As the King’s physician saw to his preparations for that evening, and the Prince fussed and fretted over the state of his uniform, Manfred luxuriated briefly in the accommodations which had been made available to him. Truly, the Miragliano nobility knew how to keep their guests, as the opulent suite would have been fit for only the richest of the Border Princes. Manfred mused that it must be a contributing factor to the myriad weaknesses he had seen them display thus far in his visit, and he could only imagine the softness with which the King and Prince were pampered in, especially before a feat like tonight. True, he enjoyed the occasional indulgence himself, but after a week in these living arrangements (he glanced briefly at the garish accoutrements) he wondered if he wouldn’t long for the more spartan, practical quarters he enjoyed at the Capital. As it stood, the temptation to simply sink into the downy bed or lounge was entirely too strong, and there was work to be done.<br/><br/><br/>First, he had to see to it that the King’s kitchens properly prepared the delicacy they had brought with them from the Reikmarches: the finest smoked sausages, a rich blend of lamb, beef, pork, apples with and spiced to perfection with the favorite garnishes of the Protectorate’s various princedoms. The combination of such rich and well seasoned meats and wine would surely have the desired effect upon a man of the King’s age, but Manfred had an extra insurance. A simple additive to any goblet of wine the King happened to drink that he could easily keep in his sleeve, one that would exacerbate any indigestion to crippling levels, and from what he knew of his spies, the king was a man who enjoyed all the pleasures of a feast in excess. ‘Well, all those available until the conclusion thereof.’ He reflected with a smirk as he called for a meeting with his retainers, to ensure that everything was in place. ‘He knew the rumors about the kings health, the many physicians he kept, but from the observations of his most particular spy on the privy council, that it was only a particular failing of the body which troubled the king, a most embarrassing one at that.<br/><br/><br/>This naturally lead his thoughts to turn to Katelyn, and he ruefully regretted that so fine a woman would ever have suffered under the boorish and inadequate ministrations of a man like Eglio. If only he had followed his wife to the grave, but then it was ill mannered to think so poorly of the dead, a sister of the Reikmarches, whatever her taste in husbands. Besides, he might never have had these opportunities laid before him were it not for Katelyn’s now flailing marriage to the King of Marigliano. Better to think of her, alone now, in her chambers, no doubt luxuriating in the lavish comforts afforded her by this country’s nigh obscene wealth. She was the lynchpin to his plans and he had little doubt she would be amenable for the sake of their old friendship, and the renewal thereof. He remembered the way he felt her eyes upon him, had to restrain the urge even in the throneroom to step up to the dais, spit in the old man’s face and whisk her away from under his gaze, skewering that little ponce of a prince on the way out. Instead, he contented himself with avowing that now, with his plans in place, his Katelyn would not again have to lament the affections of Eglio, the soon to be disgraced.<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>There was a knock on the queen’s door, a servant there to deliver a scroll, a message from one of the Prince’s tutors in regards to some matter of education or another, which was not overly odd, except for the timing of it. There was this and that about his progress in various subjects, not doubt the update having been delayed due to preparations for the festivities, but hidden in the rolling of the scroll was a scrap of vellum, with dark ink written upon it in the tongue of the Reikmarches, the hand all too familiar to her eyes despite all these years. It said simply: “Where something for me tonight. Something you would never wear for him.”