Richard
Her *Fiance* Had sent little warning regarding his visit. Of course, technically he did not need to send word at all, in a matter of weeks this would be his home, even if just in name. He could come and go as he pleased. Thankfully, Virzieth had already anticipated some surprise visit at some point, so a room had already been prepared and her staff informed. 

Virzieth, the Countess herself, waited alone at the steps for her husband-to-be's arrival. She looked calm as could be as she stood there arms crossed across her chest, though preparations were still well underway she was able to clear her day for his visit. She had no doubt he would require her full attention while he was here. Her Butler also very kindly reminded her it was not polite to ignore a visitor, man or not.

For perhaps the second time in Virzieth's life she was wearing a dress, not even one you would see common women wear that flowed freely and ended at the knee, a full-length corseted dress. It would seem the Countess had updated her wardrobe. Panels of sheer fabric between the ribbing of the corset gave a dark hue to the burgundy fabric that clung to her waist. A slit in the tight skirt traveled up her left leg ending just below her hip leaving the large indented scar on her thigh on display. Only a ribbon of fabric wrapped across her shoulders leaving her muscular arms free to move. She felt like a child playing dress up. Each breath didn't feel quite enough, she was sure if she moved too much the already revealing outfit would become even more so. When she bent down she covered her chest with her hand. It just felt silly. However, it had to be done. Virzieth was *Trying* To play her role. 

Pulling in one last deep breath the Countess stood still as he approached. There was no reason to be so nervous, everything was in order.
Jody
*In a matter of weeks, he thought to himself, **This** Would be his 'home'. The great manor of Inyelion was an intricate thing, and its features he had known since childhood. Two centuries were past, and still the memories flooded back of his mother's eyes when she set her sights upon the vaulted ceilings and the intricate molding. Perhaps she had known how badly protected the residents would be.

At the head of his honor guard, dressed in their night-black armor as they always were, he rode his dun stallion through the gates. The double column of cavalry carried the banner of the Lazarothi wolf at the lead on either side, signs of the Queen's grace and blessing as they followed their grand marshal. Zaknafein himself sat the saddle with his head held high, coolly observing the proceedings before him. 

The manor was buzzing with activity in preparation for the ceremony - slaves and servants zipping about carrying sheets and ribbons to and fro. The windows of the manor house were being dusted, and the guardswomen on the outer wall stood at attention for the moment. Only time would tell how well they did their duty. Perhaps they were in need of replacement. The walls themselves seemed integral, but it was always worth checking for hidden doors and sapped tunnels. There were likely to be a rat's nest of hidden secrets within the house of schemers...

But what surprised him the most was his bride-to-be. She had looked strangely foreign to him in her extensive clothing the first time they had met, but standing in the courtyard, she was clothed in full Lazarothi fashion with her womanly features on full display. Danger, he thought to himself, was a woman that was capable of learning exactly how much power she could begin to wield. There were other details to be gleaned from her garb - the scar on her thigh that left a large indent across it, arms that showed the full fruits of swordsmanship training. Interesting indeed.*

_ _
*Without a word, he dismounted from his horse. As was his wont, he wore only a loincloth and his twin swords above his boots - the many scars that crosscrossed his body, the puckered puncture healed over on his left hand, and the jagged white lines left over from centuries of dueling were his banners to fly, his pride and joy. As always, a small prick of irritation tickled the back of his mind as he made the proper obeisance to his Matron and his wife, dropping to one knee before her as he began a proper greeting.*

"Matron Virzieth." *She had asked him to call her by her name. He could not refuse a matron's request.* "Honor to your name, and to your house."
Richard
He looked as he always did. Skin on full display. It made her own choice of clothing look like that of a saint. Behind him his guard, all men of course, marched behind him. 

He presented himself as a trued Lazarothi man, strong yet subservient. Virzieth knew better, no one was truly submissive in Lazaroth. 

"Thank you, Zaknafein, for your fair wishes and for gracing the estate today." Such a greeting still sent a flurry of emotions swirling through her stomach. Still so foreign. Her own taught urge to bend her knee down scolded her for remaining standing. Instead of succumbing to the impulse she graced her sharp features with a smile and held out her hand to him. "Come, we have much to go over." 

Hand in hand they would enter the manor's doors where inside the busy energy of the estate was even more apparent. Though it seemed few were busy enough to not pause and spare a glance at the entering couple before returning to their work. By this point much of the furniture had been replaced with pieces more fitting to Virzieth's taste, but the base architecture of the building still remained as a reminder of what had been. 

"I hope the roads were not too harsh on you?"
Jody
*Her discomfort, he noted, must have been great to dress and behave as she did - mustering a smile up and holding out her hand. A note of discord between comfortable recognition and sharp danger flashed again through his mind as he grasped her fingers in his own uninjured right hand, bringing his lips down to touch them with a kiss of courtesy. One could never be too careful. This change in weather was not likely to be fair.*

"I am yours, as are my wishes. Where you ask, I go." *He stood carefully, holding her hand from below so as to escort her through the manor, wherever it was that she wished to take them. Buzzing like a beehive behind them, the estate's servants and petty slaves were making ready for the event of a lifetime. While it was common to take a man's hand in marriage in Lazaroth, and the wedding preparations were usually suited to efficiency, he was no longer to the same level of unimportance.

He was the Grand Marshal, not simply a man. He bore the Queen's favor and her power with him, and such demanded respect, even if he did not. Preparations would be much grander indeed. He eyed the servants carefully as they continued through the foyer, noting the replaced furniture and the redecoration. Perhaps it was that Matron Irza would introduce a color theme according to her crest or profession. Many matrons busied themselves with such things - a signal of organization, perfection, erstwhile hospitality.*

"My trip was short, and I experienced little difficulty." *He replied coolly enough, eyes searching the staff for anything out of place. It was unlikely there would be much to see - Lazarothi spies were quite good at their jobs, with a constant level of activity that gave them experience in spades - but there was always the odd careless maneuver, a glance where one should not be.*

_ _
"If I may be so bold as to ask," *His voice was low and quiet, a private tone.* "Where did you acquire these slaves? Do you have records of their birth and former owners? For the servants, I might ask the same. Have you had them monitored?"