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[h3]Duchess Altina Freya Bastille, The "Valkyrie"[/h3]
At Hathforth Castle, Throne Room, The Hearthfire Gala, on 14th Hearthfire, 1402
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[center][b]I: Parade of Precursors[/b][/center]
[justify]The neighing of horses, followed shortly by the swinging open of the carriage door, marked Altina's arrival at the Hearthfire Gala. "Your Grace, we are here," spoke one of her retainers, the white-haired man of advanced age, to be exact. "Thank you, Sawyer." Altina would acknowledge him with a nod before descending the carriage's steps. [i]Click[/i]. [i]Click[/i]. [i]Click[/i].

"Oh, how I have longed to partake in another party. And one hosted by the Wizard Queen herself, no less. What an auspicious day today is!"

The duchess twirled in her dress, partly to revel in its construction. The visual stimulation of wind blowing creases into its seams, the slight bounce of the dress as it rides the air — some may think it strange, but Altina had always derived an odd, if not childish, satisfaction from such things. 

"My compliments to seamstress Eleanor for her work. Truly an ensemble fit for a monarch, this."

Made of layered fabrics, the dress itself was indeed intricately constructed, a product of hours of meticulous labor. It was purple, and tight at the bottom, which admittedly made it hard to move in, as it forced her legs close together at all times. Still, Altina remained undeterred in wearing it. She'd had it specifically tailored for her figure, after all. This was a challenge, if nothing else, and a mild inconvenience at most. 

A distinguishing part of the dress was its train, which hung loosely at the hips. It was translucent as well, to allow full view of the floral, vine-like patterns that were sown into the rest of the dress. Of course, it would not do if she did not wear any armor. She was a socialite second, and the "Valkyrie" first. And so, at her behest, a breastplate was fashioned into a corset. Now the raiment truly captured Altina's essence. With all the elegance of a noble, and all the stoutness of a warrior, she strutted into the castle hall, her steps punctuated by a light but firm tapping. 

"Oh, enough of that Lady Justitia. You [i]must[/i] have more confidence in yourself. Despite the years, even the curse of age has not dimmed the radiance of your beauty!"

"Suave [i]and[/i] polite. For that, you may lay your lips on my hand, Sir Raymond."

Like a fish to water, Altina wasted no time in fraternizing with her fellow nobles, some of whom she had not seen in a while. Lady Justitia was one such individual, and it had been nearly a decade since they'd spoken last, what with the lady's predisposition to illness. As far as her memories could take her, Altina could recall Lady Justitia's presence during her ascension at the latest. Lady Justitia proved to be one of Altina's most ardent supporters then. But obviously, that was long ago. Much too long. Perhaps if the Lady were in better health, there would have been more opportunities for the two of them to keep contact. Regardless, this was the first gala that she had attended since Lady Evelyn's coronation. And Altina would relish in it for as long as she could.

Her son, Sir Raymond, also accompanied the lady. He was like a dog, the lad, always following his mother around. Given her condition, Altina could understand why. If she were to hazard a guess, Sir Raymond was likely opposed to his mother's attendance to the gala. But alas, the lady was stubborn, her spirit as unbending as tempered steel. It is only her body that fails her. 

Despite old habits, the little Raymond that Altina teased in the past had undoubtedly grown up. He'd gotten taller, and the fuzz of hair aloft his chin had manifested into a well-combed beard. That said, to bend on one knee to offer her a kiss on the hand... He was still a rascal. This was a truth time did not change. 

"It is nice to see the both of you again," she expressed with a genuine smile. However, from the corner of her eye, she could glimpse the Wizard Queen on her throne, along with her advisor and the court mage. Suddenly, the state of euphoria she found herself lost in was broken, sobering her back to reality.

"I'm afraid I must excuse myself."

And so, Altina marched on towards her objective, a smile still tugging at her face. 

"Well, that certainly makes two of us, Duchess Agustria!"

As Altina was within earshot, she heard the black-haired woman's comment loud and clear. Seeing a chance to interject, she did just that. "With libations aplenty, it would be a waste to not indulge, even if just a [i]tiny[/i] bit, no?" Her lips curled into the slightest smirk at the mention of alcohol.

She unbuckled the blade latched onto her hip. "Since we seem to have [i]all[/i] had the same idea, allow me to offer you my gift as well, your Highness." Freeing the blade from its scabbard would reveal its wooden composition. Altina would run a finger through its length. "Crafted only from the most durable of Hickory trees in my garden. Wonderful, is it not, your Highness?" 

While the blade was raised up high, sunlight would reflect from its silver trimming. "Calligraphy. Art in its purest form. My servants spent many a sleepless night to perfect this design, you know." 

She lowered her head briefly before leveling her gaze at the Wizard Queen. "Though I suppose I cannot assume full credit. I also have Rockhold to thank for providing us with the requisite metals."

A different smile was now plastered on her face, wider than the last. "You can consider this blade a gift from them as well." 

One might ask, "Did Altina reference the city of Rockhold as a subtle threat of usurpation?" With the unexpected appearance of Duke Rhinecliff, it would only be rightful, after all. And timely. It is definitely a possibility, of that one can be certain. However, it is also a perspective that is mired in bias. 

One could also say she is attempting to proffer up a partnership. Considering Agrovia's ties with the dwarven city, an alliance with Agrovia could also mean an alliance with Rockhold. And having more allies would certainly only benefit the Wizard Queen's cause. 

Ultimately, Altina's visage would betray neither. 

Friendships wrapped in deception, truth embalmed in the sweetest of lies — such is the nature of the game the aristocracy plays in an attempt to gain power.[/justify]