[color=lightgray][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/S98vWKh.png[/img][/center][/cell][cell]
[color=#50b0f1][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220311/27efd277073263c7d99ebe605d1cfab8.png[/img][/center][/color]
[indent][hr][/indent][hr]
[indent][sup][color=ab274f][b]Attire:[/b][/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/sTIjTiA.jpg]Banquet fit[/url], a simple princely crown
[color=ab274f][b]Date and Time:[/b][/color] Sola 28th, 6pm
[color=ab274f][b]Location:[/b][/color] Castle dining hall
[color=ab274f][b]Mention(s):[/b][/color] Hala, the Grand Vizier, Lorenzo, the Edwardses, Roman
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] [@FunnyGuy] Alexander, [@Tpartywithzombi] Violet
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table]Wulfric idly watched as the hall began filling up, the low murmurs of conversation raising and falling like waves lapping at the shore. The sound receded at the entrances of some, and came in force after the passing of others. Amongst the sea, a glimmer of turquoise swam through with all the grace and surety of a shark. The prince witnessed an Alidasht dignitary being supplanted by another, a stranger whose dark complexion contrasted with their long, flaxen hair. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he so rarely ever was, that unique set of characteristics belonged to–

[color=gold]“Prince Wulfric, your grace I…”[/color]

That grating voice interrupted just when it was getting interesting. He chewed on a small piece of filet mignon, gaze flicking in Deacon’s direction, not quite landing on him nor even near him. Effectively, he had dismissed him, while the subtle impression he may or may not answer lingered, leaving him hanging.

The echo of Lorenzo’s butchered Alidasht greeting rang in his ears, but thankfully, the Grand Vizier was able to maintain his composure this time, and even confirmed his suspicion that the new face among the nobles was Vali Sami’s oldest offspring. After a sip of wine, he finally opened his mouth, addressing Alexander. [color=ab274f]“Firstly, the proper style of address for a prince is 'Royal Highness',”[/color] he corrected. [color=ab274f]“Meanwhile, 'Grace' was historically used for monarchs but is now reserved for dukes,”[/color] he generously educated. [color=ab274f]“As a royal advisor, you must, at the very least, familiarize yourself with the basics.”[/color]

A forkful of leafy greens was speared on the gleaming metal tines, oh so graciously giving Deacon time to process while Wulfric refocused on eating for a moment. [color=ab274f]“Secondly, I select all my servants with painstaking care, and you have yet to prove your worth.”[/color] He delicately turned the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, the rich red liquid gently swishing within. [color=ab274f]“However, I suppose…”[/color] He took another slow sip, appearing to seriously consider the request. [color=ab274f]“I might be convinced...”[/color] he smirked as he teased at the idea. 

[color=ab274f]“[i]If,[/i]”[/color] he leaned closer. His next words carried in a whisper only Alexander would hear, for even Edin was too preoccupied with his own amusement at the Damien and Vikena pairing. [color=ab274f]“You bring me Marek Delronzo’s head.”[/color] He chuckled as he leaned back, a sound of flippant amusement. It was clear he did not believe Deacon would or [i]could[/i] fulfill such a request, though the indulgent slant to his expression indicated it might be entertaining for the prince to watch him try.

[color=ab274f]“Ah, look, Ladies Edwards and Damien,”[/color] he commented, as if their entrance was of equal importance to Deacon’s offer to ‘help’. At Violet’s approach, he gave her a nod. [color=ab274f]“Good evening, Lady Damien. I hope you find this seating arrangement agreeable; word has it you are one of Mr. Deacon’s recent associates. His assistant, even, or so some say,”[/color] he smiled pleasantly. Among other information, he’d received a report of Black Rose’s carriage entering Damien’s estate in these past days. Was the daughter like the father, then?

He did not allow his attention to visibly fixate on her or on any other singular person. Instead, he returned Duke Edwards’ nod at his entrance, and merely tilted his head at Duchess Edwards. Frankly, at least her flaunted audacity was refreshing compared to the veiled contempt he’d discerned from the other nobles who thought themselves better than royalty. Curiously, it appeared Lord Ravenwood attempted to thread the line between those two extremes. After his trial had been announced, odd rumours started sprouting up about him. Some of it could be attributed to general gossip, but it felt a touch too forced – all of a sudden, there were too many, too concentrated, too [i]directed[/i] in a sense. A result of someone’s intentional design, perhaps.

For now, he simply allowed the conversation to flow, and events to unfold as they would.[/color]