprise nonetheless. "You look wonderful today mother." He doesnt usually give her compliments, but today it seemed to be called for. "Have you done something new to your hair perhaps?" the young king could not help but half meant it as a tease. The king shifted his attention back to the guests as one of stood before him, none other than Monfort's very own baron. Theo gave him a restful nod, and thanked him for the simple gift, which he kept it tuck in his breast pocket. Then he observes as he turned his attention to the queen. Theo notices that they have grown close since they first met Pike, at times catching them together talking discreetly almost suspiciously. He did not know how to feel about it, his expression unreadable as ever.

Theodoro nodded at the Queen as she escuses herself to leave, not long he did the same. He went around to further mingle with his guests as per his Kingly duties. He would pass them by whilst exchanging nods, and prompt greetings, all the while glancing every once in a while at the woman's direction. Truthfully Theo was slightly worn out with all these socialising but the guests were always the priority first and foremost, without them Vertiron wouldnt be considered as the highest seat of power after all.

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Florence was partly busy scoping the room as different nobles from different kingdoms start to enter the Chateau. The Astarian dame partly waiting for somebody to finally approach her and be interested enough to talk. The room was rather heavy with all these nobles strutting about, that made her feel personally out of place. Unlike her most of them were born and raised to royalty, with titles already written on their birth certificates and demeanours that befitted them. Florence didnt have that. Instead she grew up in a farm and became a helper to her elderly aunt. Though earning the title by her own right, when it comes to court conventionalities she's quite self conscious about her abilities. With her frilly top hat and a goblet in hand she walked amongst the elite, watching their every move, how they talk, how they carry themselves. The air they display was intimidating, yet somewhat contagious.

Throughout the evening she was mostly observing them, she caught sight of the people that would come in, individually regarding them; An elusive and mysterious woman elegantly strides with the crowd, meeting them with cold glares. Expectedly, the Prince of Astaria is flying solo at this years seasons, Florence would take note of greeting him if ever he passes this way. And of course who wouldnt know of the Usamolian's siblings, Prince Rahman and Princess Pari, who bear tidings to the king in a form of a, tiger cub? Florence was just as shocked as the King when he laid his hand on the animal.

A graceful, handsome man followed after them. His long platinum hair was especially mesmerising. She glanced at one side and noticed one of the patron's helping himself on the beverages. Florence could instantly tell a fellow Bridgmonter, they're not so difficult to notice in these types of parties. Then bright Euhijan colors later on complimented the room, as one the honoured guests, albeit most scandalous, finally set foot on the cheateu's halls. They strode through the halls with such regal air, that Florence never took her stare off them. She noticed the sudden silenced and murmurs as the King entered. Florence was deeply invested in observing that she barely noticed the man who sat just next to him, and engaged a conversations with her.

"Oh"Florence consciously fiddled with the vibrant feathers of her hat, taking notice and showing acknowledgement at the man's compliment. "Why thank you, good sir. I never expected it to be so, distinctly, ebullient, for you." She gave him an approachable smile, and introduced himself as Sigfast Ogmundsson. "Nice to meet you, I am Florence Reibert." She felt like her flimsy hand would break anytime at the man's grip, but she tried to not show the pain in her expressive face Well Sigfast, that makes two of us. I myself am a first timer to royal gatherings." she said sheepishly, taking another sip of her goblet. "How do you like it so far?" she turned to the man, asking him in a friendly, laid back manner.

Pari gave a little wave as her brother moved off and she couldn't help the small smirk that appeared on her lips as it seemed he had chosen to speak to none other than a Euhijan. Mai, a very pretty young lady. She approved and hoped the concourse would go well. However, the way they had parted made the princess doubt very much that it did. Knowing her brother, he could be rather coarse and she hoped he hadn't made them some enemies she would have to smoothe over. Perhaps it had something to do with the gift? It had been perhaps a little... cruel but she could see what they were aiming for if not poorly executed. Perhaps Mai could see that Rahman was a good man, even if he was rough around the edges.

Her attention kept getting drawn back to the King. He still held Lal in his arms and she glowed with pride at her well-chosen gift. She had to admit some disappointment that the Queen Regent had seemed rather bored of such a spectacular and rare beast. But that genuine smile that Theo had given her made her feel self-assured. Not to mention he said he would personally take care of the cub. She would be riding on that wave of self-satisfaction for the rest of the evening. Even as new guests offered their gifts, he still held the son of her heart in his arms. Even played with him. It broke the hardened rock around her heart just a bit and gave her a feeling she couldn't quite place.

All too soon her pride was slashed when a gorgeous and tall blonde appeared. Theo was obviously struck by her and the look on his face was one that she had seen on many of her own brothers. She stiffened imperceptibly and sipped from her glass of wine. The woman offered a jeweled necklace and Lal was finally given to servants. The rock wall around her heart hardened and grew just a bit bigger with her disappointment. She had been foolish to allow herself a moment to relax it, to think that he might actually be a good person who would love a creature that she cared for more than the stars and moon.

The gift of a jeweled necklace seemed a foolish thing to give to a rich man. Like giving a blacksmith a horseshoe though he could make them in an hours time. But, Pari came to realize that the true jewel was not within the necklace but the woman who offered it. Perhaps it was her appearance that drew him, in which case small and dark Pari was no comparison. She was gorgeous of course, she knew this. But her hair, her skin, and her eyes were all dark. And her stature more than diminutive. The more she thought about it, perhaps her gift had been lacking. Perhaps she should not have given up the little tiger prince in order to create an alliance. What if Theo mistreated her darling? What if the servants did? A twinge of regret crept through her stomach - a rare occurrence for the usually self-assured Pari. She would need to find out the relationship between the two. No need to ask though, in her experience a court, especially at a party where alcohol was served, tended to be quite free with information without a person needing to ask.

She took her eyes from the pair and instead moved to her brother. She wanted to bemoan the way he easily gave up Lal but now was not the time or place. Instead, she placed a hand on his arm and said, "I will speak to our servants and ensure that those who will now be caring for my darling tiger prince will know what to do." She offered him a small smile before she swept away to a small door along the wall. She probably was not allowed there, but this particular princess was not one to care. In her own home she was allowed anywhere she pleased. Besides, the safety and health of Lal were more important at that moment than propriety.

She let herself into that back room to find her servants were already dealing with the situation. This pleased her immensely. They had brought good men who could predict what it was their masters desired. She spoke with the head servant and he laid any of her fears to rest that they would allow any mistreatment of the tiger cub. She implored them to come and find her if Lal caused any mischief and the servant bowed. Pari downed the rest of her glass and offered the empty one to an Astarian servant to find it a home.

With a sigh, the Ursamolian princess swept back into the main room and grabbed a new glass of wine from a passing servant. She sipped it quietly as she began to think about the new strategies she should take to have any sort of chance at grabbing Theo's attention. He did seem the foolish sort of man that her needs dictated but it was quite silly for a girl to put all of her eggs into one basket. Pari moved about the room again until she came upon a member of this nation's own court. There, perhaps an ally or at least a helping hand... mayhaps even a friend in this strange land.

She approached the man called Pike, who walked with the air of a gentled predator. She thought about the lanky, muscular dogs her people used to herd cattle. Though this man had much more hair. Lightly, the small woman placed a hand on his arm to grab his attention before withdrawing it. "My most sincere apologies, sir. I know we have not been formally introduced but this seems the sort of party where that hardly matters. Please, do forgive me if I am mistaken about that. I must ask though, you are a member of this court, are you not?" She waited a moment for his response before a worried look crossed her features and she sipped lightly at the wine and looked down. "I'm afraid I do not know much of this country's social dance or the culture. My heart is heavy in thinking that I should make any sort of misstep. Would you be so kind as to teach me some of these steps so that I may better present myself to your excellent people?" She looked back up at him and offered one of her charming and kind smiles. It was not a lie that she was not familiar with Astarian customs and she was sincerely hoping this man, or any person, might teach her some of the things deemed important.