Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

The outburst from Ollie, King Bradai, and their colleagues had stolen Serafina's attention and she studied them with calculating eyes as King Gregor pardoned the bards life. She had read about islander traditions after the establishment of a House of Wisdom in Cloverhold. It had taken them years to establish it as many of the Islanders did not take to the faith easily. They were fortunate that ruling House were believers and open to the establishment of the Southern Pantheon in the isles.

At the mention of Kelwynd , her eyes had flickered over to Queen Charity to study her reaction. Serafina was impressed by the boldness of the Islanders accusations with his widow at the feast. Their lack of Terresolian support was primarily her decision. A smile brightened the young woman's face as she realised why she had felt drawn to the feast and council meeting. 'The gods have provided a unique opportunity. And how ironic to use the Islanders to accomplish it.' Attendees from the different kingdoms began to slowly leave, excusing themselves with overcomplicated niceties and mock expressions of joy at seeing each other the next morning. Turning back to the table, she gently set her goblet down at let her eyes meet with the Alchemist. "Thank you for the enlightening conversation." The embroidered edges of her simple moss coloured gown rustled against the ground as she stood up. "I won't keep you as I'm sure you have business to attend to." She smiled, making her way over to the man to put a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "If you ever find yourself in Terresol, please visit the House of Wisdom and ask for me. I'd be happy to keep you company and introduce you to some of our alchemical masters." She chuckled as she continued. "I promise I'll keep the religious scholars away from you."
Wyatt
**Judas Merrilweather
Grunewald Castle, Vallen**

When the announcement from Gregor signalled that it was time for him to leave, Judas finished eating his plate and slowly stood up from the table. When everyone began to take their leave, he blended in with the crowd and disappeared into the night. Where he went was unknown, but it was assured that he would be there the next day for council.
Lawrence
Kallophon
Grunewald Castle, Taemar

Kallophon watched Gregor leave. He wondered if the man was only playing around, having known beforehand that the present royals surely weren't crazy enough for his slaughter to get a majority vote. No matter what the king had intended, Kallophon still had his breath, and he blew it out in a sigh.

He turned his attention to Auburn and contemplated the boy as he processed what Wilhemina had said. A mute, was he? Kallophon wondered what had caused that, assuming it wasn't a defect of birth. If any upbringing were to leave a child a bit off, it would be one that happened in this strange, offensive place. Wilhelmina hadn't seemed to escape this sad effect either. Kallophon didn't ask her why she'd harmed herself so. He reached inside the neckline of his tunic and produced a fine, white handkerchief. Proferring it to her, he bowed and said gently, "For your lips, Your Highness. Return it to me at your leisure."

Once she'd accepted it, he looked over at the musicians and frowned. "I hope I may speak to you two another time." Gods, he hoped that hadn't sounded like a jape at the Prince. "Just as well your father didn't get his funny way - I'm sure I would have made for quite a boar-ing meal." He waved his mask, smirking. "I bid you both a good night." Kallophon turned and made his way over to Imogen, eyebrows raised in anticipation. "I suppose I owe you a top and a round or two, then.
Kathleen
Amicia de Blanc
Taemar

Amicia seemed to relax a little when the stranger showed that he held no weapons. But a dagger can be concealed and her small frame could be easily overpowered. Needless to say that her guard did not completely drop.

She watched him untie his bundle and get to work. Her eyes flickered over everything as a hand fiddled with her lockets - an action that seemed almost idle to her."Would yooou know if you were sssick?" She asked, her consonants sharp but words drawn out. 

Hesitantly, she reached out with both hands and took the bowl. Her eyes went back up to the amateur doctor for a moment then back to the salve."Thank you."

Carefully, she began applying it.
Shelly
Charity Lane
The awful dinner, Taemar

Charity went into the dinner with expectations that it was not simply *Just* A dinner preceding the Marin Council, as it immediately followed the murder of a Taemarian on Taemarian soil by a foreigner attending the Council. Throughout the dinner Charity attempted to keep a low profile, despite wanting to sit next to Anyanka, she instead went to her assigned seat, there would be time to catch up later in the evening. The task was hardly difficult. At the beginning of the dinner, the hog dangle, which Charity was dreading. But Charity was saved by the most bizarre circumstances when the hog was killed magically and revived only to be body slammed by King Gregor himself, what a wild start to the night.

Unfortunately, the whole night couldn't be so chaotic. Events calmed after the horror hog's demise. She'd heard horror stories of Taemarian food, but nothing quite like that. But despite what she'd heard there was nothing particularly wrong about the food at the feast. The entertainment was entertaining, and Charity voted "Nay" For killing the bard, even if she did not find it entertaining she would have voted the same.

But soon all eyes were on her as the topic of conversation came to her dead husband. She had no great love for him, their marriage was purely political. She would just as soon damn him for attempting to ruin her home as those damming him at the moment. "The loss of Kelwynd is a tragedy to be sure, as all life loss is, but I think Terresol will be in a better state without the regressive policies that came from his god."
Maricela
Edward Cyneward
The streets of Vallen, Taemar

"Sick with the plague? Oh, I was sick with something a few weeks ago. As you can see, I'm all fine. My mentor cared for me. You won't get sick from me, I promise. Although I do help sick people, I take some precautions to make sure I don't spread illness around."

The young man smiles softly as the stranger begins to apply the salve.  There are hints of naivete in his voice. 

"Do you want me to take a look at those?" Cyneward points at the small rocks imbedded in her skin. "I have tools to pluck things like that out. However, as you can see, I don't have them on me though, miss. A local blacksmith is letting me sleep in his shop — I have several of my supplies there. No pressure though.. On another note, what's your name?"