Manfred was one of only a few sets of eyes in the room to catch the King’s slight increase in breathing, and the only one to know the exact nature of the cause for such symptoms. He was also perfectly content to let the King sit and stew on his indigestion and the growing consternation he must surely feel at having the Queen tease him so expertly. He could hardly wait till her machinations were most appropriately diverted at a point later this evening, but in the meantime, there was groundwork to lay with the whelp of a Prince, who might even be starting to warm up to the good Count von Holstein. The Prince’s various hangers on, and those still fascinated by Manfred’s foreign appeal were perking up their ears at this latest exchange, and he would hate to disappoint them or young Gilberto.<br/><br/><br/>“You honor me my lord, and if I may be so bold, there is a certain technique to the particulars of the gift. You see, it is of an ancient Imperial tradition, and a certain ceremony, inexorably tied to affairs of the heart; the most fruitful of hunting grounds if you were to ask many a more romantic sort.” Manfred was in top form as he related to the Prince, and garnered the attention of more than a few others around the table, particularly those ladies concerned with how the handsome Count might approach affairs of the heart.<br/><br/><br/>“Men of that type however, have never hunted in the Reikmarches before I warrant. True there are elk and deer and lesser game, but in hunting them one risks the attention of wolves and bears unlike those seen here in more civilized lands. The creatures of the Reikmarches must be the strongest and cruelest in order to survive, and for generations have been interbreeding with their aberrant ilk in the Hordelands. It is said the Dire Wolves of the Drakwald forest grow large as a knight’s charger, and the Cave Bears found throughout the Gray Hills must grow large enough to compete with ogres and trolls for food and shelter.” Men were nodding, it was not difficult to imagine the barbaric and savage creatures which would surely inhabit such savage lands to the east, so close to the wasteland wilderness that marked the end of the civilized world. “But of course, that is where the real challenge is. We seldom have time to hunt giant wolves and monstrous bears in our leisure, so busy are the men and women of the Reik in hunting down those trolls and giants, and monstrous ken who encroach upon us. A true hunt in the Reikmar is for more dangerous quarry than any natural beast, but a roving band of ogres, or mob of orks, or hobgoblin marauders; any and all of them intent on such savagery to men and women and children as to make your blood run cold, good people. Why last month, my company was on patrol when we came across . . .”<br/><br/>Manfred was speaking now to a veritable crowd of ears which had gathered around him as he conveyed the hardship, the strife, the exultant triumph at the eradication of the monstrous beasts that would ravage and pillage whole continents if left unchecked.  He regaled them with the exploits of his own company over a veritable horde of foes, across every part of the Borderlands, and even his own excursions into the Blasted Wastes beyond the World’s Edge Mountains, for it was the policy of the Protectorate never to allow their foes rest or respite, even in the Dark Lands themselves. It seemed there was no beast that Manfred had not fought and slain at least once, with lance or sword, and their was a particularly thrilling account he recalled for them when he dueled an ogre chieftain in single combat, a massive brute ten feet tall, a mad prophet amongst his people aiming to begin a new crusade in honor of their dark gods. Through it all, he spared only a single glance for Katelyn, wondering whether he shouldn’t have brought a few of the trophies he had claimed from his time with the Protectorates Lancers. He contented himself with the knowledge of the trophies they would claim together here in Miragliano.