Manfred turned back towards Gilberto, now that the King was distracted by Katelyn’s oh-so-delightful gown, not to mention he could pick out just the hint of what her hand might be up to beneath the feast table. As much as he loathed the idea of<em>his</em>Katelyn doting upon the old fool in the bed chambers, this was something else entirely. Given the King’s increasing indigestion, advance age, and the effect of the wine . . . she might just be able to give him all he could stand right here before the guests of the feast . . .<br/><br/><br/>For now though he focused on Gilberto. Clearly, the boy was hopelessly devoted to Kat as well, absolutely, madly, torridly in love in only the most scandalous manner possible. Doubtless there were those at court who suspected, and this could prove useful information in further embarrassing and weakening the brat’s position. Not that the little whelp could afford to be much weaker; following his outburst against Manfred, he look just about ready to piss himself in fear. Clearly, where anything but Katelyn was concerned, the boy was quite nearly craven, despite whatever he might have experienced ‘on campaign’. It would be child's play to pick him apart in front of the entirety of the court over the coming weeks, but that would be all too easy, and give up a valuable opportunity, as far as the Count was concerned.<br/><br/>“Tell me, good Prince, did you have any luck with the gift of our country this afternoon? Prior to the feast? I realize it might seem odd to give a locked container as a present, but I trust that my lord appreciates a challenge, does he not? No doubt the Prince knows well the thrill of the hunt is in the chase.” Manfred spoke with a cool confidence, swirling some wine in front of him, even as he took the liberty of refilling the Prince’s own goblet from the nearest flagon.