Court was a chaotic affair. The great hall was an impressive room in the Palace of the People on the hill of Palas. It's focal point was a large dias which held three identical thrones. Despite being identical in every way, the thrones were always a source of contention between the Triumvirs, who wrangled constantly over who would sit in the central throne on any given day. I was still snickering about the handsome Imperial's misfortune when I arrived. I had dressed quickly in one of the gowns Fabrio had provided me with, cream and red slashed silk with a handsome bustier of rich brown leather.

"Camilla you said you would sit for me!" Fabio complained as I hurried out.

"Later, later!" I called back, eager to be there when the delegation arrived. Access to the throne room was easy enough, the guards unwilling to turn away a well dressed woman. Afterall, there was no way for them to keep track of who was who in the various Trimvuir's retinues. I was bustling across the pillared hall when a handsome woman with dark eyes emerged from one of the side doors.

"You! Come here!" she called. I had not met Imelda Mondo before, but of course I knew her from various broadsheets posted around the city. She bore less resemblance to the dirty grafitti that depicted her in a variety of unlikely sexual positions. Several senior member of her faction stood around her, looking grim faced and determined.

"You came with Lucio yes?" she asked, surprising me with the fact she knew who I was. I dipped into a slight curtsey. Reman society imagined itself as more egalitarian than the rest of Tilea, and thus didn't require much in the way of obesiance.

"You will stand with me today," she declared and then hurried across the room, reaching the thrones a moment before Marco and his entourage entered the hall. No one actually swore, but there was a tense moment as Imelda took her seat ahead of her rival, favoring him with a patronizing smile.

"Do you know anything of the delegation we are to recieve?" Imelda asked. It took me a moment to realize the comment was directed at me. Judging from the look I was getting from Marco, this whole performance had been orchastrated to make him think I was an agent of Imelda's who had been spying on his cousin. That was fine, the more intrigue I had swiriling around me, the harder it would be for people to ignore me.

"I know they have a priest with them, a handsome one," I told her.

"Of what God?" Imelda asked. I wracked my brain trying to remember what I could of Imperial iconography.

"Sigmoor?" I suggested tentatively.