Felicia
Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen

"He is talented," He told the Earl. "Our House prides itself in the quality of it's warriors. My father was knight of great renown, and my grandfather was decorated by the House of Vortigern in the aftermath of the Terreme conquest of southern Northwind. I am glad my son lives up to his ancestors."

It had always been a personal insecurity of his: never feeling like he was worthy of his father's name, let alone his grandfather's. Over the years, he'd seen the House fall into idleness and entropy, and he'd been unable to stop the slow decay. He'd even got to fear that he, Cyprien, would be remembred as the one unworthy scion that began his House's downfall.
But the sight of Bastien standing proud over the dust of the Mizzen gave him hope. The young man was the living embodiment of a better future, and the bight echo of a glorious past.

"Granted," Admitted Cyprien. "It's been a long time since Terresol last fought a war. Skill and valour alone won't save our lands. We'll need large armies if we are to cast John de Burgh back into the north."
Emma
Ferdinand Chapoisson and Carac the Butcher
The mizzen

Now this was interesting. Ferdinand had no idea that Terresol and Northwind might be going to war. Astoria was far from the squabbles of the north, and news traveled slowly at the best of times.
"John de Burgh? Hmmm, I hadn't heard anything about border disputes in the north. Are you saying this might be a prelude to war?" Ferdinand wrung his hands, waiting for a response. The gears in his head already turning, trying to figure the best way he could derive some sort of profit from the plight of Terresol. War was good for business after all, as long as you weren't actually involved. 

Carac had not truly been paying attention to what the two nobles in front of him were talking about. He was focused on identifying potential threats to his employer, however the mention of Northwind and John de Burgh caught his ear. Carac was a native of Northwind by birth, and though he had left that life behind long ago, he still felt a kinship with his homeland. 
But what really interested him was the talk of war. He lived for the battlefield, the shedding of blood and the march of armies were in his blood. He had grown comfortable, complacent, in Ferdinand's service. If his native lands were going to war, then perhaps it was time for a change of pace.
Felicia
Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen

"The prelude has passed. War is inevitable. When I set sail for the Isles, De Burgh had vanquished his last rival in Northwind. I don't think the south realizes what is happening: Northwind is about to be unitied for the first time in centuries, about to become a _real_ kingdom, a _real_ power. A power hostile to the kings of the south and to the faith of the true gods."

Chapoisson could see the lord of the Grey Hills biting his upper lip. His voice had turned feverish, erratic even.

"The crown doesn't understand this. I have yet to recieve any news of troop redeployments, let alone any soldiers. They think I'm doing this out of self-interest, but they fail to realize that if that savage triumphs on the Grey Hills, then the rest of Terresol will follow. And after that, southern civilization as we know it.
But by the grace of Saris this is soon bound to change: the pretender Charity Lane shall be deposed for her blindness, and the rightful Vortigern line restored. I am confident the new king will do what is necessary for Terresol to survive."
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper

When Bastien revealed himself to be the Raven Knight, the Pirate King simply stood beside Caderyn Vortigern and clapped along with the crowd. Now properly standing side by side, the pair could not have looked more different from one another. Despite being in his thirties, Caderyn Vortigern was the very picture of youthly power, the height of summer. He had shaved the patchy black beard that he had come to know in Corvus and the sun shone off of his smooth, tanned face just as well as the silver raiments he wore. Under his arm was the crown Princess of Terresol who, in a very unladylike fashion, had perched herself up against the balcony's edge, her tiny yellow slippers poking out from between the stone bannisters. She and her uncle talked back and forth, shouting over the roaring applause but never looking away. This was the crowd that would sail them home. These were the crowds they had dreamed about.

The Pirate King was clad in a long black overcoat and a wide black sunhat which absorbed the oppressive white heat of the midday sun. Although his people could not see his face, they knew that he was watching them. Those that had not cheered for Caderyn had changed their tune the moment the Pirate King stood and joined in, but now he had grown tired of clapping. He had untucked the gold pommeled cane from underneath his arm, waved it in the air to signal his leave and absconded into the darkness. His speech had not been a hollow trifle and there was much business still to be done. 

The King muttered something to Caderyn and the two exchanged a nod before the rest of his court departed from the royal balcony, exiting from the large double doors and into the depths of the arena. Only Olaevar, the King's scribe, remained to announce that the royal pleasure barge, The Sixteen Rings, would be escorting all nobility back to the Maith Mansion to recuperate from the day's celebration and ready themselves for the night of lively celebration ahead. The Sixteen Rings would take them up the river Galon and dock in the King's own private harbor, where it would remain the rest of the night for the pleasure of those aboard.
Edith
**King Dennon Bigsby and Kirk Pinewood
The Royal Balcony, The Mizzen**

As the balcony cleared, Dennon strolled back to where Kirk was standing. "Well, that was interesting." The former knight commented after a full tournament of jousting.

"I suppose I can cross 'enchanting prose' off my list of potential reasons why Lucrezia seems to love you." Kirk said sarcastically, setting down the plate of snacks he had been eating.

The king shook his head dismissively at his friend's mockery. "I don't know what you want me to say. The mystery knight reveal wasn't exactly a shock for me."

"Oh?" Kirk asked, tilting his head, perhaps having underestimated Dennon's awareness of the situation. "Did you know who it was beforehand?"

"The opposite. I don't even know who he is after the helmet removal."

"Do you know who the De Lysse's are?"

"I suppose in the sense that I've heard the names of a lot of noble families in recent years."

"Well, you're about to send a mercenary army North to aid the homeland of the woman your wife made me marry. The De Lysse family happens to own the Grey Hills, the land your army will be marching through at the border of Terresol and Northwind."
** **

"When did you become an expert on foreign politics?"

"Lucrezia has been having me sit in on council meetings since the wedding... Council meetings which you are also present for?"

"After a few years, they start to blend together."

"It worries me that you think that way, but we can talk about that later. Also, in your defense, Anna debriefs me about the Iron Plaines details after every meeting, so it's fresher in my mind. Anyway, it's not just about the meetings. I was going to say earlier that I ran into Bastien at a bathhouse today." Dennon raised an eyebrow. "NOT THAT KIND OF BATHHOUSE." He said quickly. "We talked for a while. I didn't realize that he was keeping this big secret. He said his family was here on business."

"Huh." Dennon took it all in. "Maybe I should talk with them later. See if they're fine with the whole 'army marching through their land' thing. I guess it was a lucky coincidence that we happened to be in the same place at the same time..." He trailed off before his eyes widened. "Ohhhhhhh."

"Shhhhhh." Kirk cut him off. "We are still in the *Isles,* After all." He pointed to his ear and then spun his hand around to point in every direction.

"I'm starting to doubt that Bradai invited us just because he thought we were cool."
** **

"Is that reveal *More* Of a shock for you?" The king didn't answer. "Look, I don't really know what's going on either. We can enjoy the ball. Just try to behave as though everyone else knows something you don't."

"The barge did sound fun. I'm glad I we won't have to ride back in that traffic."

"Wait, are we not going back to the carriages first?" Kirk asked in surprise.

"Who's the one not paying attention now?"

"There's a very important difference between the two situations!"

"What's the big deal?"

"It's just... I left something in the back of mine."

**. . .**

**Kirk's Carriage Driver
An alley near the Mizzen**

Torgo held his face in his hands as the money was swept away. He had used the coin pouch found in his back seat to bet on the jousts of the day. He had bet nearly everything on Sir Wendel The Letdown. After losing the first round, he scrounged up a bit more money to bet on Lord Eric Stafford in the final, but the damned bird knight was victorious. Torgo's gambling was a problem. He needed help.

**. . .**

**Kirk Pinewood
The Royal Balcony, The Mizzen**

"I'm sure it will be returned to the mansion."

**. . .**