Michelle
*Astalios's worries about the lack of subtlety shown by the chieftain were deep indeed. Even showing a hidden message to him could lead to disaster if the man decided to speak aloud about it. He wondered how the man became chieftain if he did not remember the importance of keeping his back covered and mouth shut in case of spying - but then again, the chieftaincy of Dazvaz was not a political position, he supposed. It was won by blood and combat, by killing the previous chieftain and imposing your rule. 

As far as this chieftain's succession, it seemed he had done the first, but not quite the second, if he needed allies to control his own territory. Though it seemed he had a noble goal, which was a new experience for the Iron Prince, there was a long way to go before he could be considered a conscious leader of the country, and versed in cutthroat politics. 

Of course, Astalios's own education in that particular area was lacking. He did not know much what to say, but at least he knew what to hold back - thinking of it in battlefield terms, revealing your strategy to your opponent was never a good move if you wanted a clean victory. Every statement in a ballroom was like a series of orders and troop repositioning - arranging the pieces on the board to give the best possible advantage should the other make a move. 

On that count, Umras lacked, and Astalios worried. But as another noblewoman was announced, the gears in his mind clicked into motion - his own Grand Mistress of Magic was sure to be seen as more of a usual conversational partner, while Umras was a strange one - and if he left quickly after the armor was changed, it could still be construed as a threat in the minds of watchers. 

As the elf stepped in, his gaze left the dragonborn in front of him to trace its way along the room and towards the ballroom doors as the Grand-Mistress made her entrance. She seemed star-struck, the gems and decorations reflecting a shine into her eyes.*

_ _
*Good. That made the premise of the excuse a great deal more believable in the eyes of the public, as if he was guiding a minister of his towards their destination instead of fraternizing with an enemy. As he studied her slightly more, eyes catching details in the shape of her face and magic washing over her to reveal no metal on her at all, her name and her face came into harmony as he reconciled the new Caleesi Scarleth with the old, the studious girl he had attended a few functions and seen around. Blonde hair, an angular face... But it was similar enough to be truthful, the same features matured into adulthood.

Perhaps they both had changed beyond instant recognition. He was no longer a smiling boy of some energy, but a grim commander of battle-tested armies, campaigning for half his life, nearing thirty. He had become a man in the field, and she had become a woman at home, now the High Lady, a noblewoman whose family had died unfortunately, and whose husband had followed her.

Time had its hands in everything.

It had to be done quickly. Astalios lowered his cup from his mouth, his eyes returning to Umras, and gave a sharp nod and a stern glare, as if he were being short with the man, and let loose a clipped sentence.* "Excuse me. Enjoy the party." 

*His stride away was quick and purposeful, no effort wasted, every movement with power. But as he turned, letters flashed in raised patterns on his armor, the metal rippling into rapid-fire impressions of the same signals he had used to warn Umras of his misstep. They trailed from his gauntlet up his bracers, to his pauldrons, and finally, to write across his back in the points nearest Umras, one letter after the other, a few words of advice.

M - O - U - T - H S - H - U - T G - O - O - D L - U - C - K.

It was a gesture of good will, he hoped, that would be received well by Umras as he made his way away from the Dragonborn, and towards the elf that had provided his chance at escape.*

_ _
*As Astalios's steps carried him further towards Caleesi, he found himself hoping that the dragonborn knew he wished him no ill will, but wondering what the grand Mistress thought of the ballroom. It seemed to be catching her attention, which was at least a way to start a conversation. He strode towards her purposefully stopped before her, and gave a small nod of the head.

He wondered if she remembered the boy he had been, and whether that colored her idea of him now.*

"Grand Mistress." *He greeted her, unsmiling as per usual, but speaking with respect to a member of his father's council. One had to treat officials well for them to remain loyal.* "Welcome to the ball. I trust you are enjoying the architecture of Findara Castle?" *Again, the thought nagged at him that the forest was too close to the walls - that with a siege imminent, it could be exploited, but he batted it away like a fly on a horse's back.*
Margaret
*Umras stood in mock terror, his eyes immediately glazing over. OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD. Subtlety was absolutely not his strong-suit. He wasn't even entirely sure why he had just blurted his proposal out. Perhaps it was the immense anxiety he felt even arriving in Findara, let alone speaking to his only potential ally. King Zarreus wasn't likely to give him an audience at all. Astalios was his only prospect, and he had just turned the situation upside down. Great job, Umras. What would Guttrak think? On second thought, probably not a very apt example. Guttrak wouldn't even consider diplomacy an option. He'd just burst into the ball-room screaming at the top of his lungs about something relating to war. The image brought slight comfort to Umras, who shot a dazed chuckle at the imaginary sight of Guttrak slamming through the doors to slaughter the guests. The thought of the heads of his enemies rolling on the floor brought a slightly morbid comfort to Umras. Death to the slavers, after all. Literal slavers and figurative ones. *

"O-o-of course, your highness. I didn't intend on coming off as-" *Umras cut himself off, raising his scaled hand in an awkward attempt at explaining himself. He tried his hardest, but words just simply didn't seem to leave his snout. Dear gods, what would Vikra think? Staring at him and laughing from the floor. He looked a bumbling fool to all who could over-hear the conversation. He cast a quick glance around at the room, taking notice of those staring. Royals from across the realm. Fuck. To say that Umras was anxious was an under-statement. A pit grew in his draconic throat, removed with a solemn and silent gulp. He closed his eyes for a minute, searching deep within himself for something. Some kind of motivation to help him carry on. He needed it. He needed a way to save this. In the black void of his mind, a familiar face appeared. The visage of Umrak only offered a small smile, but it was enough. Ripping his eyes open, Umras grinned widely, nodding with a heavy smirk.*

"Of course, Iron Prince. You have business to attend to." *He nodded, allowing the man to turn and walk away. Quickly, his booming voice echoed across the ball-room, contained enough so that his words couldn't be heard by everyone. It was loud, but friendly. Umras painted himself a braggart, creating a false history of their conversation.* "You'll have to tell me more of your war stories in the future, your highness. The tale of your assault on Kodzur was told with the grace of a true storyteller. Walk well, Iron Prince!" *Umras raised his glass towards the man as he left, flashing a wide grin across his mouth. He was Umras, Chieftain of Dasvaz. He was not a bumbling fool. He was a straight to the point man with confidence and strength. He didn't dance, he forged alliances. That was strength. That was bravery. But for now, Umras only swallowed his pride along with his drink, sighing in slight relief. Thank the gods that was over and done with.*
John
"Ah, so my suspicions prove correct." Before Delsandra could say much else, another figure arrived to the ball. Casting her eyes toward the small but regal-looking elven woman, it was a face the princess did recognize more than most others, the title only solidifying her thoughts. With a gentle sigh, the princess of Thyseer simply watched as greetings were had and discussions were ended. A part of her wished to approach the Alynthi nobility present and greet them, but for now she'd enjoy the company of Prince Samir. "It all seems very strange. This new chieftain must have some sort of agenda with attending Thunder Fest. All past chieftains I've come to know have been warmongers and murderers." With an exhale, the princess took in a drink of her wine before turning to look at Hannibal. "It seems obvious to me this new chieftain, this *Umras* Is searching for peace of some sort."

*"I've never known peace to need an army of warriors at his back, however."* Eyeing the amount of warrior Umras had brought with him, the princess sighed and shook her head gently. If the dragonborn chief truly had come with intentions of peace, he'd not need such a guard accompanying him. Those titles, 'The Weak' were a facade it seemed. At least that's what Delsandra believed. With a bored expression now plastered across her face, the eladrin instead turned her attention back to her company. "How are things in Khisfire? I know your kingdom and mine rarely ever involve themselves with one another, but still- are things well within your deserts?"
Mike
Having heard another noble called he ofcourse turned his head to look at who it was with the princess. While paying no attention to the words called. The prince his gaze setting upon the blonde elf, it was not the looks nor the dress that caught his eye, but it was the lack of accessories. No gold or gems on this elf, just confused him greatly. The young Prince then turned back to Umras and the iron prince, only to witness the dragonborn being left alone. Hannibal then assumed the talks of peace weren't as successful as the chieftain hoped. "Looks like his peace talks failed."

The prince listened to the opinion of the eladrin princess, zoning out halfway through as he was not a man of politics. But yet he nodded along to what Delsandra said. The prince the noticed the bored expression and question so decided to speak some grand events and points of interest to him. 

"Well... To my knowledge my parents are still on the agenda of routing out crime, and grasping for redemption to repair relations with the two big kingdoms." His voice held a slight distain towards the idea of uprooting crime. "And I believe someone in the court suggested removing slavery and it is being taken as an actual recommendation. Apart from that.." The prince had to paste for a moment to think if there was anything else that may be of interest of have the chance to gain a positive relation in Thyseer. "To my knowledge there was some of that fea wild magic stuff appeared in khisfire a while back." The prince avoided making eye contact at the last statement as it is something that hits close to home and gave a small pasue before continuing to talk.

"Enough about 'some grains of sand'. Anything of interest I would not hear about in your kingdom?"
Adolfo
With the background chatter sounding like nothing much than a gentle roar to most common folk within the ballroom, Caleesi had a hard time focusing given she could hear *Everything*. From the sounds of waiters refiling golden chalices feet away, to the clear pronunciation of lesser nobles whispering names of who'd they'd like to bed after the fireworks were over. Each conversation packing their way into the grandmistress's ears more harsher the more she fixated on them. By no means was the high elf an eavesdropper- however, it was hard to try and settle her senses with a massive crowd around her. Cali tried to keep her outward appearance as courtly refined as possible. Making sure to not twitch against the sometimes heavy pressure clamoring on her eardrums. It was definitely times like these where Scarleth cursed the gods for her unholy vampirism. 

Nevertheless, Caleesi carried on as normal, her head strongly held on her shoulders. Even though the sorceress had no where she was going in particular, the sudden boom of a strong voice caused the woman to turn on her heels completely. Now facing the small crowd of royals, Cali's eyes immediately locked onto the staggering figure of a dragonborn. Her brows rose unknowingly in a rather confused and apprehensive nature while she watched him call out to a man walking away from him. But before she could catch her cyanic hues up to the footfalls approaching her way, Caleesi couldn't help but stare in curiosity at whoever that peculiar creature was. 
_ _

When a new voice presented itself to the high elf however, Caleesi's mind clung to the low, sonorous sound of how each word fell from the males lips. Turning her thoughtful gaze to meet him, the young woman's eyes widened with not only surprise but also haste to mind her manners. "Your Highness-" Addressed Scarleth, her tone holding hints of apologies for not recognizing him sooner. With the dip of her head, Caleesi poured herself over respectfully to her prince. Bending politely at the knees in an elegant curtsy. "Forgive me for my late arrival, my prince. I hope I was not missing out on much..." Once she rose, Cali gave a genuine smile that reached her eyes. Part of her was completely taken aback at just how *Different* Astalios looked. Skimming her eyes over the defining features of his face, the elf's softened expression melted into the familiarity of an old friend, though still kept their formality first and foremost. 

He seemed far more cultivated and well lived in his skin then she had ever imagined him to be. Though, perhaps that's what time does to those in positions of responsibility. "I am, thank you very much for allowing me to be here tonight. It's been years since i've been in a place like this, so perhaps you'll have to get me re-accustomed to all the glitz and glamour." Caleesi's playful voice lightly teased towards the faint memory of that once lively prince running around his own ballroom- far too eager to talk to his people and put on a show. Regardless of if Astalios remembered such things, her words still rang true; as she was not all too familiar to what it was like to be regal like this again. Nevertheless, the gradmistress shifted her sights over towards the dragonborn once more in question, keeping her face full in center of the prince as she spoke. "Was that man bothering you, Your Majesty?" It was clear by her tone that the woman had no clue who he was, let alone why he was here.

And while Caleesi had heard the tail end of what they were talking about- unwillingly to her own choice- questions still arose in her mind. However, the high elf knew better than to ask them in a place such as this.
Michelle
*Though the topic of Umras still lingered in the mind of the prince, he wondered if there was better conversation to be had elsewhere for him. The dragonborn seemed to be pulling eyes from everywhere just by his mere presence at the ball, and he knew that the sharks were circling around his scaly visage. Intimidating on the battlefield or not, the dragonborn needed to keep his eyes open and his back covered in the arena of the ballroom, and he hoped that his warning might have given Umras the ability to do so. He seemed to be floundering without it, as politics were not Astalios's strong suit... But certainly weren't Umras's either.

But that was all said and done, and now, his gaze was matched by the crystalline blue eyes of his Grand Mistress of Magic, who seemed surprised to see him. He had wondered how much of an impression the change in reputation made, and it might have been true that she saw him in a different light. Certainly, her initial surprise might have been muted had she thought of him in the same way. She seemed more sociable, he supposed, and she had taken the time to observe his features thoroughly, as he had done for hers. Perhaps, he thought to himself, there was not enough to reconcile two images together.

"Your arrival is hardly late, Lady Scarleth." *He replied evenly, voice resonating like a cello being played.* "But regardless, you grace us with your presence at any time. You have not missed out on anything at all, as far as I am able to tell, except a single short conversation, which is of no particular consequence." *He laid it out plainly - they had only just entered the ballroom themselves, and so she was not lacking punctuality. The night had barely begun, and she was one of many links in the chain of nobility entering to fill the room with their chatter and gossip, though he did not believe she was one of those nobles that chose to squander their words on idle chatter. She had been more sensible in the past... From his memory.*

_ _
*But who knew if memory was accurate at this point? It had been years, and perhaps his image in her mind was only a foggy recollection of a shape long past, since refined by the fires of the forge of war. Orc warbands of Dazvaz had been the anvil that had shaped him, but he knew not what had shaped her. It was a curious sort of conundrum.*

"It was not a matter of allowing you, Lady Scarleth. Thunder Fest, I believe, is open to all who wish to attend." *That was a strange turn of phrase for her, he mused, and placed emphasis on the power imbalance between them as prince and subject. Being unaccustomed to the glamour of the room, however, was an experience that he absolutely understood, and his return from tents in the field to gilded rooms was a shock indeed when he had first returned.* "But I do take your meaning about glamor. It was... Difficult for me, as well, to truly readjust to what I saw at home once my campaign on the border was concluded. After being in the field for so many years, I had forgotten what a feather bed felt like, and at first, I needed to sleep on the ground to feel comfortable." 

*He had felt like a stranger in his own house, he supposed, but that was how his father intended it to be. After knowing the hardships that men faced, one could better understand how to govern those without such conveniences, and how to lead them properly, speak to their desires and play upon their loyalties, see what made them keep walking forward against adversity.

His expression was quite neutral, but had begun to crack into a small smile in an effort to return the same sentiment as hers - though he had little idea of whether he could match the crow's feet crinkling of the corners of her eyes as she smiled in earnest, and he only could try to match her. His face was not quite suited to the large grins that could be so charming upon other countenances anymore.*

"As a matter of fact..." *His face fell, becoming grim once more easily as he heard her question about the dragonborn.* "That happened to be Chief Umras Kilfras of Dazvaz, who seems to have very little political experience. I... Simply reminded him of how things could be." *The armor trick could be interpreted as a gesture of friendship or a stark reminder that his life was in Astalios's hands. His gaze flicked to Caleesi's face once again, wondering how she would react as the muddy brown eyes stared into blue.*