"I wonder if Fred would allow a royal lunch for us." Jazdia was the first to break the silence when the group walked down the stairs to the first floor. The maid who accompanied them dully shook her head, saying the lunch will be delivered to everyone's room in an hour. When Jazdia asked what was the menu today, she also replied with minimal interest.

"Milady is welcomed to visit our kitchen if she was curious."

Jazdia only replied with a weak smile.

But after a while, a chuckle slipped out of her. "Well, Ced. Did you hear that? You have madam maid's permission to raid their kitchen."

The bear snorted, with a slightly amused chuckle followed afterward.

"'at 'd sureleh git me tosse in deh dungeon agin... Doubt dey coul' afford muh eatin' everthang dey has..."

"They'll need to feed you eventually, dont they? Might as well hand over the whole roast hog sooner than later." Quipped the mercenary, recalling just how much the bear grabbed at the farm... barely a few days ago. It felt like way longer than it actually were.

"yea, but uh gotta save room fer dinner!" replied the bear. "Mebe we could git a drink instead? Jus' not in da town-- Crazy folk out dere."

"Raiding the cellar it is! Day drinking happen to be my expertise, you're in good hands." Claimed the mercenary without an inkling of shame.

"Already make yourself at home I see..." said Jazdia, suddenly feeling lethargic. The report she had been carrying this entire time was starting to make her elbow sores. "Remember that we have a banquet tonight. It's not the possibility of you two downing the entire cellar by yourselves that worries me, but you two arriving at the party fully inebriated is. Master Bear, before you accompany Miss Yvonne to have a taste of the royal collection. Can I lend your paws to help me taking this to Fredricus's office?"

Without even waiting for Cedar to either accept or decline Jazdia handed him the papers.The bear quickly obliged

"Guess I gotta go--- Don' drink i' all witout meh naow!"

When the two took their turns to the north, the bear swung his head down to Jazdia, speaking in a low tone.

"you's gunna show meh where she headin' af'erward righ? I's a big fellar-- kin hol' a lot a liquor."

"Sure. If not, then I am sure one of the maids would gladly help."

A cheeky grin escaped his bearish muzzle as they continue walking.

"Bu' 'at lil' thang prolly drink jus' 's much-- I wan'ts sum too ya know. We'll drop 'is off in ol' Fred's lap-- an den see where he keep da good stuff."

Jazdia only nodded, in front of them was the wooden staircase heading to a balcony that leads to Fredricus' office. It was just four days ago the first time they were being summoned and asked to wait around here. She would stand on the balcony, leaning on the railings, and use her eyes to observe the other agents. Back then there were Chonan and Henri among the crowd.

"So, have you overcome the horror of humanity's harshest law yet, or still working on it?"

"I' dun' make no sense...." the bear sighed, and that was the only pause before he stormed the conversation with sheer verbose. "Don' git meh wrong-- uh ain't no stranger tuh killin none-- Gotsta to live ya know... Thang's a bit diff'rnt fer meh like 'at, since I knowed other critters got feelins. Still gots ta eat. Just more picky 'bout whom, and why. ... Don' mean I likes doin' it. On toppa 'at, 'eres when ya gots ta stop somethin tryin' ta eat MUHSELF, ya knows? ... But one thang we don' do-- at's makin' a show a killin', er ... celebratin' a killin. ... Cain't wrap muh head 'round it. ... Dun make no sense... 'at man already beat; ya gunna kill im, jus' kill im, and git it o'er wit. ... Why ya gotta .. .. .. Em poor horses... Dey dun know nor wanna do dat nohow... an dey dun gone an made em do it-- 'an cheered like it da bes' thang they e'er saw... ... I kin see killin' somebody all messy like, ifn' dey all fights it real hard-- at damn wizard in da purple pajamas, fer instance.... Lotta people got hurt puttin' at fucker in da groun'.... Don' see me celebratin' it. Won' see me celebratin' it neither...."

"So who deserves the blame then? The people or the authority that make it a spectacle?"

"Mebbeh both? One set it all up... The odder partehs and gits drunk, thinkin' it the bes' thang evar."

"So everyone is at the wrong here?"

"Only reason I kin see, is dat peoples WANTS ta kill odder peoples, an' makes up excuses ta. Ann delights in 'er 'need' bein met."
"aint 'nuff ta jus' end at fellar. Naw. Gots ta rip em apart in de street, wit him all helpless like. Human's got some sick 'needs', An not just sum o' em. Naw. It were all o' em." .... "E'en 'Vonnie."

"Interesting."

When they reached the second floor, Jazdia greeted one of the guards. "We are here at His Majesty's order. There was a report he need to see. Can you inform the Chamberlain that we are here? Thank you."

When one of the guards saluted back and departed to fetch the chamberlain, Jazdia leaned against the railing while Cedar stood in the opposite direction.

"Say, if a serial killer killed your siblings. What would you do if you find him locked up in the village prison?"
"I'd make sure he da one as done it... En I'd break his neck. but afores at, I'd a made sure muh brother don' do sommat at deserve bein killed fer. He a right ass sometimes."

Jazdia decided to miss the wordplay, "What about the victim from the other family that he killed? Don't you think they deserve to see Justice being served as well?"

"Justice wut? I don' follow. S'pose it were an accident-- Or couldn' be avoided. Woulda been avoided ifn' it could... Like em poor folks at Fanghorn.... We killed em peoples... I killed em peoples, and most o' em did nothin' wrong. But more peoples woulda been killed, we not acted. Ya gots ta be sure ya doin' da right thang, when ya ends somebody. At man in the purple PJs? He were actively hurtin' people. Where you think all at' fire started from? Weren't us, at's fer sure! At fellar so upset about a few lil weeds, he kill people in 'er own damn houses.-- an' he'd do it again. Meh? I don' wanna 'dance' e'er again. unnerstan? Sometimes, killin' aint de answer. But I also knowed 'at humans ofen seems ta 'feel good' when sommat at caused em pain git ended. ... uh aint like at.

"Em folks at Fanghorn? Frum what I seened tuhday... 'ey'd tear me apart in da street. Ya calls at 'justice?'"

Jazdia shrugged, partially surprised when the bear mentioned Fanghorn accident. Another jab came not long after. A theoretical question.

"Every crime warrants a different kind of punishment. But, since you asked, yes, based on the law of the land they will have you hanged to death in public. Would I call that Justice? My opinion matters less than the people who have their houses destroyed and their families killed. Can you blame them if they want to see justice being served?"

"Mebbeh we gots diff'rnt ideas what 'justice' is. E're a diffren' word, 'retr'bution'. Justice, be when ya corrects summat as been done wrong. 'retr'bution', a thing when humans loses they minds, and go on a rampage, ta feel better-- 'en tells emsleves it's good."

Jazdia eyed him, her expression slightly hardened, but her tone was calm.

"Regardless of how cruel it is, Humans aspire to see that their law is not just words written on parchment. Assurance in law ensures that their society won't tear itself apart." Jazdia cleared her throat before continuing. It was never intended to argue, but Cedar seemed to have a very strange outlook on how human society implements the law, and it was easy to imagine that kind of train of thought would put them at odds, if not now, then in the future.

"Executing a murderer in the dark dungeon sounded less gruesome, true, but the family of the murdered may never see justice being implemented. What if the murderer bribed the guard to let him go and send a false report to the people that the deed was done? Public execution removes that doubt and instills fear and warning so the other humans wouldn't do the crime because the punishment is apparent. The state has the obligation to ensure that no crime will be tolerated in their society. And society wants that."

"At dont esplain de beer, de hootin,, and de hollerin." replied the bear, sulking.

"Maybe. Human emotions as collective beings are hard enough to understand. Think that like when you squash a fat flea after you remove them from your itchy butt."

"Flea alive, same as any odder livin thang. I jus' don wan it on muh butt. Sos I scratch."

"Now you get the idea. Humans too, would feel glad if they managed to get rid of a nuisance." Or maybe not. But at least she tried.

"ain't like a tick er summat like at--- em thangs burruh in, and ya caint pick em off witout squashin' em.--- I asked muh pappy why deys exist; He tell meh at they helps keep critters like muhself, as ain't got nuttin' as really eats it proper-- from bein tuh plent'ful. Same wit diseases, --ooh, er tapeworms. Nasty thangs, tapeworms..."

Jazdia earnestly tried to suppress a laughter. "My knowledge about insects is limited. Still, I think you get my message. Humans feel satisfied when they see those who threaten and have ruined their lives are gone. Like you are glad when you removed a lice or tapeworm. The nastier the crime, the happier people are to see them gone. Right now you might see humans tend to glorify judicial cruelty, but it arguably works best in their current society."

Again. It was not clear if Cedar gets the message. Especially when he began to tell another example of his anecdotal experience, and it make Jazdia smile wryly. It is the harsh reality, whether he liked it or not. But she hoped the reasoning would give him another perspective.

The chamberlain arrived with the soldier and Cedar ceased his prattle immediately.

"His majesty is busy today," he said pompously, sparing a single glance toward the document. "I am afraid he wouldn't have time to read it."

"Oh, he can read it anytime he wants. I just want it delivered, It is after all, part of my agreement with King Fredricus and I am sure both of us would prefer to see everyone involved fulfill their obligations down to the smallest detail."

"I am not sure Milady understands." said the chamberlain in a concealed disdain. "For His Highness, information comes as easy as drawing water from a well."

Your Majesty's wells are polluted with deception. Jazdia wanted to say that, but she preferred to keep the sass to herself. Her decision to moderate her impudence had proven to be beneficial apparently.

"But I shall fulfill this request." Said the chamberlain. Another parchment was quickly stretched, and the elf asked the King's servant to sign it with a graphite stylus before transferring the document from Cedar's paws to his.

Some more witty pleasantries were exchanged before the duo headed back to the main hall. No more banters happened between the two when they walked down the mostly empty corridor, and Jazdia found the silence refreshing.
Humans are an ever-changing species. She thought, there will be a day when Cedar's idealism may find its relevance, but that was not today.

Unsurprisingly Yvonne was no longer there. Jazdia activated her eyes and saw that the petite noblewoman was already inside a decorated room below the kitchen.

"Through that door, take the stairs down to the basement. Then go to the room to your left. Yvonne is there."

"And, Cedar. Mone more thing. I'd invite you to have this... paper towels." it was not, they were, in fact, a part of the report that was supposed to be delivered to Fredricus, but later omitted by Jazdia herself. "Keep it as readable when bored, or use it to wipe beer foam from your mouth or just toss it into the fire I don't care."

Cedar followed the elf-woman's directions to the letter, eventually letting out into a humidity controlled, and cool room lined with barrels that let off heavenly smells.

True to the elf woman's word, there was Yvonne, (pretty as ever), busy inspecting various bottles and barrels. The aromas of several liquors wafted in the air, tattling on her having sampled a few while he was still upstairs.

"--Uh see ya ain't drunk it all yet!" he crooned with excess joviality. "Whadda we gots 'ere?"

He busied himself with the other side of the store-room, sniffing at various kegs and barrels. Something labelled "Mead" caught his attention, stored in small casks. With a mischevious grin, he lifted one off the rack, and carried it to the center of the room. "Ya ever had ... 'MEAD'... Afore? smell nice & sweet..." he drawled, reading the charred lettering on the barrel. He broke the seal then turned the bung with it suspended over his mouth to let a thin trickle hit his tongue, and instantly fell in love. It was clearly made from honey, and had a subtle sweetness. It was also very strong liquor, that burned his nostrils. Quickly, he closed the bung, then came up for air.

"WHOOOO!! Ya gots ta try it!"

"I cant drink everything that fast!" Yvonne looked up from the bottles she's looking at, a bottle of scotch already open nearby. She's at least conscious enough to use a shot glass for it, partially due to the maid's mildly disapproving glare when it looked like she's ready to chug it straight off the bottle. "They've got quite the collection! Whiskey's pretty nice, haven't tried the rest yet but nothing shabby will ever make its way here-"

Aaand the bear's straight up drinking from the cask. Yvonne whistled and cackled in approval, moreso at the particular choice of drink. Bears and honey and all that, yeah? It's fitting, somehow.

"I see someone's gotten a favorite." A glance to the sides revealed the onlooker's distaste at the barbaric act, one that the mercenary found very funny given the circumstances. "Best use the mug before someone's getting angry! Speaking of, Jeanne! Grab a mug, join us!"

"I believe that is inappropriate, milady."

"Well..." Yvonne strolled off, putting her arms around the woman's shoulders before pulling her along to the seat. "I very much insist, yeah? Come on, ain't everyday you get to sample the crown's collections."

"Oh, It'll beh FUUN!" drawled the bear with a happy smile. "Sumbuddy complain, dey kin takes it up wit us! Naow-- What-- outta all-a DIS-- does ya thank a big scarry bear like meh shoul' try nex', HMM?"

He gave the maid a playful bump with his butt, then collected one of the mugs that Yvonne had indicated.

"We gots ALL AF'RNOON!"

He replaced the small wooden keg back on its stand, then resumed sniffing the room, coming next to a clear glass bottle with a very fancy label he couldn't properly read-- The letters were very fancy looking and hard to discern from the patterning of the label's woodcut imagery. It smelled like expensive spices, and reminded him of sweet-cakes that the innkeeper back in Mystville sometimes served on special occasions. He got a cheeky smile, then broke the wax seal, and poured a shot.

Drinking from a mug was not something he could do 'politely,' so he covered his face and the top of the mug, as he stuck his snout inside, and gave it a discrete lick, getting booze on the top of his nose in the process, sending it burning. It was profoundly flavored of cardamom and cloves, with a hint of black pepper, but also subtly sweet. If it weren't for the burning of his nose causing his eyes to water, he would consider it another favorite.

"Hooooooo DAYUM... WOOooo!" [*SNORT*]

He spun his head around to see Yvonne, who was pointing and laughing at him.

"forget what ya sees, just tell it tuh me straight naow-- What is dis shit?! i's GREAT!"

"Whiskey's my favorite, though I ain't sure if you'll like that..."

After Yvonne ensured that the maid's seated nice and pretty despite the latter's protestation, she swiveled away to grab two proper mugs before perusing the mead cask Cedar had sampled. Mild (comparatively) and sweet, perfect for someone reluctant to starts off with. The alcohol scent was nice and strong, unlike the swill they sell at some taverns. A hint of a hint of mead in a cask of dead rats marinating in water, yuck.

She returned right in time to see Cedar's reaction at... was that a bottle of Admiral Morgan? Dead gods, the bear can choose. There's rum aplenty, but one of that particular bottle can cost a pretty penny. And yet it's down here in the cellar instead of at the private cabinet somewhere. Just how fancy would the king's personal wine rack be?

"That's spiced rum, one of the best you can get on the market." Yvonne managed to spill some words through bout of laughter. "Made out of sugarcane, with spices added. Nice and spicy, yeah?"

The mercenary took a hearty gulp, watching from the corner of her eyes that the impromptu addition to the day-drinking had taken a tentative sip. The grin widened as Yvonne refrained from commenting, turning the attention back to Cedar's antics instead.

---

Solomon began to regret not supervising Yvonne when she went into the cellar. When he had went with Yvonne to the kitchen Solomon elected to stay with the chefs. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he didn’t want to let his absence ruin Yvonne’s fun. Instead, he watched the chefs prepare for the evening’s banquet. Hundreds of vegetables were laying on the counter, various meats were hanging on hooks. A large pot was simmering over a bricked fire. When Cedar showed up not long after, Solomon assumed he would keep Yvonne close to sober.

That was until Cedar’s cheers echoed up into the kitchen. It only briefly paused those prepping the food near the stairs, but otherwise they were quick to resume. Of all people, Solomon figured Cedar would be the most sensible, but it sounded like he was caught up in Yvonne’s drinking game. Solomon walked down into the cellar. They were sampling various vintages. Solomon used the word Sampling lightly, if the mugs were of any evidence. Sitting at the table was the maid, clearly exasperated by the other two. She clearly had no interest to take part.

“Perhaps you should leave the poor girl alone?” questioned Solomon, “And might I recommend slowing down? If you haven’t eaten yet, you might lose yourself faster than you think. Especially you, Cedar. I don’t think the loo can easily accommodate you.”

Yvonne clicked her tongue at the interruption, eyebrows momentarily scrunched before she shrugged it off. No getting pretty little Jeanne into bad decisions for now, looks like. Well, there's always next time.

"Boo. Spoilsport. Good things should be shared, yeah?" The mercenary took another gulp, licking the froth that remained on her lips after. "Dont worry, I know how much I can handle. It's been, what, two shots of liquor? And some mead. Barely a warm up!"

She already had breakfast anyway. Besides, kitchen's just nearby. They'll have no issue preparing something nice and quick for lunch if necessary.

Cedar made a slantwise scowl, while twisting his lips to one side (which was a rather unusual expression to see on a bear), then chided the good Doctor--

"Come on naow-- We jus' havin' a bit a harmless fun! Ain't we 'Vonnie? Asides, a few mugs a ale *IS* a good meal! Fatten ya righ' up doin' 'at!"

he made a jovial slap on his (now very firm, and slimly muscled) belly.

"BES' PART, is dat it don' leave ya full fer hours neither! An wuts 'at 'bout ya thinks uh won' fit in da loo? What you goin' on 'baout-- Ya mean DA OUTHOUSE? Shucks fella--- Who you think you talkin' tuh! I's a BEAR, I goes outside!" he chortled bemusedly, then padded the bench next to him. "Naow c'mon an' sit daown, an' be soc'ible! I'll pours ya a drink!"

---

Solomon chuckled. Despite the noise, it looked more like they were simply having a good time as opposed to being disruptive. Cedar was just a loud and excitable bear. Solomon walked over to the table and took a seat next to the maid, pulling one of the mugs placed in front of her towards him instead. Though he wasn’t much of a drinker, he still had one occasionally. Besides, it wasn’t like he even could be drunk, let alone tipsy.

“Very well, Cedar. I’ll take you up on that. Just one drink for me. I think I’ll leave the selection to you and Yvonne.” said Solomon. He turned to the maid who had her palm over her eyes. She was mumbling to herself. “My apologies for their rowdiness. I’ll try to keep it from escalating. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

Cedar grinned eagerly (and with a fair bit of mischief behind it), then loaded a full mug with a pouring of the mead, leaving room for 2 fingers of the spiced rum, then proffered to the doctor.

"here ya go!" he beamed, then loaded his own mug up with the same mix, sitting across from him, Yvonne, and the maid; Jeanie. "Sos-- Les' git ta know each odder beh'er, eh?"

He focused his attention on Jeanie. "How's 'bout yous? What it like, workin' 'ere?"

6:40 A.M.
[Jazdia "Slyph" Crystalspark]
Rascade Royal Palace, Kingdom of Kindeance.

---

For this evening soiree, the Chamberlain, which also served as a general organizer, had briefed the party with his words of wisdom, that the team was expected to maintain some amount of propriety, and they will be seated on the smaller round tables closer to the King's throne; Jazdia with Yvonne, Cedar with Solomon and they should stay there until Fredricus formally opened this banquet.

Jazdia found that such code of conduct was acceptable.

The flock of guests kept coming in, seemingly endless for such an exclusive party. Amongst the attendees were numerous faces, some she knew many years ago, some others--- or many others she barely met or saw just a few days ago. Of course, Jazdia could still remember the visages of upperclassmen and women attending Geralt's bloody gladiatorial a few days ago. Now some of them had looked at her with eyes bulging, while the rest managed to keep their cool. One particular seemed to be drooling with her eyes fixed on a certain Bearman.

She should be the least of their worry, really.

Fredricus was not stupid, he might be slow sometimes, but his eyes and ears were keen. Surely he knew who had conspired against him and who aided them.

And thus, for the last half hour, Jazdia spent her time occasionally darted her vision over Fredricus and his guards, wondering what would they do next. There was no smart nor foolish answer in both options. This was simply politics at its finest, and that was how their lack of trepidation toward the actual lions in the room was somewhat justified.

Politics is a wonder. Eldarian once had said, and Jazdia groaned.

Her father chuckled, eyes twinkling in mock humor when he patted her head. At that time, she already thought he might be right, but to fully understand and appreciate the beauty he described, it would take many years.

"Where else you can find an occasion where enemies and friends alike gathered in one room, sharing wine and laughter while at the same time inwardly thinking how to end each other in the most effective way? All you have to do is don the mask of frivolity and deceit.

Bless his soul, Jazdia thought.

The arrival of the Delving Family further reinforced such anomaly--no, wonder. There were Silas and Kirsten, following an older man wearing their family symbol emblazoned on his shirt. He entered the banquet with head held high, reflecting a disciplined soul that whose body might longer be in its prime but remained steadfast and poised.

"There he is, the rabid fox Freddy have no choice but to invite to the henhouse."Yvonne murmured, inviting a snicker into Jazdia's glossed lips.

"Not exactly henhouse. More like wolves gathering, with the lion as the host."

Another seemingly prominent family entered the hall with their scions. This time the Yorks. Jazdia only remembered the face of their kids, whom Baker's daughter nicknamed as Guppies-- a not-so-graceful sobriquet, really. Their father was a rotund man with a seemingly friendly image, and towering next to him was a middle-aged lady with a perpetual scowl on her face and eyes that observe like a watchful eagle.

The party went on, and Fredricus ceremoniously opened the party by welcoming the guest, all kinds of guests; honest, loyal, insidious, dutiful, and unreliable, all were welcome. His eyes were tired, and wrinkles on his face were proof that time had not been not very friendly to him, yet he squared his shoulder, straightened his posture, and his voice vibrated with authority.

"I will first address the concern regarding the Prince's safety." he said, immediately after delivering his welcome. "A fair warning we all appreciate, but at some point the act of rocking the boat must be stopped. As you can see he is here, safe and sound, returned on time and...unscatched." He beckoned at Prince Alec, who sit in on a lesser and less lavish throne usually reserved for advisors alike, his expression was stiff, but he managed to force a smile.

"But We heard about an attempt to ambush Prince's Convoy!"

The voice came from the front, and Fredricus, the King of Kindeance stilled. The one who interrupted was a feisty young gentleman with long auburn hair tied in a silly topknot. Instead of being ashamed of the sudden silence he caused, he opened his notebook and readied his graphite.

"What is your comment about that, Your Highness? And was it linked to the attack on Fanghorn by Mechean terrorists?"

Someone in that crowd was smiling mischievously, and Jazdia wondered what Fred would do next. The King let the question linger for a while, then unexpectedly, and patiently he smiled.

In the older era and the previous regime, someone like that will be dragged out and flogged in public. Or if the Crown was generous and Moderate, such inquiries would be directed to his Chamberlain for more unpleasant sessions with Kingdom's interrogators.

"You are from Rascade Chronicles, correct? My comment will be It is too premature and reckless to assume anything when the investigators are still working on the case, even more so to have unreliable information printed and publicly distributed. Surely such irresponsible action would smear the freedom of the press we all must uphold. Don't you agree?"

The words were laced with a thin-veiled threat, and indeed, most people would give a more damn when there was a threat. The journalist now found himself stared at by the entire member of Fredricus' court, while his supporter, looked away to nod at Fredricus' words.

"Regarding the suspected ambush." Fredricus continued, allowing some amount of callousness to infuse his voice. He then introduced the 'reinforcement' that aided the Prince's convoy. Doctor Solomon tipped his fedora in a small bow, while Cedar, upon hearing his name and druidic origin clumsily stood from his table before taking his seat again.

"I wholeheartedly offer them a position in my court." he said again, and some of them gasped. Fredrcus seemed to enjoy their reaction, though he had to silence their murmurings with a single stern glance.

He stood up from his throne, to welcome a glass of wine offered by his servant, then spoke again. "Today, we also witnessed the usurper being punished." he glanced at the crowd, and focused on a particular guest before continuing."Thanks to Miss Matilda and with the assistance of independent investigators, Miss Jazdia Crystalspark and Yvonne Rosenving, their plan has been thwarted, and our nation finally returned to its peaceful days."
He raised his glass and toasted at the attendees. "To peace and prosperity!"

"To glory and victory!"

A similarly aged man exclaimed, and Jazdia wondered how many more of those nitwits were left to test the old Lion's patience. So she activated her eyes and glanced toward the troublemaker, apparently, it was Jonas Delving himself. And he toasted Fredricus back.

For the briefest moment, they were locked in a battle of stares, as if their eyes could stab each other, until the Delving patriarch regarded his King steadily, calmly, yet still respectful. And Fredricus too, returned the regards with the briefest of nods in acknowledgment, without any hint of revulsion, nor anger.

Or he was just good at hiding it.

"Yes, to Glory and Prosoperity!" The king raised his goblet.

Mrs. York instinctively gravitated beside her husband, as the candor in the room intensified. A truly foolish reporter was asking loaded questions that could well send some-one to the dungeons for a 'cross-examination', and the clan patriarch of house Delving had traded a dangerous stare with their host, culminating in a rather frosty and multi-entendre 'toast' being proposed, and accepted. She raised her cup ceremoniously, and drank, then leaned in close beside him.

"Thomas Darling, are you certain it was wise to attend this soiree?" she asked in a demure and hushed tone, while seated at the table. Normally, she'd reserve this kind of idle chatter for when they were on the dance-floor, but as yet, no music had been started.

He chuckled in an amused tone, then grasped her left hand beneath the table with his right. "Adela my love, you worry too much. His Majesty is sure to enjoy our proposal, once we can speak in private." He turned is head to face hers with an expression full of well-practiced political charm. "and you know what that means."

She gripped his hand in hers tightly beneath the table, but made no further signs above it. Yes, She DID know what that meant. As it was, a war between Kindeance and.. well.. ANY other nation, would throw their family's finances into chaos. Her husband had formulated a plan to bring the York family into the next century, with an ambitious plan to renovate and bolster the nation's industrial capacity, through leveraging recent events to push back against decades of resistance from the local populace. The recent destruction of Fanghorn mean that reconstruction of that city-- and of it's agricultural basin, from what she had heard-- would become a political necessity, and that left opportunities for those that knew how to get access and exploit them. She squeezed his fingers between hers, and smiled beautifully-- Her husband knew just how to do both.

The York family were reputable spice merchants; risen to prominence in the tide of His Majesty's pro-business politics, and satisfying thousands of customers in the city of Rascade alone, and catapulting them into wealth and luxury over the past 4 decades. She was a lady of refinement, and was accustomed to a certain degree of.. luxury. However lucrative the spice trade was in peacetime however, it would dry up and blow away if the nation went to war: Shipments would get impounded at borders, Borders would simply close, ships would be sunk at sea, and over and through it all, there would be dizzying spirals of increased taxation to pay for it all. If nothing was done, and the nation went to war, she would be wearing rags in less than a year. The thought terrified her, but she knew and trusted her husband, her Thomas.

He was a somewhat portly man, with well groomed hair, beard and sideburns, given to sampling spiced cakes and wines to assure the quality of their products, and it had started to show on his physique-- but he was a charmer. Oh yes, a charmer. That man could spin a deal out of the most ephemeral of meetings, and here he was tonight, with ambitions to meet with King Fredericus himself--No intermediaries. She hoped his plan was successful. For all of their sakes.

Beside them, on either side, were seated their two children. The lovely Linceleste to Thomas's left, and her handsome young Gepard, to her right. Linceleste took after her; though perhaps a bit more bookish in her mannerisms than is healthy for a young girl just turned 16. She got that] from her father, but it had served her well enough, getting her a fine placement at a prestigious magical academy. Thomas had been discretely indulging her for years, creating opportunities for her to practice her 'hobby', and perhaps one day, spin it into a lucrative branch of the York brand of products. There was a similar story with Gepard, though she liked that line of work far less. She was glad he was safely here, with them, tonight. She hoped he would make a good impression, for his sake, and theirs. Soldiering was honest work, but it didn't 'pay the bills', as her husband would say.

She diverted to idle small talk.

"I see his majesty has found most peculiar bodyguards for the young prince Alec..." she murmured coyly. "..Stritzel seems to approve at least..."

"Perhaps we could suggest a nice perfume for his linen closet; however finely dressed, he's sure to scent the sheets." he murmured back with a coy grin. "Perhaps something in musk.."

She withdrew her hand and smiled coyly. He was such a kidder, but she didn't put it past her husband to make a sale like that either. Tonight was poised to be very profitable for the house of York indeed, if all of them played their cards right, their children included.

Cedar wanted to take the fancy clothes off.

Being half human had.. certain undesirable qualities, such as having sweat glands. With this much fabric enclosing his frame, with fur between no less, it had him feeling insufferably warm. He did his best to ignore it, and to chase it with gentle, and discrete 'laps' of a nice iced beverage that had been provided. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it was cold, mildly sweet, and refreshing. Sadly, it did not taste alcoholic. He wondered if the king had gotten wise to his and Yvonne's little visit to the pantry earlier that day. Surely he didn't think he could get drunk from just that little taste, did he?

One of the guests, a well dressed, but clearly haggard looking old woman, kept leering at him with glittering, deeply interested eyes from across the room, and it bothered him. He had no idea who that woman was, but even with his nose full of spiced rum from earlier that day, he could make out her "intentions" quite clearly, and it left him very uncomfortable. Adding to the discomfort, was being put up front, and in the center like this. Sure, he was a guest of some prestige apparently, but this was not him. Fancy clothes, brushed fur (Gods, the girls had spent over an hour fussing about it!).. No. It was not him at all. He felt like a fish that had been thrown up on the riverbank, gasping in the sun. He wanted to be home more than ever, but did his best to hide it. Humans were very peculiar creatures, with peculiar habits, and even more peculiar tempers. He *NEEDED* to be a perfect gentleman right now, and every bit of wisdom his dad had dispensed to him on how to behave kept rattling through his brain like hail on a rooftop.

.. at least the drinks were cold..

He made note of the appearance and scents of the Delving patriarch and his children, which he recognized (through the latter) from their appearance at Fanghorn.

He looked over at Doctor Solomon. The doctor was the very image of poise; relaxed like a sleepy cat near a fireplace, and perfectly at ease as he sipped his own drink. That man permanently stunk of something long dead; long past the smell of putrefaction, and now fully into the scent of old grave dirt. Cedar wondered why the man at least hadn't washed it off? Had there been problems with getting him a bathtub too? Curious... He did look quite sharp in his new clothes though. --Though he supposed he himself did too, but in truth, it made him feel ridiculous. At least the smooth "undergarments" that strange man, Mario, had made for him were somewhat wicking the heat away from him under all this. He very much doubted he would actually try to use them as "sleepwear" though. Nothing beat being naked for that.

He casually wondered when the food would be served. There was supposed to be food.

What did it even mean, "A position in my court?" His thoughts took a dark turn down a dark alleyway, that collided with Baker's loaded questioning. He didn't like it at all. He needed to think of a polite, and non-offensive way of refusing the offer...

Drinking party had to end way too soon. She barely got to know more about Jeanne! But the maid herself had shown some surprisingly stern zeal to drag Yvonne away from the cellar and back to her room. There's some weak protestation about Cedar and Solomon still staying behind, but of course women need more time to prepare for the party.

A lot more time, bleh. She had almost forgot how much grooming was needed to be presentable.

This time, there's no escape. Two more maids were standby at the room, bath and everything else already prepared. Yvonne had some suspicion that the whole thing was somehow coordinated, but she had no evidence so she could only sit along for the ride. There's the bath, scrubbing with some sort of porous stone that left her feeling excessively squeaky clean, and a lengthy period of hair treatment where by the end it felt very much silky smooth.

Practically felt like magic, all that.

Next came the clothing, everything from head to toe already prepared. Each and every one in the perfect size. Fucking Mario and his fashion sorcery. Cant deny that it's convenient though. Yvonne had came so close to taking a knife to the corset, but of course the tailor had somehow expected that and prepared something that simply clung to her figure instead of restricting the waist. The new trend from Helvetia, or so he claimed. To be fair, the rest of the design also was nothing like the traditional fashion she's used to seeing.

The theme was blue, a welcome respite from the glaring burgundy of the goddamn room. The dress had long sleeve and generally fit her form, beside the dramatic flare at the elbow and the knee. The neckline dipped into a generous V-shape, accentuated by embroideries to emphasize her bust while the corset top eased the muscular tone of her abs. The flare partially conceal a pair of high-heeled shoes, and alongside a sash strategically located slightly above her midpoint gave the illusion that she's taller than she actually were. The final piece was a pair of elbow-length gloves, concealing the callus in her hands and the scars over her arms.

She almost failed to recognize herself in the mirror. Sorcery and witchcraft.

"You'll be here when I get back, wont you? I'll see you later."

Was that a slight flush she saw on Jeanne's cheek? Something to explore again later. But for now, a party awaited-

-and for better or worse, it was almost exactly as she had expected.

Lots of people strutting around like oversized peacocks. Didn't escape her notice that the table's rather close to the king's throne, too. Seems that the honored guests treatment were still in effect. And if Yvonne could notice, anyone else could. There's already pointed whispers, annoying buzz that she really could live without. At least her assigned partner was a sight for sore eyes. Really, she could drink the sight of the elf for hours without getting tired of it. Now that she's paying close attention, that skin did look very soft...

Some banter to spend the time, especially when that big asshole Jonas showed up with his two kids in tow. Aaron noticeably missing, screw that prick. Too bad that papa prick was still out and about like he own the whole place. Cant understand rulers sometimes - why not just round up the bastards and cut them down? Life would be so much simpler then.

"Glory and prosperity... and a big chest of gold." Yvonne joined in near the end, very curtly, the latter half whispered low enough that no one should hear it. She snickered a bit still, though the audience would only see her back and old Freddy's too busy glaring menacingly at the Delving patriach to notice her antics.

Then finally, time to mingle at last.

"A candlelight dinner, just the two of us? If I didn't know any better I'd thought Freddy's trying to set us up!" That's the first thing that came out of Yvonne's mouth, the moment the hubub of conversation echoed enough to drown her words away from prying ears. "Looking good, Sparky! Mario really went all out with the fashion sorcery!"

---

“Do you know how boring it is, sitting in here all day?” complained a surprisingly young sounding voice. However, one look at the origin of the voice, and the tone of the voice would be the least concerning thing about it. A spectral upper body, arms crossed, the feminine face pouting. Following her form revealed its odd attachment to a compete physical body of the same young woman. However, one look at the color of her skin, and the stiffness in her posture would divulge her as a corpse. A well preserved corpse, but one all the same.

“Now I hear there is a banquet being held, and you will not allow me to attend? Am I not of noble blood, I should be allowed. Do you know how long it has been since my last appearance?”

“Probably as long since your family name had any authority. Few live knowing the name Lavow. And those who remember it, remember why it fell.” said Solomon bluntly. He was unwrapping the carefully curated attire at the desk. Master Mario was deserving of his title. Without even having put it on yet, the quality of his work was very apparent.

After the Yvonne was whisked away with the maid, Solomon enjoyed his drink with Cedar. Without her egging him on, the mood dimmed. Solomon didn’t think it was soured, but Solomon’s more somber demeanor was nothing compared to the enthusiasm Yvonne had to alcohol. When the drinking was done, Solomon returned to his room to find his outfit waiting for him. Not only his quality, but his speed as well.

“Besides” Solomon continued, preparing himself to change into the new suit, “Unless you have a spell to disguise yourself within your book, I’m afraid your appearance would cause too much of a disturbance.”

“If you provided me some arcane literature, I just might. At least then, I wouldn’t be so unbearably bored. Hold on, the bear is allowed to attend then. And I am left to wallow alone?”

“As I recall, the banquet is to celebrate those the king summoned for this mission. At least in part. Cedar was monumental to that end.” Solomon had finished dressing up. He looped the belt through the fasteners of his tome, it resting neatly at his side, just behind where his arm would rest. Awkward to look at given its size, but the suit worked to complement its presence. All together, Solomon was dressed in a two button tailcoat, with an elegant white shirt. His trousers matched. Along with the socks and dress shoes. He wore silk gloves over his hands, and maintained the mask he was wearing before. Luckily, the colors matched. Finally, he had a fedora. Despite how dressed up he was, it was less than what he usually wore. Or at least, this outfit was more form fitting. Without his cloak, and travel garments, one could really see Solomon’s frame. In comparison, he was really quite thin. And the skin one could see around his eyes and back of his head really showed just how old he was. Despite it, he stood as straight as he could. The outfit really worked for him.

As the door was gently pushed to a close behind Solomon, Petra called out, “Watch out for more mad wizards. I wonder how the opposition will react.”

---

At the banquet, Solomon sat at the same table as Cedar. During the speech and recognition, Cedar looked to be struggling with his outfit. A bear in formal attire worked surprising well for Cedar. More hidden praise for Mario it seemed.

After the toast, everyone was starting to mingle. Solomon sipped on the drink at his table, watching the others. He looked at the different faces. He recognized only a few of them. Normally people of this status were not his usual clientele. In fact, this situation with the king and his newly returned son was the first he was hired in any capacity by the nobility. He of course recognized Delving, and his family. Though Solomon could have sworn Jonas had another son.

Solomon looked at Cedar. He appeared to be uncomfortable. Whether it was his clothes, the vicinity, or the presence of the very people rioting for war, Solomon couldn’t tell. It could even be all of those things and more.

“Tell me, Cedar. What are your endeavors once all is said and done?” asked Solomon. He placed his cup gingerly on the table, leaning closer to rest his arms atop it. “I do not imagine you will stay in Kindeance for much longer. The king’s appointment. I have a feeling it’s not your choice in accolades.”

The doctor's nonchalant and oddly calm voice lilted at him at the table, breaking his preoccupation with carefully studying the other guests.

"oh uh.. Yeah. Ya coul' say dat.." he responded distractedly, still worriedly eyeing the other guests, while sipping (or rather, discretely lapping) at his drink at intervals. "... Uh really dun' like it 'ere.. Da clothes looks nice an' all, but..."

he turned his head toward the doctor. "..It hot in 'ere, or it jus' meh?" He sat his drink down and frowned at it. "uh miss bein' outdoors.. Uh jus' wanna go home."

What would be the best way to say how he really felt? Perhaps, "obligation" was the right word?.. Maybe, but not quite... He struggled with it, and it came out a bit like a verbal carriage accident.

"E'res peoples I cares 'bout-- critters er' not-- as I worries 'bout. E'en the 'act'al' peoples in da town, e'en if dey is arseholes tuh meh more of'n 'an not... I's tired, an' feels da win'er approachin... uh only really come ta stop da war ya knowed?"

Realization that he needed to be more guarded with his conversation, due to the interruption of the oddly dressed man, and the subsequent interruption from the Delving patriarch, fluttered like a shadow over his consciousness. An unwelcome, offensive shadow. More things he did not like about this place, but lacked the words to address clearly.

The banquet was officially open, which means everyone now could do whatever they please as long as etiquette allows. Jazdia stood up from her table, and Yvonne followed, seemingly having a similar idea of looking around to find some fresh air.

The musician had been playing, filling the air with a warm and ambient melody to provide the right atmosphere for the gossip and..flirtations.

"A candlelight dinner, just the two of us?" asked Yvonne when the two finally away from the arranged table, "If I didn't know any better I'd thought Freddy's trying to set us up!" she winked.

"Oh please. I am flattered."

"You... are really Looking good, Sparky! And Mario really went all out with the fashion sorcery!"

It was indeed a pretty dress, elegant, and red like a fine wine and... charming thanks to its sleeveless design. It came with mittens of the same color, but Jazdia left them in its box and opted to wear the hair accessory instead.

Jazdia, who had been restrained herself from smirking gave up. She raised the hem of her skirts, posed with what seemed to be a half curtsy, and smiled at Yvonne slyly as if she was a young woman teasing a suitor with a scandalous glimpse of her ankle.

"Putting on a gown was already a battle, so, I will gladly take every compliment I can get," she said. This was a rare occasion when she would allow herself to be complacent, and truth be told, it was never baseless; Jazdia wore her hair long, letting the golden treses untied and sway freely. Her arms and shoulder were bare, showing her skin that was as smooth as a pearl. That, and the small bastardized version of curtsy she did was starting to draw looks. And While her vanity was somewhat stoked by the attention, for the most part, she could not have cared less.

"Well, you look equally stunning as well," Jazdia said, eying her substantial bust, further emphasized by the gown's generously low neckline.

Jazdia straightened herself before smiling at their admirers in one sweeping glance. Then she turned to Yvonne again. "Well, let's go get something then before someone took our seats! "

There were several areas where food and drinks had been laid out, and the duo moved to the least crowded one. There was an assortment of red and white meat, and deep fried snacks all cut in small portions except a large roasted turkey on the middle table, seemingly untouched for now.

A well-dressed manservant sprung up from his seat and immediately readied his serving tongs. A small porcelain plate had been prepared on his side.

"Poultry and red meat, huh? Hmm, not what I am here for." Jazdia shook her head. "Rascade Specialty should be something from its sea. Correct? I'd like to have seared truffle scallops, sauteed in... well tell the cook to surprise me. And grilled Salmon for the entree. What about you, Miss Yvonne?"

It was a confusing transition from one thing to the next. Without warning, men dressed in fancy clothes began to play muted and subdued music, as the castle's kitchen staff hauled in a train of white clothed carts, loaded with food and drink. Party guests began to mill about in an unintelligible babble of talk, as others wandered haphazardly near the provided comestible displays.

Cedar was gripped by even more new-found anxiety: It was clear and obvious that he was SUPPOSED to be meeting and talking with the other guests-- a thing that worried him. What if he said or did something wrong? Then there was the food-- just sitting there, waiting to be eaten-- that endless hail of advice his dad had given him about what was expected in more social human gatherings (and not the sort he and his father enjoyed in the village inn with their drinking friends, but more the 'if you should ever have one (which he had not, as of yet), fancy and formal kind') continued to rattle around his thoughts. He was worried, and acted such.

Discretely, he watched the guests at the buffet, noting how much of each entree or hors d'oeuvres they had selected, getting a handle on how much would be "proper" to select without making an ass of himself, then got up to make his own table run.

The serving man eyed him with an expressionless mouth paired with a suspiciously raised eyebrow.

"And what will sir be having tonight?" he asked stiffly, but pleasantly-- almost as if he had rehearsed this. Momentarily, Cedar wondered if this man had been working in the kitchens above the pantry, while he and Yvonne had been drinking earlier that day. He discretely wondered if he had already made an ass of himself, and was just now coming to realize it.

"oh uh.. uh'll has da roas' beef an..." he sniffed discretely "onions.. "

"Chipped beef and shallot au'vine, for the gentleman" he murmured, then gracefully plated a helping for him. "Will that be all sir?"

Everything on the table was a menagerie of things he could not easily identify. --Oh, he could tell what was IN them, more or less, from how they smelled, but for the most part, he had never even SEEN these things prepared before. Half the items he would normally just consume raw. This was especially true of the vegetable dishes, all of which were cooked to the point of superb tenderness, from appearances, and prepared quite elaborately. With names like "Chipped beef and shallot au'vine", and not "Roast beef with onions in a fancy sauce", he was at a loss for how to even order.

"Uh... sum ah dis, an... sum ah dat.." he finally managed, pointing at two promising vegetable dishes, one of which was obviously made with forest mushrooms, but he could not identify with what they had been paired.

"Salsify with creme sauce, and Ricotta Gnudi with Chanterelles." the man intoned "Excellent choices, sir. And what will sir have to drink this evening?"

For a moment, he considered the propriety of asking for a tall mug of ale, or perhaps another helping of the mead, but noted that such offerings did not seem to be available, or at least, did not seem popular with the food being served, judging from the aromas in the room. Not a hint of either one.

"Uh'll as'cept ya own judgemen' on 'at" he drawled nervously. The serving man made the faintest hint of a snide smile.

"Might I suggest a nice chardonnay?" the man said, while extending a bottle in white gloved hands. The bottle was well stoppered, and he could not detect any of its fragrance over the blizzard of scents the food was putting off. He decided that he should just go for it. "U'll take it."

The man expertly popped the cork off the bottle, then poured a single, thin-stemmed glass cup, the likes of which Cedar had never seen before, about half full, then handed it to him. "In Sir's good health." he said demurely, as cedar accepted it. The tiny glass vessel felt impossibly small, and even more impossibly fragile. How ANYONE could hold one without breaking it into dozens of tiny pieces worried him. Even more so, that the vessel would be very difficult for him to drink from. He thanked the man, then carefully returned to his table with his plate and glass, to resume his people-watching.

He stabbed several of the "chips" of the beef on the absurdly small fork they had provided him with (well, one of the forks anyway) and put it in his mouth, leaning forward discretely to avoid looking 'too much' like a beast. It was difficult to eat with human manners intact, especially with such tiny and absurd utensils.

A woman dressed in a shimmery blue (or maybe dark purple? It was always impossible for him to tell) evening gown had made her run to the table, and had engaged Jazdia and Yvonne, interrupting the two's apparently private conversation. A somewhat rotund man with short, well-trimmed sandy-brown hair and matching beard with mustache was at her side, as if the two were joined at the hip.

He did his best to try and get a taste of this ... 'chardonnay' .. whatever that was. The cup was especially troublesome, being too small around for his muzzle to fit inside of, and the beverage too deep down its slender form to easily reach from the top discretely, forcing him to have to use it in the most socially awkward manner possible: Reaching his long tongue down inside to lap it out.

...

Adela York watched with mild distress as the hideous hulk of well-dressed fur shambled from its table toward the buffet. Images of the beast ravaging the selection colored her imagination, but to her bewilderment, the creature simply acted uncultured, rather than feral-- POINTING OUT entrees, rather than ordering like a proper person. .. And his highness was going to offer it a position at court?... Scandalous. Well, at least the food had not gone flying, as her gut impulse had suggested. Perhaps among it's kind, it was indeed 'high class.' The thought amused her, but quickly became replaced by even more distasteful thoughts as she watched him attempt to "Drink" his wine. Shameful! And in PUBLIC even!

She strode serenely to the buffet, and ordered herself a nice chef salad with a light vinaigrette sauce to start, with a sparkling punch. It was far too early in the evening to order an ENTREE, like that hulking beast had-- let alone break into the alcohol-- why, no-one had even DANCED yet!

She noted the two investigators having a bit of a baudry chat, and she wondered just what kind of people his Majesty had hired, though one could not discount the results of their enterprise. Getting closer, she noticed for the first time, that one of them was none other than Yvonne von Rosenving, the 'black sheep' of that financially distressed house. It figures that she would keep such company.

"A most .. memorable.. evening, is it not, Miss Von Rosenving?" she asked primly and properly. "I do apologize for butting in; but I could not help but notice your associate just now.. Are you certain it's wise to permit him alcohol so early?"

"Adela my love, don't be rude. It's clear he's never attended a royal soiree before, have some discretion dear."

"I'm merely worried about public safety, darling." she replied demurely. "I've heard the most terrible things about people like him."

She wondered to herself (Disgustedly, of course), just "which way" the 'union' that had spawned him had been. Was it the mother, or the father, that had been the beast? It was equally scandalous, either way. Druids tended to be socially distant, and to keep to themselves more often than not, but when they did appear in public, they certainly exhibited no such improprieties as... that... There were rumors of course-- dirty, salacious rumors-- of forbidden trysts, and the bestial offspring they could sometimes produce, when conditions (and sufficient abuses of magic) favored it. Possessed of human-like intellect, but bestial passions and mannerisms-- Any reputable druidic sect would deny any such allegation as shameless slander against their order of course, and yet, here was such a creature, and attested 'druidic origin' by his majesty himself no less.

It was an 'open secret' that Stritzel kept one as a pet in her private gardens, far to the West, near the border with Meche, where nobody would go looking. The old crow had certainly taken an interest in this new specimen it seemed, but had yet to circle in to test the waters.

She was worried about what might happen, should this ... creature... become drunken, and lose what human dignity it had, around such a person, or even, if it became frightened or agitated.

her skin prickled.

One of the Dukes in tenure sworn loyalty to Fredricus' regime was Caitlyn Stritzel. Friendless, weird and eccentric. The old woman more often than had been letting such epithets stuck for many years, making the accusation associated with her somehow gained a legendary status.

Today, it seemed the rumor would again be proven. Stritzel was already in her own world when she looked at Cedar, watching intently behind the shadow for every move and words made by the beastman.

When Cedar returned back to his seat, the old woman doubled her resolution and brought her tiny stature on a straight beeline toward Cedar. A masculine-looking woman in a suit followed her from behind.

"Gentleman... can I sit here?"

Her voice was raspy, yet it still has an aristocratic ring in it, but then quickly ruined by her audible breath, which seemed to be rushing erratically from her boldly-lipsticked lips.

Doctor Solomon expressionlessly welcomed her, and she took her seat near Cedar, closely, as if she wanted to directly lean on his fury torso. Thankfully, the Duke of West Far region maintained what is left of her courtesy and instead, eying and down up toward Cedar's bearish feature like an adoring fan.

"It bothers you, doesn't it, being stared at like that?" she began, almost purring. Some pieces of unchewed meat and crumbs fell unto her bleached locks, and she gently brushed them away. "These people really have no manners."

The beast-man, still chewing his meal looked down, while Stritzel, made good use of time elapsed between her question and his reply by sniffing the air around her.

"You..." she beamed, her breathing was getting heavier. "You are... so young..."

The lady who had been following her stood beside her. Her eyes fiercely stared at Cedar, hands balled into fists. "Hey, you!" She barked. "My mistress is speaking to you!"

The shouting naturally attracted more attention to their table, including Prince Alec who sat just three tables away from them. But the young boy said nothing, for he himself was also busy with his own share of aristocrat pleasantries.

"Oh Olga! No need to be all tight with this Young Gentleman. It's okay, let him enjoy his... time" said Stritzel, with artificial meekness in her voice, there was an angry gleam in his eyes when she looked at her servant, indifference when addressing the staring guests, and somber toward Cedar.