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Auberon’s disapproval would have been palpable even without a Crest, but the impact was all the harsher on Jorah, albeit not exactly unexpected. But while he tolerated his new colleague’s rebuff with saintly patience, he did take some offense to the suggestion that his party was illicit. Preposterous! The nerve of this guy to even suggest impropriety – without even waiting for the real impropriety to start!
Before he could voice his indignation, a thump and a course of startled yelping sounded from the doorway, revealing a kitchen girl heavily laden with Morfis fruit very nearly bowling over the chilly Blue Lion girl in the breezeway. As if the Goddess Herself was playing stage director, the girl could be heard complaining about the short notice she was given for the party in the Reception Hall – Jorah’s party.
“See?” Jorah skillfully contained his glee, instead cooly and confidently directing Auberon’s attention to the door as if he wasn’t the most surprised out of all of them. “Would they have given me the reception hall if it wasn’t official?”
He shrugged, eager not to hear an answer. “Anyway, it’s up to you if you’d rather keep the future leaders of the Kingdom out of the nations’ first chance to make a good impression, but I know I’ll be sad to see you go,” he conceded suggestively, looking to the Eagle girl for backup.
“What about you, Princess?” he gave her a little push with his Crest to be agreeable, just in case she wasn’t picking up the hint. “Wouldn’t it be a terrible shame for the Alliance and the Empire to get all buddy-buddy tonight without our fine neighbours to the North?”
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