Eyebrows creased momentarily as Cromir chuckled, followed by a few men that littered around the stage. She couldn’t understand what was so funny? All she had done was address him with respect, unsure of his title or what he liked to be called. At his words her posture stiffened, the goblet in her hand squeezed by her white tipped fingers. It was apparent she didn’t like the answer, although her face remained stoic. Her gaze turned away from him then. They both knew her answer. She had agreed to become his wife in exchange for the safety of her people, never would she willingly sacrifice those men in exchange for her horse, no matter how much she had loved the creature. She had raised that fine creature from a fowl, taking care of it herself and training it into the fine steed she boasted about. She would have cried if she had been alone. She hadn’t thought that he would be so vile to murder and innocent horse.<br/><br/>The smell of cooked meat floated up to her nose, making her stomach churn with disgust as it was placed on the arm of his throne. She took note that not a hint of green was on the plate, the mound consisting of butchered animal. Her eyes fixated on the mare being tied up to the post in the open field, the grey skinned man being just a blimp on her vision. Only when the first arguing couple came forward did she peel her gaze from her horse. Her weight shifted uncomfortably upon one foot at the acknowledgment of a slave. A vile business.<br/><br/>The elf didn’t say or do anything as judgement was passed, her eyes flickering back to the mare that held most of her attention through the proceedings. She prayed to the gods that it would die without pain. Her lips muttered a silent word before she lifted the goblet to her mouth and took another sip to try and hide the movement. Her only saving grace was that he was dying to feed another, its life had a purpose. Her horse had served her well and would die for nourishment. It was a small way to make herself feel better about the needless sacrifice. Only when Cromir stood did her attention get drawn back to the proceedings. Her eyes watched his back as he grabbed the whip, taking not of the magic that sprang from his fingers. Nostrils flared with dislike, sensing the evil use. The elves had magic too, one that was pure and got its power from the nature around them. This green poison was unnatural.<br/><br/>She looked away as the whip rose, not wanting to see the brutal downfall of his man. She heard the cry of pain, the squelch of the whip breaking through flesh. Her head tilted down and to the side, her eyes closing and holding shut with each lash the man received. In her mind she counted along with the crowd but not out of eagerness that littered the voices of the group but one wishing it would be over. Twenty… She opened her eyes, looking at the poor individual with pity and remorse. He did not deserve such treatment. As a warrior herself she knew the severity of desertion but she would never treat her men such as this. Faryn watched as the next two were brought forth as if the whipping had been a common occurrence in his field, though she supposed it was.<br/><br/>The princess was silent as the order to wail on each other was given. She took a sip of her drink, wanting to numb her mind of the evening. What was sad was the fact elves had a high tolerance for drink, one greater than a human. The goblet would do nothing but fill her belly. Her eyes drifted from the brawl to the mare that still stood in the field. Its large eyes shifting uncomfortable, knowing something large and predatory was just within the cave. She looked back to the whipped man, surprisingly seeing him up and cheering with the crowd. The blood had stopped, making her wonder what exactly Cromir had done. He was a human and she assumed he lacked any formal training in magic, based on his company and demeanor, so how did he have access to such powers? Her goblet was drained, the casual sips since she had gotten it leaving a distinct lack of drink. She had subconsciously drank more than she probably should have far too quickly. Faryn didn’t want to give off the impression she was more than just a helpless aristocrat. The fight came to an end after thirty minutes of the two beating on each other. One laid in his bloody mess on the ground, eyes rolled back into his head with a large gash peeling from his skull, hair clumped with blood. She wasn’t sure if he had stopped from the wounds or exhaustion, both men breathing heavily though one still stood and the other laid on the ground. The man standing wobbled on his feet, his hand stretched out to steady his fall as he collapsed to his knees, blood being spat onto the fallen one.