Kendra
Arch Seneschal Reginald Cyroven/Self-Named Sea King, Lord David Brass 
Hangman's Harbour, Tonate Proper

The Diplomat looked on at the bustling activity of the Southern Isles as their ship came closer and closer to docking alongside a quay that was worn and spattered from salt water. Reginald watched on like a hawk as the portsman retrieved the ropes and reeled in the gargantuan Northern war galley with some effort. Lord Nathaniel's *Winged Watcher* Made quite the impression as it landed beside some of the smaller Southern ships. Pretty as they were, with their fluttering sails of vibrant colours and ostentatious sigils and gilded ports and starboards, their presence was choked out by the massive vessel, with its darker colours that eclipsed the green-blue waters of the Southern Isles that caressed against the seawalls so majestically in the sunshine. The anchor was lowered as the *Winged Watcher* Came to a halt, sending tremors to every man aboard, yet still, Reginald stood there like a finely-dressed statue, completely indifferent in his expression. The plank lowered and sounded as if it were a hammer coming down onto an anvil with the fury of the Gods. Reginald Cyroven elegantly made his way down. He chucked two pieces of silver to the dock worker he assumed was in charge. 

"Vhere are you comin' from?" The man asked, biting the pieces of silver to verify their quality. 

"Far away," Was all the Diplomat replied with.
David
David Brass had stood alone in his captain's quarters, putting the final touches to his attire for that evening. He quickly joined the rest of his crewmen outside his quarters after he heard the plank connect with the deck. The plank was dropped with a thundering thud, as the plank from the North had been introduced to this deck from the South for the first time. 

Lord David Brass stood tall as he approached the end of the ship. The Brass Bastard turned his bearded face towards Reginald's. "The night is here then," David's voice sounded slightly dry shouting down to him, an effect of helping guide this crew on the longest journey for them all.
Kendra
"Almost," Cyroven replied as his acquaintance practically slid down the plank to join him. He always looked so sure and confident atop a prow. "The Pirate King must be paid homage to. He demands gifts as tribute in order to be permitted entry into the ball, at least, the part of the ball we must be at. Have your men retrieve some of the..," He trailed off, looking back at the *Winged Watcher,* "Plunder, you've reaped on expeditions and he should be satisfied. Our associates should be arriving soon." Reginald fetched a handkerchief from his tail coat and dabbed with his brow where tiny beads of perspiration were forming. Being this far South was sweltering for any Northman.

Aboard the ship on their voyage South, Reginald had spent an extensive amount of time with the self-proclaimed Sea King, and had gotten to learn more of him, yet still he remained an enigma to him. During their journey together, David had introduced him to a drinking game called *Spierdjurk,* Which meant 'Cheater' in the ancient language of Bleaktyde Isle. Traditionally, children would gather pebbles, rocks and seastones across the banks of the isle, as their souls were the purest, so their Goddess of the Seas, Dokva, would offer them what was necessary for the game. All the rocks would be dropped in a pile on the table, and the dealer would pick through all of them to decide what ones would be best for the game. Once that had been decided, all of them were turned to the side that concealed the most about their features and the players would have to pick ones they deemed to be the hidden gems Dokva had gifted them. For every one pebble, rock or seastone that was just that, they must drink their entire drink. But should their options appear to be crystallised on the other side, the quality of Dovka's gift must be tested. If it *Clinks* Against a surface, then it is truly Dovka's gift, and the player wins. But if it *Thuds* Like all the rest, then they have been cheated, and they must down what the dealer considers an 'ocean's worth'.

Being an esteemed, honourable dignitary of House Vivayn, Reginald never partook in the consumption of alcohol, not even in his leisure, so in truth the whole thing was a folly from the get go, but David had insisted, drinking both their share and becoming more wild-eyed as the game proceeded. Cyroven was quick to learn of the real from the fake, also being an expert jeweller by trade, with many fine and splendid rings donning his lithe digits. As he inspected them, he was able to reveal each cheat from the next, as he was a master of deduction and logistics, until eventually, a sorrowful Sea King *Clinked* Dokva's gift against the table. The Diplomat was not fooled by the superstitions and heresy of the Horn Hills. When David rose to leave, he said he'd killed all the men who had ever beaten him at *Spierdjurk* And then left. About five minutes later, Reginald heard that Brass had stabbed the crewman who retrieved the stones half a hundred times before throwing him overboard, citing the reason that his mistress was 'hungry'.
David
David tapped his chin in thought, at the very notion of gift giving, *This Pirate King wishes to be gifted prizes. For what, his own pride? If you wish for something you simply take it, unless he is a child. No, from everything Pale Face has told me about this King, he is too respected by his fellow Southerners to be still shitting in his shit holder*. His grey eyes scanned the deck as he saw Reginald already ahead of his steps. He let out a soft sigh as he finished his thoughts, *Weak men follow less weak men it seems in these parts*. He placed his scaly boot on the plank loudly, "A gift," He called out as he overheard the words being spoken below. "Whatever thing shall we hand away? We have much in the way of fish and silver," He chuckled then cleared his salty throat. "Best not. I believe I might have the perfect gift for a fellow rider of Dokva." The Bastard's Bane whistled loudly, as two crewmen rushed at the sudden bursts of sound.

The well-crafted chest was opened and what it held was a surprise to those that looked up from the deck. It had been a hide, not just any hide, a Shell-Nosed Seal's hide unmarked and unspoiled. An animal that only had survived the harsh islands and seas of The Horn Hills, all due to its tough hide and its thick skull.

The Sea King gestured to the hide with a prideful smirk across his face. "This is something the South can't have, but will in truth be thankful for. The hide of the Shell-Nosed Seal; it'll keep you warm through the coldest of storms and stop even steel arrows from sticking in your back as you lead your crew to whatever you choose to lead them to. I think any Pirate would be pleased by this, particularly the king of them." David watched on after he had finished his words, waved his hand downwards as the crewmen carefully closed the chest with the hide held inside, like a chicken protecting its egg.
Kendra
The Diplomat's almost perpetually neutral expression suddenly became lined in fascination as the Brass Bastard had his men bring down the selected gift. When opened, Reginald had never seen anything like it, in what looked like a coil of grey and black and brown, and the thickest, widest envelope of flesh he had ever seen, like an oily blanket that could stretch over the entirety of the oceans they'd crossed. The detail of it was so rich and fine, with every spot and transcendence of pigmentation sticking out so clearly, in a play of creams and shades. It was all Reginald could do not to reach into his forepocket and brandish his loupe to inspect it further. "Very good choice, My Lord. A fine contribution." He was almost disappointed that such a hide was going to a Southern King who'd most likely only use it as a rug and wouldn't know its true value if it was used as a noose to hang him. 

When he saw the two Vivayn Knights appear from below deck , with the Snow Crow sigil encrusted on their breastplates, he snapped at one of the crewman with a ringed hand and gestured for them to retrieve the gift for the Pirate King afforded by his liege, Lord Nathaniel Vivayn. "I assume you'll be able to busy yourself with tonight's activities. But do remember our orders, My Lord," He said, starting to walk alongside the Sea King as the entourage of knights fell on either side of them, and the servants carrying the chests of gifts at their heels, struggling on the hot humid day.
David
The self-named Sea King nodded at these words and made his steps more grand as he approached the entrance way. His dark brass attire would have appeared clear with the knights that surrounded him and the Diplomat, the sigil of House Brass placed in attires centre, itself made from a very rough fabric. The fabric itself would have been displayed tentacles shaped to look as such. Many would have to be watchful, if any dared touch the Sea King with this brass attire or a finger could disappear. There were small steel hooks hidden within some of the tentacle shaped fabric, to reflect what creature is in the centre of the sigil of House Brass: the spiked squid.
David answered back to his fellow journeymen as he'd continued to walk with an air of regency, "Clearly I do not forget. If not I would have done it another way by this point. This night will be an enjoyable one, truly. Now let us dispense our gift to the Pirate King and show House Brass, no, the North that I'll be just with my words. I will not be cast aside anymore. Safe sailing Arch Seneschal Reginald."