Shelly
Charity Lane
A room in Castle Grunewald

Charity found it hard to really get into a deep sleep, Taemar was unlike either of the climates she'd lived in. It took a little bit of time but eventually the area under the blanket was warmed by her own body heat. She regretted not seeing Anya the night before, two bodies would warm a bed a lot faster, but Charity fell asleep all the same. She was awoken in the morning by the sound of knocking at the door, she wouldn't describe herself as well rested, just rested.

Serafina was quicker to the door than she was, maybe the woman was already awake or more rested than Charity was, Charity had only reached the edge of the bed by the time Serafina was at the door. As she was moving to get up, the Wisdom handed her a scroll, inside was the same information that the Wisdom had conveyed to her.

She placed the scroll the bed and stood up fully. She quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes, and quickly brushed through her hair with her hands as all of her supplies were still with the caravan. She looked presentable enough, probably thanks to being a relatively still sleeper, but there's only so much she could do. "Alright, let's go. Best not to hold up the most important Council we've ever been a part of for much longer" Charity noted as he opened the door and started towards the Throne Room, whether the Wisdom was following or not.
Kendall
Lord Eric Stafford
Vallen, Taemar

Lord Stafford arrived a few moments behind his wife and queen, he'd taken a little longer to get ready on the account that he'd posted himself at Anya's door all night. Despite being up all night, the young lord managed to make himself very presentable, likely with the help of his wife. His jet black hair was groomed neatly and his fresh set of clothes looked as nice as what had been ruined the previous night. 

_Thank the gods I brought an extra pair of boots..._ he thought as he entered the throne room. He doubted Gregor would appreciate blood soaked boots in his throne room. _On second thought, probably be the exact thing he'd like._ Eric second guessed, reminding himself again how much he disliked the Grunewalds. 

Quickly, Eric took a seat next to his wife taking a somewhat worried look at Anya. It didn't surprise him that she'd insisted on coming despite being attacked and it wouldn't surprise him if his wife vented angrily about it to him later. Which Eric would agree with, but he couldn't help but admire Anya for her strong will. Most average people would have stayed in bed, few sane people would blame her. Yet here she was, with a recently sewed bite wound. 

"I'm glad to see you're doing better, your grace." Eric said, looking to Anya while taking Angelica's hand and giving it a squeeze.
Lawrence
Kallophon Dikegora
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Kallophon walked alongside other guests on his approach to the tower. He stopped short of the entryway, peering up into the winding stairwell. He had lined his deep brown eyes with kohl; partly to honour Imogen, and partly to hide the evidence of him spending most of last night weeping and ruminating. In the desolation that followed what he had seen, much old pain had come back to haunt him in the night, but now he felt cleaner for it. The only way now was forward.

He held his lyre against his side with a tight, purposeful grip. He had chosen a new outfit for the council: both his long undertunic and his shorter overtunic were pitch-black, save for a pattern of golden circles, each bisected horizontally (ϴ), embroidered across the overtunic—Terresolians, Araedians, and some Amorothian cultures typically used this as a symbol of death. A silver pendant of Lockaster's symbol hung from a chain around his neck.

As he watched people walk by him on their way to the stairs, Kallophon wondered how he would be received today. Did Gregor even want him to play to full attention as he had yesterday? He was hardly going to provide gentle background music at a sombre political conference. No, such a thing was better served by a powerful, sombre tune or two, to set the right mood. That was what he intended to do. He was poorly rested, and still overgloomed by the horrors of the night before, but he could never resist the pull of adventure in a crowded room.

He took a soft breath, but, just as he was about to take a step inside the tower shaft, he noticed a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He turned and beheld his queen, walking towards him. Or was she just moving to enter the tower? Was she going to talk to him? And who was that walking beside her?

She seemed a little bit untidy to him, as if she'd come straight out of bed. He had the thought to seize the opportunity and mock her. *Ha! What a stately representation of Terresol, Your Majesty! Renowned for our attention to personal appearance, and here you are with loose hairs sticking out as if they're desperate to not be seen with you.* The corner of his lip twitched into a sneer, but then he reminded himself of the kind of man he wanted to be: a man not given to such cruelty. He needed to learn these people, not judge them. So in place of a barb, he gave a bow, and said, "Hail to the Queen of Terresol," In Old Soltongue. He transitioned into the modern version of their native tongue, continuing, "It pleases me greatly that I may finally meet you in person, Your Majesty. Please accept my apology for my outburst at dinner last night. I had not all my wits about me." His tone was somewhat muted, but not disrespectful, and it retained its confident flow and dignified resonance. He was not in the mood for any superfluous flattery.
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
The entrace to the Tower in Castle Grunewald

Serafina followed the Queen of Terresol, holding her tongue despite her desire to suggest allowing a servant to find a more suitable dress for the council. There were... Standards and she didn't think attending the council meeting in the same garments as the night before would set a good impression. But who was she to berate the Queen on appearances. Serafina, on the other hand, had changed earlier that morning into a simple forest green dress with gold embroidery decorating the neckline just below her collarbones. 

The Wisdom was grateful that Charity seemed to know her way around the castle. Had she been alone, it would have taken her much longer to reach the tower considering how long it had taken her to find their room the night prior. Upon arrival at the entrance to the tower, Serafina heard someone hail the Queen in Old Soltongue and her head perked up, glancing around to find the source. *'Ah, our lucky musician.'* While she had enjoyed his performance during dinner, his apology caused her eyebrows to raise. Serafina doubted its sincerety. The bard seemed to have plenty wit about him at the time and she had considered the outburst intentional. As he spoke, she studied the man more closely. She was surprised to see a pendant of Lockaster hanging from his neck. *'An odd choice... I would have suspected Emin or Reuben.'* Her head tilted to the side as she examined the rest of his attire, the design and symbols in direct contradiction to the lively character she remembered from dinner. *'An Aster bard of some kind?'* It wasn't common, but she supposed it was possible.
Joann
**Siona O'Callaigh
Vallen, Taemar**

Siona flicked her eyes in "Levi's" Direction when he spoke, but kept quite as he talked. He seemed as if he was trying to defuse the situation, while not so subtly taking a jab at her demands for money. Not that Siona was particularly concerned, she knew her skills and knew her worth, and knew she needed to make money to live. Finally, he instead simply introduced himself, and asked Siona her name.

"I'm Siona," She said simply, hoping they hadnt heard of her. Sometimes peasants liked to tell stories about her, though they always greatly exaggerated her feats. She wasnt that special, she just was more willing than many others to help them. But still, she was a sorceress in a world that did not take kindly to magic often times, so Siona preferred to just be a good Samaritan, not a folk hero. 

The young woman spoke up again, retracting the hand which Siona hadnt shook. She gave Siona an incredulous look, and Siona kept her face impassive in turn as the young woman stated that she didnt understand where Siona had gotten the impression she would be payed, or *Why* She should be payed. 

"I saw you playing with that gold piece," Said Siona, "So I know you have money on you somewhere. And you said you would pay this Levi here, so I know you are willing to pay. But if all you wanted was to prove me wrong, I suppose I could take my services elsewhere."

.

As if to prove her point, Siona casually threw her cloak over her shoulder, revealing a long and elegant saber tied to her belt. She rested her left hand on the weapon in a display meant to show she was well acquainted with the blade, and did not wear it simply for the look. She did not however, mention her true credentials, that she was an accomplished sorceress and scholar, trained at the great Academies of Azarya. That she kept in reserve. There was no need to draw any more attention to herself than she already was. At least, not unless Marsila, as the other womans name was, pressed her further on her true usefulness.