Rosa
The Pirate King, Bradai Maith and Retinue

The Castle Grunewald, Vallen

 The Pirate King's retinue was small and innocuous. The guards were dressed in typical Islander style, with thick black trench coats and colorful sashes, complete with a small supply of crossbows. Bradai watched as the mound of crossbows began to build behind the guards as they laboriously searched for his name on the abysmally short guest list. They looked like hired hands. Any attempt to make conversation with them failed, they seemed more concerned with the rings on his fingers. In any case, they looked threatening which in Taemar, was a good thing. The last thing he needed was another Cecilia incident. 
 The castle hadn't changed very much since his last visit, save for the nest. The nest had mysteriously disappeared. Bradai considered its whereabouts briefly before marveling at what appeared to be a perfectly normal dinner party. He recognized near everyone milling around, and in that moment he realized just how much he had missed being in a court. He appeared to be the only one with bodyguards, and upon seeing that no one else was being flanked, dismissed all but two of them to enjoy the festivities soberly.

Ollie gave a nod to one of the guards, and the two descended on the casks of blood wine the Grunewalds had brought out. The two he kept stayed to his right and left. He watched as his sister descended the stairs, one hand on the railing to keep herself steady. For the first time he could recall, she wasn't wearing a single belt. Her hair, usually red and wild was held up by two silver hairsticks, topped with two small globes of jade. She wore a flowing silken dress with wide sleeves that came open on her chest, revealing a swath of golden, freckled skin. Thick silver clasps kept her black cloak in place. Although the dress ran to the ground, he could still hear the thick tapping of her leather boots. Bradai had known that Odette would do a good job with her, but this was a little much for his tastes. She towered over the other women. Almost immediately, she came up to him, raising her eyebrows.

"Whaddye think, Bradai?"

The Pirate King moved a hand through his beard, "I think as long as you don't tear it off 'alfway frough tha dinner, we might get out of vhis alive. Everything is..." His eyes scanned the room briefly before returning to her, "'s normal. Vhose 'ired 'ands look good enuff. And..." He pursed his lips, nodding slowly, "We actually look 'alfway respectable. Your dress might actually get you in wiff tha ovher ladies. Now..." Bradai held out his hand and into it Gitten suppliated a hairstick. He stuffed it in his overcoat and nodded. 

The two exchanged quick thanks and went off to the separate sides of the party, hoping to get some light conversation in before dinner.
Ophelia
The Whylder Brothers
The Castle Grunewald

"Kharlye! I believe this party to be one of those newfangled kinds, you know?" Mercurio was overjoyed at the whole situation, it's not often that Mercurio could display his inescapable charm. 

"What exactly do you mean, newfangled kind, Merc?" Kharlyle's migraine had not yet gone away. Above the dinner party, the brothers gazed down at the guests from the mezzanine. Kharlyle could remember back to when the pair were just children in Taemar, when their parents would attend dinner parties, not unlike these, they would scurry like privileged rats to the mezzanine to watch. It was different now, there were twelve armed guards escorting them now, it was less of a covert operation. 

Merc leaned over the railing with his operatic telescope in hand. "Oh you know what I mean Lyle, you're allowed to take anything you'd like. You just need to call it a party favor, I think"

Lyle was about to write the idea off as ramblings, until glints of precious metal hit his gaze. "Aye Merc, it's something to consider" Kharlyle sat back in his chair, the shadow of the unlit ceiling above him obscured his face to anyone below. Merc was clearly seen, adorned in his most lavish purple robes, red feathers sprouting from his cap. This is what he imagined the modern Taemarian looked like, he was only trying to fit in. "Merc, maybe you'd like to go down there and socialize. I would, but it's difficult to keep up the facade of interest, with the sensation of a pick axe grinding into your skull."

Mercurio turned back to his brother. "The night is young brother, I plan to have every guest charmed out of their wits by the end of tonight. I will need no head start." The offer clearly tempted Merc, though he was trying to hide it. "And besides, who else would keep my brother company?" Merc began to lean quite heavily on the railing behind him, the worn down dowels of wood began to look frail under Mercurio's weight. It was obvious that Merc longed to charm the masses, but his familial bond was keeping him away. 

"Alright Merc, you're right, you don't really *Need* To interact with these people until after Len does what he needs to. That's my plan at least." Kharlyle observed Merc leaning excessively on the railing, now physically bent backwards. "Merc, if you're not careful, you'll break that railing."

"Oh me brother? I could never, I am but the most careful." Mercurio dug his heel into the carpet and forced his back into the railing, audible cracks rang out. 

"Merc what the fuc-" Before Kharlyle could finish his thought, the railing gave way and Merc sprang a full two stories down in free fall. It was fair to say that Kharlyle was not expecting this.

Merc's actions were innate. In air, he did a full backflip onto a table, almost certainly attracting a majority of the room's attention. He stood straight, one of the railing's dowels in his hand. He ran a hand through his hair and faced his audience. 

"THE FAIR KING OF NORTHWIND MERCURIO WHYLDER HAS GRACED YOU ALL WITH HIS PRESENCE!" He shot a seductive gaze to a random woman in the room, one finger gun extended. Merc had found his element.
Robert
Kenmath Vaugh
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

"NEIN!" Kenmath screamed as the King of Northwind fell from the sky and scuffed The Gutting Table. He tore through the crowd of silken gowns and gripped the edge of the table with his scraggly fingers. "IMPROPER DINNER ETIQUETTE!" He cried before upturning the table and sending the boisterous royal tumbling backwards. 

King Gregor boomed with laughter from the other side of the room and held his wine goblet high, causing some of the liquid to slosh over the side and trickle down his arm. "The Fair King of Northwind, ladies and gentlemen!" He said before downing the goblet. The crowd seemed momentarily perplexed, providing a bit of scattered laughter before going back to their conversations. 

Princess Walburga watched from a dark corner of the room, held up by frayed ropes like a marionette. "*UoooUaaagh*," She said, taking a liking to the man from Northwind. She hoped father would arrange for them to meet. 

Kenmath frantically scrubbed the table with a rag he unearther from his pocket. "This table is specifically for gutting the hog!" He moaned, his skinny arms working tirelessly to get out the scuff marks that the king of Northwind caused. He would kill the next person to disrupt his perfect dinner party.
Charles
Lady Anna Barrmount
Grunewald Castle, Valen.

Days of neverending travel passed by, as the young Lady rode with her two companions. The maid and the guard didn't really get along, but Anna liked them both. He was quiet and too serious on occasion, but Anna believed he was a nice person inside; she got little information from him, but enough to start building a friendship, as much as he tried to stop her.

The maid, somewhat stubborn but loyal and sweet, had never left Anna's side at any given second. The Lady really appreciated her, as such a good friend and companion was what she needed most in such a situation.

...

The trio had been separated into a duo a mere couple days ago, damned be those ambushers. Both remaining women, dressed in the riding traveling gowns Pippin had packed before they left, approached the castle gates. They both rode the same horse.

Anna got down of the horse and walked to the guards. She was covered head to toe in dirt, her black hair stick to her face due to the sweat, her clothes were a bit torn and dirty as well as the borrowed coat she wore. 

"Halt" One of the guards ordered, as he shot her a suspicious look. Amidst the silence of the place, the sound of arrows being drawed back by guards above "Identify yourself"

"I-I..." She swallowed hard, feeling intimidated. She striked her most regal position as she cleared her throat "I am Lady Anna Barrmount, I come to the council"

The guards shared a look and laughed briefly, leaving her speechless.

"Okay kid, good try. The one invited is the other Barrmount, for your information... " There was such mockery in his voice that it made tears dwell in Anna's eyes "Next time you try to sneak in, at least try to look decent. Now leave"

"N-no... No, no!" She cried out in disbelief "You don't understand! I-" She grabbed his arm as she tried to explain, but was cut off by the slap across her face that threw her to the floor.

Pippin helped her back up again, and Anna had to stop her from lashing out at the guard.

Every event that she had to endure in the last month built a sudden rage inside her, a rage that ignited with that slap. What came next seemed absurd, given her small frame in comparison to the guard, but there she was grabbing his shirt with both her hands and pulling him down to her eye level.

"Listen to me!" She vociferated like she had never before "I am Lady Anna Barrmount, second daughter of Yaron Barrmount and sister of the now Head of the house Lady Sibyl Barrmount! Who I had to abandon in our! Brother's! Funeral!" There were tears staining her pale cheeks, but not a pinch of hesitation in her voice "Because that damned Vivayn and the Scagerllys were at our door! With their army!" The guard started to believe her as he saw the determination and slight flicker of fierceness in her icy eyes "I've lost two horses and one of my men on the way here, and you are going to let me in! RIGHT. NOW. Understood?!"

The guard signaled the rest to lower their weapons as she let go of his clothes.

"May you excuse me, Lady Anna. Be welcome, I will go announce your arrival"

"Thank you"

As soon as she and her maid were inside and alone, her legs almost gave out under her. She used Pippin and the closest wall as support. 

"Oh gods what did I just do?! He could have killed us"
Kari
Demetri Troiarus
Escort from Terresol
Vallen, Taemar

Lord Hecate was a naive man, easily manipulated, and only interested in his own survival. He didn't hold a house guard large enough to pose a threat to anyone, and his voice was too quiet and meek to be heard by anyone he wished to listen. He was a pathetic man, and he was not Demetri's Lord.

A Baker's dozen acolytes were sent out by his superior to intercept the man on the road. They were ordered to use him to get into Taemar by any means necessary, luckily to didn't come to that. The wagon was ambushed and the 13 dark clad men overwhelmed the half-rate guard in less than three minutes. Lord Hecate was on his knees before Demetri opened the door.

And now, things were finally falling into place.

Demetri stood in front of a large, ornate mirror. The gilded frame was marked with multiple depictions of laughing and crying faces, in between tangled vines. He admired his reflection, taking in every detail as he began to dress himself.

*"If nothing else, you must desire yourself. For only once you understand being desired may you truly seek your own."*

"And may I know it." The rehearsed response floated from his lips, even though the tenet was only spoken in his mind.

He ran his hands over the bright white linen adorning his torso, a damp towel, before running a side of it against his temple vigorously. Bathing constantly wasn't required, but it's something Demetri felt necessary, so necessary he always traveled with a large brass tub in which he would soak for hours. But tonight he had a date.

The boy folded his towel neatly on his bed before turning back to his mirror and locking eyes with himself. His lean, pale fingers clung to a white shirt, and he donned it with the same large flourishes you would use on a Cape, his fingers fastening the snaps with the ease of practice. It was then that Hecate decided to interrupt.

"My Lo-" He cleared his throat, "Sir, I have some concerns about the dinner party tonight."

"Then speak, Francis. I would not have you linger while I change." He didn't look away from his eyes, but watched the feeble lord with his peripheral vision. The man was uncomfortable in Demetri's presence, and the lack of clothing only made him shiver more.

"What if they find out something is going on?" Hecate was smart, he knew his place but also could put two and two together. But Demetri was smarter.

"Then you will tell them the truth."

"What is the truth?"

"That nothing is going on. I'm hungry, Hecate, I wish to dine on something besides what your pitiful pantry has to offer, and my lord wishes to greet these royals of Taemar personally." He wasn't lying, not completely. He was a vessel for his lord's will and by meeting them through him, it will be just the same.

Hecate wrung his hands together, a thought troubling him.

"You have until I finish changing to say what you will." Demetri's voice was cold as he slipped on his slacks, the dark purple fabric swallowing up the contrast of his white shirt as he tucked the loose ends into their places before fastening the ties. His shoes were a simple slip on design, meant for decorating and not to be fastened tightly, they were essentially slippers. His coat was next, the symbol. 

Demetri was a religious leader, not a body guard. His purpose here was to serve his Lord, not this weasel, and his coat depicted that. The green vines outlined by gold on a deep royal blue seemed almost chaotic in its layout, but that was a product of design, the eyes were meant to follow the vines, all of which leading up to the face, His face.

It was after his coat fell on his shoulders that Hecate spoke.

"I know you're up to something, sir. I'm not daft, but please just promise that your deal ends with me. Leave my precious, Elania out of this." Hecate looked up from his feet for the first time as Demetri revealed a cedar box.

He lifted the lid slowly to reveal the final piece of his attire.

And like everyone who was reading this probably already guessed, yes it's a masquerade mask. Woo. Big reveal. Yawn.

Anyways,

Demetri lifted the heavy piece of brass, his fingertips gently touching either side of it as he brought it up to his eyes. It was custom made with a special form of magic, the metal almost liquefying on his skin before solidifying to the form of his face. It was then that Demetri, stopped looking into his own eyes and turned on Hecate, a cold fury in his voice.

"You would enact your desires on another being without knowing their own!?" It was the first time Hecate had heard the man's voice above a whisper. "You would force your child to follow a path that she did not willingly choose her own!? Through me you were given a choice, Francis. And like me you made that choice. You desired your own life over the security of your own country, if you wished this to end you know you could have made that choice. You have committed the greatest of sins by thinking this way, Francis. I shall pray for you, but please do not bring this up again."

Hecate had cowered during the vicious barrage of words and fury coming from the man, his hands raised as he fell almost to his knees. Demetri took his hand and raised him up.

"Forgive me, Lord-" A smack across the face, "S-sir Demetri! I will not broach the topic again."

"As you desire." Demetri whispered.

"And may I know it." The response brought a smile to Demetri's face.

The two men left the tent together, flanked by Demetri's followers under the guise of Hecate's guard and made off to the feast in a carriage.

The carriage, designed for a man and a child, was cramped, and the terrible quality of medieval roads did not help, so Demetri was relieved once they finally arrived at their destination.

The jostling left his legs wobbly upon exiting, making him very glad of the cane all members of his religion were instructed to carry, using it heavily as a walking stick as they entered.

"Lord Francis Hecate of Rikolto, and Escort Demetri Troiarus." The crier announced, and Demetri soaked in the temporary attention it gave him. Hecate had his own purpose, and Demetri bid him adieu as he went off towards the Grunewalds in greeting. He took in a long, deep breath, before setting out to find what he most desired, a god damn tiny sausage on a stick.
Charles
Belladonna of Taemar
Grunewald Castle, Valen.

It had been so easy to fake the symptoms of the common cold, and necessary too. She had received an urgent message from the lodge, and she had to answer it inmediatly.

After the reply got sent, the sorceress looked at herself in the mirror of her tavern room. It had been way too long since she last looked decent.

"Well, I can't go into a Castle looking like a mere maid, can I dear?" She asked the raven perched on the nearby chair, to which the animal tilted it's head to the side herraticaly.

Thank the Mother she had brought her emergency gown.

...

The castle halls were empty as a cemetery at night. Sneaking in had been so easy Belladonna couldn't quite believe it. Idiots.

She didn't quite know where she was going though, as every corner was exactly the same as the rest.

"Miss!" A guard surprised her as she rounded yet another corner of the halls "What are you doing here?"

He seemed to be too suspicious, so it was time for the show.

"Oh! Thank the heavens!" She dramatically threw herself in his arms, with her best distressed expression plastered all over her face "A man has been following me!"

"What?"

"Yes! With such ill intent..." She sniffed as a tear formed in her eye "I got lost while trying to run away, but here you are to save me sir!"

The guard cleared her throath, as he finally peeled his eyes away from her *Attributes*, and fixed his posture.

"Of course, I will not let him harm such a fine lady. Where is he?"

"Oh so strong and brave! That way, that way!"

He barely took a couple steps towards the corridor she pointed to when he felt a sting in his neck and fell unconscious to the floor.

"Oh dear, how could you buy that?" Bella muttered to herself as she discarded the rose thorn she used and walked away.

...

Finally, she made her way through the castle, straight to the dinning hall. It wasn't hard to spot Lady Surany, as her gown and herself stood out in the crowd.

The sorceress walked among the people as if she was a natural, ignoring the looks she got from her ballgown. Vibrant blue adornated with silver roses, with the outstanding bust she was used to wear. Her dark brown hair cascaded down in perfectly groomed waves and framing her face.

"You look dashing tonight, my Lady" She discreetly said to Surany's ear. Bella stood behind the Lady of the Wine, speaking to her as soon as the sorceress saw her free of company.

When the Lady looked at her, she smiled, her lips tainted of her favorite red.
Robert
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

"I didn't know Northwind had a king," Lord Aleks Romanov scoffed as the man's flame was quickly snuffed out by the Grunewald's rickety old servant.

"That's not a king," Heath muttered back, peeling his eyes away from the commotion and redirecting his attention back to his booze. His nose crinkled and he glanced up. "*What* Is that smell?"

"Islander stink?" Aleks offered, smirking into his goblet. 

"No... It's less wet dog, more... Dog who rolled around in the remains of a bog body," Heath said. His eyes scanned the crowd, going over the redheaded islanders, the pale faces of the north, and finally settling on the mangy mutt herself. Heath grinned broadly and made a beeline to the woman. "Cecilia, I thought they tied their hogs to the ceiling *Prior* To dinner beginning and yet here you are."

Prince Nickles Ramsalot III
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

"You can help me in more ways than one," Prince Nickles replied, extended a gloved hand and clutching Dennon's fingers. He laughed coquettishly and yanked Dennon down so that his spine bent and his face was level with his. "I heard you have a way with Scheer women." 

"Ah, YES! THE ENTERTAINMENT HAS ARRIVED!" Gregor announced from somewhere in the dining hall. A trio of malnourished looking musicians, all sporting black rings around their eyes, began to play their peculiar looking string instruments. Their droning in a minor key adding another unsettling layer to the ambience. Nickles swayed to their music.

"My mother is a Scheer. Adelaine? Maybe you've heard of her?" Nickles continued, tightening his grip on Dennon's fingers, "I just wanted to thank you for keeping my throne warm. It must be hard with that flat ass of yours."

The music picked up its pace and Nickles swayed faster to keep up, all while maintaining his grip on Dennon. He would scream if Dennon tried to fight it. He would scream as loud as he could. It would be hard to ignore a little boy dressed in vibrant pink, screaming bloody murder. 

"Oh, and if you ever impregnate that vile aunt of mine, I will personally gouge the fetus out and put it in a jam jar," Nickles whispered. He laughed harder this time, dozens of octaves lower than previously.
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Grunewald Castle, Taemar

It came as a relief to her when the man who declared himself as the king of Northwood came tumbling from above, pulling all the attention to himself including her own. An amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips, doing her best to not laugh at the scene before returning her gaze to the Romanov she missed. His sister and brother on the other hand, she could care less about. The smile soon dropped the moment he spoke, not due to his comment towards her appearance at the dinner but for calling out her name. 

"I was going to question how much of an idiot you are but you answered that for me. Seriously? You could have lowered your voice when you say my name, or simply not speak a word of it." She glared with an irritated facade until she couldn't help break it with a grin. "I'm glad to see you. It has been a while."

As she greeted heath, Cecilia's eyes began to drift over the packed bodies that began to fill the dining hall. She noticed that in the split moment she had been distracted, the islander camp had already made their way into the hall before dispersing into the crowd, making it difficult to spot the king.
John
**King Dennon Bigsby
An Uncomfortable Situation in Vallen, Taemar**

Dennon smiled, indulging the little girl in pink despite the unpleasant invasion of his personal space. "Child of Adeline Scheer. A *Son* If I remember correctly. You certainly talk like a Scheer." Dennon said patronizingly. "My, you look surprisingly youthful for a young *Man* Of... How old would you be now? 23?" He chuckled to himself before dramatically lowering his voice. "Though don't worry, I don't think the last part will be an issue anytime soon." He looked around worried someone might have overheard that. "But we are trying." He added quickly, more for any eavesdroppers than the child he was currently facing.

"Do you have any more impressions?" Dennon asked. "I hear a child Lord died in the Witherlands recently. That's topical. How is the ice harvest going up there, Lord Rodrick?" He glanced around looking for whoever the child might belong with. "Where are your parents, seriously?"