Alva
*A pair of ladies gossiping in the hall was no news to him - and as he approached, the curtsies were expected as a courtesy. He would have continued on with only a nod - but one of them asked a question - a pertinent question - and there was no reason to refuse now that would not offend a member of the court. He had half a mind to do so anyway, to simply keep walking and leave the inquiry unanswered, but perhaps here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. There were many minor nobles that could be forewarned of the preparations they would have to make.*

"My Lady." *He slowed to a stop, inclining his head respectfully to answer the question. An elven lady, with green eyes and black hair - he was sure he had seen here somewhere or other, but for the life of him he could not remember the name. But the crest he could never forget - they had been drilled into him over the course of his life, to memorize which banners belonged to which houses, which was friend and which was foe. That particular crest of flowers meant House Pierrepont, of the Duchy of Willowdale. She would meet with Leonyra soon enough, if the latter had taken what he had said to heart.

It was not often they saw so many diplomats, that was true - but they were leaving or gone by now, thank the gods. He did not think he could bear another snide, egoistic suggestion from men who did not listen to what had already been said, or thought themselves more intelligent than they truly were. No man was infallible, that was certain. To place oneself on a pedestal was one of the great dangers of life, in a way. It blinded you to your own faults, when they were the most important details to keep in mind.*

"The summit has proceeded as well as can be expected, I should think." *He answered cautiously. It had been a tad strained, but there was some measure of cooperation to come from what had been agreed. They would be meeting in Gantrick very soon, troupes of scholars and historians alongside them.*

_ _
*Gods send that the tenuous agreements held. It was more than national lines, of course - the fate of the world rested upon every banner, every life, every mile of land. Hopefully, the rest of them could see that. He was not left with much to work with outside of his allies - Princess Irezora was helpful enough, and Princess Alithia certainly had saved the conference with a well-timed intervention at a flash point in the negotiations. Neither king had been present, though - and that worried him a great deal. 

Outside of them, the Kara-tur delegation was inscrutable, and perhaps it amounted to nothing after all their efforts - they had pledged nothing. The Khisfirian boy was insulting and spoiled, though he professed himself a soldier. There was nothing that so irked him as his lack of attention. Alyus, surprisingly, had taken the reasonable path. What might otherwise have been a disaster had been possible through some cooperation there - but he was still the overgrown child, and he knew nothing of his true intentions. Queen Dhakashira was another issue entirely - she **Knew**.*

"We are preparing for our reconvention in three days. Gantrick Castle is hosting a research symposium of sorts as we begin to organize efforts to untangle the events of Sorevelle." *He related simply, face a stern mask, as it usually was. He disliked being kept in one place for too long when he had business elsewhere - but such was court life.* "It is likely you will be asked to provide scholars of repute, My Lady. We need all we can muster."
Paul
Upon his reply, the movement of that curtsey slowly eased. Eyes previously lowered gently raised to meet with the King, attentive on the more direct tones of this Warrior at heart. The others would follow along, too, though blend far more into the background. Afterall, it was this emerald-clad woman who spoke up. Her flowery gown offering now more distinction upon closer look. - every detail perhaps intended, considered for the next day. How a ruler may plan his next day of meets and the settling of matters, a Lady like her held importance to appearance for herself and the portrayal of her Family in the very court. Especially right now, to a King who offered reply. A privilege, as well as an opportunity for introduction.

**As well as can be expected.**

Words with many meaning, she thought. To Eleanore, it spoke of a mixed reaction. Uncertainty, familiar with the fate of working with former enemies not too long ago. As hard it was to admit faults in a meet, so too was it to admit her honest thoughts on the matter aswell. There was an expectation to find a response both diplomatic, yet also not so familiar as every Noble who seeked to appease a King. Not boring, as some would say. 
.

A glint of understanding and acknowledgement seemed apparent in those eyes, silence remaining as she allowed the King to finish his next piece. A research symposium in Gantrick Castle? Now that was news that surprised her. The Bear King of the North was a common tale, one of the usual antagonistic flair. Cooperation with him was certainly an intriguing one to Eleanore, either speaking to the skills of the King himself or the sheer desperation of the matter at hand. Little time would be given to think, however, as the King directed his words onto her. Finally, the time had come for reply. 

"..And provide them we shall, Your Majesty." - The briefest of nods came to show, the appearance of a smile however faint seeming to brighten as her words seemed to add on. An explanation, suited in the softness of her Noble tone. "My Father told me of your efforts in Dazvas. An honour, he said, to have served alongside you in those dreary days. It would be unbecoming of me not to offer such support." - For what she lacked in the knowledge of war, Eleanore would relate to family history and her own personal touch. A Lady in a Court may seem uninteresting to a Man so entrenched with duty and the constant conflicts that distracted him. There, she seemed willing to offer calm counsel. 

The topic of Gantrick seemed almost perfect to vantage her way from. - A dangerous land, where outsiders rarely survive such trips. It was clear before that such a topic showed a tinge of concern, but her further words would only reflect it far more. 

"And.. Gantrick Castle? Rarely does the duty of a King not surprise me, Your Majesty. I only hope for your safety in such a place."
Alva
*Lord Renard Pierrepont was a serviceable cavalry commander, he recalled - useful in battle, and seemingly older than time. The ageless quality of most elves was present within him, and he might not have known the man was old enough to daughter were it not for the time spent memorizing families and names. That was the trouble with elves, he thought - even though he was half-elven himself, he would age over his lifetime as humans did. One always knew how old a half-elf was, relatively.

But older elves were impossible to gauge, always youthful in old age, able to hide what they wished within their expressions or turns of phrase. Perhaps it was also true with his daughter. She could be forty years his senior, and he would never know - her hair would be just as dark, never showing the strains of silver that might show within some half-elves at the age of seventy. Her dress was uncommonly detailed - fine needlework, of course, but most ladies of the court put much effort into the smallest of frills.*

"Your father is Lord Renard." *He stated rather than questioned, voice as firm as an old oak.* "Extend my regards to him when you see him next, my lady." *The man had not failed him in any way he could recall - and it was good to remember the men that had served under you, from the lowest stations to the highest. Nobility were not exempted from this, of course - especially the commanders that ranged from 'acceptable' to 'excellent' among them.

Prince Temperance was not the only mentor he had learned from during his time at the front, and the men-at-arms that had been the most instructive were often old thatchers or fletchers or bakers, made into soldiers. To pay their loyalty back with his own was simply the only way to proceed honorably. He could never forget the men that had risked their lives in his service, lest he take them for granted.*

_ _
*There was something in her eyes - the hint that she knew something. Most of the ladies of the court were clever, of course. He doubted that they had just simply happened to be talking in the corridor he happened to pass through on his way from the throne room to the study. Court life consisted of many carefully laid traps. Perhaps he ought to employ one of these strategists on his staff, to inform him of the comings and goings of such-and-such minister and how his wife's dress was blue, which meant he wasn't sleeping well. He was constantly both impressed with and appalled by the workings of the court in that way.*

"Gantrick Castle." *He maintained in an even tone, keeping his face impassive as ever.* "My presence is required. Otherwise, the gesture of trust will be empty." *Neither, he thought, was he a coward to run and hide from the shadow of an overgrown boy. The kingdoms of the world needed to see them working together, side by side, to realize the severity of the changes that were about to happen. Gantrick and Alynthi were not friendly by any means - and courts the world over were very well aware of that.

It was sure to cause a buzz, he knew - and he could scarcely predict the outcome. Even though this came from the horse's mouth, it would soon be shattered by the rumor mill into a thousand different pieces, each disparate and strange to hear back.* "I cannot let the work of the summit be unraveled. I must go. I am sure you understand, my lady."
Paul
The difficulties of deciphering the mysteries of Elven youth was one thing. It was true that such a concept could deceive and hide the reality of one's age. Eleanore, still with her beauty and looks, could have been nearing 80 and yet never once shown such a long life. It would only make it more surprising to learn that the Young She-Elf was infact a tinge younger than the Iron King. The Pierrepont's were a family of mixed Elves. A strange unity between High and Wood Elves that mellowed out through their shared interest in the land and Noble matters. The Lady certainly bore the elegance of a High Elf, aswell as the more homely manner of a Wood Elf. Her height, shortened. Her hair, avoiding the rays of blonde typically found on the High Elves. A style that wouldn't follow the complete trend of the court, a need to differ that most likely filled the thoughts of all members of the Alynthian Nobility. 

It would be a good sign that the King knew well of her Father, a smile apparent as Astalios spoke directly and without need for much assistance. "I will, Your Majesty." - A soft nod of her head sealed her acknowledgement, simple courtesy extended between the two. Eleanore would not attempt to pry further for the moment, choosing her battles wisely as she sought a new path that revealed itself. - an openness of the summit. 

The curiosity of those eyes was well guided for the King. Behind the colourful green, there ticked the well groomed thoughts of a Courtly Lady. Unlike the battlefields of Dazvas or other places that the King seemed used to, the Courts were a battle with words. Eleanore seemed well versed in this field, suited for the gossip and political theater. While not entirely planned to catch her King's attentions, the opportunity was one to squander. - especially with the wants of her Father and the legacy she wished to leave behind. 
.

The impassive nature of the King seemed to intrigue her, Eleanore not taking it as dismissal of her character but the state of a man so used to orders and war. It seemed more a game to see if a King could crack, to show the potential of a smile or something else. - But in times like this, a far harder challenge. Regardless, the matter of Gantrick and Alynthi working together was not lost on her. The issue seemed most remarkable in hindsight, and revealed just how grave the look of the future seemed. The Iron King was known for rarely catching a break, so she imagined the man most tired of all of this. 

"..Your presence there would show clear legitimacy, My King. I only hope this gesture of trust will be respected by your host." The Lady seemed to add her piece, the words seeming to cleverly catch the mixed tone of care aswell as subtle experience. Her point was not to impose on the thoughts of Astalios, far from it. - Instead, to offer quiet reasoning.

Her tinge of caution seemed to mellow out in that understanding, a softer expression lingering on the neutral tones of the King who seemed driven in his actions. Clearly, she couldn't help but admire it. 

"I do understand, Your Majesty. You must go, that is clear." Eleanore only further extended her support, her words far more direct yet not commanding. Her words wouldn't end just yet however, a moment of silence lingering until her speech returned. "-.. Forgive me, but I must admit my own feelings of.. Inaction. Our King goes off for the good of the Realm, and the Courts simply continue. I wish to know if I can do more for my King. The scholars my family will help provide, but is there anything that I myself can offer?"

It would be difficult to decipher if this were deception or a genuine interest, but Eleanore seemed keen as she spoke with a combination of driven emotion and composure. By now, she imagined the other Ladies a simple blur in relevancy. Clearly, she knew her talents well.