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	[u]Weather[/u]: It is cold, but at least the winds have died down some. This reduction of wind allows for more substantial, puffier flakes of snow to form high above, drifting down in regular but slightly more spaced intervals. If one is properly outfitted for the temperature, it's actually rather pleasant. 
     
	[u]Time[/u]: Early night. The sun has traveled fully across the the moors, giving a majestic outline of the mountains far beyond for a half a minute before enshrouding the landscape in mostly quiet darkness. [i]It has been twenty minutes since the last update.[/i] 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: It is mostly overcast as night deepens from dark purple into just dark. Were one to poke their head outside, they would see hanging lanterns, enough to provide ample illumination for those exiting to the main thoroughfare leading off of the Rose River Vineyard's grounds. The path back to the Coach House is somewhat less well lit. 

	Inside of the Tasting Room, the air is warm and heavy with the scents of the wine production process from the rooms around. One in the industry way find comfort in this, or may not even notice, instead fixating on the mild, earthy notes of cubed cheeses and thick bread which mix with sharper, sweeter accents of cut fruit, primarily local pears and apples. People speak among themselves, holding unobtrusive conversations among themselves, but all take appropriate moments to stop and stare when a social moment occurs, be it a small victory or touch of embarrassment. The place is well lit by candle and lamp both, giving a home-and-hearth touch to what is otherwise a room for plying the Wine Trade.  

Eight thick, square pillars serve to provide support in this low and somewhat conspiratorial-seeming room, set behind the rooms hosting the grand enterprise of fine wine production. The lack of any exterior view supports the assumption that this room of the Estate House is encased within the hill rather than above it. There are exits to the ahead which lead farther into the professional areas of the structure, back the way you came (from the Winery), and to the side of the room behind a door with a particularly chunky lock inset. The light is ample enough to see everything with clarity despite the hour and depth, courtesy of oil lamps in key locations and tapered candles upon the table. The exits appear to be clearly visible, from the double-door point of ingress to the doors leading through to the next area, and the door with the chunky inset lock now identified as the late Monsieur L'Rose's personal study. All are closed at the present. 

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center] 
[img][/img]
	Cecily waved away Baronfjord's apology, attempting to communicate with gestures and facial expression that it wasn't a point of insult, at least not one that she wished to address. [color=darkgray][i]"Think nothing of it, please. In truth, I have been meaning to go through my dear father-in-law's personal effects, but I fear i have been putting it off. I cannot say for certain why I have been compelled to. I guess I've just been throwing myself into Lizbeth's care and the business as of late."[/i][/color] She shrugged, her wine glass still in hand, though one could catch the lingering look she gave the locked door before blinking and returning to the affairs at hand. This as well was put on hold for a moment as the Madame of the Estate followed up with the Dragonborn's question concerning the upcoming holiday. [color=darkgray]"Oh, more than likely not. The Master of Harvest is chosen among the workers gathered for a season, like an elected overseer. Frostval, at least for us, is for family and close friends. We keep our guests to the permanent residents of the Vineyard. Umm... Master Rens is always welcome to join us (for example), though he has his own family to celebrate with. Master Urmdrus, as well. And all of your people, too, as my guests. Though we do like to reach out to the community in other ways during the holiday."[/color] 

	Laurent was astute enough to know that he was being hammered upon in a very social manner, and in an exposed position. While these attempts to show him up were executed in different ways, one an overly direct, even hamfisted attempt, and the other a barrage of class divide demonstration, he could understood that this was not a point to continue pressing directly, not if he wished to save face or keep the peace at the wine tasting, a thing which would leave a poorer impression of the most financially well off grower in this region; Madame L'Rose. So he kept any response simple. To Kosara, even as she exited the situation, [color=darkgray]"Because of manners. We value them here."[/color] As to the words of Kathryn, [color=darkgray]"Of course. I'm sure I forget myself in all of the merrymaking. Do excuse me, Lady Kathryn."[/color] His eyes followed Kosara for a moment, then he swirled his wine glass under his nose and concluded, [color=darkgray]"I have a mild allergy to sulfur, understand."[/color] 
	
	The gentleman farmer used this excuse to mingle elsewhere, and as it turned out he found himself moving toward the company of the Mosswaters and Victoria. A polite greeting to the Halflings, others in his peer group of landed agricultural fellows, but his interest more went to the oddity that was a Half-Elf in fine attire with a violin case across her back. He attempted a touch more politeness with this one. [color=darkgray]"You are Victoria, yes? There was mention of discussing opinions of wine, if you're available. I am curious, first - your name is Belmont. That's a Human name. It's interesting. Better, are you just a wandering minstrel, or do you have formal training equal to the cut of the garb you're wearing here? Again, curiosity. I see that you at least keep highborn company. What do you do for these people?"[/color] 

	Having seen what each member of the adventuring party was capable of upon a battlefield (at least in part), to include Victoria, Tarace and Barbal both held a breath in anticipation of how the ongoing situation of Laurent's velvet boorishness would eventually be settled. In an attempt to deflect, the somewhat meeker Tarace offered, [color=darkgray]"Monsieur Laurent, maybe I should..."[/color] 

	Only to be interrupted by Barbal, overspeaking him with, [color=darkgray][b]"Good idea! Maybe you should get us a sample of the harvest pears on the other side of the table! There's a good fellow."[/b][/color] The brash Halfling seemed to have a vested interest in the social clash between the agricultural elite of the region and the rare sight of adventurers in these parts. 

	The wait for Toombes continued for twenty more minutes, which seemed to tick by with unkind anticipation and a little bit of grumbling from Rens, Laurent, and the Mosswaters. Lizbeth seemed happy just to be involved in this gathering and had made her way over to the discussion in progress between Annick and Rens, who were speaking with passing familiarity. Ever the proper host, Cecily directed attention to herself with a raised voice. [color=darkgray][i]"It seems improper to hold up the actual tasting of the wine for the sake of one latecomer. I shall have to put out inquiry to make sure some little emergency did not take him from this event without notice. So please, everyone help yourself to a palate cleanser, and let us crack open a vintage that has not touched open air for the last five years. Yes, this is the Reserve Honigblume from half a decade's past harvest, set aside just as this year's will be for five years hence. Please grab a clean glass, and let us toast to the continued success of the Rose River Vineyard, continuing its decades long tradition of exceptional winecraft, under the direct oversight of Master Rens, and our founder, Monsieur Arnaud L'Rose. This is the result of their labors, and the hours of toil from the common folk of Avonshire."[/i][/color] 

	Lizbeth uncorked and set to fill fresh glasses upon the table, pouring with precise movements and keeping the volume to a ruler-straight line across the whole of the glasses, ensuring an equal pour to everyone. The wine itself was colored like golden honey, clear as crystal with the small exception of oils blending themselves into the full glasses as it settled. A scent of concentrated fruity sugar leapt from the glasses, surpassing even the sharp notes of apple and pear upon the table. Cecily continued, [color=darkgray][i]"Whatever mingling or parlor games we might get up to over the course of the evening, we have the cask to ourselves. However, the first taste we all take together, with solemn respect for our people, the land, and the work put into it. Ladies and gentleman, noble and common alike, the Rose River Vineyard repays the honor of your presence with the Late Harvest Reserve Honigblume; the first sampling by anyone before it is put to market. Enjoy."[/i][/color]