<div class="floatleft">(http://cdn.dstv.com/www.dstv.com/content/DStv/Images/Nic/Thor/Thor_loki.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Sebastian Varta<br/><strong>Title:</strong>Theiri King<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Courtyard<br/><strong>Tags:</strong>Queen Amelia and the Asertit royal family.<br/><hr/><hr/>Simmering tension. Its vestiges had adorned the tasteless air for many months and now rose to bloom as the two kingdoms stood wary arm's lengths from each other. His eyes drifted, almost absentmindedly from one warrior's fierce countenance to the next, and so did his smile. Combat, he had been taught, was the favored resort of brutes. An overzealous compensation to assuage the vacancy betwixt their ears. Vaguely, his prancing mind wondered how any of them would fare should he manage to goad them into a game of chess. The great Aserit Kingdom, the only land that had refused to evolve from base urges of lust for battle and flesh alike, had long since enjoyed burning the flesh of his thigh. It would be so ruthlessly pleasing to twist their diplomacy-tied hands and cause them to itch for their swords. More so, it would buy his sources opportunity to act upon his hunches.<br/><br/>The Queen, bless her, was in her prime. Amelia's graciousness was legendary, though he doubted if any, even within his own council, knew she hid an acumen so voraciously skilled as his own. Of course, clad worse than a commoner he was certain she had taken it upon herself to guard Theiri from embarrassment, by greeting their esteemed guests herself. He imagined the louts guffawing through their entire return, flinging insults at his appearance and subsequently at his rule. Or better versed, he hoped that would be the case. Underestimation was key to his scheme's success. Hopefully soon, he might entrust Amelia with the proof she would need to enlist her aid, but as well he knew himself, he knew his queen. She would dare not raise arms against a realm known for breaking skulls with bare hands without knowledge of their inevitable defeat. Nor indeed would she even desire for war, but alas, its hurtling footsteps were only barely masked by this sham of a "talk".<br/><br/>Mild disappointment mired his ill-tended yet handsome visage as his hopes of being mistaken for a gardener or perhaps worse were quashed. Underestimation, it seemed, was a very dangerously double edged sword.<br/><br/><strong>'And let us hope we do not offer any ammunition to those blasted historians to skew this mission as anything but...</strong>, came his unannounced yet clear, assertive voice as he fixed his gaze upon his rival. He looked weary. The road had outperformed itself.<strong>'... the usher to a new era.</strong><br/><br/><strong>'Welcome to Theiri!',</strong>and almost instantly even the smallest inklings of hidden intention melted behind genuine joviality. His eyes shifted the the warrior queen, a title none need have troubled their heads to decipher. Her entire body was a shrine to her abilities atop a man, either to slit his throat or to kill him with pleasure. Momentarily he wondered who to be wary of the most, the man who was touted to have ruled the most ruthless kingdom in modern history with little skirmishes as the only blemish or the woman who had her elbow roped with his, a state he could so easily imagine not to change should their other hands be wielding swords. He did not offer too many of the others much concern, though Princess Kaniene did bear spitting resemblance to her mother. Nor did he present attention to his state of clothing. That would be entertaining defeat and Sebastian Varta would not let such thoughts taint his intellect.<br/><br/><strong>'Come, the festivities though ever so eager to greet you themselves, shall remain sheathed in place until..',</strong>. Varta was versed in capturing an audience; in allowing his followers to believe he considered every single one of them as his greatest friend. Though here, as his eyes once again waded through his party, from Orianthi Aserit, the delicate flower bearing more than deadly thorns to the shrouded prince, whose wish to ally himself with the shadows impressed him, Sebastian allowed the barest hints of steel to lace his voice<strong>'...opportune time'</strong>. He had sought the King's attention as he spoke this, delving his proud gaze to win the audience of the man he hoped to best.<br/><br/><strong>'So come and replenish yourselves. It shall be Theiri's honor to nurse the great Aserit royalty to fighting health, so they can better enjoy the <em>surprises</em> our fair kingdom holds. We are two starkly varied cultures after all! I, personally, see that as the perfect prelude to exciting stroll of events.</strong>' His whims drew him to conclude his speech to Auron. After all, a trickster only used his words as disguise to size people up. Everytime Varta had been drawn to the grounds of battle, his best weapons were the surrounds themselves. Misinformation, deception and finally seizing of the perfect opportunity all bore from knowing when to hide and when to strike.  Perhaps this useless interlude may just uncover some profit after all.<br/><br/>Nodding to the young prince,<strong>'So come, my guests. The wonders of Theiri await!'</strong>, he turned on his heel and walked forth toward Amelia, throwing a loving glance to his beautiful daughter, Sebastian Varta led Aserits to the beginning of the end.