Zakroti entered the Banquet hall flanked by four of his 'blackguard' so named for they were clad in black armour and wore cloaks of sable. It was not uncommon knowledge that they served as his bodyguards and that there were indeed more than four. "The Usurper is shadowed" was a common word of warning against would be assassins and true enough he was. Unlike many Drakken, Zakroti wasn't in any hurry to fend off attackers personally when he could use someone else as a shield. After all, better the Blackguard die than him.
They varied in height; The tallest of them was some 6 foot ten and a half inches while the smallest was around five foot ten, just shorter than Zakroti himself, but was far less muscled. Although the face was covered, it was obvious that this smaller being was not a Drakken by his build. By now, people had learnt not to question this...
Zakroti paused before his allotted seat and the smallest of the blackguard knelt down to look under it, before switching switching the glasses, plates and cutlery with the seat opposite. Zakroti didn't trust anyone at this banquet and he wasn't about to find himself assassinated on his first visit to the Wroth. That would be most disappointing. Once he was satisfied that we has not to be stabbed through the arse by someone hiding underneath the floor boards, he sat down in the chair slowly and ran his eyes along the table, pouring himself a glass of wine and handing it to one of his blackguard, who opened their visor and took a sip of it before nodding and handing it back to him. He took a cloth from the table and wiped the end clean, spinning it around before drinking from it.
Would it seem paranoid? Perhaps, but one could never be too cautious at these events. He himself had killed Drakken through such low cunning and so he knew how easy it was to see ones self choking on a glass of wine. Zakroti felt the wine trickle down his throat and let out a somewhat pleasured sigh, glancing towards a chair on the far end of the room as an obese Drakken lord with wiry black hair slumped down into it, his new bride standing close to him with a look of abject terror in her pretty green eyes. She had fiery ginger hair that fell in locks around her shoulders, but her nose was crooked and it took him a moment to realise that it was broken. He noted a small maroon stain on her white gown and her red cheeks and quickly put the events together in his head, instantly any minor tinge of guilt he felt for what he was about to do evaporated. The bloated Drakken lord glanced across to Zakroti and tracked his gaze over to the gem next to him, letting out a grunt
"Lord Zakroti, if you like my girl we can arrange a trade." Zakroti was under no illusions, underneath those thick layers of fat lay muscles with the strength to cleave a head off in one fell swoop. He would tread lightly here.
"Ah, Lord Jorug, she looks as though she has given you a spot of trouble." Zakroti gave a faux friendly smile as he said that, turning his head towards Jorug himself and swallowing his pride "She seems pacified now though. Perhaps after the banquet you can give me some advice? One of mine has been rather... shall we say, disrespectful towards me. I have my ways but of course, mine would leave them horribly disfigured. Yours seems to have resulted merely in a stain..."
"You just have to know where to strike, Zakroti..." Jorug gave a sadistic grin as he took his glass from the table, staring at it for a moment as if trying to discern exactly why it had already been poured for him. Zakroti glanced to it himself but quickly diverted his attention back up to Jorug, careful not to let his mask slip as he silently willed the Drakken to drink it. Jorug tilted his head before shrugging and raising the glass to his lips, downing it in one. Zakroti exerted some effort to prevent himself from giving a sigh of relief "That's the trick. Out of sight, out of mind. The nose was not my doing, she slipped while I was taking her."
"Ah really? What happened?" Zakroti said with feigned interest, taking a sip of his own drink
"She slapped me when I touched her. Silly girl. So I had my guardsmen-" He motioned to the bodyguard beside him, who gave a curt nod towards Zakroti. "Give her a quick beating, then I broke her in. I do it to all mine on the first night, lets them know they're-" Jorug let out several coughs and then struck his hand against his chest. Zakroti ignored him and merely nodded politely to what Jorug was saying "-That they're mine. Anyway, she wrenched herself from my grasp, fell and struck her no-" He broke into a coughing fit again and dropped the glass to the table. Zakroti gave a feigned look of surprise and glanced to the fallen glass in mock surprise.
"Lord Jorug, are you alright?" Jorug's bodyguard asked as he took a step forwards, moving his hand to his sword and scanning the room quickly
"I'm fine, it's just-" He coughed once more and braced himself against the table. After he finished his coughing fit, he raised shakily from the chair and gave Zakroti a curt look "I think I have had too much... I should retire."
"Ah, we'll finish this another time then, Lord Jorug. Perhaps you can show me precisely what you did?" Zakroti said and the bloated Drakken nodded hastily as he shakily crossed the room, one hand on his gut and his other pulling his sobbing bride along. As the trio vanished around the corner, Zakroti let out a wry smile. Jorug would be dead within the course of the next hour. The bodyguard would take the blame for it due to the 'evidence' he had paid to surface during the investigation. The bodyguard was son of Lady Lilah and had been given to Lord Jorug as part of an agreement of sorts, if the bodyguard was blamed for his death relations would become far more heated between Lilah's immediate relatives and Jorug's immediate relatives, destroying the possibility of Lord Lysanders marriage to Lady Karala which would allow Zakroti's cousin to marry Lord Lysander which would cement an alliance between the Unalim and Karstagg families.
The girl would be inherited with Jorug's lands, though he doubted her new husband in Jorug's uncle would have anything better in mind for the poor thing. Best not to dwell on it. If he wondered what would happen to all the gems in this room, he'd be able to fill a book and most of it bad. He poured himself another drink and watched the red liquid as it poured into the glass and splashed against the sides of the interior. Then he slowly lifted the glass and sat back in his seat, running his eyes over the other lords in the room.
There was Krone the Scream Taker, one of the few Drakken in the room Zakroti had a genuine... Fear wasn't the word. He wasn't so much scared as Krone as he suspected Krone was simply a bigger threat to him than most of the others. While most Drakken did possess some level of low cunning at the very least, Krone was one of those Zakroti suspected of being more dangerous than that.
There was the newcomer Praeth. He watched him with mild fascination for a few moments. He was a mystery and that made him dangerous, a possible spanner in the machinations of his plan. From the looks of his brides he wasn't one of those who relied simply on brutalisation for success. Another danger.
A tap on his shoulder drew his attention and one of his blackguard pointed silently across the room, to a bloodstained girl who came into the room. Zakroti's eyes widened slightly. She'd killed. He wasn't sure who but he could tell by the way she postured herself that she had done it of her own accord. There was no remorse, no concern or even fear. Noting his lords expression, the blackguard reached for his blade instinctively but Zakroti placed his own hand against the mans wrist to stop him. There was no point in starting a fight.
Zakroti grimaced. There should be true punishments for this. Drakken were fools.
"You share my thoughts, though." The smallest of the blackguard said and Zakroti nodded slowly
"I believe so Vain. More proof, as if any were needed, that I made the right decision."
"And the sooner, the better." Vain gave a grim nod, reaching up and raising his visor to reveal a set of emerald green eyes set deep within his face. It was apparent he was not a Drakken. His face was too pretty for that.
Zakroti turned his attention back to the blood covered girl and stared at her blankly for a moment before turning his attention slowly towards the Lord that she had sat down next to. His face had been covered but the two guards by his side told him it was someone very important and not to be messed with. A warlord for certain. He looked around the room to count the missing faces, attempting to piece the identity together.
"Affirmed. Do not harm her, I would rather not cross the Warlords this early on. As much as I would love to dispense some prompt justice, we cannot. At least not yet. Pass along the orders we discussed earlier."
"Shall I revise Kil's list?" Vain asked, and Zakroti merely nodded in response. Vain lowered his visor over his face once more and then slipped away from Zakroti and the group, striding off across the banquet hall and fading into the crowds of people to deliver the new message. The pair of them had been 'friends' for a very long time now. It was an interesting little story but one he didn't really care to run over in his head again. He could spent a decade running over the histories of those in his service or company. He had to be vigilant at this banquet. In fact, he would have to be vigilant from now on if he was bringing these two brides back with him. He would do well to ensure that any interactions between the pair and his wards were strictly monitored.
Not that he expected his two brides to try and harm his wards or anything of the sort. He just wasn't entirely sure how they would react to their presence. Best case scenario the two groups would treat each other with indifference and ignore each other.
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