The chamberlain had informed Kasimir that today they would be attending a mêlée, followed by lunch in the form of a feast, and then a theatrical production in the great atrium. All grand opportunities for Eleanor to be presented to an eligible bachelor, and all prime ways to get herself killed. Much to Kasimir's chagrin, that meant he would have to experience all of them. Perhaps the mêlée was not so bad, and it depended on which play was being performed. He had gained a taste for the arts in Altdorf, but just a taste. He still was not a diehard melodrama fan like some southern nobles or high-class merchants. 

He lead her east through the palace, passed depictions of ancient battles and paintings of more recent excursions into the drakwald. Wolf pelts and well polished weapons were hung on display, and long drape curtains were embroidered with fatalistic, gothic motifs. Most southerners would have found it barbaric, but despite Kasimir's education, he felt a sense of nostalgia moving through these halls again. Unfortunately, it was not the only blast from the past he was going to view on their way to the ballroom.

The corridor hit a four way cross section, and before the bastard and his cargo could pass through to the eastern wing of the palace, a man Kasimir instantly recognized stepped out of the left hallway. 

Lucien Schroder, Vicount of the Middle Mountains and Marchwarden of the Grand Gates, raised his brow and smiled wickedly. No one else would have noticed the scowl on his face that had so quickly vanished. He was the richest man in the realm, bar the Graff, though he had very little lands to his name. The Middle Mountains, though rich in minerals, were an infestation of goblins and other foul creatures. As a favor to his father, Boris Todbringer had gifted him the honorific of Marchwarden of the Grant Gates, as the family spent most of their time in the capital, and the title had passed to Lucien. Kasimir and he had never liked each other, even as small children. 

"Ah Kasimir, have you been avoiding me?" He asked, his voice smooth and subtle. He was not unhandsome, with brown hair swept back and a broad face, though he wouldn't be called strapping or raffishly striking like the Graf's bastard. If Kasimir was a sturdy longsword; lean, dangerous, with some rust from previous battles, then Lucien was a ceremonial basilard; polished, cultured, but unsullied. His long blue tunic was embroidered beautifully with white thread, yet he carried himself as if it was a simple dayly coat. "Rumor has it you're Lady De Aberville's newest suitor." 

Kasimir tried to keep his face neutral. "Hardly, my lord. I am responsible for her safety, and as such I am tasked with attending to her and accompanying her to what events she is wont to go. Beyond that I care little." He shrugged, glancing at Eleanor who watched with sharp eyes. "Court her if you wish."

For his part, Lucien inclined his head at Eleanor. "Every nobleman in middleheim would be delighted to hear it. And as her ward, you would do well to introduce me." 

Kasimir did so without enthusiasm, letting Eleanor know just how wealthy he was. Perhaps Lucien could solve his problem here and now and the both of them would go elsewhere, but something kept the Vicount from asking her, currently, though he did appear to look at her as though she were a piece of meat. When Kasimir was finished, Lucien turned his blue eyes on him, a smile returning to his face. That meant something treacherous was on the way.

"I imagine, lady Eleanor, it must be a chore to have to deal with him." He said, his eyes never leaving Kasimir. Next he spoke directly to the bastard. "I had always thought you would make a fine upjumped bodyguard. It seems that is all you can amount to."

Kasimir would not take the bait. Instead, he bade Eleanor forward, attempting to step past the unpleasant Vicount. "My father, in his wisdom, evidently agrees with you. If you'll excuse us, my lord."

"Your father? The Graf you mean." Lucien corrected him from behind his back. The Vicount turned, and it was clear he was trying to provoke him, though it was also evident he believed every word he spoke. "Being his bastard does not exonerate you from tradition. And some of us are still unconvinced... you certainly do not look like him."

The bastard halted at that. "Nor do you, yet you strut around as if you're next in line to inherit. I would cease your incessant scheming my lord. That too, has not gone unnoticed." Kasimir replied without looking back. He did not even address him as 'my lord.' It was a cold statement. Lord Lucien's eyes flared, and he stepped forward, his hand under his surcoat as if grasping a blade. Suddenly, Eleanor stepped between them, her hand out as if to allow him to kiss it. 

"Eet iz a puh-leazsher to meet you, mon Seigneur," She said. He blinked, unsure of what to do for a quick moment, before bowing before her and taking her hand in his to give a gentle kiss. 

"The pleasure is mine, la dame." He replied sweetly. "I have been to Brettonia, though not to Couronne. I look forward to speaking to you-" His eyes flicked to Kasimir, who awaited Eleanor. "-[i]alone[/i]." 

The pair of them left him there to continue with his business, and shortly arrived to the ballroom, where the feast was being prepared. The doors to the kitchen were wide open, and after a a brief discussion with one of the maids, they brought out a sizeable glass plate with grooves beyond its center, carved in small intricate designs of flowers and woodland shapes. Upon it was numerous, fairly large balls of chocolate coated with shells made of sugar and corn syrup, the result being a sweet treat with a a crunch. Eleanor took the plate greedily and popped one into her mouth, and an elated 'mmmm oui, iz délicieux!' escaped her lips. 

After she had devoured four, Kasimir design to try one. He reached for one of the balls, but she smacked his hand. "Non, ze ees mes bonbons!" She remarked, haughtily. Kasimir gave her a look, but shrugged and turned, eyeing the door in case anyone entered the large, now mostly empty room to threatened Eleanor's life. A few moment's later, he heard her voice say "Erm, Kissymir? I 'ave a ques-chun, iv you would answere?"

"I wouldn't worry. Your split ends are hardly noticable." He remarked dryly. He heard her give an intake of breathe, but whether to laugh or pout, he wasn't certain. The next moment, he heard a strange 'hhhrrrk', and a moment of silence. Kasimir turned at the curious noise, and he found Eleanor standing there with her eyes wide, a slim hand reaching for her neck. Her lips opened, but no sound came out. She dropped the plate, the glass shattering on the floor and reached for her throat with both hands, panic in her face. 

Kasimir's face went from tired to alert, and he moved without thought. Sweeping around behind her, he place his strong hands just above the belly button and below the ribcage, and gave her three solid thrusts. On the third, a wet, sweet ball flew out of her mouth and hit the floor, rolled across the tiles. She coughed, gasping for lungfuls of air, but within moments the color came back to her cheeks. Kasimir let waist go, but held her forearm and hand to keep her steady. 

"Are you alright, Eleanor?" He asked breathily.