Open Chronicles Queens, Politics & Pirates

[Otto von Stehlen]

“Lord Nicolin Gifford, of House Gifford.” A voice interjected into the conversation, causing Karl and Zufar to turn their heads at the source. “That was a course of action that I distinctly advised against, considering there were other, less hazardous options for creating a big distraction.”

Another snort came from Zufar in response, but the third voice seemed to have caused Karl to stand up straighter. Considering that this was the Arch-Count of the Strojland Confederation, Otto von Stehlen, known to some as the “Iron Count". Thus it made sense for one of the knights of the realm to stand, given that Karl was supposed to be acting as his brother’s bodyguard.

“In any event, you are here as part of my diplomatic entourage, not as a thief. Behave accordingly.” Otto’s words were firm, as was his gaze, an immediate contrast to the Zufar’s more scoundrel-like attitude. It was clear that whatever reason Zufar was here, it was because of a connection between the pirate prince and the iron count. After a brief pause, Otto glanced from Zufar to his armored little brother, a stern gaze meeting an indifferent one. “That also goes for you, Sir Karl. We’re here to forge diplomatic connections, not to gawk idly like a simpleton because there is an absence of clashing swords and cries for help.”

Karl locked eyes with Otto for a brief moment, before looking ahead, saying nothing in the process. It was a simple act, but Otto knew it was Karl’s way of shrugging him off. Karl was a nature born warrior, a fact that that was said the day he was cut out of the womb. But Karl was more than a simple fighter; he was a warrior with the virtues of a knight instilled into him since he was little. The lad might not have been of many words, but if there was someone in need of defending, Karl would be the first into the fray, at the very tip of the spear.

Yet hard iron could only ever get a man so far, an important lesson that Otto hoped to impart onto his young brother.

“The queen of this royal procession will likely be soliciting for certain connections and people of interest. I have business to discuss with her regarding our respective realm. Prior to that, I want to know exactly what she wants and why she wants it.”

“A question, if I may.” Zufar spoke up, seeing as the task seemingly peaking the pirate prince’s interest. “I could be wrong, but are you not already a master at this diplomacy, being the so-called “Arch-Count” of your realm? Surely if this task is of such importance you would have brought along one of your trained assistants, instead dragging along your battle-sworn little brother and some pirate with a bounty on his head.”

It was a rhetorical question, and both men knew.

“Because Sir Karl can stand to broaden his horizons beyond just the people of our realm and random adventurers he just so happens to stumble upon in the snow.” Otto replied, the stern look now casted upon Zufar. “And you need no explanation.”

The pirate chuckled and threw his hands up a little, as if to admit defeat.

“Enough chit-chat then. Find out what you can, and we regroup once the procession starts.” Karl responded with a nod, while Zufar responded with a dramatic bow. One of them was clearly enjoying this more than the other…

 

[Ulva Tal’deneshaar]

Ulva slipped through the curtains leading to the back-room moments after Esme, giving Mrs. Ivorty a gentle nod. "Good day Mrs. Ivorty." But it was Esme that she was focused on. "Everything alright, Majesty?" Her voice lowered as she came to sit beside her. One thing she'd already learned quickly while being in the presence of Esme, was that fact that she could mask her feelings better than anyone she knew. The look that had crossed her face earlier was one that Ulva knew, meant something was up. She also knew that if Esme wanted her to know, she would have told her and that she might be crossing a line in asking her that simple question.

It seemed Ulva would have to wait for any answers as Esme requested that Mrs. Ivorty start with Ulva's fitting instead of her own. Mrs. Ivorty was quick in taken hold of her hand and bringing her to step onto the pedestal. "Two?!" She turned to meet Esme's gaze and gave her that look and letting her lips curl into a smirk as she shook her head. Mrs. Ivorty took to finding the dresses as Esme's voice caused her to turn her head to look back at once more. "You'll need assistance getting into your gown, of that, I'm sure. Let me or Mrs. Ivorty know when you need help." Ulva watched Esme disappear behind another curtain before turning back around to face Mrs. Ivorty the dresses that lay upon her arms.

"They're both beautiful, Mrs. Ivorty. I'm positive you two work some kind of magic in making these fine gowns." Ulva pointed to the hunter green gown on her left arm. "I think I would like to try that one" The green would bring out the color of her eyes and that of her ginger hair, but most of all the color itself was stunning. The other was laid upon a nearby chair before Mrs. Ivorty, pulled up the one Ulva wanted to try on, she watched the full skirt of the dress unravel until it threatened to hit to ground. Within minutes the dress was being pulled up, arms reaching through the arm holes of the barely their sleeves. The button's at the back of the dress is what took the longest, per usual. Once done Ulva turned towards the large mirror in front of the pedestal.

The dress was of a material she was sure she'd never worn nor seen before, unfamiliar with it, she ran her fingers over its cool smoothness. The sleeves, if that's what you could call them, hung off her shoulders and rested on her upper arms. A slight v neck joined the outline of the lace overlay trim and small beads in the same color had been sewn in beautiful patterns throughout the bodice, dipping slightly down onto the full skirt. Ulva looked at herself in the mirror and felt unrecognizable, how a dress could make her feel that way was beyond her, but it did. Mrs. Ivorty stood off to the side with a wide smile. To her surprise, the dress fit her rather well. There were some spots that it could be taken in but she'd be happy to wear it as is. Ulva looked to the blue gown and then back to the hunter green upon her body and then to Mrs. Ivorty. "This is the one. I can take the other, as I'm sure it will be needed at some point.. Esme, do you need help?" Ulva called out as she stepped off the pedestal.

---

Esmeralda Sophia Le Roux

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat’s attention turned to the entourage that arrived, taking immediate notice of the Kaliti in their company. Zufar’s style of dress was a stark contrast to his companions, causing him to distinctly stand out among them. Uncommon a sight as it might have been, Azlat had witnessed such a grouping before. Both had been present among the party that invaded her city and claimed the lives of her kin. Karl’s plate armour carried similar style as that worn by one invader, though it was not quite the same. Zufar’s garb was clearly of the western desert connected to the false dragon who'd initiated the assault, a land known as Amol-Kalit.

Though their presence caused her tension, Azlat was not about to assume a kingdom guilty purely on the basis of appearances alone. Though geographically aware enough to recognize the general area to which their garb belonged, she had no knowledge of precisely which kingdoms those might be. Amol-Kalit held many cities built upon its sands, and there were likewise many kingdoms and fractured fiefdoms which all shared similar styles that Otto and Karl did.

Still. She had not ever before observed a kingdom of the east in assumed cooperation with a kingdom of the west. Azlat's assumption was false on both counts. There was no such alliance. Not when Thagretis had been attacked, and not before her here. Yet she remained paranoid, and while Azlat wasn’t about to make an unsupported accusation, neither could she allow such strong suspicions to continue unverified.

“Tho͠se ones. Wi҉th the Ka̶liti.” Azlat spoke to Arnor in a hushed tone. “Do you kn̷ow anything of the͡m?” She asked him. She wasn't sure if he knew, but the inquiry felt worthwhile to make. If they did carry connection to the barbarians who had carried out the attack upon Thagretis, she had to know.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

What things did Arnor know for certain?

Not much. In fact, how could even be sure that the monsters he read about in books were accurate? He stood there silently for a while, before pursing his lips and leaning down to speak to the foreign woman-

And got a good whiff of her... scent.

She smelt nice.

"I know they're well-to-do and have plenty of money I'm trying to fleece from them with severed monster's heads." He said, nudging Azlat lightly with his elbow, his immaculately dressed elbow, at that.

"They're foreign, as far as I know. Not from here- mercenaries, maybe dignitaries of some kind. Probably from out the Empire's foul way."

Azlat Ushus

 

[Nere Ashorn]

Startled, Nere looked at the garment - a pink thing that, while clearly lovingly crafted, was so overwrought with beadwork, embroidery, and feathers that it was difficult to tell what shape of dress lay underneath. If she put that gown on, she'd spend the whole evening shedding feathers like a molting hen. A smile spread across her face, just the right mix of hesitant but earnest.

"Well, I like the color..." she said, stalling for time. Nere's mind spun through a thousand scenarios as she chose her next words carefully ... she would need all her diplomatic skill for this!

Deftly, Nere put her hand on the man's arm, pushing the dress down with a gentle weight, so that she could look him in the eye past the feathers. "Victor, we've only just met, but I must be honest with you. I am certain that someone out there will look remarkable in this dress - I do not think that someone is me."

Esmeralda Sophia Le Roux Ulva Tal’deneshaar

 

[Esmeralda]

After Neres polite rejection of his design, Victors smile never faultered. He knew his some of his creations were rather extraordinary and appealed more to a certain type.
"No fret dear!" He placed the unwanted garment back in its place. For a moment the rather chatty man fell silent. His moustache twitching in thought. "I do remeber," he started up again, a pudgy finger wiggeling excitedly in the air, "You showing some interest in another piece of mine."
Victor pranced over to another row of gowns, he pulled out the same lush, velvet number Nere had felt when she first entered the tailors.
"Maybe this will be more to your liking?"

______________________________________

Esme did as much as she could to get into her own gown, eventually she had pulled into the garment all that needed to he down now was slightly tighter lacing of her corset beneath the material and the buttons of the gown.
Besides the closing of the dress everything else was perfect. The material was gold in colour and flowed like silk, gown would not be to tight but still seemed to hug her body until about mid theigh were it would spread outward subtly. The sleaves would from a cape-like effect with leather detailing on the shoulder to mock armour. Esmerelda had always been and always would be a warrior queen and she was always certain to incorporate leather into garment for an important event, representing her linage and lifestyle of not only herself, but her people.
Esmerelda was in awe, she snapped out of her daze by her lady-in-waitings voice.
"I require some help with the closing of my dress please." She said over her shoulder.
When Ulva pulled back the curtain, Esme turned to look at her, her deep blue eyes wide at the sight of her lady.
"Ulva," Esmerelda took her had softly. "You look beautiful. "
She offered up a soft smile then took a step back to properly examine her ladies gown.
"We will have to have it taken in here and there but that will be done before this evening, I'll send a servent to fetch your gown in the afternoon."
Esme turned her back now to her lady so she could fasten her dress.

Nere Ashorn
Ulva Tal’deneshaar

 

[Karl von Stehlen]

The group had been too far to really hear much of what was being spoken elsewhere in the gather ground. Instead, it seemed that all but the armored man continued to engage in some sort of conversation, a banter that was quickly drowned out by the voices all around them.

After a short period of speaking, the armored knight's two companions were quick dispersed into the crowed, their distinctive looks melting into the colors of dignitaries and officials alike. The only one left standing in place was the armored knight, a blank expression plastered on his face as he starred idly towards where the queen was suppose to appear.

Compared to his two compatriots, it was clear that this knight was no social butterfly. But then again, perhaps a man of such professional would be a tad bit more honest with any passerby's then his other two compatriots...

 

[Azlat Ushus]

She posed the question to Arnor, and the hesitation he gave seemed a sign that he didn’t know what kingdom they were, either. Yet he had a response that was beyond a simple admission of such, and once he leaned in he inhaled before speaking it.

Wait, did he just smell her hair? Azlat promptly took a discomforted step back, turning her gaze to briefly glance towards the group – partly for surveillance, and partly to break from the unexpected intrusion. Still, Arnor did know something, which objectively was more wisdom that she carried at the moment.

"I know they're well-to-do and have plenty of money I'm trying to fleece from them with severed monster's heads." He replied, proudly referring to his successful hunts in announcing that he was here to hawk trophies to the local wealthy nobility. Probably a fair source of coin. Well, he might know more, and Azlat was left wondering for only a moment.

"They're foreign, as far as I know. Not from here- mercenaries, maybe dignitaries of some kind. Probably from out the Empire's foul way." Arnor added. Mercenaries might explain their attackers, who were of a varied sort. The pretender was of Amol-Kalit, but the others were rather varied in their garb and species. Azlat had imagined an alliance of kingdoms to be responsible, but a mercenary outfit was a sound hypothesis too. He did state that they were likely not of the Empire, but he gave no specification of which empire that was. Probably the same one everyone referred to simply as The Empire, in that gods-forsaken desert where false dragons receive worship.

She might have asked about it, but there were matters far more pressing on her mind. The presence of the Kaliti had sparked her suspicion, and the gathering he was part of held Azlat’s continued attention. She took care not to be caught looking right at them, but she did keep them in view out of the corner of her careful eye, until the group broke and parted ways to leave the knight alone on the floor. He stood there awkwardly, with none to converse with.

“Pardon me, but I must i͢nquire.” Azlat spoke, before approaching Karl standing apparently lonesome by himself. Azlat needed to know more, and this seemed to be her chance to sate her burning curiosity. Having eschewed her priestly attire for a more northern style of dress, only her draconic eyes were a hint to her lineage, and that alone was hardly enough to confirm it. It was unlikely that they’d know unless she was forthright when asked.

Which she would be. She'd not deny her origins, and should that cost her her life she would gladly wager it to have confirmation of whom Thagretis ought direct their retributive wrath upon. If they were of whatever kingdom or alliance that had attacked two years prior, they were sure to recognize the name.

Which they weren't.

Azlat coughed a couple of times to ensure she had enough draconic phlegm in her throat to fuel a bust of phlegm fire, should introductions turn hostile. She would take as many with her as she could, if she had to.

“Gree͜tings to you, I don't bel̶ieve we've met.” Azlat said, her expression formal yet friendly as she spoke.

“I am Azlat Ushus, diplomat and priestess of Thagr͠etis.” She added, ensuring she spoke her introduction clearly. She wanted there to be no mistake were he among enemies, and her attention remained on his reaction for any sign of it.

She'd not make any hostile motion without such confirmation.

She needed to be sure.

Karl von Stehlen

 

[Karl von Stehlen]

Karl said nothing as he continued to look on, shifting a hand onto one of his sheathed blades. Curiously enough, the knight seemed to carry two longswords on his hip, both of which were strapped to the same side.

Yet regardless of weapons, the knight didn't so much as react until Azlat came into view, causing the knight to glance towards the women. Outwardly, Karl maintained a neutral expression as he listened to the lady introduce herself. But internally, there was a brief moment of trepidation that barreled through his head, as Karl attempted to remember the order to which he was suppose to present his titles at an event such as this.

"Karl von Stehlen..." The knight began, still thinking about his titles like he was thinking about which foot to put before the other. "...of House Stehl, Baron of the Stehl estate, and Stahlspitze of the Iron Cross Order."

Was he missing anything? Did he do it backwards? Did it even matter? It was the few questions Karl asked himself as he watched his counterpart, watching her face for any confusion that he might have missed anything in his initial presentation. Perhaps he was so concerned with his titles, that he was much thinking about why this stranger had just come up to speak to him...

Azlat Ushus

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat remained stoic and still as she awaited Karl's reply, ever perceptive to his reaction. Karl was hesitant to reply, but he did not display fear nor did he signal to the companions who had recently left. Nervousness, perhaps, but she sensed no shock in his response. It seemed unlikely that the knight had even heard of Thagretis, much less been party to the attack upon it.

He paused again, but only to continue with his titles in adherence to noble etiquette. Possibly a ruse, but the awkward hesitation made deception seem utterly unlikely. He didn't speak with the confidence a manipulator might, seeming more a warrior than a speaker. Despite the anxious worry that she formerly had, there was nothing about him to validate it.

By the time that Azlat had finished her contemplation, Karl had spent a fretful moment over his own delivery of her introduction. She'd really just meant to discover if he was a foe, not that she could tell him that. He clearly wasn't.

“The Iron Cro̧ss Order? Forg̡ive me, but I'm n͠ot fam͜iliar. I've not be͞en in these lands l͢ong, you see. Tha̷gretis is qu͠ite far away.” Azlat replied, hopefully creating a plausible alibi for her own hesitation through the admission of ignorance. It might seem more likely that she'd been searching for answers, rather than investigating potential hostility.

Her geographic ignorance could certainly use the wisdom such an inquiry might bring.

Karl von Stehlen

 

[Karl von Stehlen]

Thagretis, it wasn't a word that Karl was a familiar with. Even thinking over everything he had heard of traveling outside of the realm, never had the knight ever encounter the topic of such a land. Such a question was better assigned to more worldly men, such as his brother or Zufar. Of course, it was just Karl's luck that neither of them were in earshot, or else he might have called them over to talk with this dignitary. Both of them were far better at forming connections then the walking suit of armor.

"Ah, I suppose we are a relatively isolated order in comparison to some others in the world." The knight gave a nod with a neutral expression, his tone hardly deviating from a steady monotone. "I too am not from these lands myself, as I hail from the Strojland Confederation, located on the Southern coast and West of great city of Alliria."

Thinking on the interactions he's had in the past with people outside of the realm, it was little surprise that not many people really have heard of the order he belonged too. After all, they Order of the Iron Cross's main charge was to protect and strengthen the Confederation, sorting out more internal maters then external. As such, they didn't really parade themselves around the world like some others did...

"Knights of my order generally don't stray too far from our realm. I myself am only here to protect the leader of our Confederation." Using the topic as an excuse, Karl turned his eyes to wear Otto had disappeared, attempting to find his brother. "He also happens to be my elder brother."

Azlat Ushus

 

[Azlat Ushus]

“Oh, we a̶re quite isolated, too. An oc͠ean away from Lia͡dain and Epressa.” Azlat responded, wearing a cordial smile with her posture relaxed. She'd never heard of the Strojland Confederation, but Alliria was among the few northern cities she knew of, given its prominence. By Karl's own admission, the Confederation was far more secluded, Unlike Malakath, the northern continents were rife with human settlement and civilization of all sorts imaginable. She could only wonder how many more obscure settlements remained hidden away.

"Knights of my order generally don't stray too far from our realm. I myself am only here to protect the leader of our Confederation." Karl replied. It was certainly unheard of for Thagretan clergy to roam Arethil, but the discoveries made in recent years were entirely unexpected. New threats had bared their fangs, and the portal stone had activated to allow access to these unknown lands from whence the invaders dwelt.

“We've had neither ne͡ed nor mea͜ns to tra͞vel far from the c͟ity until rec͡ently, ourselves.” She said, as he temporarily averted his attention elsewhere, and the paranoia so recently quelled sparked anew. But his demeanour had given no hint of treachery, and his response not only confirmed it, but cemented the hospitality with which they must have arrived.

"He also happens to be my elder brother." Karl added, and Azlat looked over to where he had to spot Otto among the crowd. Leadership was more relevant to converse with, and she had a sense the knight wasn't much for conversation. Which was fortunate, as Azlat arrived with little actual business to discuss, beyond an assessment of motives. Otto on the other hand was a person she ought speak with. He was head of an unknown kingdom, and the contact could serve useful for diplomacy and trade.

“I see. Well, th͜ank you, sir kn͝ight. I shall go make d̸iplomatic introduc͟tions, pl͠ease pardon me.” Azlat replied, dismissing herself through the noble's etiquette she knew. She was still getting a grasp of northern formalities, she'd hoped that was accurate and tactful. Though the knight seemed hardly likely to chastise her were it not.

Once departed from Karl, Azlat walked over the floor directly towards Otto at a slow and mindful pace. She knew enough to understand that it was best to make herself obvious when approaching a leader, for they may have particularities or suspicions as well. That hardly seemed the case, as Azlat had been directed towards holding audience with them, but she'd dare not risk a flub when diplomacy demanded proper etiquette.

“Greetings, your brother's dire̡cted me to your compa͞ny. Azlat Ushus, of the same house, and representative of Thagretis. A plea͜sure to meet you.” Azlat politely introduced herself, and awaited Otto's response.

Otto von Stehlen

 

[Otto von Stehlen]

Karl had continued to listen as the women spoke of her own nation, getting a clearer picture of why Karl hadn't heard of the place to begin with. It was a slight surprise when the women decided to seek out his brother, though Karl didn't do much to stop her. As Azlat departed, Karl gave a respectful bow, as customary when it came engaging in farewell. The women technically did hold a higher station then himself, after all...

Meanwhile, the Arch-Count seemed to have engaged in some manner of conversation among a circle of dignitaries that had formed during the anticipation of the Queen's arrival. Apparently, there had some level of speculation as what kinds of trade policies the Queen might enact. Everything, from tariffs to embargos were being floated, though no one seemed too sure until there was a formal announcement from the crown.

For someone who had been watching, it was easy to spot Otto in his yellow and black. But what gave him away above all else was the expression on his face; it was the near exact same indifferent expression that Karl had wore when had spoken to the lady, the only difference was that Otto's expression was far more intense then his brothers.

When Azlat did approach, Otto didn't seem to react. Was it because he was enamored with the conversation? Or was he simply ignorant? Or perhaps he already noticed, and choose not to pay much mind. Compared to his younger brother, this Otto character was harder to read even from the outset, as his expression remained the same regardless of the topic.

It wasn't until Azlat spoke did Otto turn his head slightly, merely glancing at the women as she spoke. When her introduction was finished, Otto turned to the dignitary next to him to utter a few words to the dignitary beside him. The man would then before give a small nod to the rest of the group before excusing himself from the conversation, stepping aside in order to better address the women.

"The pleasure is mine. Did you say my brother sent you here?" On the mention of his brother, Otto turned his gaze to the side, looking in the direction of where he had left his brother. "I suppose if he was the one that directed you my way, then he likely hadn't properly introduced me."

Was Otto upset? Disappointed? Or indifferent? It was hard to tell what the man was thinking at any given time, considering his expression seemed was as stock as an iron mask and his tone hardly fluctuated despite the words he spoke. Whatever it was, at least in the moment, it had something to do with Karl.

"Otto von Stehlen, Arch-Count of the Strojland Confederacy and leader of the Iron Alliance." Unlike Karl, who had been very particular in how he formally introduced himself, Otto was far more curt and to the point with his introduction. The Arch-Count didn't seem to dwell on formalities all that much, at least not in their current settings, which might have been odd to some given what Karl had said about his position of power...

"Did you say your the dignitary from Thagretis?" Otto without missing much of a step, Otto changed the subject, his gaze already returning to the women. "Forgive me if I am unfamiliar with where you are from, Lady Ushus, but it seems that your people have largely been a big mystery to the rest of us on the continent. Thus far I've only had rumors, none of which I could substantiate ...but perhaps you could enlighten me on of nation you hail from...as we may yet to have common cause between our banners... "

Azlat Ushus

 

[Azlat Ushus]

He gave little reaction as Azlat made her way over, though her approach ought be easily noticed enough. The lack of response hardly deterred her, she merely intended to be deliberate in her actions. She was well aware that she knew little of northern ways, and there may be further etiquette that evaded her awareness. Perhaps it was not his way to be the first to address another, or perhaps he was too preoccupied with his thoughts. Whatever the reason, she figured she'd exercised due enough caution. Only when she spoke to address him did Otto turn his attention to her.

"I suppose if he was the one that directed you my way, then he likely hadn't properly introduced me."

Well, the assumption was quite true – Karl hadn't. Azlat didn't even know Otto's title until he gave her his quick noble's introduction. Though brief, the tone and confidence in which he spoke was fittingly formal, signalling that there must be cause for him to highlight his own brother's shortcomings so curtly. She concealed her amusement at his condescension towards his sibling, maintaining a polite expression and posture while he continued.

He gave his introduction with much more deliberateness than Karl did, and from his continued response it was clear that he was the more social of the two.l. That he spoke of what he did know as rumours and hearsay seemed for the best. She knew little of how other kingdoms might truly regard Thagretis, but given that the first they encountered attempted to raid the city Azlat did not imagine her kind were regarded in fair light.

Among the matters of business that Otto made mention of was the commonality of banner, a reminder still that there were far more kingdoms than she had imagined within the long lost continents. Little unity seemed to exist among them, with a complex network of alliances and rivalries chief determinant of political posturing. Distrustful as she was, Azlat understood that they could not forge ahead in this new world exposed to them without alliances and partnerships. Route had served a valuable one to forge, thus far.

There may be cause for his suggestion. Those who had invaded her city might be an enemy common to both, though she was not yet aware of whom precisely this target of retribution was. All she knew was that the false dragon had his army in the western desert, but she knew neither their name nor exactly whom they were. Much like any land in the north, the western desert held many diverging factions in conflict with one another in some way, shape or form. Arnor had mentioned The Empire, and had Azlat remained to question him she might have received her answer.

Still, best to be cautious. She neither knew who her enemies were, nor where Otto's alliances might lie. He'd heard rumours, which made it unlikely he was entirely uninformed on the experienced hostilities. Perhaps what hearsay he'd heard held hint of their attacker's identity.

“That I am, and q͞uite unde͡rstandable. It's barely b͢een a year since conn͞ection was made between our lands.” She added, considering her introduction carefully. “I am further a pr͜iestess of the Draconic Order. We are an ind̸ependent the͠ocracy, self suffic͢ient and the main bastion of hu͟man settlement on the continent.” She added. Well, there was Thanasis, though the Thagretan priestess hardly had kind words for the place. Perhaps it was strange to not state that outright, but for most of the northerners priests and rulers were separate entities. In Thagretis, it was the priests whom held the power, with High Priests attaining their position by vote. Unlike the northern clerics, Azlat held power, and it simply seemed more sensible to introduce herself as an agent of authority on their behalf, rather than explain the intricacies that differentiated them. But since Otto asked, Azlat was happy to share the answer.

“The es̶tablishment of ties, sharing of scr͜ipture and the discovery of knowle͠dge are among the matters that compell͠ed me here. We have much to learn ourselves, and the͡re is much to your l͡ands to be covered. I'd never im͡agined it would be so compar͜atively dense with st͞ates and kingdoms.” Azlat continued, before making a cautious hint at the attack they'd faced. Perhaps Otto had heard of it, if he'd heard of them.

“Some of whom are am͠icable, and some wh̸om act with unpr͞ovoked aggr͝ession.” She concluded, though she concealed her bitterness beneath her stoic veneer. It would be untactful to display it, it seemed. The notion was certainly reinforced by the tone Otto and his brother carried. In the northern lands, it seemed sensible to do as the northerners do.

Otto von Stehlen

 

[Esmeralda]

The arrival of the Queen was nearing closer, thus certain members of her council had began intergrating and conversing with her majesties guests, inviting a handful to follow servents into the castle - they had been of the few who recived an invitation to stay within its walls this evening.
In the midsts of the coucil arriving, another figure however hovered close buy, surveying the guests. His attire made him seem out of place, a long dark cloak and matching robes covered his body and a low hood hung over his face. But now he needed a better view, it was his task alone to find her, welcome her and convey Her Majesties message.
Messande Suprium, the royal mage and trusted confidant of the Queen, put down his hood, revealing undeniable facial features of a Routen Warrior. His entire face had been scarred with black, traditional markings. From the top of his forehead right down to the nape of his kneck.

Finally he spotted her, the priestess. He stared at her with intent, waiting patiently for her to look over during her conversation and when she would - if she saw it quickly enough, she would see his markings flash a quick, dark red before he would move off to a seculded archway, waiting for her to follow.

 

[Ulva Tal’deneshaar]

Fingers fumbled for the skirts of the gown, bundling it within her hands and lifted, careful to not to step on the fine fabric. "Coming!" She called out to Esme. Bare feet padded across the floor towards the other room Esme was occupying. Pulling the curtain back slowly, Ulva was in awe at the sight of the golden gown and how it seemed to hug her softly in all the right places even prior to fastening it up. All eyes would, no doubt, be on the Queen tonight.

"Who me?!" Ulva joked. "The true beauty is standing before me; you will be one hell of a sight tonight, as you should be" Ulva said while turning this way and that, letting Esme examine her gown. “Thank you Esme, truly.. I didn’t expect this at all, you know me, I would have been content in wearing what I already had.” She laughed as Esme turned, one by one each button was fastened. “There, turn and let's have a look!”

---

Esmeralda Sophia Le Roux

 

[Azlat Ushus]

In her conversation with Otto, Azlat noticed another. It hardly took long for her to do so, as she’d become ever observant since the sudden and traumatizing loss she’d suffered in Thagretis. Whatever sense of safety she’d formerly felt within secure city walls had since faded, and no matter where her direction might be directed there was a portion permanently reserved for danger’s detection. She’d not allow herself to be caught off guard again.

She caught the stare of the unknown warrior directed upon her, though it was clear that he didn’t gawk as the others had. Further, the markings adorning his face briefly emit a dull red flash, as if to make if more clear that he was seeking her specific attention, albeit with subtlety. She was well aware it ought go unnoticed by the others, and knew she’d have to excuse herself without drawing attention to him. But how? The excuse would need to be sufficient to draw her away, yet could not arouse suspicion. Given their talks and the assumed unawareness of Thagretan customs, a letter pertaining to diplomacy seemed suitable reasoning.

“Please pa̢̫rdon me, I’ll retu͜rn with a letter as proof of our meeting. It will est͠ablish you as friends, sho͜uld you meet others of our order.” She stated, though the implication that this was routine was a complete fabrication. It was not a part of their process. Alone for so many centuries, the Thagretans simply didn’t have one. The only other city around to have diplomacy with was Thanasis, and that city of heathens was better off burnt to the ground.

“I shall see that it finds its wa̸y to you, should mątters pull you away bef̵ore I am able.” Azlat added, pardoning herself and slipping away towards the one who had signalled for her attention.

She had little clue what he might want, and remained curious as she approached him. The glance she returned was a silent sign that she’d understood his signal, and was now arriving to hear the content of the message meant for her. Slipping through the crowd and ducking beneath the archway, the messenger was met with curious draconian eyes in wait for the news he implied he had.

Esmeralda Sophia Le Roux

 

[NPC's]

"Thank you for joining me Priestess." Messande spoke once she was close enough, his voice low and gruff.
"I am approaching you on behalf of my queen," he followed his sentence with a quick glance to the sky and ran the tip of his thumb nail across his forehead. He now looked back into her eyes, how strange he had found them - Her Majesties description was accurate but never described the true essence behind them.
"My name is Messande Seprium, to the majority I am simply the royal mage... but my duties stretch much further."
He looked past her now at the surrounding guests, making certain no one else was lurking close by.
"I was asked to deliver this letter to you personally," Messande handed Azlut a piece of parchment, wrapped in old twine.
"I apologize for the appearance, but it was needed. If you accept I am certain you will be able to let me know in a way of your own." He gave her a knowing look before placing his hood on once again and walking away from their meeting place.

Azlat Ushus

 

[Esmeralda]

. “There, turn and lets have a look!”

"Well aren't you perfect for my ego," Esme winked and let out a small giggle as she turned in her gown.
In the background the town bell chimed it hourly chime. The royals eyes swapped between the pair of women in the room. "Ulva we must go. Mrs Ivorty, I can trust you will have our gowns sent to my rooms within the hour?"
As Esme spoke picked up her thick, fur coat and clasped it on. "Our carriage will be outside already." Esme shot Ulva a quick, thin look. There was more that needed to be discussed but only once the company was fewer.

When the pair were eventally on their own on the carraige, guards on either side astride horses as normal, Esmerelda spoke again.
"Firstly I must give you a warning about this evening Ulva." Her tone serious and stern. "Becareful who you trust and do your best to avoid those of my bloodline," Esme looked directly infront of her the entire time, not once meeting her ladies eyes.
"Thats if they dare to show," She cleared her throat. "Besides our guests, who I am certain fall into an array of catagories - many of the nobels between my region and what was once yours wish to know what happened between your brother and I - This evening I shall also be recieving my markings, whilst it is a normal traditon here I would just like to prepare you before hand, I am not certain if you have witnessed a similar ceremony before."

Whilst Esme seemed talkative for now, she was no were near in the mood. The only justafiable reason for any words leaving her mouth now was to ensure Ulva was not left entirely in the dark. Fortuntly they were not far from one of the servants entances they would be using to get into the castle to avoid attention. Once reaching the entrance Esmerelda was handed a ratty, folded piece of parchment by a servent girl.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

An hour and half had passed and the sun was setting when eventually the ballroom doors opened and guests were welcomed in.
Whilst the cold air seemed unwelcoming outside, the atmosphere of the interior was quite different.

Around ten fires had been strategically lit in their holding around the ballroom, whilst the marble floors hinted towards the fast approaching snowy weather, the decal consisted of soft, summer tones.
The guest began fluttering in and the musicians started up almost immedietly. Time for the festivities to begin...

Ulva Tal’deneshaar Nere Ashorn Otto von Geist Karl von Stehlen Arnor Skuldsson Zufar el Hassan

 

[Azlat Ushus]

“But of co̸urse, I app͠roached as soon as I tơok notice. I gat̵her that the ma͡tter mu̢st be important.” Azlat replied, keeping her tone hushed to remain unheard among the masses milling about. She needed little hint that it must be so. The need to covertly deliver news had been evidence enough, and the messenger held her full attention as he spoke.

He announced that he had been bid to speak to her by Queen Esme herself, and Azlat returned a knowing nod, her own draconic eyes sifting as his did, to ensure none were listening in. She wasn’t aware of any motivation they would have to, but if Messande took care to avoid discover, Azlat did not doubt that the aversion was necessary. None she saw seemed to be paying them much mind, and neither had Messande discovered any eavesdroppers.

"I was asked to deliver this letter to you personally," Messande announced, once content that no spies gave them notice. Azlat carefully took the offered letter, holding it with both her hands while wondering what message was contained within. "I apologize for the appearance, but it was needed. If you accept I am certain you will be able to let me know in a way of your own." He continued.

“Quite u͝nderstandable; and I sh͝all.” She responded, still unaware of what business might be prompted by the message. Messande took his leave from her with a look that silently confirmed understanding, and Azlat departed too with the letter tucked in her hand and beneath her arm. It was clearly not the sort of document she could read out in the open, and she took a brief leave from the ball to return to her quarters within the castle.

Stepping inside, Azlat gently tossed the door shut beside her before undoing the twine that had been tied around the letter in a knot. After unfolding the letter, she read it carefully beneath the light of a candle upon a shelf. The request detailed within took her by surprise. She hadn't expected to fulfill it today, though she was suitably prepared and quite ambitious to do so. For the best that she was within her quarters where she'd be able to gather what she needed.

Her next moments were spent doing precisely that.

 

[Nere Ashorn]

Nere knew she had narrowly missed a diplomatic embarrassment with that pink dress, but then why did she feel so bad about it? Perhaps it was the look in the tailor's eyes, his smile that kept beaming even after her rejection, never missing a beat. Her mind spun rapidly as he pulled out another dress for her.

"Wait, Victor!" Nere said suddenly, blurting the words out before she could think properly through it. "Let me try it on first... the other dress, I mean..."

---

Some hours later...

Nere entered the ballroom in a flurry of pink glory, long silk skirts trailing behind her. From a distance, she looked like a bouquet of flowers, the feathers on her sleeves delicately embroidered in swirling rosettes. The motif was echoed in the beadwork across the rest of the dress, envoking such a variety of texture that weaker souls might find their senses overwhelmed. It was an article clearly created by a master of his art, thoughtfully designed and painstakingly stitched together.

It was also absurd.

The bodice was tight on her, even after a few last-minute alterations. Nere filled out the top perhaps too well, and each breath that she made could be seen through the sparkling beadwork, threatening to pop the side seams. But, well, she was wearing a fancy dress like a lady ought to, and made by a Routen tailor that the queen herself had commissioned from - so what did she have to be afraid of?

The only child of her two parents, Nere had been raised like both a daughter and a son. She was not enough of a daughter to have much aesthetic sense, and she was not enough of a son to feel awkward in a dress. It was probably this brash obliviousness that let her hold her head up high as she walked deeper into the party.

And what a party it was!

Nere was familiar with the concept of indoor celebrations, but even the richest estates in the bayou were nothing like this. The marble floors and pillars were softened by yards of fabric and plush carpets. Just one of those tapestries on the walls must have cost the same as her ship's upkeep for the whole season.

Nere spotted a piano in one of the alcoves of the ballroom, and gravitated towards it. She ran her fingers over the mahogany keys, thinking back to the piano in her family's home. Theirs was considerably smaller, and less polished. She looked around, but there didn't seem to be any musicians nearby - could it be that this beautiful old thing was merely for display?

Fancy that, to have enough instruments in your home that some never need to be played.

Gathering up her dress, Nere scooted onto the bench and laid her fingers on the keys. If she played quietly enough, she shouldn't disturb any of the other guests...

Nere started tapping out a jaunty tune of Garramarisman make. The feathers on her sleeves bounced cheerfully as her fingers warmed up and played at dancing speed. Something was missing, though. The song was meant to be accompanied by a fiddler, and she felt the absence of the string's timbre even as she carried onward with the song.

 

[Ulva Tal’deneshaar]

The tolling of the bell took not only her attention but Esme’s too; it seemed, as she caught her sweeping her eyes from her to Mr. Ivorty. Was it really that time already?! It didn’t take either of them long to change out of their gowns and back into the clothing they’d arrived in before quickly heading for the carriage just outside the shop.

The look Esme had given her hadn’t gone unnoticed, Ulva knew better than to question it until they were in the carriage and given some sort of privacy. The look alone told her there was more to tonight then she first thought, which she should have assumed as much.

Concern laced its way into her normally calm demeanor, allowing Esme to get out everything she wished to share with her before letting her own words spill out. “Firstly, I trust no one but you at this point, Esme. I know no one else here well enough to put any type of credence into what they have to say. Secondly, there will be nothing regarding my brother that will be spoken of by me. All questions regarding you two will fall on deaf ears and will simply go ignored..”

Ulva didn’t care for how Esme looked at the moment, it was too.. Well, it was worrisome. “Lastly, thank you for the heads up about your markings tonight. I look forward to being a witness to such an important step in your life..” She left it at that and said nothing more in regards to everything that had been exchanged between them on their way back to the Castle.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t often, if at all, that she found herself standing in front of a mirror unsure if she was looking at herself or someone else? It wasn’t just the dress that made her look so different, it was a number of things. From the way her hair had been done, having left it all down and in soft waves of ginger that complimented the dark green of the dress, instead of her usual braid or partially pinned up. To the small emerald that hung at the hollow of her throat and strung on a small silver chain. The deep red of her lips and the kohl that lined her eyes.

Sucking in a, much needed, deep breath before moving away from the mirror and no sooner finding her way out her door. The click clack of her heels echoed through the hall as she moved directly towards Esme’s. Hoping she hadn’t taken too long on herself to help Esme prepare as well..Stopping just in front of the Queen's quarters and giving a good solid few knocks “It’s me, let’s finish getting you ready!” Ulva sang out as she opened the doors.

---

Esmeralda Sophia Le Roux

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

Gwynnestri Ravaneiros bent low over her rohk, the wind billowing both her hair and her robe. Even though she was surrounded by guards, she felt more free in the sky with her soul sister beneath her than she did in a stuffy council room discussing politics with old men. That was partially why she had been eager to come to this ball after having received an invitation- Queen Esmeralda was likely to be one of the few women in power- Gwynnestri knew there were some power-hungry uncles in play. As far as she was aware, Gwynnestri would be the only other royal in attendance. There were rooms awaiting her, and her maids would be there as well, since they had come in advance.

The Sky Elf entourage touched down in a secluded glen near the castle, the Great Eagles ruffling their feathers after the long flight. It was nearing dusk, and Gwynn worried they would be late. Her guards wanted to speed things along as well, but for different reasons. Within minutes, Gwynn was hustled into the castle and down various halls and up various staircases until she reached her chambers. The architecture and decoration of the castle was beautiful, and Gwynn made a note to compliment her hostess when she saw her.

Tonight Gwynnestri was wearing a traditional Sky Elven dress of ivory tulle and lace. The off-the-shoulder neckline exposed Gwynn's smooth and graceful neck and shoulders, her pale skin just darker than the fabric of the dress. Her white-blonde locks were pulled back loosely from her face, revealing her pointed ears. With rouge on her cheeks and gray kohl lining her eyes, she was ready to make her appearance.

She was late, like she had worried, but it seemed like there were still people arriving. When there was a larger crowd, she waited outside a pair of doors. "Presenting Her Royal Highness, the crown princess of the Sky Elves, Gwynnestri Ravaneiros," While dramatic, her guards and her staff had deemed it "necessary" for her to be introduced to politcal balls such as these. While not her first, she definitely hadn't been to many.

Voices hushed, dresses swished, and eyes bore into her like needles as nearly everyone turned their head. Once they had stared enough to satisfy themselves, they turned amongst themselves once more, the noise crescendoing again. Gwynn took a slow, deep breath as she scanned the crowd. Time to mingle.

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat quickly changed clothes for the ceremonial occasion, covering her green dress with black Thagretan robes for delivery of her sermon. Applying her face paint took a few moments more, done with care while she scrutinized her ongoing handiwork in a mirror. As she continued to prepare herself, her nine year old son Eklos made his return to the quarters.

“Eklos?” Azlat called out from her chambers.

“Mom! I didn’t know you were back already.”

“Why, what tr͝ouble were you about to get up to?” Azlat remarked, continuing to apply face paint and concealing her sun-tanned skin beneath a layer of light grey.

“…Nothing!” Eklos protested. “Why do you think that?” He added, eliciting a smirk from his mother that he could not see from beyond the door.

“Uh-huh.”

“I just brought my stuff back 'cause Darrek had to go.” Eklos added sheepishly before he caught a good view of his mother in full ceremonial regalia. Darrek was a child he’d become friends with, and Azlat was relieved that he had made one so soon. That still didn’t stop her from playfully teasing her son on occasion, though. A perk of parenthood she’d not deny herself.

“Mhmmmm...” Azlat teased as she made her way out of the bedroom, to the dining room where Eklos had seated himself.

“Reall, I- ...I didn’t know we had services today. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Becau͡se you were busy getting in trouble with Darrek, sweetie.”

“MOM!” Eklos protested, louder and with more exasperation than before.

“Oh, I tea͢se. You always respond so seriously.” Azlat told him lightly, all while a pout remained on his face.

“Well, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know eit͟her until just now. It was a surprise request from the Queen.”

“…Can I help?” Eklos asked. Azlat hadn’t planned on it, but since he was already here and asking, she happily accepted. That he had offered without being prompted elated her, and the smile she wore was telling of it.

“Of course! That’s so d́utiful – I’m proud and happy you offered!” She replied warmly, and her son Eklos was beaming, too.

“Go g͠et your vestments and get ready. We’ve only a few moments to prepare, so be quick dear.” She spoke, and Eklos zipped away in a flash to change into his finest clothes for the ceremony. When the time came, Azlat made her way back to the ballroom with her youngest following beside her.

 

[Esmeralda]

The return to her chambers were swift and smooth. In mere minutes two hand maidens had entered, one doing her hair and the other applying rouge.
They finished just in time for Ulvas arrival.
"Thank you." That simple sentance was the maids signal for departure and they swiftly left, each bowing their head to Ulva as they did so.
"My lady."
"My lady."
And the pair shut the doors behind them.

"It looks horrible doesnt it?" Esme turned from her reflection in the mirror to face Ulva, a disappointed yet comical look on her face - and rightly so.
Esmerelda's hair looked as if two doves had made a nest in it then experienced some form of domestic violence.
She took another look at herself and burst out into laughter.
"Thank goodness I'm the Queen," She brushed away a tear of laughter. "it means I'm never late." She joked.

Ulva Tal’deneshaar